We ended up at O'Charleys last night for dinner. This was a treat, being that it's the end of the month and the spreadsheet is shot- AGAIN. However, after a failed attempt at Salmon Patty Burgers on the grill by me and a frustrated husband working for an hour to get the gas line hooked up on the range only to be unsuccessful, and a toddler that had eaten his fair share of pretzel sticks, dinner had to be had.
We sat down, ordered our food, noticed it was Free Pie Wednesday (THANK YOU JESUS FOR CARAMEL PIE!!) and we ate our dinner. I don't know if it was out of starvation, or just ease of sitting down to eat a prepared meal that I didn't have to prepare or clean up, but it was divine.
About halfway through our meal a man and lady came in to have dinner. The man was in a motorized wheel chair. It was the type that was leaned back, he had a joystick type thing to operate it. His legs were thin. He wore a blue Goodwill Apron. It appeared to be his mother with him. Easton of course noticed the mans differences right away.
Always quick to ask questions, he started asking us about this man and why he was in that chair. We tried to explain to him that his legs didn't work like ours worked and that his chair was what helped him get around. He wanted to know what happened. And why. And how. And all of the questions a tender 3 year old heart could think of. He let it all soak in a minute, then the questions started again.
We eventually convinced him that we could talk about it later because we would not want to hurt this mans feelings if he felt like we were talking about him. That worked. We finished our dinner and enjoyed our pie.
Finally back at home, way later than the normal bedtime, we sat down for prayers in his rocker. I was about to start and he said 'we didn't talk about that man that's legs didn't work'.
And the questions began again.
I explained as best I could once again, that God makes us all a bit different. Some with blonde hair, some with brown. Some tall, some short. Some with legs that work and some that need a wheelchair to help get them around. I explained that even though he was different from us, he was ok and that he was still having a good time at dinner with his mother. That he was still a happy person.
Easton kept asking why this man wasn't in Heaven. I tried my best to explain to him that we are all alive and it's not our time to go to Heaven; that man was alive just like me and him were and it's just not our time. I explained that when we die we go to Heaven, but when we get there we are alive again. I told him we will all die one day and we will go to Heaven. He quickly said 'not me, just old people die.'
His wheels were turning. His heart showing through those twinkling brown eyes. So tenderly taking everything in asking the questions he wasn't sure about and stopping me where he needed more clarification.
He must have accepted my answers because I was able to finish our prayers and lay him down with our normal 'good nights', 'sleep goods' and 'I love you's'. But I know his little mind was still racing. He thinks things through. He's so tender. He's so gentle with other peoples feelings. He's just about perfect, if I do say so myself.
But now I wonder. How do you explain Heaven? How do I explain that Jesus is in Heaven, but he also lives in our hearts. That He's what allows us to do the right things, to make the right choices, to love others. How do you explain death and Heaven with a smile on your face, yet not wanting him to feel like he's missing out on that now. Often times he'll say 'I wanna go to Heaven mommy' and the tears form in my eyes. Heaven is a wonderful place, one we all want to go to, I just don't want him to go now. But how do I boldly, yet clearly explain that to him? Is there a book on how to teach a 3 year old about Heaven? Even about differences? Because for whatever reason, he felt that this man needed to be in Heaven. Have I told him to much? To little? To many details?
This is such a precious age. A trying age at times, but such a teachable age. I want to make sure I'm doing this right. I want him to KNOW Jesus, and Heaven, and accept others differences without even seeing them as different and to always have a heart for others. I cannot believe this child is mine. What a gift. Lord, help me make the most of this gift- and to never take my position as his mother fore granted.
Showing posts with label just thinking.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just thinking.. Show all posts
Jun 27, 2013
Mar 25, 2013
Grace for the momma
I overslept. I paid for the Tylenol PM I took last night at 10:30. What was I thinking? I was thinking about my heavenly 2 hour Sunday afternoon nap I took and knew I wanted to SLEEP so I was trying to induce sleep. However. I paid for it.
