The Best Job

Sorry Geoff, Sherry, Shawn and anyone else I may work for but not realize it yet: I'm not talking about you guys. I'm talking about being a Mommy.

This weekend, FrogBoy has been quite sick. He has a UTI. Apparently this means Urinary Troubles Indeed. (At first I thought it meant You're Thing's Irritated, but would be a YTI, and that just didn't make sense.)

SuperHubby took him to the doctor on Friday. He's been one uphappy FrogBoy since Thursday. But he's on antibiotics and things will be better soon.

This weekend with the Frog Man has reminded me of why I love being a mom. No matter how big they are, how much they claim they don't need you to walk them to class, how they can do anything and everything "MYSELF!" - when they're sick, they want Mommy. This is way cool. This is a special treat God reserves just for women. I'm sure it somehow relates to the whole childbirth deal.

Rewind to the antibiotic. It's done what all antibiotics do: it's given the poor child one more problem south of the border. And who does he call each and every time he goes to the bathroom? Yepper...SuperMom! (I believe SuperHubby is secretly thrilled by this, although he just gives a half grin and shrugs, as if to say he'd do it, if only the boy wanted him.) All weekend I've heard "Mommy, come here please" or "Mommy, I need a little help here" or - my absolute favorite - "Mommy, I need you!" I don't care if I am wiping his butt, those words are magic to this mom's heart.

So we've sat around all weekend, snuggling, wiping and dealing with the concerns of FrogBoy. (Whenever he's sick, he's pretty sure he's going to die. This time it was "Is my face pale and white?" Every 5 minutes.)

I don't care. I hate for him to be sick, but I'm enjoying the benefits I get from it. He actually has slowed down enough this weekend to sit on my lap and be my baby again...until tomorrow.