It’s hard to get back into the normal routine of my posts after the month-long A to Z Challenge, and I didn’t get my usual Friday’s Odds and Ends post ready for today. Since I will be gone all day to an author event at a library, I don’t have time to put a blog together. (I’ve got to put myself together LOL) Instead, I’ll share an excerpt from my humorous memoir again. It’s been a while since I did that. Enjoy….
Have you ever noticed that when a kid is sick, he expects meals in bed, unlimited sympathy and continuous entertainment? Or when a husband is sick, he simply takes the day off work, stays in bed, and accepts juice, aspirin, and a kind word in four hour intervals? But heaven help a mother who has a cold or the 24-hour flu.
Somehow she has to carry on as if all was well, and about the only way she can get any sympathy or understanding is to be approaching death’s doorway. Even then, one of the kids might ask if she has the time to wash his soccer uniform before she passes from this earthly life.
I’d like to see some type of parent-child contract drawn up that would grant equal time, consideration, and cough medicine in the middle of the night to mothers.
I’d like to see a clause included in this contract stating emphatically that when a child comes home from school to find his mother still in her robe, it doesn’t mean that she was just too lazy to get dressed that day.
If a mother has red watery eyes and a runny nose, it isn’t from peeling onions or from watching a sad scene in an afternoon soap opera.
If a mother’s face appears to be unusually flushed, it isn’t from the exhilaration of an afternoon tryst.
If a mother is making 25 trips to the bathroom in an hour, it isn’t just from a need for some solitude and serenity.
If a mother doesn’t have the strength to drag her body off the couch to cook dinner, it isn’t because she wore herself out playing tennis all day.
I used to believe that if we could get our families to recognize the fact that we were indeed sick, then we could work on getting them to respond in a positive helpful manner. To accomplish that goal, I considered making a big sign and hanging it in the living room where everyone could see it as they come in the door:
“Attention! The mother in this house is sick and has gone to bed. Do not disturb unless extreme emergency arises. (Needing to go to volleyball practice does not qualify.) Somebody cook supper. Wash your own dishes and gym clothes. It would be nice if someone came to check on me in about four hours to see if I’m still alive and to bring me some orange juice. Love, Mom.”
That note sounds pretty effective to me. Love this piece. (and it’s true, men and kids become big babies when they’re sick, but mothers must remain the Mother, no matter what happens. (good reflection as we near Mother’s Day)
Glad you enjoyed the post, D. G. Thanks for stopping by.
I remember a time when both the boys and I all had pneumonia. Sick as the proverbial dogs. My hubby came to my bedside before he left for work and told me to stay in bed and rest. As he was leaving, one of the boys called weakly from his bedroom that he needed something. My loving husband called back, “Daddy’s got to go to work now, son. Mommy will take care of it.”
I swear, I don’t think it even dawned on him…
LOL, LD, that is priceless.
Oh, the memories that brings back. And I had three sons in the house plus the husband back then. Being the lone female in a mainly male household had its pitfalls at times.
Kerry, thanks for stopping by. We raised three sons, too, but we also had a couple of daughters to balance things out. (smile)