On the 9th of this month I was sick. I must’ve eaten some long-overdue leftovers, which isn’t like me. I lay around in bed not knowing how I was going to get through the day, take care of the kids, let them play outside with no supervision. So I called my mom.
Some women call their husbands. I used to not get this. I mean, the guy is working his a** off so you can stay home all day with the kids; please don’t bother him! I know people who can’t go to the doctor without their husband either coming along or else staying home with the other kids. Tooting my own horn: I have no problem dragging all 4 kids to my annual Pap smear. I just give them blindfolds.
Anyway, now I get the whole relying-on-husband thing. Some people don’t have family nearby; some people don’t LIKE their family.
My mother, however, wouldn’t care if we all had The Plague … she would come over and take care of us anyway.
Within one hour, she shows up with McDonald’s for lunch for everyone, Coke for me (the best medicine EVER), and Hershey bars for everyone for later. She checks in on me, writhing around on the bed (me, not her), and goes downstairs to take care of my 3 cherubs. I can hear the kids talking and talking and sharing and talking to her … all at once. She is so patient with them. The mother of one has no problem taking on 3 these days (the baby was in bed with me).
So this post is a thank you to my mom as both mother and grandmother. I don’t only sometimes need her around; I also want her around.