I need to leave the house by 6:45 to get to work by 8. I was just waking up at 6:45. Great. Fantastic start to this Monday. This last Monday that Easton would be commuting with me to work. He starts a new school April 1. Closer to home. Less money. All around a good plan, but it still makes me sick.
We hurried to get ready and got out the door by 7:15. I knew several counties were out of school for Spring Break so I was hoping this would help in our late-ness.
I got Easton loaded in the truck. He'd dropped a glove. I retraced our steps and found it. I got in the truck to realize I left my phone. I turned the truck off to go back in to get it. I get back in the truck, I unwrapped Easton's granola bar and backed out the driveway. I need a tissue mommy, I hear from the back seat. I open the glove box and get out a tissue. I wanna do it myself. No Easton, you don't need the whole pack. He wipes his nose and throws it back up front. He thinks he's helping by doing this, but my truck looks like a war zone. Sweet boy, just hold it in your seat for the next 17 times you will ask before we even make it to the interstate. We have 2 miles to go before we make it to the main drag that takes us to the interstate. About 8 miles on that main highway. By about mile 5 I had already passed about 16 tissue and 3 wipes, half of my banana, cleaned up yogurt from the front of his jacket, which he thought would be best to eat with his fingers, passed back his milk and I was grabbing the 4th wipe from the console when I lost it. I. Lost. It.
Instantly, the guilt came over me. He's 3. He's only 3. It's early. No one wants to be rushed. He's only little once. He depends on me. This is our last Monday carpooling together, as we've done every day since he was 12 weeks old. And that set the tone for the whole ride in. Quiet. Somber.
He knew it too. He was quiet. He was gentle with his words when he did speak. About 15 minutes down the road, I apologized. He looked at me with those big brown eyes as if to say 'you let me down, mom.' But, I apologized again. I asked him if he accepted my appology and he said yes. He sang Little Bunny Foo Foo all the way to school. He wanted to know what the Good- Fairy said. I reminded him.
And the good fairy said...
Little Bunny Foo Foo
I don't wanna see you
Scoopin up the fild mice
And boppin 'em on the head.
He sang it all the way in. We held hands walking in school. I told him I loved him. He knows I love him. I know that without a doubt. He bound in his room with a big smile on his face and kissed me and gave me my I Love You's at the door.
I've cried off and on all day long. These days are so short. They go too quickly. Most mornings we are up and out the door by 7am, and land back at home around 5:30 or 6. I then have 2 hours with him, which consist of laundry and supper and clean up and bath and then bed.
The guilt creeps in every so often. I rush, rush, rush to get him to school. Then we rush, rush, rush home to get to bed. Every day. It's exhausting. At times I really wish I could stay at home with him, but I know how much he loves his friends and his school (and hopefully will feel that same way about his new school). I think back on my own childhood when my mom worked. I went to daycare. Every day. But the afternoons were spent with her. I don't ever remember feeling anything less than HAPPY to be with her. It didn't matter what we were doing, we were together.
In between moments of tears, I offer myself GRACE. So very quick to offer it to others, but so extremely slow to accept it myself. And. It's not excuses. It's grace. Grace to do better, starting now. Grace to do better, starting today. Grace, that when I pick Easton up, he will KNOW he has my attention for the hour and fifteen minute ride home. Grace that when we get home I can sit down and play a minute. Or just sit and hold him. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace to let go of the little things that I think are important but to take time for the big things that really do matter. Grace. So freely offered. Yes so difficult to accept at times. And Grace to be able to get up and do it all over tomorrow, but with a new attitude.
Thank GOD He never runs out of it for me.
It's a new moment. Starting now.
I need to leave the house by 6:45 to get to work by 8. I was just waking up at 6:45. Great. Fantastic start to this Monday. This last Monday that Easton would be commuting with me to work. He starts a new school April 1. Closer to home. Less money. All around a good plan, but it still makes me sick.
We hurried to get ready and got out the door by 7:15. I knew several counties were out of school for Spring Break so I was hoping this would help in our late-ness.
