Recalibrating with gratitude

My good friend Katie (who has taught me that blurring the line between blogfriends and IRL friends is possible) published a beautiful post today. And after my woe-is-me whinefest on Monday, I figured now is a fantabulous time to make a list of gratitude. Even though her list was focused on one day, mine is going to focus on this week. Hers was just a list but we all know that I'm too talkative for that.

So...what am I thankful for?

* a feeling of peace and belonging that I experienced on Monday afternoon. Sometimes, walking down the hall to get my next group of kids, I know that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, and it erases all the stress that I've been feeling as of late.

* my principal, who stopped me in the cafeteria yesterday. She told me that a group of people in the office were talking about my strengths in helping kids communicate, especially when they are in crisis. A little bit of praise goes a long way...am I right?

* all the prayers I got from my online and IRL friends on Monday as B interviewed for a position that could be potentially life-changing for us. It sounds like they worked...although nothing is official yet, we are hearing very positive rumblings!

* my funny, sweet L. Between getting all teary at the loyalty between Lightning and Mater as I read him a book (and of course, saying, "I'm not crying...my eyes are just itchy"), processing aloud when we tell him to go to his room and think about sad choices ("I shouldn't push G....I need to be gentle....I am a good boy...") that kid is constantly making us laugh. More often than not, when I pick him up from school, I get the lowdown of something funny that he said that had several adults at the center giggling together.

* my G. Oh, G. I get hit by him more times than I can count in one day. But? I get hugs and kisses galore as well, complete with an "Awww," or an enthusiastic "Mwah!!" I'm realizing that he is smarter than I used to give him credit for. Yesterday, as I took the lunches out of the refrigerator, he said, "Go bye-bye!" and then pointed to B's hoodie and announced, "Dada!"

* my B. That man puts up with more than he should, particularly regarding my meltdowns this week. And never, not ever, do I worry that he'll leave. Plus, he is right there with me on my faith journey. And he does the laundry. I'm a lucky girl.

* Udi's gluten-free bagels. This discovery this week has rocked.my.world. They aren't crumbly or dense or disgusting. They taste like real bagels and they make me really happy.

* The comments and emails I get from my readers, encouraging me. This is a HUGE one. Just this morning, I got an email from a sweet reader telling me in detail how my posts on cognitive behavioral therapy encouraged her to try it, and ultimately, changed her life as it did mine! And all the comments on Monday's post makes me realize that friends whom I'm never actually met care about me. And lately, I've felt low enough to desperately need that.

* An unexpected break thanks to an absent student, allowing me to write this post and refocus on the positive.

Namaste.

Thankful Thursday...the I heart Katie edition

My girl Katie, over at Loves of Life, got me hooked on Thankful Thursdays. And today, she is exactly the person for whom I am thankful.

She's blurred the line between blog-friend and IRL friend. Although I've never actually met her (I will someday!) she was one of the first people I told about my pregnancy. We twitter, text, and e-mail.

On Tuesday, we actually chatted on the phone, because I just had to call her and thank her for the best package EVER....

Check these out:

Yep! That's right! Matching shirts for L and his little brother. (They both are personalized, but I am not giving up little bro's name that easily!) And they are perfect for a crunchy mama like me! I couldn't have created more perfect shirts if I had tried!! I absolutely adore them.

L loves it too. He's so excited to have a shirt with his name on it that matches his brother's. He asked if he could wear it immediately, but wearing a long-sleeved tee in our midwest heat and humidity isn't exactly the best idea. I'll get pics of the boys in their matching shirts come fall.

But that wasn't all. Ohhh, no. Katie included something for little ol' me.

And I love it like I love those tees.

Is this the most adorable headband you've ever seen?


Look at it up close. Just ignore my frizzy hair. (Unless you have some tips or products to recommend to de-frizz me.) Is that the cutest??


