The Chicken Pox Saga

It's happened. We're infected. We have the dreaded POX.

For almost a year I've been wanting my daughter to get it. I figured if we could get it out of the way before nursery and school hit then we'd be much better off but now that the event has actually happened I could have done with it being at another time. This week was just so BUSY. I had so much planned! A birthday. A leaving party. A sleepover. This week was MY week. Never mind the fact that it's almost the Easter holidays and I'd planned this beautiful lamb roast dinner with friends followed by an Easter egg hunt in the garden. I guess that's ruined now...

There's nothing like your children getting ill to make you realise that motherhood needs to be a totally self-less work. When times like this strike I know I need to be taking a deep breath, rolling up my sleeves and cuddling my little girl even though she feels all bumpy and her blisters have popped leaving a rancid smell across her skin. What I really want to do is run away (perhaps to some kind of spa? anyone?) and leave it to someone else. I get the same feeling when one of my children (or husband for that matter) has been sick. Does anyone enjoy cleaning that stuff up?

It's practically rewardless too. There's no grand prize for doing an excellent job. There's no holiday abroad or coffee machine waiting for us in the wings to celebrate our selflessness and make it all seem 'worth it'. We get the boobie prize of  'the knowledge of a job well done' or 'the warmth of your children's smiles'. In these sick-filled, flu ridden days, I'm sorry, but that just doesn't seem worth it. Nevertheless, we continue and we do our best. We fill the days with entertainment for our children, we put on a brave face and hold our noses as our children demand more cuddles than the usual (of course they would - they're sick, right?). We do it because love outweighs it all. We do it because the discomfort clearly shown on our children's faces drags on our heart strings enough to make us sing 'row, row, row your boat' 50 times and dance like a monkey to the latest Disney tracks. Motherhood doesn't come from a sense of duty. Motherhood comes from the heart.

So here we go, day 3 of the chicken pox. Today I will be crafting with my daughter (there is going to be glitter everywhere), making her favourite dinner, trying to keep on top of the mess and, when I've finally managed to settle her into bed, probably around 11pm, I'll sit down on the sofa with a bag of Doritos (one of those sharing packets that nobody ever shares) and be thankful that I even have the opportunity to care for a little one in this way. Because she's mine. Because I love her.


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