Little Hopeful Lies

I had no idea how much of motherhood would involve just totally making stuff up. This morning my youngest came downstairs still warm and fuzzy with sleep and said, "I have a pain in my temple." Hmmm. I leaned down and kissed his forehead to see if he had a fever. Nope. So I say, "Have some orange juice. You're probably just thirsty." What? If my husband said, "My temple hurts," I doubt I'd respond with a direction to drink some OJ.

I find I do this all the time. My response to nearly all pain complaints is: "You're fine." These are probably the words I've spoken more than any other (except, I hope, "I love you") since I became a mother. It works for everything.

Boy: "My leg hurts." Mom: "Put your leg up. You'll be fine."
Boy: "I cut my knee." Mom: "Don't drip blood on the couch. Go wash the cut. You're fine."
Boy:: "My throat hurts. " Mom: "Have a drink. You're fine."
"Boy: "I got a bug in my eye." Mom: "Close your eyes for a minute. It will come out. You'll be fine."
Boy: "I have a pain in my side." Mom: "Use the heating pad. You'll be fine."
Boy: "My stomach hurts." Mom: "You're just tired. Go back to bed. You're fine."

Sometimes I worry that I say it too much. I fear one of the boys will come to me with blood shooting out of his eye and I'll say, "Go lay down with your eyes closed. You're fine."

The flipside of this would be to take every complaint seriously, which sounds like a recipe for making some whiner babies to me. Seriously. Buck up little buddy, you'll be fine. Hopefully someday they won't each be sitting in therapy telling some stranger that I never took their pain seriously.