I got Easton loaded in the truck. He'd dropped a glove. I retraced our steps and found it. I got in the truck to realize I left my phone. I turned the truck off to go back in to get it. I get back in the truck, I unwrapped Easton's granola bar and backed out the driveway. I need a tissue mommy, I hear from the back seat. I open the glove box and get out a tissue. I wanna do it myself. No Easton, you don't need the whole pack. He wipes his nose and throws it back up front. He thinks he's helping by doing this, but my truck looks like a war zone. Sweet boy, just hold it in your seat for the next 17 times you will ask before we even make it to the interstate. We have 2 miles to go before we make it to the main drag that takes us to the interstate. About 8 miles on that main highway. By about mile 5 I had already passed about 16 tissue and 3 wipes, half of my banana, cleaned up yogurt from the front of his jacket, which he thought would be best to eat with his fingers, passed back his milk and I was grabbing the 4th wipe from the console when I lost it. I. Lost. It.
Instantly, the guilt came over me. He's 3. He's only 3. It's early. No one wants to be rushed. He's only little once. He depends on me. This is our last Monday carpooling together, as we've done every day since he was 12 weeks old. And that set the tone for the whole ride in. Quiet. Somber.
He knew it too. He was quiet. He was gentle with his words when he did speak. About 15 minutes down the road, I apologized. He looked at me with those big brown eyes as if to say 'you let me down, mom.' But, I apologized again. I asked him if he accepted my appology and he said yes. He sang Little Bunny Foo Foo all the way to school. He wanted to know what the Good- Fairy said. I reminded him.
And the good fairy said...
Little Bunny Foo Foo
I don't wanna see you
Scoopin up the fild mice
And boppin 'em on the head.
He sang it all the way in. We held hands walking in school. I told him I loved him. He knows I love him. I know that without a doubt. He bound in his room with a big smile on his face and kissed me and gave me my I Love You's at the door.
I've cried off and on all day long. These days are so short. They go too quickly. Most mornings we are up and out the door by 7am, and land back at home around 5:30 or 6. I then have 2 hours with him, which consist of laundry and supper and clean up and bath and then bed.
The guilt creeps in every so often. I rush, rush, rush to get him to school. Then we rush, rush, rush home to get to bed. Every day. It's exhausting. At times I really wish I could stay at home with him, but I know how much he loves his friends and his school (and hopefully will feel that same way about his new school). I think back on my own childhood when my mom worked. I went to daycare. Every day. But the afternoons were spent with her. I don't ever remember feeling anything less than HAPPY to be with her. It didn't matter what we were doing, we were together.
In between moments of tears, I offer myself GRACE. So very quick to offer it to others, but so extremely slow to accept it myself. And. It's not excuses. It's grace. Grace to do better, starting now. Grace to do better, starting today. Grace, that when I pick Easton up, he will KNOW he has my attention for the hour and fifteen minute ride home. Grace that when we get home I can sit down and play a minute. Or just sit and hold him. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace to let go of the little things that I think are important but to take time for the big things that really do matter. Grace. So freely offered. Yes so difficult to accept at times. And Grace to be able to get up and do it all over tomorrow, but with a new attitude.
Thank GOD He never runs out of it for me.
It's a new moment. Starting now.
Jul 19, 2012
You're gonna miss this
This morning was a rat race. Who am I kidding? Most mornings are a rat race. But most mornings, my mind set is ready for the chaos and we get through. This morning? It really wasn't the case.
I couldn't go to bed. Thank you Milo's sweet tea at dinner. Kirby had been unsettled all night. We're dealing with what we think are the side effects of a tick bite and somethings just not quite right with her. My alarm went off at 5:45am just like every other weekday morning. And just like every other day I hit the snooze button one too many times.
So, I'm getting up, already behind in the race. It's like getting on the treadmill thinking you have 30 minutes to get in 3 miles, but realize you've only got 10 minutes. So. It's go time.
Ready. Set. RUN.
