Tuesday, March 29, 2016

On a brighter note...

On a brighter note from my Easter post yesterday...

We got to take our son to the annual White House Easter Egg Roll today.  I got to go to it over 30 years ago when Reagan was President.  My husband was surprised by this and said, "Who did your parents know?  I didn't know they knew anyone who could get them in."  Well, back in those days, I explained, "I don't think you really had to know someone, we just got in."  We were from Michigan and visiting D.C.  That would never happen these days.  We got a whole packet of what we could and couldn't do and what we could and couldn't bring.  I was a little surprised they didn't let you bring food.  Do they know how whiny toddlers get without food?  And their parents too?

We were blessed to get tickets through my husbands boss, they are hard to come by.  There is a lottery and over 75,000 people apply for 15,000 spots.  We were fortunate.  We didn't get to meet the President, but really that wasn't what we were going for.  There is a certain majesty about the White House and everyone being there for the kids to have fun.  While my son REALLY wanted to play on the president's basketball court, that was only for kids over 10.  He did love playing tennis and getting "coached" by one of their many volunteers.   My husband and I enjoyed listening to Idina Menzel and watching him have so much fun.  We rolled eggs and I'm going to have to find the picture from when I was a kid rolling eggs to put them next to each other (and to find my commemorative wooden egg).

He turned up seeing Curious George (my husband and I were shocked) to play a football game where he said, "I didn't care much for the cones."  We are not sure where he came up with that phrase.  My husband and I enjoyed watching one of the contestants from Top Chef.  He got a picture with Charlie Brown and numerous pictures of the White House, the fountain and all the landmarks.  It was great to see all the kids having a great time and enjoying a great day outside.  Happy Easter!

Sunday, March 27, 2016

An Easter Gift

As seems to be the usual for me, Lent didn't really "kick in" until the last few weeks.  I had an opportunity to go to Confession last month, but didn't take it, because "I wasn't ready," as I told my husband.  No this doesn't mean I wasn't ready to try to stop sinning and I wanted to party a little longer.  It meant that I hadn't really come to full terms and processed those things I needed to leave behind.

I was on a wonderful retreat this week and one of the stories the priest told was about a woman on retreat.  At the retreat, everyone was supposed to grab a stone and write on it all the difficulties and stumbling blocks they were facing.  Their sins and their crosses.  They were supposed to carry it to every meal and every service and talk throughout the retreat.  The woman picked the largest rock that could be found, the priest said.  He then noticed that she lugged this rock around everywhere.  The participants in the retreat were supposed to leave the rock at the altar, once they Confessed and gave their troubles over to God.  He noticed as the retreat went on, the rocks being left before the altar, but he didn't notice that very large rock their yet.  He prayed for that woman, that she could stop lugging that rock around.  It was the end of the retreat and finally, he noticed that large rock before the altar and happened to look out the window and noticed the woman turning cartwheels through the garden.

It feels so good to get rid of our burdens, it's probably one of those mysteries we won't know for a while as to why we all like to lug around that stuff with us.  I do know the feelings of that woman, the feelings of doing cartwheels.  I know when I was a child, I didn't really understand Confession and equated it more to being like when I had to fess up to my parents that I did something wrong.  As time has gone on, I have realized what a blessing it is is lay to down that rock before the altar, but I still sometimes forget, or for whatever reason, like carrying that rock around with me.  Confession is a wonderful gift that we receive.

This Lent, I feel that my cross that I have been carrying is one of a lack of faith.  For some that know me, that may be a surprise.  I certainly have relied on my faith and it has saved me often in my life.  From health crises to work crises to what seemed like perpetual singlehood (until I met my wonderful husband).  I guess faith is kind of like a muscle, if you don't use it, it grows weak, or if you don't nurture it, it can wilt.  I think in my case, my philosophical and science background makes me look at the trees and not always appreciate the wonders of the forest.

Lately, with the current political climate (I'm not keen on any of the candidates on either side) and the international atrocities (both my husband and I have friends in Belgium and fortunately they are all ok), it's been easy to get scared, fearful and frustrated.  All of these anxieties can really become almost paralyzing.  One solution is try to ignore these things.  Putting my head in the sand has never really been my way of dealing with things.  It just makes it worse.  Another solution is to try to save the world.  That is exhausting and is futile.  Trying to find the sense in it all and trying to find God's presence in it all is difficult for all of us.

