Payback

Well, damn. z is sick with the Big, Scary, No Known Cause, Wait and See, Might Be Better in Three Days if Not Call Your Doctor, It is Probably a Virus but We Don't Really Know...FEVER.

Gosh darnit. I naively thought we were done with this, at least for the blissful shrunken down two and a half months we are allotted for summer. Yes, I discounted z's increased exposure to germs from the pool and McDonald's enticing playland, fairytale believer that I am, and thought that warmer weather would weave a magic health spell.

It may seem strange that this is all still somewhat new to me, and not least of all to z, poor little guy, being that he is four years old and we should be battle scarred with all the colds and fevers and scrapes and bumps and scary things in the night that babies, toddlers, and then preschoolers endure. But I am a stay at home mom, and therefore my child didn't go to daycare, thus depriving his immune system from encountering the enemy and then fighting the good fight. I will never forget the pediatrician, upon hearing that I am at home with z, nodding wisely, and saying, "Ahhh, that is why I see so few office visits and panicked middle of the night phone calls on z's chart."

Hey, I admit, I was warned. Many well meaning friends and family members cautioned that I would be "in for it" when z reached preschool age. They just failed to tell me that my knees would become arthritic from praying on them every other day.

I wonder if it is easier, or harder, for moms who have created more than one child. Do you just go from illness to illness and take it all in stride? You worry, but really, how much agony can one mom endure? The sleepless nights, the nagging thoughts at the back of your mind that pop up like annoying finger puppets: What if it is meningitis? What if it is pneumonia? What if you are really just a terrible mother and something you did caused this and your poor children are suffering all because of your incompetence and non knowledge of what is going around???

Because that is what goes through my mind. And what I contritely admit is that nothing makes me appreciate my child, my husband and my life, more than times of crisis.

I go along, most days, rather bored with the mundane details of life. Lists of things to do, appointments to be kept, and laundry to be done. The dishes. The pets. The bills. Every day is like every other. There are times I wonder, what if I had chosen a different path for myself? Would I be more fulfilled, would I be a more interesting and happier me?

But then come the times, some of them just moments, of extreme contentment and those that are truly bursting with the knowing that I am right where I am supposed to be and doing exactly what I am supposed to do. I am learning that these can come in the worst of circumstances. For example:

z is ensconced on the couch, feeling rather punky and surrounded by furry stuffed friends and Sprite.

Z is going to the store to buy him a Sick Toy. (We try to limit the buying of toys to birthdays, Christmas and Sick Days. Well, we try, anyway.)

z's face crumples up and he says, "Daddy, I am going to miss you, miss you so much in my heart. I mean it, in my heart!"

Cries big tears.

This from a child who would leave you in front of an onrushing semi to get to a Christmas present. Could care less who you are.

So I believe I'll stay right where I am. Sweet-Happy-Crazy-Life.