Shower. Fix hair. Get Easton up. He wakes up smiling. It's short lived. Fix his breakfast. Ornry begins. He doesn't want to sit still. He wants his ra-ra. He wants to shut the closet door. Basically, anything other than what I want him to do, which is to sit beside me and finish this oatmeal and milk. I know. Putting him in the high chair would be a lot better, but you see...we eat breakfast in the bathroom. It's where we all are in the morning. It's easier. If I'd get up when that alarm goes off we might partake in breakfast in the kitchen like normal folk. But that ain't happ'nin anytime soon.
He finally eats most of his oatmeal. I finish getting me ready. Lance gets Easton ready. He wants to take his mini bat in the truck. Lance agrees. I think to myself, that's not a great idea, but it's not worth the fight. They take Kirby out. I gather our bags. We're finally out the door. Late.
He hit the window accidentally with aforementioned bat. I asked him to be careful. He hit it again. Accidentally. I calmly, for the second time, look at him and remind him that we have to be careful with the bat in the car, that we don't want to hit the window. At which point, he looks up at me, with those twinkling eyes that can turn to mischevious in a milisecond, and taps the bat on the window. Not on accident. Mind you, we have barely gotten out of the apartment parking. We've got about 47 more minutes until we arrive at our destination. This isn't looking good.
Now, my blood pressure rises. I can take most things. Deliberate disobedince is not one of them.
I turned around. Gave him The Eye. Demanded the bat. He refuses. I spank his leg (lightly). And I take the bat. Commence crying. Lord help me. We are not even on the interstate yet.
Tears continue. I drive quietly. Trying not to cry myself. He continues. He then request Charlie and Ra-Ra. If I'm going to get an appology, I can barter. I tell him he must ask nicely. He says 'pwease'. I tell him it hurts my heart when he's ugly. He needs to say he's sorry. 'I sowwy for bein ugy' he says. Charlie and Ra-Ra are all his. The crying stops.
We ride. We talk. We both calm down. We smile. We go on about our merry way. Another melt down in the books. All be it, minor and short, it still does a number on your nerves.
But then. The song came on. Trace Adkins. You're Gonna Miss This.
You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
Then. I cried. He's growing up so fast. He talks my ear off all the way to and from school. He needs so many things on that car ride. Baseball book. 'Yittle' books. Stickers. Charlie. Baseball. Ra-Ra. It's like a 3 ring circus most days. My nerves are frazzled by the time I drop him off and by the time we finally make it home in the afternoon.
But. One day I'm going to miss those things. I'll be riding all alone one day and I'll wish he was back there.
So, I looked back at him through misty eyes and smiled. He was loving on Charlie and he smiled back. He smiles with his eyes too. Even behind that ra-ra, I could see that little face light up. I reached back there and rubbed his tiny little leg with his cute little grey cargo shorts on. He asked me to hold his hand. So, we did.
And at that moment, I smiled. My previous frustrations and stresses erased. He's mine. I GET to have these moments with him. It's an honor and priveledge to be his momma. Even if I am flabbergasted some days. I am human afterall. I love that boy with all that I have. He is an absolute joy and keeps us laughing.
I couldn't go to bed. Thank you Milo's sweet tea at dinner. Kirby had been unsettled all night. We're dealing with what we think are the side effects of a tick bite and somethings just not quite right with her. My alarm went off at 5:45am just like every other weekday morning. And just like every other day I hit the snooze button one too many times.
So, I'm getting up, already behind in the race. It's like getting on the treadmill thinking you have 30 minutes to get in 3 miles, but realize you've only got 10 minutes. So. It's go time.
Ready. Set. RUN.
Shower. Fix hair. Get Easton up. He wakes up smiling. It's short lived. Fix his breakfast. Ornry begins. He doesn't want to sit still. He wants his ra-ra. He wants to shut the closet door. Basically, anything other than what I want him to do, which is to sit beside me and finish this oatmeal and milk. I know. Putting him in the high chair would be a lot better, but you see...we eat breakfast in the bathroom. It's where we all are in the morning. It's easier. If I'd get up when that alarm goes off we might partake in breakfast in the kitchen like normal folk. But that ain't happ'nin anytime soon.