After my Confession, I shared with the priest a gift I had received earlier in the week.  While talking with my two year old at dinner, he, on his own said, "I want Jesus to come to my house," he then kept going with his desires, "I want Jesus to rock me."  He continued as we told him Jesus is in our house, Jesus is always with him, when he sleeps and has a bad dream, Jesus is still with him.  We told him, "Jesus is at our house, he is with Mommy and Daddy when they receive Communion and he is there in our love for one another."  He was happy to hear all of this, and as we shared, sticking to honest simple truths, the honest, simple truth spoke to us.  The priest was touched by this, (I'm sure he hears a lot in Confession) and then said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven"
(Matthew 18:3)

As he said that, I told him, "so I guess my son's faith is better off than mine, huh?  Well, that's the way I want it to be and I guess I have a lot to learn from him."

One story that has particularly horrified and touched me this week is that of the Missionaries of Charity in Yemen.  If you haven't heard their story, read the link below:
4 Missionaries of Charity killed in Yemen- 1 survived  The Mother Superior of the order hid in a refrigerator as they sought after her- they came into the refrigerator at least 3 times reportedly and according to accounts shared with the sisters, "it was miraculous" they did not see her standing behind the door.  She lived to share her account.  The Indian priest, a Salesian who was staying with them was caught as he managed to hurriedly protect the Eucharist from the Evil.

There was some word that the priest who was staying with them would be crucified on Good Friday.  This story horrified me in so many ways.  I have worked intermittently with the Missionaries of Charity over the past 13 years.  I didn't know if I actually had known any of the Sisters, and the pure Evil of what had happened was just so horrific.  As I contemplated the horror, I did the only thing I could do- pray.  As I rocked my son to sleep around 3pm (the hour of Divine Mercy), I prayed the Rosary.  I struggled to stay awake, and like the Apostles in the Garden of Gethsamane, I couldn't do it.  I made it almost to the end, but with the knowledge of Christ's mercy and the Grace from the Sacrament of Confession, I knew the angels, or Mary herself may have finished my prayers.  Hopefully, the prayers from all around the world stopped the horrible atrocity from happening, but I know, even if it did not, Jesus was there with Father Tom and Jesus would take care of him.

My family was able to go and take some Easter eggs and cupcakes to our local Missionaries of Charity house.  It is always a joy and a gift to see those beautiful Sisters and the residents.  My son had a great time exhaustively going through their collection of balls and playing with my husband and the sisters and laughing, giggling and running.  Some of the residents and sisters even remember when I was pregnant with this little joyous boy.  One of the residents there, we will call her "Mary" has been there since I started volunteering.  One of the new sisters, who was not familiar with me, asked if we knew each other, I told her I'd known Mary for 13 years.  Mary does not remember my name, she hasn't been able to for probably about the past 6 years.  Mary had quite a history, I remember her telling me some of her story, she had been married to a wealthy man and then somehow ended up homeless, I didn't know all the details and at this point, she (probably thankfully) doesn't remember them.  When I first met Mary, she was a force to contend with.  She was the boss of the place.  She told all the residents and the volunteers, what to do.  I shared with my husband how she once gave me a tutorial on the appropriate way to wash dishes.  He knew how well that must have gone over with me...

This weekend when I saw her, she couldn't say much.  She giggled with glee at my son and had a smile on her face.  I couldn't understand what she said, but at one point, I asked her if she wanted a hug, I sensed she could use one.  She opened her arms and I gave her a big hug.  She had returned to a state of a child, almost and she seemed happy.  While the sister asked if Mary knew my name, I told the sister, "I don't ask her to remember it, all she needs to remember is I'm a friend."  Her joy and her hug reminded me of the lesson I learned from my son.

We will all have our crosses and even boulders to carry.  No matter how much spiritual reading or effort I put in my relationship with God, the only thing I need to put my Faith in is the Gift he has given us, the Truth of the Cross and Resurrection.  By his wounds, we are free from bondage.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Good Friday

I would love to share lots of things about this week, such as the wonders of the Sacrament of Confession and the innocence and sweetness of a toddler.  Hopefully I will get to do that but currently I am struggling with the consequences of all the beautiful spring beauty around here.  While the temperatures are warm, the sky is bright and sunny and the air is full of Spring.  It's also full of pollen.  So currently my eyes are stinging and my sinuses are near explosion.  Thanks allergies...  I think the pollen count is especially high now, so I think it's just a short period I have to suffer through and it's perfect timing with Holy Week.

