I. Hate. Being. Sick.
What's worse is that my babies are sick too. It's been a fun 2 days of us all sneezing, snotting, and snoozing together. Lots of Pixar movies and Thomas the Tank Engine have graced the screen of our TV.
Much like my own kids, I want my Momma when I'm sick. When I was sick as a child, my mom would send us to bed to get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. (Rabbit trail: I never could quite understand how I was supposed to be sleeping and drinking lots of water at the same time.) She would come tuck me in my bed, kiss my forehead to check for a fever, and give me the sick bell.
Ah, the sick bell. I loved that thing. It was the only fun part about being sick. It had magical powers to summon the woman that usually did the summoning and then you could ask her to bring you things.... And she would bring them! Unless it was candy, of course. I would lay there (lie there??) trying to think of things to ring the bell for. "Can I watch a movie?", "I'm hungry.", "I need another blanket."
I don't remember it ever happening, but I imagine the magic sick bell was taken away from me a time or two due to me abusing my power. With great power come great responsibility, eh?
I'm 25 now and I don't live in my parents house anymore. My mommy doesn't drive across town to tuck me in when I'm sick. I have no sick bell. While my hubby is at work, I have to go fetch my own food and water, not mention nurse a growing 6 month old, and feed the odd appetite of a two year old. I'm not complaining. I'm just...reminiscing. And thinking about how much my mom took care of when I was younger. It's something I could never fully appreciate until I was a mother myself. So, thanks Momma.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go look on Etsy for a bell....