He finally eats most of his oatmeal. I finish getting me ready. Lance gets Easton ready. He wants to take his mini bat in the truck. Lance agrees. I think to myself, that's not a great idea, but it's not worth the fight. They take Kirby out. I gather our bags. We're finally out the door. Late.
He hit the window accidentally with aforementioned bat. I asked him to be careful. He hit it again. Accidentally. I calmly, for the second time, look at him and remind him that we have to be careful with the bat in the car, that we don't want to hit the window. At which point, he looks up at me, with those twinkling eyes that can turn to mischevious in a milisecond, and taps the bat on the window. Not on accident. Mind you, we have barely gotten out of the apartment parking. We've got about 47 more minutes until we arrive at our destination. This isn't looking good.
Now, my blood pressure rises. I can take most things. Deliberate disobedince is not one of them.
I turned around. Gave him The Eye. Demanded the bat. He refuses. I spank his leg (lightly). And I take the bat. Commence crying. Lord help me. We are not even on the interstate yet.
Tears continue. I drive quietly. Trying not to cry myself. He continues. He then request Charlie and Ra-Ra. If I'm going to get an appology, I can barter. I tell him he must ask nicely. He says 'pwease'. I tell him it hurts my heart when he's ugly. He needs to say he's sorry. 'I sowwy for bein ugy' he says. Charlie and Ra-Ra are all his. The crying stops.
We ride. We talk. We both calm down. We smile. We go on about our merry way. Another melt down in the books. All be it, minor and short, it still does a number on your nerves.
But then. The song came on. Trace Adkins. You're Gonna Miss This.
You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
Then. I cried. He's growing up so fast. He talks my ear off all the way to and from school. He needs so many things on that car ride. Baseball book. 'Yittle' books. Stickers. Charlie. Baseball. Ra-Ra. It's like a 3 ring circus most days. My nerves are frazzled by the time I drop him off and by the time we finally make it home in the afternoon.
But. One day I'm going to miss those things. I'll be riding all alone one day and I'll wish he was back there.
So, I looked back at him through misty eyes and smiled. He was loving on Charlie and he smiled back. He smiles with his eyes too. Even behind that ra-ra, I could see that little face light up. I reached back there and rubbed his tiny little leg with his cute little grey cargo shorts on. He asked me to hold his hand. So, we did.
And at that moment, I smiled. My previous frustrations and stresses erased. He's mine. I GET to have these moments with him. It's an honor and priveledge to be his momma. Even if I am flabbergasted some days. I am human afterall. I love that boy with all that I have. He is an absolute joy and keeps us laughing.
May 3, 2012
Not AT ALL how I had planned
I had a nice prodcutive, yet relaxing night planned.
The Husband was going to a hockey game. Me and The Boy were on our own. I was going to run to get some fabric and tanks to start working on the dresses from the Barn Sale, I was going to look for some new shoes to go with my new Birthday Dress and be home in time for an easy dinner, bath and bedtime.
But, such is life. We got a curve ball. Maybe 3.
We got home from school, had Kirby outside with us, The Boy playing. I was trying to convice L that I needed an hour to get my stuff done before he left for the hockey game.
It didn't work. Me time was not going to happen tonight. At least not during normal waking hours.
We noticed Kirby limping so I took her inside and gave her a full inspection. I got that sick feeling in my stomach that it was her back again. Easton, with his fudge-sicle hands and face decide to come in and help.
After catching the 765 drips that were falling from that melted chocolate goodness, and washing his hands and face and holding an injured dog, I was about at the end of my rope. Oh, and I shouldn't forget Kirby throwing up too. Yeah. That.
A call the the vet suggested that we come in, just not yet, because the doctor was in surgery. C-Section to be exact. So, we'd have to wait.
