I have a confession to make. When it comes to sick children, I�m not a very good mother. Actually, that�s not accurate. I'm okay, just not terrific. Luckily for Day-Hay, Dad is home with her today. He is much better at this part of parenting than I am. So much for the stereotype of the ever-nurturing mother.

I am at my worst in this respect with contagious illnesses, particularly colds. I�ve done better in recent years but too many of my colds end up in bronchitis. I�m afraid of colds---and it shows. All the while that I am expressing sympathy, I�m secretly thinking, �I don�t want to get too close to you, you toxic thing. And, by the way, did you remember to throw out your tissues?� I braid Day-Hay�s hair so that lying around does not make it full of rat�s nests. I sweetly talk about her hair but all the time I�m thinking, �I hope I don�t catch cold by getting this close to her head.�

If I hid my feelings better, it might be okay. I don�t fool myself. My kids know what I�m thinking. Day-Hay was weepy yesterday just because she was not feeling well but one of her weepy moments came when she told me that she couldn�t use the computer because she would get cold germs on the keyboard. I told her that of course she could use it and where on earth did she get such a notion. But I knew. She got it from my not-so-secret thoughts.

I�m not much better with non-contagious illnesses although I am a bit better. Perhaps the moral of the story is that a child of a parent with a chronic illness who pushes and pushes ahead is not likely to get much sympathy. I don�t give myself very much sympathy and I don�t coddle myself much. My attitude toward illness generally is that I ignore the small stuff---and my definition of small stuff is probably not the norm. My reaction to illness tends to be flight and it�s hard to be soft and comfy when you�re buzzing around.

On the other hand, there may be some benefits to my lack of solicitousness in some situations. As someone with epilepsy, Kat easily could have to deal with an over-protective mother. Although I occasionally have urges in that direction, I generally have not let the epilepsy interfere with her life (and now that it is under good control with medication there is no particular reason that it should.)

So there you have it. I�m not the sympathy and chicken soup type. I don�t plan and do art projects with sick children or make special meals to entice them to eat. I don�t stroke their fevered brows.

I�m honest enough to admit that I�m not very contrite either. I suspect a lack in me but I�ve never taken any steps to fix it.

But don�t worry about the kids. As long as they remember to yell for Dad when they are sick, they�ll be okay.

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