If there is, please don't tell me. I don't think I want to know.
I have held hands, pushed fluids, done laundry, and cleaned messes for days now. And everytime I think we're done, someone else gets it.
So, basically, everything in the house they fight over. But this, this they share.
Still, there's a shift that happens when the kids get sick. Normally, I'm "mom". Even Liam doesn't call me Mommy (as much as I wish he, my very last baby, would please call me Mommy).
Except for when they get sick. Suddenly I am, once again, their mommy.
I become the one to ease their discomfort, hold their hands when they don't feel well, and bring them anything that might make them feel better.
They go from independent beings who need me for little more than grocery shopping and to sign permission slips, to people who suddenly don't want me to be farther away from them than the next room.
And while I would never wish my kids illness, and look forward to this particular plague finding it's way back out of my house, I do appreciate these moments where once again I'm needed, if only briefly.
Someday they will have partners, spouses, and friends who will do these things for them.
Someday they will have to take care of me.
But just for today I get to be their Mommy again. And it sort of makes up for the godawful messes and the ick of it all.
There's something special about being needed by another human being. Especially my small humans. I might be somewhat fond of them. And by "somewhat fond" I mean ridiculously in love with. Sure, they're small and their weird, and some of them (I'm not naming names *cough* Brennan *cough*) tell too many poop jokes.
But they're mine. And clearly, I'm theirs.
I still say it's the best job in the world, this motherhood thing. And this blog is a pretty great gig too. So would you please consider clicking the banner below and voting for me? It takes just a second to click, and boom, I have a vote. Thanks, you're the best!