For a long time-up until several months ago-I said that it was easier to have a sick kid and a healthy mommy than a healthy kid and a sick mommy. My philosophy was that if I'm, say, barfing and generally bedridden, it's nearly impossible for me to care for three children. But, it's so much easier to take care of a barfing, bedridden child when I have all my wits and strength.

No, I don't enjoy seeing my children sick and miserable (I also don't enjoy cleaning up someone else's barf). I suppose I was just being over-realistic. Thankfully, the last time I was that sick, my husband didn't have to work so I was able to stay in bed all day, while No. 1 periodically came into my room, meter in hand and said "Daddy says you need to check your blood sugar."

I don't know what made me reconsider my philosophy. It certainly wasn't a particularly sickly sick child. I suppose I got to a point where I told God that I'd rather it be me. Whatever it is-a cold, the flu, diabetes-just give it to me. Parents tend to bargain like that.

Several nights ago, I was glad I had already struck that deal. It's an all-out war to get No. 1 to take his fast-acting asthma inhaler. It's not easy to reason with a 7 year old, but I tried. He told me he was scared, and that the medicine tasted bed. I tried to get him to relate his fear to mine when I first had to take shots. I don't know why I said this, but I did: There are little kids like you who have diabetes and have to take shots. He looked at me, fearfully, the color slowly washing from his face. And in the moment he said "Do I have diabetes?" the rest of the house seemed to disappear.

Part of me hated that I had to bring that kind of realism into his life. Most of me was glad it was me, not him, who was sick. I admire every parent who has it the other way around.