A few years ago I was chatting with a colleague during a break at a meeting. She had been raised by a single mother and we were joking about the way we single moms deal with sick kids. She said at her house it was “Either you go to school, or you go to the hospital.” I had to agree that sounded hauntingly familiar. With three kids and more than one job, illness was not something we had much time for.
When my kids were tiny and too sick to go to day care, I had a back-up. When the back-up fell through (and it often did), I must confess that they usually came to work with mom. Pillows, coloring books, juice boxes and puke bucket in tow, we’d set up a little sick bed by pushing two upholstered chairs together and make do. Mom was nearby, so there were plenty of snuggles and attention, and I still managed to keep the paychecks coming. My eldest daughter and I both have fond memories of a time she was too sick to go to school in the first grade and I couldn’t get someone to watch her until afternoon. I happened to be back in school at the time trying to finish up my degree, in addition to working full time. We spent the early morning at work, and then she went to class with me. We sat in the back row and she practiced scanning poetry along with mom and felt quite grown-up in her “college class.”
As my work schedule became increasingly flexible, I could take time off occasionally when my kids were sick—but still those days and time off work were precious. My kids learned that you had to be really sick, or have a darned good reason for staying home. I’m not exactly proud of the lack of indulgence for illness in our family—but I know I’m not alone or unique—with working parents it’s not are you sick or not, but also, “just exactly how sick are you?”