Now that I can take a deep breath and reflect after the chaos that ensued the family this week, I will say that I am grateful for the little things that remind me we are okay.
On Thursday afternoon while at work I got a call from my nanny. The 6 year old threw up in the car on the way home from school. Luckily, she saw the look on his face, opened his backpack, tossed everything out and he tossed everything in! Cue, sad mama.
While racking my brain I figured I had ruined my child by letting him eat raw cookie dough the day before, but really…it was just the stomach flu. Nevertheless, the anxiety tried to creep in to tell me that he was going to end up in the hospital again, just like last time.
However, I have more skills now. I know that the anxiety never adds to the situation. I know that the worry gets us nowhere. We were armed with experience and the need to surrender. I gave it to God and the angels and asked for every healing thought and prayer to be heard. I imagined sending healing energy to my son. I pictured a shield surrounding the toddler, Hubs, and myself so we wouldn’t get sick either. I asked the angels to send their healing light to the Spirited Warrior child to keep this virus mild and within normal limits.
Armed with Zofran, a makeshift bed on his floor, a bowl, and my phone we began the long night ahead. Miraculously, it wasn’t that bad. There was fussing, but there wasn’t panic. There were tears, but not sobbing. There was fever, but it was tolerable he said.
By morning, my Spirited Warrior was feeling a little better and able to keep fluids down. By afternoon, there were a few bites of banana. By evening, there were many loads of laundry done and hope that we were going to be okay.
Just as the children were going down to sleep, the cat comes into the house limping and bleeding. An epic battle he apparently lost. There was a cat bath, shaving of his fur to assess his wounds, and a phone call to the vet. The worry tried to sneak in again. Infection, abscess, injury, etc. I refused to listen. I sent healing energy (my amateur attempt at Reiki) to our cat, and again pictured a shield of light and love around each of us and just let it be. I couldn’t do anything about it at the moment anyway.
In the morning, the cat was still alive and limping. The toddler was feisty and bouncy. The Warrior child was fussing, but eating. There were shoes all over the floor, dishes in the sink, fingerpaints, legos, and crayons on the table. The train table track was pulled apart and tipped over. Pillows and blankets and towels were on the couch, while juice cups were half empty and littered the kitchen counters.
The windows were opened. The cold sunshiny day sucked up the stale air and brought a reminder of how nice it is to live in California in January. I broke 4 cinnamon sticks and put them in some boiling water on the stove with a handful of cloves. The smell reminded me of comfort, of calm, of carrying on.
I chose to work out even though I wanted to hide under the covers, I caught up on Twitter, let the 6 year old play computer games while toddler napped, and Hubs went to lunch with extended family. The cat visited the vet, came home pumped full of antibiotics and rested on his blankey.
So I’ve learned a few things along the way…we count it all joy…when there is bleeding, there is life. Where there is pain, there is life. Where there is fussing, there is life. We don’t count throw-ups around here, we don’t count infections around here. We don’t give in to anxiety and what if’s around here. We will count the giggles, the snuggles, the nudie jumping around, playing with legos times, and have relief in knowing that the angels are all around us.