We all need a sick day…or mental health day.

Maybe it resonates because what was better as a child then staying home, eating chicken soup, ice cream and watching television all day, tucked snugly in your bed. You probably had on footie pj’s and matching sheets and comforter.

Your mom would come in and frequently check on you, straight the covers, serve up ginger ale and Smith Brothers wild cherry cough drops. I  pushed back when she forced me to chew the disgusting tasting Aspergum.

She would kiss your forehead to check for fever and sweep your hair aside just like Barbra Streisand (Katie) did to Robert Redford (Hubbell) in one of my fav films, The Way We Were (perfect veg movie).

Your dad would actually call from work to check in and your princess phone would ring with anticipation.

The only bummer in the day was when your mom would do a drive by at school and pick up your homework. If you were really, really sick you wouldn’t have to do it until you were up to it. The next challenge was convincing your mom that you were too sick to go back to school on day two or three of your confinement.

Well, it still plays well as an adult. Some days, it is fabulous not to have to get dressed, no make up, just straighten out the bottom sheet and curl up and watch inane TV or read a good book for hours. Canned soup is fine. It’s a lot easier to be sick or housebound in NYC because everyone delivers.

I am all for hiding away once in a while and just vegging. If I close my eyes, my mom is still hovering…and Happy Birthday, Mom. You are not getting older, you are getting better.