Sharing = Caring

Every mother loves it when her children share. Right? It brings smiles to our hearts and faces. Right? We give ourselves a mental pat on the back for being such excellent parents to raise such delightful, compassionate children. Right?

Wrong!

Well, sometimes wrong. This would be one of those times. Our older children accidentally "shared" cold germs with Baby Ju-Ju several weeks ago. While they have blissfully skipped off and recovered (which I'm happy about), Ju-Ju's immune system isn't as developed as their's and so he has not skipped off any where, fully recovered (which I'm not happy about).

My happy, mellow, go-with-the-flow baby hasn't made an appearance in a couple of weeks. I miss him! Let me make clear, however, he's not crying like he's colicky, but the crying whenever I have to put him down is starting to wear on many nerves around here. I've seen a lot of fingers stuffed into ears as far as they can go. Mine included.

And really, who doesn't want to held, snuggled and taken care of when they're sick? There's part of me that gets a perverse kind of satisfaction that when he cries, he wants me. Funny ole, crummy ole me. Daddy and even grandparents or Hauntie is good for a period of time, but it always comes back to me.

Here's the part that makes me okay with all of this, though. My kids gave him these germs by loving on him. By hugging, kissing, wanting to snuggle. No bioterrorism, here. These germs came packaged with love. Also, it's only a cold. In a few weeks, it will be gone and forgotten and happiness and peace (well, of a sort) will reign again.

Hallelujah! I am a blessed woman.