 I've tried antihistamines, allergy shots and now even acupuncture and herbal medicine, so if anyone else has suggestions, would love to hear them!  Thanks!  Maybe I have allergies so I can identify with the large percentage of my patients who have them, or as God's way of balancing out me not spending too much time outside because I always forget sunscreen.  As with a lot of things, I don't know the reason, but I will still try to look for the Joy this time of year!

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

5 things I'm Loving This Week plus a bonus

1) Good old fashioned family time.  Had some free travel time this weekend and went on a trip (about 3 hours away) to Colonial Williamsburg and Yorktown.  It was great just hanging out with my boys, not rushing through things, and not thinking about laundry and chores to do when we got back home.  My son was completely excited about staying in a hotel and going in the pool.  It was a great time.

2) Olive Garden.  After 2 days of lots of walking and eating out at restaurants, I told my husband I just wanted to eat in the hotel room.  I knew my son would think it was fun and I really didn't want to spend my meal occupying him in a restaurant.  I suggested to my husband just ordering pizza.  We had just spent time in the pool and were drying out and tired from a long day.  (Let's just say Palm Sunday is penitential for the parents because it is an even longer service to try to keep your kid occupied for).  Anyways, my husband found out that there was an Olive Garden near us and he picked up our food and we enjoyed a peaceful, good dinner in the hotel room.  My son thought it was awesome that he could watch Charlie Brown on mommy's iPad and eat his dinner and my hubby and I enjoyed not chasing after him or asking him to use his indoor voice.

3) Stepping back in time to appreciate what we have.  As you take a trip back over 200 years to see how life was before oven mitts, ovens and restroom facilities, it really does make one appreciate what we have to day and the rights that we have as citizens, particularly women and minorities..

4) A friend who's just as crazy about gardening as I am.  We are getting a 20 x 25 foot lot and we both have toddlers (who love to play with each other).  She's becoming just as enthusiastic as I am about gardening and I think we might actually get a lot of produce this summer and our kids should have a good time learning about plants and growing.  We aren't sure if our husbands have totally bought onto our idea or excitement, but I'll keep you posted as it goes!

 5) God blessed this broken road- that country song reminds me of Arizona.  My in-laws are currently traveling there and I'm having memories of all of my favorite places and things I did, and how they changed me to make the person I am today.  I was speaking with a colleague last week regarding my husband.  He's a wonderful man.  My pre-Arizona self would have never been interested in him (after all, what kind of guy wears white shoes and white socks and stonewashed white jeans?).  I overlooked our incompatible fashion taste (most people would agree I'm no fashionista, but I don't typically look like I came out of an episode of Saved By The Bell).  All the character traits and virtues I had not been wise enough to look for in previous relationships I found in my husband.  So with that, thinking of Arizona and its mixed memories are bittersweet.

A Bonus-  I'm thankful I'm learning to be more flexible.  On Wednesday, I was supposed to make a meal for a family who just had their 5th child.  I contacted the mom earlier in the week and she said she didn't need the meal on that day because they would be going to a restaurant for a celebration.  It was a day I had originally scheduled to be available to make the meal and we had already bought all the ingredients, so I asked her if I could just drop it off and then they could use it on another day.  She said that was fine.  Then I found out that my son's daycare was suddenly closed, so the day of all the "kid-free" errands I was hoping to get done, changed.

My son was fairly good until lunch when he had a breakdown.  He was just trying the whiny, nothing is ever right routine and I pulled out my old Sunday-school teacher face and said, "ok, you don't want to be here, sure, we can leave and I'm just going to throw this chocolate milk I got for you on the way out."  That, combined with the stern look of two police officers nearby, got my son back in line, to the point that he ate his hummus, brown rice, pita chips and chicken with nare a complaint.  He even commented, "I'm being very good."  He continued to be good the rest of the day for the most part.  We dropped off the meal and it turned out the family really was going to need it.  They had an emergency come up and it was a blessing that they didn't have to worry about where that's night meal was coming from.   I ended up taking my son and our gardening buddies over to the park (even though it was getting to be nap time) and they had a great time playing and getting all their energy out and my friend and I were excited to see our garden and make plans.  My son then went home for a long nap, which was rewarding for all.  My go-with-the flow attitude really helped make what could have been a trying day, a lot better.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

5 Things I'm Loving This Week

1) The Internet.  I work with younger people who have never known life without the Internet, or a cell phone.  I'll go ahead and date myself.  Yes, I've used pay phones plenty of times and I remember when you couldn't just use google to find an answer.  You had to go an encyclopedia, or a library, start with a card catalog and go on an expedition.  It's nice to have knowledge at your fingertips sometimes.

