Hats

I am a woman.
I am a wife.
I am a mother.
I am a writer.
I am a sister.
I am a daughter.
I am an aunt.
I am a friend.

Today, I'm also a nurse.

Kids don't generally like being sick - unless they get to miss a day of school. They like that. My son was fine after school yesterday, but as soon as evening approached, he got whiney.

I try to keep my son happy, yet well-behaved. I fussed at him for continuing to whine after I'd repeatedly asked him not to. I told him to whine in his own room. He started crying. I was frustrated.

I asked him why he was crying. He kept crying. I told him to stop crying. He kept crying. I was frustrated and annoyed. He stopped long enough to utter nonsense that had the word stomach in it. I asked questions and pressed his abdomen. Nothing he said made sense, except that his stomach hurt. We watched him whine and cry through dinner. He only ate a few bites of kiwi fruit.

All mothers can guess what happened next.

In just a few seconds, I graduated from nursing school. At the same time, I became a professional carpet cleaner. (Club Soda is mommy's little helper.)

Why is it that mothers have this enormous guilt when they look at situations through their 20/20 hindsight? I felt so bad for fussing at my son. I wanted to rewind and hold him on my lap instead of trying to make him go to his room for being so annoyingly whiney.

My kids are well most of the time, but when they feel bad I always want to know the details. There should be a panel a mother can open to see what her child's problem is. The hand on the forehead is good, but doesn't tell the difference between 101 degrees and 99.5. I need one of those diagnostic handheld devices I used to see on the USS Enterprise. I'd be using it whenever my kids exhibit strange behaviors, or if they're unusually cranky.

My son liked staying home from school. I gave him a cup of water and a popcicle, and then he was feeling much better. As a nurse, I give huge doses of tender loving care. It helps with the temperature-taking. In return, I get a little boy's smile and an invitation to play Guess Who.

I'm almost ready to put on my cab driver hat and pick up my daughter from school. I'll try to get a hug and call that a tip.