Warm snuggles for Mother's Day

Snuggles.  Quite possibly my favorite part of being a mother.

But warm snuggles?  While I'm happy to oblige with snuggles pretty much on demand, warm snuggles mean someone is fighting a fever.

When we left for Mass yesterday morning I had to awaken one lil girl who had dozed off in the La-Z-Boy chair.  Uh-oh.  Clearly a sign things were not quite right.  But we needed to get out the door since one was set to serve.  Sleepy girl said her stomach hurt and then the younger sister echoed that sentiment (probaby just for the snuggles--I know that little one too well).  But the first one to complain was also a little too warm to the touch.  My poor girly.  When she asks to snuggle it's a sign she's not well.

But as I sat in Mass, watching my oldest serve and the younger two burrowing into me (politely--no pushing or shoving during Mass!) I couldn't help but think that it's fitting.  Mothers are the ones to make the sacrifices for their babies like no one else does.  The babes hurt and so do we.  We just want them well (although every mother has been known to enjoy the relative peace you have in the house when someone is too sick to instigate trouble).  And so it fit that on Mother's Day my girls would need to snuggle in for extra love just to get through Mass. It's not a burden.  It's just being a mother.