2) Good neighbors.  Let's just say a thoughtful neighbor did something helpful today.  To get into more specifics would expose my total absent-mindedness and this is 5 things I'm Loving This Week, not a confession.

3) My flexible schedule.  It's great to have a flexible schedule, just as I'm getting burnt out from work, I can try to get other stuff done and better yet- spend time with my son going to his favorite park.
 4) My son's comic timing.  As his father and I were in the midst of an intense discussion, my son threw his ping pong ball from the family room into the kitchen and directly into the frying pan.  My hubby and I immediately started laughing at his good aim.  As I was telling him it was a good shot, but please don't do it again, he was getting ready to lob another one.  He stopped.

5)  Spring!  There's something about hyacinths and tulips coming up that puts me in a Spring Cleaning and happy mood.  60 degrees and sunshine helps too : )

Friday, March 11, 2016

The Vet as a client...

It's an awkward experience, being on the other side of the exam table.  Today, I took my dog to the veterinary dentist.  While I am able (and actually enjoy) doing dentistry, I don't do it on my own pets. I try not to ever even do anesthesia on them, as I know I would be more likely to react emotionally than professionally.

My dog was happy to go in the car.  Then, he got to take his first ferry ride ever.  With the nice weather we have now in the Mid-Atlantic, I even opened a window for him.  We got to the clinic and he immediately wanted to greet and play with a St. Bernard.  Everyone thought he was a puppy, not the "senior" he is.  At over 7 years for a large breed, he is considered a senior and in another 2 years, he will be "geriatric".  It's hard to believe.  As he sat at my feet and shed a pound of his hair coat in the waiting room, I thought about our relationship.  I was his third owner at 5 months of age.  He is the first dog I had all on my own.  I remember as I took him to training classes, the trainer said he was the perfect student.  I however- well let's just say I got the same admonishment from my piano teacher, "practice, practice practice".

He probably saved me more times then I knew.  As a petite young woman, I'm sure he scared off plenty of people from messing with me.  A 5'2" women- no intimidation- with a Rottweiller-Shepherd looking hybrid- pretty intimidating.  At least 3 guys who may have had other intentions, were scared by him and at least one almost-robbery thwarted.  And yet, my big intimidating dog is like a marshmallow when it comes to my 6.5 pound cat.  She rules him and he knows it.  As I sat down, thinking about all these memories, my dog was just soaking in all the attention he could get.  The toddler was no longer vying for attention with him, he loved being the center of attention.  As I thought of all these things, I did get a little nervous about him going under anesthesia.  I often have been on the opposite side of the conversation, "anesthesia is safe, we will do everything we can, etc." The colleague I was entrusting him to is the most trust-worthy and capable.  But yet- there's that emotional bond.   The doctor talked with me and everything he said, are things I've said before.  The technician (veterinary nurse) came in and I found myself saying that often used line to excuse bad behavior, "he's a little neurotic because he's a rescue".

Well, apparently he did fine and I'm glad he did get the procedure because we found out he did have an abscessed tooth (neither the dentist nor I had expected that).  The bright side, possibly insurance might cover some of the procedure.  From the finances to the emotion, it looks like I got some of my own medicine today...

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Cry room at Church

The cry room.  There are mixed feelings on this term and who uses it.  I feel it is a personal decision that you decide the circumstances that are best for your family.

My parents brought me up by having my sister and I sit at the front of the Church and watch Mass.  I don't know if it was our personality, or the fact that we were girls, but I think for the most part, we were content to be quiet, play with our books or go to sleep (this I remember doing most often).  Having a young, active toddler boy, he doesn't do any of those things.  His activities he likes to do at Mass include: jumping off the kneeler, screaming and being squirmy.  Yes, there are times he's an angelic, patient, quiet boy.  Let's just say his parents are like ducks.  They look peaceful and calm, but we are struggling to keep the peace.

