creature of habit

that's me. lehr can testify to the amount of things that i will accept and live with, simply because i always have. for example, we had an end-of-hose sprayer with ten different options of spray. all last year i only used two of the options because they were the only two that worked without significant leaking. even though I would have benefitted from having access to the other options, i never replaced it. maybe it was laziness, maybe cheapness, but mostly i just got used to it and accepted it for what 'normal' was. this is played out again and again in my life.

one might think that a great shift in 'normal' would be traumatic to a creature of habit like myself, but i find that most of the time, the idea of changing isn't something i welcome, but the actual change doesn't take long for me to adjust to. i think i don't resist once the change is inevitable because to do that would prolong the 'in limbo' part. that's the part where i feel a lack of ownership over the circumstances. like i'm driving someone else's car or using someone else's computer.

that's a long winded way to say that after a few days of being short on patience with my family (likely due to the underlying stress that we were (are??) feeling that first week with all of the uncertainty, all of us, even the creature of habit mom, have been able to find a lot of lemonade stands within this lemon farm.

big naked

you crack me up. daily, you crack me up.

for as long as i can remember, eliason kids have had to be reminded, 'no naked in the halls!'

you are no exception.

the other night as we were getting you ready for your bath, your shirt was off and you told me, "i'm little naked, mommy." i laughed and agreed. then, when your pants were off too, you grinned and said, "now i'm BIG naked."

Deja Vu

Strange times, eh?

I think we can all agree that there is at least some part of what is happening right now that is severely jarring to each and every one of us. While I definitely fall in the camp of 'sufficiently jarred', some of this feels a bit too familiar.

The hardest part of Ruby's cancer experience for me was the social distancing and isolation. Even as an introvert, there were many days when I found it very difficult to be confined to the AFLAC wing for a week, or confined to the whole hospital for a month, while we lived there. And the days when Ruby (meaning me too) was quarrantined to her hospital room only? Dark days.

When we were released to go home it was a little better because we were in our own familiar space, but we still had to wash our hands like crazy, limit external exposure to Ruby most of the time, and 'foam in and foam out' anytime we touched her, which was a lot because she was two years old! (By the way, I absolutely acknowledge that the fact that this was the hardest part is a HUGE blessing...it still blows me away that we were so fortunate that her health or health decline wasn't the hardest part.)

That was a hard seven months, but one thing that wasn't hard was knowing what to do when we were at home or at the hospital and something went 'wrong' with her health. Call the doctor and head straight to the hospital. No questions asked and I always felt confident that it was the best decision I could make if Ruby spiked a fever.

While this new or temporary 'normal' that we are living is difficult to navigate for those of us who love our free day-to-day lives, the other side of it is equally as hard: the health concerns. So many of us are tiptoeing around, sterilizing and distancing like crazy to protect our family members who are more prone, and to do our part to keep everyone safe so that we can all return to 'normal' as soon as possible. But underneath that task is the fear that it's not enough, and that the big bad virus will still get us.

My family, even Ruby, might be ok even if this thing shows up in my house, but my fears are about knowing what to do. Specifically what to do if one of us has symptoms requiring medical help? Last night I realized why that is such a big concern for me.

Every spring Ruby suffers from the seasonal allergies that plague so many of us when the yellow fog rolls in. For her it means some congestion, particularly in her chest, and random fevers. (I know..that doesn't make sense. I can't explain it, but she always spikes anywhere from 100-102ish fevers for short stints during allergy season. She gets sent home from school with 101, only to register 98 or 99 the rest of the day...sometimes she's otherwise fine, sometimes she's rundown. No rhyme or reason that we can find: it's baffling.)

That season just started in our neck of the woods, and last night Ruby kept getting out of her bed. Around 11, Lehr noticed she was warm, so he took her temp to verify: 102-degrees. We gave her some Tylenol and kept her in bed with us so we could monitor her through the night. Her breathing was really fast, so we decided to give her a nebulizer breathing treatment (she hasn't needed one since June!). Lehr measured her oxygen levels and they were fine, but the rapid breathing and heart rate was terrifying. Eventually it slowed down to a 'normal' speed, but while it was racing, I kept having a terrifying back-and-forth conversation in my head regarding calling the doctor. I know we should have, and would have under other circumstances, but that seemed like a scary option because I felt like they would send us to the hospital, and would that really be a good place to go right now? Especially because we didn't (and don't) suspect that she has the virus?

Oye...so much to think about. That was my long winded way of saying that right now it is hard for all of us to navigate everything, including health decisions about ourselves and our kids.

growing

you're growing up so fast, even though you grow slowly... all of the sudden you can reach all kinds of things you couldn't before, and instead of using a chair to help me make food on the island, you only need a step stool now.

and your curiosity is so big, and so awesome, and ever growing. you are always watching all of us and trying to do just what we do, and most of the time you can.

yes, you can, big girl.