We kept monitoring Kirby, trying to get her to walk, all the while she was holding her right back leg close to her in pain. She'd lick and bite at her foot every time she sat down. Instead of being her back as we'd suspected, it was her foot.
She didn't want you to touch it. At all. But, I held her little 9 pound self down while Lance felt around. That's when he found it. She had been stung by a bee. And he found and pulled out the stinger.
How he felt that thing, I'll never know because it was tiny, but he did.
After about 5 more calls to the vet and searching the world wide web, we decided to treat her at home. A mix of baking soda with water and a toddler's ankle sock rubber banded to her foot would do the trick. A dose of Benadryl (1mg per lb) would also aid with the allergic reaction and the vomiting.
A quick trip to the grocery, toddler in tow, because why would he want to stay home with Daddy and make it easier, we were back at home.
Now, for the conversion of mg to ml so I didn't kill the dog with an overdose of Benadryl. My mind was going a million miles an hour. The Husband was getting ready to leave, The Boy wanted me to hold him, The Dog was in her kennel whining about her bee sting, and this momma was about to flip. I text my dear friend and used her nurses brain for a quick conversion. Half a teaspoon would do the trick.
Within 30 minutes, maybe less Kirby was demanding to get out of her kennel. Once out, she limped a few times but then decided that it was safe to walk on. Already improving. Praise the Lord.
A dinner of peanut butter and jelly with strawberries and chips would round out our evening.
The Husband was going to a hockey game. Me and The Boy were on our own. I was going to run to get some fabric and tanks to start working on the dresses from the Barn Sale, I was going to look for some new shoes to go with my new Birthday Dress and be home in time for an easy dinner, bath and bedtime.
But, such is life. We got a curve ball. Maybe 3.
We got home from school, had Kirby outside with us, The Boy playing. I was trying to convice L that I needed an hour to get my stuff done before he left for the hockey game.
It didn't work. Me time was not going to happen tonight. At least not during normal waking hours.
We noticed Kirby limping so I took her inside and gave her a full inspection. I got that sick feeling in my stomach that it was her back again. Easton, with his fudge-sicle hands and face decide to come in and help.
After catching the 765 drips that were falling from that melted chocolate goodness, and washing his hands and face and holding an injured dog, I was about at the end of my rope. Oh, and I shouldn't forget Kirby throwing up too. Yeah. That.
A call the the vet suggested that we come in, just not yet, because the doctor was in surgery. C-Section to be exact. So, we'd have to wait.
We kept monitoring Kirby, trying to get her to walk, all the while she was holding her right back leg close to her in pain. She'd lick and bite at her foot every time she sat down. Instead of being her back as we'd suspected, it was her foot.
She didn't want you to touch it. At all. But, I held her little 9 pound self down while Lance felt around. That's when he found it. She had been stung by a bee. And he found and pulled out the stinger.
How he felt that thing, I'll never know because it was tiny, but he did.
After about 5 more calls to the vet and searching the world wide web, we decided to treat her at home. A mix of baking soda with water and a toddler's ankle sock rubber banded to her foot would do the trick. A dose of Benadryl (1mg per lb) would also aid with the allergic reaction and the vomiting.
A quick trip to the grocery, toddler in tow, because why would he want to stay home with Daddy and make it easier, we were back at home.
Now, for the conversion of mg to ml so I didn't kill the dog with an overdose of Benadryl. My mind was going a million miles an hour. The Husband was getting ready to leave, The Boy wanted me to hold him, The Dog was in her kennel whining about her bee sting, and this momma was about to flip. I text my dear friend and used her nurses brain for a quick conversion. Half a teaspoon would do the trick.
Within 30 minutes, maybe less Kirby was demanding to get out of her kennel. Once out, she limped a few times but then decided that it was safe to walk on. Already improving. Praise the Lord.
A dinner of peanut butter and jelly with strawberries and chips would round out our evening.
As I sat there and watched my boy laugh and smile and inhale his later than normal dinner, I had to stop and think. No, this night wasn't as I planned, but there was still a lot to be thankful for.