One of the churches that we go to does not have a cry room, or even a vestibule, and so going to Mass can be a feat of endurance similar to a marathon.  Sometimes our son is good, sometimes not.  We try to engage him in the Mass and he is fascinated by the Cross and by the giving of the gifts.  We focus on these things.  It has helped that we have tried to go to daily Mass at least once a week and starting from an early age.  My son knows that you are supposed to be quiet and whisper.  He knows this is a place where we behave respectfully.  While knowledge does not always equal behavior, he is pretty good and we have had others comment on that.  They don't seem to comment when he's having a bad day, but the eyebrows give us all the feed back we need.

Some people like the cry room.  I know there have been times where I just want to take him in there and let him do whatever.  I am more likely to use it during daily Mass because my husband is often not there to help with  the endurance race.  I have learned though that it is sometimes an "easy fix" for my son.  I like to avoid the cry room.  I mean after all, raising my son means introducing him to the expectations of behaving during Mass.

There's also the matter of during weekend Masses both the vestibule of the Church and The Cry Room can become like kindling to an explosive child.  Oftentimes there are other parents out there who have given up on trying to keep their child contained or even adults who are having conversations with each other.  That's not really helpful in "training" a kid how to behave.
I think a key "clue" for me has been when my son has asked, and even screamed, "I want to go to the Cry Room".  I made the mistake of taking him there last Friday when we went to the Stations of The Cross.  After a long weekday and during his normal getting ready for bed time, we went as a family.  We knew this may not work out so well, but we tried it.  There is nothing like a kid screaming during Stations of the Cross.  I also couldn't blame him for not having concentration after a long day.  A lot of adults can't handle the patience and prayer of Stations of the Cross.  We went to the Cry Room.  He proceeded to find all sorts of new books and things that he wanted to look at and me to read.  I tried to get some spiritual experience out of the Stations.

Sunday morning, as his father got him dressed for Mass, he started telling him, "I want to go to the Cry Room, Can I go to the Cry Room?"  Um, no.  That's not a goal.  So I got together a bag with more of his own "Church books" and vowed we would not step foot in the room.  It's a difficult feat.  There's the balance of respecting others rights to a peaceful Mass and training your child how to behave.

The following anecdotes may help for those out there who get annoyed with parents like myself keeping their child in the Church and not automatically going to the Cry Room.

A man shared with myself and another friend with a young child, something that he had experienced. When he was a young parent of 5 kids, his wife and him were getting to the point where they thought that maybe they had to split up the family, so one of the parents would stay home with the youngest and go to Mass separately.  It didn't help when a woman at the Church said something to his young wife.  The pastor wisely intervened.  He told the woman that she should rejoice in the sound that the little one was making.  He said, "It gives me great joy to hear those sounds, because it is an indication that God has not given up on humans yet, he is continuing to create us."

I also was at a spiritual retreat where young ones were welcome and the priest called them, "Humans under construction".  Construction isn't always pleasant and it certainly isn't quiet, but when exercised in a disciplined way with a mind for the future, greatness can be created.

Monday, March 7, 2016


I've been wanting to write about mercy for a while, in this Year of Mercy.  I'm not a theologian, and my philosophy degree was obtained long ago.  My only credential for talking about mercy, I think possibly, is as a parent.  The following are bits and pieces of wisdom I'm slowly drinking in from the well of Mercy.

Oftentimes, I think it's easy to think of mercy as a free pass.  Well, I can go do this and this, because God is merciful, right?   I think especially the way the media and our modern society covers the Year of Mercy, we may get caught into a narrow definition.  God does not hold grudges.  He is kind of like a parent who watches a child put a square peg in a round hole.  You want to step in, you want to smooth the way, but our individual choices can make our journeys harder or easier, dependent on our choices 

Yes, God is a God of mercy, a God of love.  You can not have mercy without conversion or conversion without mercy.  As Carlo Cardinal Caffara shared in "Eleven Cardinals Speak" (citation below).  "Mercy without (any requirement for) conversion is not divine mercy.  It is the mistaken pity of an incompetent and/or weak physician who contents himself with bandaging wounds instead of treating them."

As St. Ambrose said: "I will not glory because I am free of sins, but because sins have been forgiven me." 

Vatican Radio did a recent podcast talking about a woman whose son had died in World War I.  She had had a dream that an angel had told her she could have 10 minutes with her son.  What period of life would she like to spend with him?  When he was an infant?  When he was a bright-eyed soldier going off to war?  No, she told the angel, I want to spend the time with him when he was little and told me he hated me.  He then came back a couple of minutes later, teary-eyed and knowing he was wrong and apologized to me.  That's the time I spent with him when I loved him most.  The point of their podcast is that is when God loves us most.  When we come back to him, when we know we are wrong and we ask for his mercy.

