I find it quite amusing to watch how my house changes when Mom gets sick. It's more wonderful than mothers day. Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I don't pretend now and then.
On any given day, I can guaranty, that you will hear Owen whine, and Reiley scream Owen's name for some monstrosity that he committed. Boys will be boys but mostly, brothers will be brothers. They don't get along all the time, that's for sure. Even when they do the house is filled with their foot stomping, dinky car dropping, lets line the stairs with pillows and roll down them, noise. No matter what I say, short of get out of the house, the result is the same. Quiet long enough to for a new game to develop, and then be ruined when someone gets hurt. It's been happening for generations between brothers, and will likely continue for many more. Well at least it will for my two boys.
So when I come home and plunk myself down on the bed to wish the sick away, I am amused, because the house goes completely quiet. A librarian would be impressed. Bickering - gone. Whining - done. Suddenly the years of Tree House and Sesame Street sink in and they're actually cooperating. I know! Amazing!
I don't do sick very well. I'm always a mess with puffy red eyes, hair a matted into a single giant dreadlock Bob Marley would be proud of, and if you're real lucky I'll even have a Kleenex stuffed up one nostril to try to tapper the flow. I'm never lonely though. No matter the vision of beauty I am (or not) the bed is always full. Reiley, Owen, Shady and even Hobbes join me on the bed. Quietly. Very quietly, asking if they can watch their shows on my TV.