I like to say I’m a free range-ish mom. I let my kids work out their problems, shoo them outdoors without holding their hands, and operate under the “by the time they’re in college, they’ll know how to tie their shoes” philosophy. When they get sick, however, all bets are off. I become a Black Hawk Helicopter Mom.
My ex thinks I overreact.
My friends tell me to stop googling symptoms.
My mom tells me to feed them garlic and a hot toddy.
I ignore them all.
I have this idea, when they’re not feeling well, that no one on earth can take care of them as well as I can. And, to to the truth, I’m probably right. I know at exactly what angle Joseph likes his pillows when he’s battling an ear infection. I know Elizabeth prefers the pink bowl next to her bed when she has a tummy bug. I change their sheets twice a day making sure they have cool fresh linens on their beds when they nap and before they go to sleep. I know Joseph likes his water filled with ice and a bendy straw and Elizabeth prefers a room temperature sippy cup. I have a “sock baby” warmed up for Joseph’s ear and an “ice baby” for Elizabeth’s fevers.
I take care of them best.
Which is why it makes it all the more difficult when I am working my summer schedule and unable to take the longer day off to be with Elizabeth when she gets sick. I have to trust her father and her grandparents to take as good care of her as they can and that she’ll be just fine.
Until I get home.
Are you the family nurse? Or is your partner?
