The Bedside Manners of Child Nurses

Aren't mothers supposed to inherit some sort of immunibility gene when they give birth? Wasn't there something in the contract about never getting sick again, if only to attend to the needs of your family while they are sick? Isn't motherhood supposed to give you a super-strength immune system?

When I was growing up, it seemed like my mom hardly ever got sick... other than seasonal allergies. There are very few times I remember her actually being ill. In fact, nobody's mom seemed to ever get sick. It was like they were in another category of their own. Some sort of super hero power kept them from getting the flu or catching cold.

So when I became a mom myself, I thought I would suddenly be blessed with an inhuman ability to ward off all disease.

Boy, was I wrong.

Within the last month I had severe allergies, a cold, and full-body hives. Luckily the hives didn't last long. But the allergies almost made my head explode on a flight back from Florida. The sinus congestion moved to my chest, and you know the rest of that story.

Mothers are expected to be sympathetic when their families are ill. But what happens when Momma doesn't feel well?

Let me tell you...

Nada.

I realized this when I had an unavoidable coughing fit and my son scolded me.

"No, mommy, don't cough into your hands. You'll cough the germs into your hands and then touch other stuff and the germs will go everywhere and get everyone sick. Cough into your elbow like this." Then he proceeded to demonstrate a fake cough into his sleeve.

I had tears in my eyes - not because I was so impressed with the preventative medical instruction I had just received from a 4-year-old, but because my throat felt like sandpaper rubbing against a cheese grater set on fire.

Immune to my pain and the fact that I was stifling another coughing fit in order to pay attention to my petite nurse, my son continued, "Or you can cough into your shirt like this." And he did exactly that.

The icing on the cake was being told by the same child nurse to immediately go wash my hands... so I don't get everyone else sick.

Wow.

A few days later, hives broke out all over my body. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as I've had before, but it was still painful. I heard my husband on the phone telling someone about my unfortunate condition and stating, "but she's a trooper. She doesn't let it bother her."

That's when I finally had my aha moment. It's not that moms don't get sick. It's that we often have no choice but to suck it up and carry on. All those mothers I watched never get sick while I was growing up probably did have the flu or bronchitis or colds. But they had families to take care of and jobs to do so they just sucked it up and carried on.

So I'll just grab my vitamin C and box of Kleenex and fight off my own infirmities so I can be ready for when my family is stricken with illness. Because, after all... I didn't cough into my elbow!


Just a Note: To be honest, my family is usually pretty healthy. We hardly ever have to visit a doctor. And that includes me. :-)

Anatomy of Insomnia

It has been 40 hours since I last slept.

And I'm not tired.

I'm not really worried about it though. I'll eventually sleep at some point.

The dance with insomnia is a routine I know by heart. I've been doing this two-step since childhood. I remember being in 3rd grade and freaking out because the minutes on the clock next to my bed were ticking by while I lay there completely unable to will my body and mind to sleep. With every soft tick announcing another 60 seconds had passed, my mind would launch into a quick calculation of how many hours and minutes I had left before the alarm would go off. Every moment brought a sense of doom. What if I never fall asleep? What if I fall asleep in class? What if I fall a test because I'm too tired from not getting a full night's sleep?

And, of course, the more I worried about it, the harder it was to fall asleep.

In the early years, my insomnia was often cured by calling out for my dad. I found comfort in listening to his soothing voice pray aloud for his daughter to find rest. The lilting cadence of his words were my lullaby.

As I got older, the insomnia aged with me. Instead of worrying about school, my mind would lie awake at night making lists of things I had failed to do that day or ruminating over something that had happened earlier that day. For a while i had a wonderfully monotonous recording of the Bible on tape. I'd just pop in Matthew 1 ("and someone begat someone who begat someone who begat someone else..."), and before all the begats were over, I was usually asleep. I also had learned some mental exercises to help my body and mind relax. Those sometimes helped too.

But the insomnia never left me.

I never liked the idea of taking pills to fight off the sleepless nights, partly be because I never know when it will strike. There are no warning signs. I go to bed. I'm tired. I'm sure I'll fall asleep right away. Then before I know it, it's 1am and too late to take something that's not going to leave me groggy the next day, which is worse than pushing through without sleep.

I start off the night tired and ready to sleep, but just as the setting sun dips below my mental horizon, it starts rising again. By 3 or 4am, I'm wide awake and ready to start the day.

So i learned to live with it. Accept it.

When I had roommates, I used those nights to write. When I lived alone, I'd clean. Now, with a husband and child, i find other things to do. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I pray. Sometimes I just sit in the dark listening to the peaceful sounds of my slumbering neighborhood.

But I stopped letting insomnia rattle me. I stopped letting it have control.

If you can't beat them, join them... Right?

So what if I miss a night's sleep every now and then? Most likely, I'll get a good night's sleep the following night.

And if I don't? Well, then maybe I'll spend that time writing!

A Boy and His Sword

Last night, Hubby and I were watching Auction Kings, and they had somebody bring them an interesting little sword to sell in their next auction.

If you haven't seen the show before, basically, it's a reality show that follows a group who work at an auction house. People bring in interesting things for them to sell at auction. And before the auction, they have experts come in and tell them the history of the item and value. Basically, it's kind of like Pawn Stars, but set in the South and you actually get to see the items sold at auction.