The good news is that Katie is giving away a headband today so you can own one too. Head on over. And thank her for me. Because I cannot thank her enough all by myself. There's no way one person can express enough gratitude for brightening my day like she did. Love you, Katie!

How do you talk to an angel?

Answer: You call the emergency exchange line at the right time and get the most wonderful nurse ever.

After giving L his 3rd albuterol treatment of the day last night, B got a little nervous (yes, I am married to a worrier too...makes for an interesting marriage) and started questioning the amount of medication we are giving him. Poor L gets really tired after the treatments, so I started worrying too. I have always heard that albuterol gets kids wired, not the opposite.

So for the 2037th time this week, I called the emergency exchange line.

When you call the exchange, they tell you that if you don't hear from someone in an hour, to call back. Within minutes, my phone rang, and when the nurse identified herself, I felt a sense of peace. I just knew I'd like this lady. When she said she hoped I didn't have to wait too long, I was sure of it. No nurse has ever said that before.

(I admit that when she said she'd never heard of cough-variant asthma, it scared me a bit, but she quickly redeemed herself.)

I told her what was going on with L, and she gave me and him loads of sympathy. She also gave me something even more important...the support I've been needing. She reiterated what I've been trying to tell myself; that L just has asthma. It sucks, but he'll be okay, and these upper respiratory illnesses unfortunately come with the territory. We aren't freaks of nature, like I feel so often.

She made me feel so much better about the albuterol and explained that his tiredness is normal...he's fighting hard to breathe all day, and it's so normal for him to be exhausted. She also told me that his lack of appetite is very normal too.

On top of that, she gave me awesome suggestions, including Little Noses saline drops and a ball suctioner to suction his nose, along with tips on how to make it a game.

She suggested we keep the humidifier going, prop the head of his bed up, and give him honey to help with the cough.

She explained that it's not a good idea to give him food to eat 30 minutes before or after his breathing treatments, but it's okay that we are giving him popsicles afterwards as a reward, because as she put it, "that sweet boy deserves it."

She gave me specific instructions on what to do if his cough starts to sound croupy.

She said the fever he ran today was normal.

She said I can call back as needed, and I should call back if the nebulizer treatments every four hours aren't cutting it. She also told me that L's pediatrician was on call tonight, so if I needed to, I could call back with specific questions for him.

And then she said the best five words, that I so desperately needed to hear....
"You are a great mom."

I told her that she was the best nurse I've spoken to, that she made a difference in my life tonight, and when she said, giggling, that she was also the most beautiful nurse there at Children's Hospital, I agreed, telling her that I could tell that over the phone.

Now if I could only figure out a way to get Angel Eileen to agree to be our live-in nurse.

For free.

“Gratitude is a vaccine, an antitoxin, and an antiseptic” -John Henry Jowett

This morning, I was reminded of Reason #22546 why I love blogging. I am so grateful for the connections I have made with some people who I would have normally never met and who I absolutely adore.

Let me back up.

I woke up before 5 am, and reached over to check L (who had, of course, crawled into our bed during the night) for a fever. I was relieved to feel that his soft little face was still cool. I tossed and turned for a while, trying to stretch my legs and figure out a position that relieved my poor aching bones.

I gave up and got out of bed and the chills hit me. Hard. I started getting teary about the fact that I am still this sick on my fifth day in, and then I realized that kind of thinking is going to get me nowhere.

I started mentally listing the things for which I am grateful.

I am grateful that so far, L is faring much better than I am. Even if he ends up getting sicker, at least we didn't come down with this simultaneously because us having our worst days at the same time would be disastrous.

I am grateful that I am not a single mom. How in the world do they do it?

I am grateful that I haven't started my period. Not because it's late (it's not yet) but because I cannot imagine having this illness during that time of the month.

I am grateful that I'm not pregnant yet. My panic would be significantly increased if I was.

I am grateful that I'm in my own comfortable house with my own comfortable pillows and blankets. It would be awful to be somewhere else feeling this sick.

