Sick Days

Oh, the lot of the homeschooled child.

Forever doomed to be the object of jokes, eating dinner every night with the principal, never able to get any space between himself and the teacher who doesn’t tolerate the abuse of “their” and its cousins, “there” and “they’re.”

And then there are the sick days. Or, more appropriately, the lack thereof.

Growing up, a fever meant two tablets of delicious, chewable baby aspirin, canned Campbell’s chicken noodle for lunch, endless episodes of Batman on the little black and white television set, and, best of all, no school. Early on, I was a somewhat sickly child, so this routine played itself out quite often. I have many happy memories of being too sick for school. Maybe too many; my memories of happy school days are a far more rare find.

For my kids, though, sick days are a different beast altogether. Oh, don’t get me wrong. There’s pampering. Ill children are excused from chores, allowed to lounge about in pajamas, and get to indulge in their own personal pot of homemade soup, which I make with rice or noodles, depending on the request of the patient. If it’s indicated, I’ll pull out some of our home remedies and comfort measures, usually erring on the side of letting the body God so perfectly designed do its own heavy lifting.

But from there, it’s usually a fairly normal– if light– day. All outside obligations are cancelled, but books can still be read. So while math may be put off for another day, and verbs may not be on the agenda, there’s no reason to veg in front of movie after movie. In fact, if anything, I find that reading makes my kids feel better. They have something to do. They’re less restless. Their minds are occupied by something other than feeling poorly. Bonus: there’s less catching up later on.

Now, obviously, real illness– deeper, more complicated, I can’t even hold my head up illnesses– are a horse of a different color. On those days, my kiddos are either closeted away in the quiet, healing space of their room (with a baby monitor for instant access) or snuggled on Momma on the couch. On those days, life seems to suspend itself and we all work together, like a unit, to meet the needs that surface. While I never wish anyone sick, I have to say that those days always bring me great joy. Seeing how selfless all of these people that I love can act towards one another reminds me that the tug-of-war of personalities so often in play isn’t the end of the story.

But most often, a sick day is just a quiet day. A restful day. A day when you’re not excluded from the normal routine but rather, allowed just enough give to move slower and heal.

Now, chances are that somewhere down the road, I’ll hear from my children how this set up robbed them. I mean– sick days without Batman reruns? That could be blasphemous. I don’t know. But hey– at least I’m not asking them about whether or not homeschooling means that they do homework all the time. So it could be worse, right?