OK, so back to my story... we were watching them bring in an expert to tell them about the sword. The expert first pointed out that it was a three-edged sword. He said, "They made it that way because if you get stabbed with a three-edged sword, the wound doesn't heal." Interesting... and brutal. He examined how extremely sharp the sword was and how beautifully made it was. The owner of the auction asked about the size of the sword. And this is where things got interesting...

The expert said that swords like that were often given to princes (basically a smaller version of what dad carried around). We're not talking about full-grown princes like William or Henry, but children! Then he said that this sword was made around the time of the Civil War and would still have been given to a child.

WHAT?!?

The expert explained that kids back then grew up in a different world and were used to seeing stuff like that every day. The gallery owner asked more and the expert said that kids would have probably played with it!

OK, so this is where my mind goes... I'm thinking about my own 4-yr-old and how he can make anything into a sword - a stick, a drinking straw, even a stuffed animal! He likes to have pretend duels with us. You would have thought that we raised him on Errol Flynn movies.

But now I'm thinking about that same 4-yr-old with an actual sword! Yikes! The damage he could inflict would keep an ER busy!!!

Oh, but wait... don't forget the part about it being a three-edged sword! That's right. So not only did some child have the capability to wound others, but the ability to inflict a wound that would not heal.

No wonder children didn't live as long in those days!

I know that times are different, and that they probably weren't handing out swords to 4-yr-olds back then. But I'm definitely glad that today's kids get to play with swords and toys made out of foam. And I am glad to live in a time where we have safety features and medicines (you know... like Tetanus shots) available. And I'm also glad my son won't be playing with a real sword anytime soon!

A bug in the hand is worth two in the bush!

Yesterday morning, I was watering my potted plants on our back porch when I noticed something green fly through the air. I looked down and saw a little green grasshopper sitting in the puddle of water.

Since my son had so much fun catching giant grasshoppers in Florida, I called for him to come check out the new creature in our backyard.

When we were in Florida this summer, Papa bravely caught giant lubber grasshoppers for Little Dude to touch and hold. At first, I was a nervous Mama and screeched when I saw my child reaching a precious fingertip toward what looked to be a ferocious man-eating bug the size of a small bird. But Papa convinced me it was an important "boy thing" to do - a critical milestone in his development. So I acquiesced and let Little Dude hold, prod, poke, and chase all the grasshoppers Papa could find.

In Florida, the grasshoppers were the size of his hand!

But now in our backyard, Little Dude nervously hovered over the bug and asked, "Is it going to jump?"

"Probably."

"Is it going to jump on me?"

I could tell he really wanted to touch the bug, but he was clearly nervous about it jumping on him. Just as he was about to reach down, the little thing jumped into the grass where his perfect green exoskeleton camouflaged him.

Without a pause, I did the unthinkable... I reached down and caught the dang thing!

Yep... my hands held a squirming, moving critter.

Thoughts were wildly running through my head: It's just a grasshopper, get over it. Ewww, that feels weird crawling in my hands. What if it poops on me?

Little Dude was super excited. But just as I was about to settled the grasshopper into his hands, it jumped onto the leaves of my potted plants.

We spent the next several minutes played "seek and touch" with the bug. I helped Little Dude stretch his hand across the plants to where the grasshopper was so he could touch it. It would jump to another plant and I would do the same thing over again.

He giggled and hopped around every time the grasshopper jumped to another plant. And I smiled because it was actually fun!

Yep, playing with bugs can be fun!

Eventually the bug caught on to what we were doing and hid under a planter. But it was definitely a great morning moment that I got to share with my son.

On the way to school, Little Dude and I called Papa to tell him about grasshopper. He was proud of me for catching it... because he knows that was definitely not something I wanted to do. Oh, the things we do for love!

Later, during a break at work, I wanted to see what kind of grasshopper it was, and I found out that it was...

...a cricket.

Shudder.

Grasshoppers are one thing, but knowing that I held a cricket... well, what's done it done. At least I have a face to put with the chirping!

Holy Guacamole!

Today is one of my family's favorite holidays...

National Guacamole Day!

As I've mentioned before, my kid loves guacamole. This is no ordinary appetizer love or party snack love. No. His is a dig-in-a-spoon-and-eat-an-entire-bowl love.

Look at that pile of guac! And he's already eaten half of it!

We have frequented Mexican food restaurants almost weekly since long before Little Dude was born. We usually went with Big Dude's family and ordered tableside guacamole (best when fresh!). After Little Dude was born, instead of staying home, we continued our family tradition.

One night (after Little Dude was able to start eating solid food), I mashed up little pieces of avocado and let him try it. To my surprise, he loved it! The next week we did the same. That evolved into Little Dude eating full-fledged guacamole, complete with onions, cilantro and tomatoes!

I think it helped that he was fascinated by the server making the guac right at our table.

At least we know he's getting his fruits and veggies, and all the great benefits avocados offer!

Every once in a while, someone comments on the fact that our kid is eating an entire bowl of guacamole for his meal. It's surprising to most people. But to us, that's just a normal Friday night!

Pass the chips!