I have a birthday curse and now I think it’s spreading to Mother’s Day.  

Every year on my birthday for as many years as I’ve been a mom (going on 9 years), illness has struck our house. We’ve had surprise sickness show up in the form of rashes, allergic reactions, vomiting, diarrhea, and any other random illness you can imagine. Everyone seems healthy and fine leading up to the big day and then it hits.

When I turned 30 we packed up the clan and headed to Disneyland to celebrate. We stayed in a hotel the night before, and as I closed my eyes at 11:30 p.m. I silently said a prayer of gratitude that everyone had stayed healthy. My gratitude was shortlived because 32 minutes later my eyes opened to the sound of crying in the bed next to mine. My daughter was sick and I didn’t feel so great myself. It was as if the curse waited until the clock struck midnight to manifest itself.

To make a long story short, we had a miserable night of throwing up and digestive distress. We ended up checking out of the hotel at 5 a.m. and driving home to nurse our infirmities. We had to postpone Disneyland and the celebration of the big 3-0!

I have reason to believe that the birthday curse is now spreading to other self-indulgent days for Mom like Mother’s Day. It’s like illnesses know that the world will stop revolving around them for a day and so they try to find a way to throw the universe back into their favor. When tantrums and bad behavior can’t penetrate your plans to stay in a good mood, physical illness comes in to taunt you into being a grump.

I spent Mother’s Dayat home with a whiney and needy child attached to me like a baby kanagaroo in her mommy’s pouch. Except for the fact that I’m not a kanagaroo and I don’t have a pouch, it was tons of fun carting around a 40-pound 3-year-old on my hip all day. Who doesn’t want to spend their day doing that? Really.

While it definitely wasn’t any scene Norman Rockwell would have depicted, it’s pretty gratifying to know that it’s only me my child wanted. There is only one Mom on the planet for each of us and it’s nice that my daughter adores me now. These are the moments that will inspire sappy Mother’s Day cards that she’ll send me someday.

I postponed other responsibilities and put her needs first. Isn’t that essence of motherhood? As I snuggled into the couch with her 3-year-old body I realized that these moments won’t happen much in the future. Realistically she may not get another illness for months and she may be too old to want her mommy by then. This may be one of my last chances to snuggle her, hold her, rub her head, and read books with her.

 Independence is right around the corner for her. Every time I forget this she reminds me by saying, “I can do it myself, Mom,” or “No. I do it.” Of course, I want her to grow up and fend for herself, but it’s not like they tell you, “OK, Mom, this is the last time I’m going to let you do this for me, because next time I won’t need it.” Instead they cut you off one day, whether you’re ready or not. 

 

For example, several months ago I walked my oldest daughter on to her school grounds and reached for her hand. She quickly threw imy hand to the side and then folded her arms across her chest.  “Mom! I’m too old to hold your hand!” Those moments should come with a warning label. I was not prepared for this type of physical rejection. Yikes! I was crushed, but tried to be cool. I don’t really expect her to hold my hand into the teenage years, but her sudden dislike of this public display of affection was shocking.

So, this Mother’s Day as I nestled my youngest child, reeling in pain from an ear infection, I was grateful for the time I had to reflect on how precious those moments are when you get to slow down and snuggle and enjoy the work of being a mom. It made it easier to forget about the four urgent care centers I drove to trying to find a doctor to see her, or the way she screamed at the top of her lungs at the store while we waited for the prescription to be filled, or how she spit the antibiotic all over me because it tasted, “Yucky!” Instead I got to enjoy my baby while she’s still a little bit like a baby.