I shuffled out to the living room and opened my e-mail. And there were several e-mails from the comments you all have left, expressing sympathy and sweet wishes. Thank you! That means so much.

One comment in particular made me smile. It was from one of my very best blog friends ever, Brittany. The end of her comment was as follows: "...rest, relax and think good thoughts. It will help you heal faster, I promise (because I'm a hippie, and I believe in the mind-body connection. Sorry. I know. So ridiculous. But I'm just saying...crazier things have worked...)"

I think it's pretty cool that just as I was just thinking the same thing today, I opened an e-mail with an almost identical thought from a good friend across the country.

So go on, give out the comment love. Not to me (although I'm not going to turn your comments down), but giving virtual emotional support to your blogfriends in need might help more than you know.

And if you wouldn't mind, keep the prayers and healthy vibes coming that L doesn't take a turn for the worse and that B stays completely healthy. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Fine, H1N1. You ARE scary. Happy now?

I have a confession to make.

I talked a big game about the stupid Swine Flu.

"I'm not even really afraid of it," I said. "It's just the flu. I've gotten the flu many times before and I am sure I will again. In fact, I've heard it only lasts about three days. I don't know what all the fuss is about. The media hype is absolutely ridiculous. Ugh."

And then....

it hit my household.

I suspected I might have it when I went to the doctor on Tuesday. But I only had a low-grade fever and I more like I had a really bad upper respiratory infection...not the flu. My doctor, also known as the King of Misdiagnoses, said it was just a virus. Or maybe another strain of flu. Maybe.

On Wednesday, I started feeling worse. I called B at work, begging him to leave early and pick up L from preschool, which is one of my all-time favorite activities.

Yesterday, I stayed home with L and felt pretty rotten. My fever stayed low-grade for most of the day, unless it was spiking randomly. But I was focusing more on L and his poor runny sneezy nose. And then I woke up from my nap (thank God L still takes 3-hour-long naps) and knew something wasn't right. I was feeling worse, not better.

I called the doctor, who prescribed an antibiotic. I called B, and cried when he didn't answer and I realized I told him to go ahead and hit the gym after work and I had to take care of me and L for an extra hour. At least, I think that's what happened. I really don't remember some of this week.

Today, I cried again when B left for work and for one evil moment, swore that one day, I'd leave him alone with a sick kid when he was feeling this awful just so he would know how it felt. (Sorry, Karma. Really.)

Somehow, I made it to Logan's doctor appointment. When I got to the front desk at the pediatrician's office, the nurse behind the counter actually gasped.

"Oh my gosh! You look like YOU need to go to the doctor!"

Yeah. Thanks.

Fifteen minutes later, Logan and I both had diagnoses of H1N1. (Apparently, that terrible swab-up-the-nose flu test is only 57% accurate. ) And a joke that "there aren't enough Red Box videos for the two of you for the next few days." Hardy har har.

It really wasn't a shock. There are 200+ kids out with the flu at my school, and last count, I think something like 15 adults have or have had it. The thought of how many times I've been exposed makes me, well...sick.

We drove home, stopping only for our comfort food, McDonald's, and ate our lunches and a plethora of vitamins.

I put him down for a nap, and opened up yahoo to see the front page story that 5,000 people have now died from H1N1.

About that moment, my fever spiked and the panic that I've been suppressing for months began. I called the doctor, bawling. (Yes, I do have the most wonderful pediatric office in the world to put up with me, and yes, as soon as I get better, I plan on writing a letter to the nurses there to express my gratitude.)

I sobbed about the fact that he didn't get a prescription for Tamiflu. I sobbed about whether I didn't even know anything about the risks of antivirals on two-year-olds. I sobbed about the news story and Logan having asthma, putting him at a higher risk. I even complained to the poor sweet nurse (who is already my favorite in the office) about how horribly terribly awful I felt.

