Once and Always

A friend recently commented to me that a mother's work is never done. 

She said this in response to my telling her that I couldn't get together on June 4th, since I had planned to morph into my old familiar role of Nurse Judy.  

This was the date that my daughter, Amy, was scheduled to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. 

Amy is my youngest "child," set to graduate from college in December after student teaching, and excited about her potential plan to live with girlfriends once they're all employed. 

Twelve hours after surgery, I found myself hovering over her as I did 20 years before, trying to help guide the jello into her mouth so she could wash down all the medication necessary to withstand the recovery process.   

It didn't take me long to reprise the role of the much-needed caregiver, a.k.a. MOM, and I was very happy going back to it.  It always feels right.  Even at 3 a.m..  Even for a 22 year-old.

Times like these, when for whatever the reason our adult kids need their moms, may be few and far between, so I really savor them. 

However, with Amy's return to normal life slated to take a couple weeks or so, I'm going to get very comfortable being in the driver's seat for an extended period of time.

Even though it's by far the easiest place to be in - when the roles are clearly defined, we're all on the same page and I'm the boss - this change in routine sets into motion the emotional roller coaster we moms work so hard to neutralize. 

Sometimes we're needed, sometimes we're not. It's all very confusing. 

As for now, Amy seems pleased with my medication chart, my opinion on what foods she might be able to tolerate, my willingness to run out and get her juice as needed  and, most of all, our time together. 

   

I agree with my friend. 

A mother's work is never done.

Is there anything better?  I think not.