I kind of, sort of, maybe a little bit like when Bean is sick. Okay, not hospital visit sick, but any low grade fever and mysterious virus that doesn't involve puke or diarrhea is fine by me. It's not that I like seeing Bean sick. I don't. What I do like is that when Bean doesn't feel well, she morphs into a cuddle monster. And this cuddle monster only wants her Mama. Oh and her Bear too.
In this slightly 'off' state, Bean can sit for hours on my lap reading her stories or singing her silly songs. Keep in mind that toddlers, and really practically everyone else in the world right now, has the attention span of gnat. So the fact that Bean can do any activity, even one that really only involves her sitting and listening for more than ten minutes is amazing. We walk from room to room with her perched on my hip, with her head resting on my shoulder. I don't even mind the snot cascade that trickles out of her little nose onto my shoulder. And oh the naps! Everyone says that when you have a baby, you need to nap when the baby naps. They don't mean as a toddler. They are referring to new moms who forget to put on underwear from lack of sleep, not the well-rested moms of toddlers. I have news for you, naps are nice and I never get to take them because I'm constantly plagued by guilt. I feel guilty that the world is out working and I'm resting in bed. Or I feel guilty because of the zillion other chores I could be doing or the relatives and long lost friends I should be calling. SO the reality is, that I only nap when Bean is sick and only when she is the kind of sick that requires her to use her Mama as pillow.
When Bean is sick, I take her into my bed and she will lay her head on my shoulder. She fits almost perfectly into the crook of my arm. I kiss her head about a zillion times singing lullabies softly to her until I see her eyelids drift slowly closed. I might sneak my hand into hers and sometimes she will grasp it firmly even in her sleep.
I turn my body ever so gently to face hers. From this vantage point, I see her little nose that is almost exactly like mine. I count her incredibly long eye lashes and I see her smile softly in her slumber with her pouty rose-colored lips. I inch just slightly closer into her, marveling at how this little Bean that grew inside me is now this little girl laying next to me. I watch her little chest rising and falling with each breath, amazed by her little puf-puf breaths. Sometimes I lay my head on her chest and listen to her wonky heart, trying to interpret its irregular rhythms and hoping that maybe, just maybe her heart healed itself.
When Bean is sick, I can forgive myself for not cleaning the floors or not putting away the laundry. I can order Thai food and I can even let her watch multiple viewings of Elmo. I get to just be there for Bean, and too often, life gets in the way of that.