First, it was not Kirby's back. After paying for two back surgeries 2 months apart 6 years ago, this is not a cheap surgery. But the money I had spent in my head for that surgery, would not be happening. Second, my boy was happy as a lark eating PB&J, even while I'm beating myself up because there wasn't veggies on his plate. Third, there was still time to get that quick bath and in bed before 8.
And that we did. We finished our supper, had a quick bath and I had The Boy in bed by 8.
Oh, and...Kirby...well, she got the sock off her foot...but the rubberband couldn't be located. As I was about give her peroxide to induce vomiting I decided to make one final sweep of the bedroom for the rubberband...and I found it. Lucky dog. Lucky me.
See, it's not all bad afterall. Things happen. Situations come up. Things don't always go as planned. But, the more you roll with the punches, the better off you are. I could sit here and be welled up with irritation (don't get me wrong, there was an hour of real tension 'round here), but really, what good is that going to do?
Roll with it. Take what life hands you. Make lemonade out of lemons.
Happy Thursday!
xoxo
Mar 12, 2012
There's a benefit to getting up with the roosters
It's morning like these when I feel like I've got it together. It's amazing what actually getting up when the alarm goes off will do.
The Husband had an early morning meeting to attend. Because I'm a sissy, I didn't want to be in the shower when he wasn't home, I got up and got going early too.
I was ready except for my clothes by 6:30. That includes washing, drying and flat ironing this head of hair. That's an extra 30 minute chore. Believe it or not.
I had The Boy's breakfast ready before he woke up. And it was the perfect temperature for him once I woke him up. I was able to sit with him and help him with his cream of wheat and give him some one-on-one before the day got going.
We got our clothes changed, sang a few songs while doing so. We both had a little pep in our step.
It was perfect. How it should be.
I had patience. He had patience. We were all smiles.
I think I might have just found a new rhythm for getting up with the roosters. If every morning could go as smoothly as this one, sign me up.
Happy Monday y'all!
The Husband had an early morning meeting to attend. Because I'm a sissy, I didn't want to be in the shower when he wasn't home, I got up and got going early too.
I was ready except for my clothes by 6:30. That includes washing, drying and flat ironing this head of hair. That's an extra 30 minute chore. Believe it or not.
I had The Boy's breakfast ready before he woke up. And it was the perfect temperature for him once I woke him up. I was able to sit with him and help him with his cream of wheat and give him some one-on-one before the day got going.
We got our clothes changed, sang a few songs while doing so. We both had a little pep in our step.
It was perfect. How it should be.
I had patience. He had patience. We were all smiles.
I think I might have just found a new rhythm for getting up with the roosters. If every morning could go as smoothly as this one, sign me up.
Happy Monday y'all!
Jan 27, 2012
Turning the corner
I think we may have turned the corner back to health. At least headed in that direction. The last two nights have gotten better than the first and I'm feeling good about tonight's chance of a full nights sleep.
Yesterday his temp reached 103.7 at its highest. I felt completely out of control. All I could do was keep Motrin around the clock and lots of ice water. Luckily he did eat fairly well so I didn't have to worry about dehydration. Thank the Lord. Thats a whole issue on its own. Per the nurse 103.7 (really 102.7) is a mild or low fever and is good for the body to fight off infection. So. Fight we did. He slept for the most part and woke up fever free.
He was fever free all day but had a little jump tonight though he is happy as a lark and you'd never know. I'm saying it was a bad read. Hey. A mom can hope right. No harm in positive thinking.
I am so tired I can't see straight but I have a renewed peace and patience in my heart. There was a recent local tragedy where an infant died. It consumes my mind. It's a shame it takes things like that to make you treasure the small things. Even a sick child. Because really. He's healthy. Just a minor sickness that will pass. So. For that I'm thankful. Thrilled even. He's in the next room humming himself to sleep and I couldn't be more content. More peaceful. More thankful. May we always choose to live in this state of thankfulness.
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