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Of course this isn’t true because hugs do work, doctors and scientists the world over tell us they relieve stress and increase oxytocin (the happy huggy chemical) levels in our brains. And if this wasn’t enough, they also release dopamine (happy drug) and serotonin (mood balancing drug). Hugs send all the happy huggy chemicals coursing through your brain. So one of Edward’s super-duper massive, ‘fly-at-you-from-across-the-room’ mega hugs can set you right up for an entire day. There’s so much love in those hugs he needs a running start for full impact to be felt.

Hugs do make things better. But one of the questions I occasionally consider, attempting to be a responsible parent up a hill in rural Cornwall, if I had to choose one of us to be ill who would I choose? The obvious answer is me and that’s what we’d all choose because you never want a little one to be ill, ever. Even if it’s just a winter chill, there’s nothing worse than seeing a child suffer and not being able to get rid of the pain. But, if it were the other way round and I’m ill, Edward’s world stops and he sees his Mummy in pain. And for a Mummy that’s really difficult to take.

This weekend I had a migraine. My first reply to Edward’s Saturday morning giggles and blaring announcement that ‘It’s up time, it’s morning, up, Up, UP’ was ‘Mummy’s not feeling well today, can you help her get up’. It set the tone of the weekend. And this weekend it was a ‘don’t take me out of a darkened room, can’t cope with noise, seeing stars, can’t stand’ type of migraine. One that gives you a hangover for several days after. And it was hell. Not because of the pain. Or because my ex-husband was on the phone questioning (probably rightly) my ability to cope. But because I need, I truly need, to be able to function properly at all times because I am Mummy. And Mummys can’t break. Ever.

And not just because we are supposed to be superheroes, because I don’t believe we should be constantly infallible to children. But practically, if I break then there’s no cooking, getting dressed, no helping with going to the bathroom, no playing, going outside, sometimes there’s no easy-to-reach food and there are the dogs to consider as well. It’s an extensive to-do list and on sick days it can be scrunched into a tiny ball and chucked for all the use it is because it’s not happening. None of it. The world stops.

For toddlers this is so difficult to understand because they live in the present all the time, so your being ill five minutes ago and not able to play, doesn’t relate to now or five minutes in the future. They’ll constantly forget you’re ill or expect you to be better. Of course they do. They are three. And especially if they are doling out the hugs like your home has turned into a hug-tastic hugging festival, because hugs make everything good again. Every bruise, cut and boo-boo they have we make better with a kiss and a huge hug, so when Edward gives his massive hugs and kisses to make my head better it’s hard for him to understand that I’m still ill. Hugs unfortunately won’t get rid of a migraine, vomiting or whatever you’ve had the misfortune to catch (probably from your toddler!). But if you do think really hard mid-hug, they do alleviate pain for tiny periods of time, enough to say ‘Oh that hug made me feel a bit better, let’s get you some snacks’. It’s enough for me to have the ability to get some stuff done.

Recently, I’ve got wise to my odd sick day and have come up with a ‘Stop the world, Mummy’s ill’ plan, it allows me to hug the toilet while the rest of my home functions in relatively normal chaos. Having this plan is my sick day saviour.

Of course, all this talking about hugs gets me thinking to when Edward’s older, to when there’ll be pain he feels that my hugs will be useless to mend. Even though I’ll try and try and try and try and try and hug and hug and hug and hug…until he says ‘Aw Mum, get off…you’re so embarrassing’.

Now I didn’t start this post particularly thinking about young carers, but seeing how much Edward does when I’m ill for a day (finding socks, loo roll, telling dinosaurs to roar quietly) got me thinking about the number of children who do this every day. There were 177,918 young carers (5 to 17-years-old) in England and Wales in 2011 (Office of National Statistics). Kids whose parent(s), adult carer or siblings have long-term physical or mental illness. These kids are unpaid and receive little or no Government support. 68% of them are bullied at school. The average number of days young carers miss or cut short a school day is 48. Only half of them have a recognised individual at school who know they are a carer. Yesterday was Young Carers Awareness Day. Let’s give our young carers more care and the world’s biggest hug.

Quite Simply Claire for Hub Dot