Sometimes Mom Is The Best Medicine

At 6:30 this morning, I heard what I thought was knocking on our front door. So naturally, I rolled over in bed and asked the lump sleeping next to me if that's really what I heard. Also naturally, he ignored me (okay, fine.... he just didn't hear me 'cuz he was still sleeping. Whatever.). So I rolled back over and ignored the knocking.

At 6:31 this morning, I again heard what I swore was knocking on our front door. So without stopping to put my glasses on (thus ensuring my near complete and utter blindness), I got up; opened my bedroom door; stepped over the dog (Aha! THAT must have been the noise.... his tail thumping against my bedroom door!) and asked Bug and his friend (who, even at 6:31 in the morning were deeply engaged in an XBox battle of epic proportions) if they had heard the knocking.

Mom, it was me came a weak voice from behind me.

Turning around, I saw nothing but a blurry blobby thing in the general vicinity of my bedroom door. Walking a little closer, I discovered that Jock was sitting on the floor in front of my bedroom door (where he blended into the white tile and white walls, courtesy of his white shirt and white shorts). Sitting myself down on the floor next to him, I did the first thing any mom will do when she discovers her child sitting on the floor outside her bedroom door.

I felt his forehead.

And discovered that he actually was pretty darn close to burning up. So I squinted my still blind eyes at him really close, and asked the obvious. Are you sick?

Every time I move I think I'm going to puke.

Aww, baby... I'm sorry. Want me to get you settled on the couch with the bucket?

*pathetic little nod and what might have been a minor grunt*

Alright. C'mon, baby.... give me your hand.

And so I lugged him up and walked him over to the sofa; went and got him his pillow and blanket; and a nice, cold rag to put on the back of his neck. (Side note? I have no idea why I do the cold rag. My mom always did that for me, so I've always done that for my boys. Anyone out there have any clue as to the theory behind this?)

Mom? Can you make me some tea?

So I made him some hot tea with honey, got him a straw (so much easier to drink it that way when you can't really lift your head, don't you think?), and sat and rubbed his head for a bit. I don't know if that made him feel better or not, but it helped me.

Because once again, even if only for a little bit, my 16 year old son needed me enough to come knock on my bedroom door just to come make him feel better.