It's a Monday miracle.
All of my kids are home, clutching their stomachs and claiming enough discomfort to merit an absence from school.
Let it be known that I'm a crummy mother. These little humans come to me, tears in their eyes, and tell me that they don't feel well. I respond with, "Don't lie to me."
I never know how much to believe "sick" kids. I am not good at judging these kind of things. One time Ashton had slipped on the wood floor in his socks and his chin was bleeding. I put a wet paper towel on it and thought that it would be ok with a band-aid, once it stopped bleeding. After talking with Alan, though, I decided to take him into the Urgent Care--just in case--and he came out with five stitches.
Another time one of the kids was dry heaving by the toilet. Oh, give me a break. Go to school. Five minutes later... vomit. Lots of vomit. Vomit everywhere.
But just the same, I can count dozens of times that I let the kids stay home from school and they were playing video games with abandon within the hour. Mother Chump. One time is this very minute. One of my "sick" kids is laughing while playing with a ball.
I don't want them to be crying the whole day, but I also don't want to feel like they pulled one over on me. You know? I gave them a little talking to this morning when all three school-goers had convinced me that they should stay home. I pretty much said, "You're sick. That's cool. The minute you don't feel sick, don't pretend like you are. Because next time you want to stay home from school, I'm going to make you go and I won't feel bad when you throw up in front of everyone."
I think I just hate the drama. We have one child who moans so loudly when sick, accompanied by the cries of "Mooooooom, Moooooom!" It is so dramatic. They give themselves so much sympathy that there is no room for mine.
Like I said, crummy mother.
Sometimes I wish I could be that doting mother that comes running with a washcloth and a pat on the head. "What can I get you? What do you need? Stay home as long as you want, dear." Which I can be, sometimes. When it is really obvious that they are sick. Like yellow eyes and listless. Geez, what do my poor kids need to do to get a little sympathy from their mother?!
I am starting to feel a little sympathy for them because they obviously aren't getting any.
But then they come in and tell me all about how their diarrhea feels like someone is STABBING them in the stomach and there goes my sympathy. Stabbing? Come on. Discomfort, rumbling, boiling, even. But stabbing crossed the drama threshold.
Am I the only mother that doesn't trust her sick kids? Does everyone let their kids stay home without the guilt?
And now suddenly, I don't feel so well. My stomach is churning. Maybe my kids aren't lying, after all. Crummy mother.