Voodoo Mama

I have been a mother for 14 years and still there are moments, experiences that make me say “Geez, I really am a mother.” Some of them are wonderful, proud and happy moments and others are when I am worried sick or feeling like a mother bear that ferociously wants to protect her cubs. The following is an example of the latter.

Dressed up and off to a romantic dinner at The Ritz Carlton at Bachelor’s Gulch, and my phone starts flashing with the number of the kid’s sleepaway camp. It is Sydney, hysterical and at the infirmary with fever and an achy throat. No panic to take her home, everyone is calm…except Sydney…’cause everyone is going on a trip tomorrow and she has to stay back.

My appetite leaves, my heart aches and my words from a few thousand miles away don’t seem to be helping my baby.

I am generally rational and grounded and not usually overly dramatic about these things…I am grateful this call was not about something really serious…but I could vomit…and every one of you moms knows exactly what I am talking about.
It’s as if we are our kid’s voodoo dolls….when they get pricked so do we…and often the feeling is as intense as what our kids feel. Sadly, it is often more as they get over it so quick and we have already done something completely over the top to address the thing they are already over.

Eric told me to chill and outwardly I tried but the words, “I miss you and I hate it when I don’t feel well and you are not around,” haunted my evening.

Within 24 hours the problem was solved and I got my breath back. Sydney told me on the phone that she loved me and she was sorry she made me so crazy…then she said “thank you for caring so much about me.” And the feeling of joy that those words brought over me was worth any heartache any day of the week.

Geez, I really am a mother.