She gave me more empathy than I deserved and said she'd speak to the doctor and she'd call me back.

I called my mom, crying about how terrifying H1N1 is. As I was on the phone with her, I heard L coughing extra hard. I went in to check on him just in time to see him vomit all over his bed. I don't know what I said to my mother, but she told me she had a mask to protect her and insisted on coming over.

And come over, she did. With a huge bowl of homemade Tuscan vegetable soup, a variety of medications, and her trusty mask. She scooped up Logan and got him in the bathtub so that I could wash the pukey clothes and bedding. She emptied my dishwasher and picked up Logan's books and toys. As crazy as our relationship has been throughout my life, I can't express what a true heroine she was to me today.

The nurse called back to tell me that they are very reluctant to give out Tamiflu because of the scary side effects and that his inhaler would probably be much more effective on his cough.

I gave him his inhaler, which helped immensely. As I type this, he is skipping around, throwing everything he can get his hands on, and giggling at their trajectory. Just send healthy vibes his way that his third and fourth days aren't as miserable as mine were, and that he doesn't give me a reason to go into panic mode again.

You won't just be helping me. Trust me...you'll be doing the nurses at his pediatrician's office a favor, too.

"Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him." ~Albert Schweitzer

I would like to preface this post by saying that I don't know what in the world I hit, but it erased my whole post. For the love.

It is Saturday night and I am still behind. I am currently folding laundry, catching up on my DVR recordings, and attempting to get caught up on my blog-reading. Don't be jealous. I know it's glamorous.

Like I mentioned in my last post, I am still behind on life in general (hence my lack of comments on your blogs...sorry friends!) but I have got to post about what happened to me today.

I went to spinning class this morning, and when I arrived, the classroom was so muggy that it was somewhat hard to breathe. I'd guess the temperature was about 80 degrees before the ass-kicking class even began. Needless to say, by the time the hour was over, I was drenched. I had sweat dripping off of my chin and my elbows. I had to towel off my entire body before putting my fleece back on. And yet, I stopped on my way out the door to sign up for the same teacher's class on Wednesday....at 5:30 am. I adore her and all, but her classes really are a bit torturous. I'm convinced she puts subliminal messages in her music.

But I digress.

I stopped on the way home at our local YMCA for a flu shot. B had told me that it took him over an hour to get one for L earlier that morning, but I thought I'd at least try. The flu is officially rampant at my work, and it's starting to get scary.

I pulled up to the Y and saw a line wrapping around the building. Sigh. I decided I'd see how long it took and got out of my car. It was in the low 50's today. I had to wait, outside, in the wind and cold, still damp, at best. I kept thinking this whole flu shot idea might backfire when I got sick from being out in the cold with wet hair. I kept telling myself, "Thank goodness it isn't raining." At one point, I actually said it out loud, and only one of the many people around me appeared to appreciate my optimism. Can't say as I blamed them.

I tried a few times to start a conversation with the woman in front of me, but she wasn't taking the bait. She was more concerned in demonstrating her irritation with her four and seven-year-old little girls, who were actually being quite good.

That is, until an hour into our wait when we finally made it into the building. I guess after an hour, she decided that it was socially appropriate to suddenly tell me that she was unhappily back together with her husband after leaving him for a year.

And that they hadn't had sex in over a year.

Because he had genital warts.

Which he said he got from a massage.

(I may or may not have asked in jest, "Just what did she massage?")

But then I found myself counseling this woman on emotional abuse, which she says she is going through. I shared my story with her. I discussed the fact that she didn't want her little girls to end up in a similar situation someday. Immediately, she started speaking to them in a softer, more loving tone.

Perhaps I was put next to her for a reason. If my teeth had to chatter for two hours and I had to hear about a random penis to make a difference in someone's life, I guess it was worth it.

Counting my blessings

What do you say when your best friend of 24 years calls you to tell you that her in vitro fertilization that she had saved for years for didn't work?