Our pastor shared the following with us in this Year of Mercy.  This was found written, scribbled on a piece of wrapping paper in a place where over 50,000 people had died.

The Ravensbruck Prayer

Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will also those of ill will.
But do not only remember the suffering they have inflicted on us.
Remember the fruits we have brought, thanks to this suffering--our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this.
And when they come to judgment, let all the fruits we have borne be their
forgiveness. Amen 

Some following resources on mercy I would recommend:

Among Women Podcast:  Blessed, Beautiful and Bodacious.  This is a beautiful and inspiring podcast that discusses Saints and women's aspirations for Holiness.  I would recommend Espresso Shot #6: The Year of Mercy

Eleven Cardinals Speak on Marriage and the Family.  Essays from a Pastoral Viewpoint.  Ignatius Press.  San Francisco 2015.   A beautiful book discussing the Synod on the Family as well as mercy.

Left To Tell: Discovering God Amidst The Rwandan Holocaust. Immaculee Ilabigizza

Images By Pixabay

Friday, March 4, 2016

5 Things I'm Loving (or at least appreciating) this week

It's been a rough week.  I ended the last work week with euthanizing a very young pet for a bad disease.  That was just a bad situation overall.  Then my son came down with a really nasty bug.  We have not gotten much sleep this week.  Did I tell you I gave up coffee for Lent?  Well, after only 20 minutes of sleep total last night, I figured Jesus would be cool with me having a cup of coffee in exchange for me being a functional mother, vs. the alternative.  Anyways, I will try to focus on the positive.

1) Just a spoonful of sugar...  Even though I had always thought of myself as a parent who wouldn't resort to bribery...  Generally my son takes medication pretty well.  But I know when it comes to amoxicillin, from personal experience and my own patients' experience, it's just nasty tasting stuff.  I've worked out a deal with my son where he grimaces down the antibiotic and then he may have a bit of Krispy Kreme donut.  It seems to be working well so far.  Check back with me next week, or better yet after his dentist appointment later this month.

2) Understanding coworkers and good food.  As previously stated, I'm not digging veterinary medicine right now.  It's been a rough week/month with a lot of euthanasias and multiple patients that I've been caring for for several years coming down with bad cancer.  I'm not sure if it's the Leap Year, as one of my coworkers noted, but it's been rough.  Instead of resorting to alcohol or drugs, I've been resorting to good food and laughter.  Maybe the laughter will help wear off the pounds from the good food?  I don't know, I'll worry about that later...

3) A helpful husband.  Unfortunately my son only really wants me in the middle of the night.  All the NIGHT.  But my husband is helpful where he can be.  Either getting him from his room, bringing him back from our room, or giving me a breather when I feel like I'm going mad, he's a good backup.  It was also nice this morning when he told me he had completely prepped dinner and all I had to do was toss it in the slow-cooker.  That definitely was a mood lifter to know that I didn't have to try to chop a bunch of stuff and prep with a clingy, grouchy toddler.

4) People who keep it in perspective.  I had my Dominican meeting recently and as we were all lamenting the upcoming election and general unrest, our spiritual leader priest said he gave up having angst about the election for Lent.  He said this pretty much involved not watching the news or talking with a lot of people, but he was working on just putting it in God's hands.  He helped me keep my angst in perspective.

5) Either a good immune system or at least a delayed virus..  I feel the beginnings of a respiratory bug, but I'm at least grateful I didn't have the 102 F fever and nastiness my son had at the same time.  It would have been really hard to be patient with his crankiness if I was cranky myself, so I'm grateful I dodged a bullet, or have at least delayed it..

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Sicky sick Tuesday

We awoke yesterday to all the males in the house sick.  The dog had leftover GI upset from something the toddler gave him over the weekend.  The hubby was sick with a short something I'm not exactly sure what it is and the toddler has something nasty.

It's rather interesting how from experience with dogs and cats, I know what 102 degrees feels like.  Yesterday he stayed home with Daddy and watched a Curious George and Baseball marathon.  Today appears like it will be a narcolepsy and tantrum marathon.  The fortunate thing is there must be some maternal gene that turns on when your son is sick that it still keeps you sympathetic during irrational tantrums, kicking and screaming every hour on the hour.  The doctor says its just a virus, I hope for all our sanity it's over soon.

The above is an apology for yet another non-blog post.  I'll try to write a bonus one this week...