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We are two working mothers — Lauren Rose, the director of business development for Name Bubbles, and Betsy DeMars, the assistant managing editor at The Saratogian. Try as we may to be really good at both, balancing motherhood and career can get pretty messy. As professionals, work schedules and mommy schedules often collide. So, we plow through, hoping at the end of the day, our kids — Lauren's 5-year-old son and Betsy's 11-year-old son and 9-year-old daughter — know how much we love them.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Who mothers mom when she's sick?

Friday around noon I finally gave in to what I was feeling. Sick. I'd been fighting something all week and appeared to be getting progressively worse day-by-day. Urgent Care in Wilton delivered the news I hoped I wouldn't hear: Strep Throat. Yikes!

I asked a co-worker to power down my laptop and forward my phones, while making sure she delivered my sincere apologies to folks in the office for potentially taking down my staff and fellow coworkers on what is essentially the busiest-week-before-the-busiest-week of our entire year. Saratoga Race Course opens in one week's time.

A trip to Rite Aid and I was home on my couch where I'd remain for most of the weekend. Friday was a blur of fever-fueled dreams interrupted only by my Blackberry buzzing. Saturday was no different except that I had all day to alternate sleeping on the couch and my bed. We were signed up to attend THREE kid birthday parties this weekend so I made arrangements for my parent's to bring my son to the party at NOON and my husband to take on the 4:00 PM party on Saturday. Thankfully, he fell asleep on the way home and slept through the night.

First thing Sunday morning, my son said upon waking "Are you feeling better, mama?" "Can you please play with me today?" The answer turned out to be "no". I did make it out to the pool for a short visit while my two boys played and swam. When it came time to go to party #3, I decided to ride along and sit on the sidelines watching the fun. Even that was exhausting.

Although "Team Rose" handled my illness logistically, there wasn't anyone to get me a drink of water, a cup of tea, a cool towel for my neck, or to walk upstairs to get my Tempur-Pedic pillow instead of the poly-filled couch variety. So, who mothers mom when she's sick? No one. I'm not so much complaining as sharing what every mother knows. We're (typically) the nurturers of the family - the warm & fuzzy glue. When warm & fuzzy turns feverish and sneezy, things get ugly and as the saying goes "when mama's not happy ain't nobody happy". I found myself longing for the caring touch of my own mother when I was sick as a child. She'd rub Vick's on my throat and chest and then wrap me up with a hot towel fresh from the dryer. "Thanks mom, I'd say".

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