That happened to me today. As I listened to her cry on the phone, telling me her heart hurt, I wanted to break down with her, but all I could do was say, "I am so sorry. I am so sorry. It's not fair. My heart hearts for you too."

It made me realize how blessed I really am.

I got pregnant with Logan on the second month trying. He was a healthy boy with lots of hair...exactly what I dreamed of.

I have a job that I really, truly love. I am SO excited for this school year to start on Monday. Who can say that?

I have had the summer of my dreams. I got to go on a vacation with my other best friend and her family, then jet-set to California, where I have always wanted to go.

I have the most incredible, adorable, sensitive husband...who takes care of the finances, and does the laundry.

I have a home. It may not be the home of my dreams, but it's cute and it's mine. After seeing too many homeless people in California that broke my heart, I have a new appreciation for what I DO have.

I have great friends, both IRL and in the blogworld, who count on me for support and are there when I need them to be.

I have a crazy, mixed-up family, who drives me ca-razy and who I wouldn't trade for the world.

I'm healthy enough to make it through my workout classes and work hard enough to feel soreness like I'm feeling today.

I've discovered the blogworld and rely on it for an outlet, for socialization, for inspiration. (And I am grateful that I missed the whole Google Reader snafu that sent my dear blogfriend Brittany into a tizzy today!)

What are YOU grateful for?

If you're happy and you know it....

As I've said before, and I'll say again, I have the best commenters ever. Seriously. You guys gave me incredible advice on helping L adapt to his preschool.

And let me tell you, I took it.

I went to the library and requested The Kissing Hand. When they told me their one copy had already been checked out, I found someone who had it and begged to borrow it. I got Jake Goes to School. I got My First Day of Nursery School. L and I read and read and read those books until he stopped crying when we read them.

I packed transition objects in his backpack. I put in a Spiderman sticker, a miniature version of his favorite blankie, and a picture of our family. We talked about them. A lot.

I taught L two mantras: "Mommy always comes back" and "School is fun." I said each of them 28947 times throughout the week until all I had to say was the first word of each and L filled in the rest.

I talked about school incessantly. I focused on all the fun things at school...shooting baskets, going outside, sliding down the slide, having fun with friends. After a while, L started naming things that I didn't think of...building towers with blocks, playing with the play lawn mowers on the playground, reading books.

I had my hopes so high for this morning and his return to school.

They got a little lower when L started crying before we left the house. They almost disappeared when he screamed when we got to his classroom door and I had to walk away listening to him sob.

I started accepting the fact that he truly has some emotional special needs when his teachers gave me a key ring with pictures on it, of the classroom door, the playground, and the school building, as well as pictures of them, "to help him adapt." I was touched and impressed by the pictures, however.

I returned three hours after I dropped him off, listening for his cry.

They are usually in the motor room at noon, but today they were in the classroom, where he struggles the most. I walked in, and didn't hear anyone crying.

His teacher aide grinned at me and told me....HE HAD A GREAT DAY!!!!!

Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyes!!!!!!

I looked over and saw all of the kids listening to the lead teacher read a book. Okay, so L was the only one not sitting and listening. He was walking around, playing with a truck.

But he was not crying!!!!

I stood back and watched with a goofy grin on my face as he explored the classroom, and when the lead teacher began to sing "If you're happy and you know it," he ran back to the circle and joined in the song and actions. How appropriate. I seriously almost joined in.

When he saw me, he ran to me and said, "I no cry for Mommy!!"

Both of his teachers started excitedly telling me about his day. He painted! He got his hands dirty! He swung on a swing! These are all things my kid does. not. do.

He cried for a while when I left, and then just for a minute when other kids cried when they came in from outside, but all in all, it was a great day.

If it wouldn't have gotten us kicked out of the school, I swear I would have kissed his teachers.

So, thank you, my trusty commenters. Thank you so much for the advice and the bloggy love. I'd kiss you guys too, if I could. Mwah.