Healthyness and Other Blessings

I got home from work on Monday at 1:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. I left at 1, but had to stop at the gas station because JP drove my car all weekend and left it for me with a cruising range of ELEVEN MILES. So at 1:09 a.m., in 29 freaking degree weather, with my little screen computer telling me I had a SINGLE mile of driving range left, I had to stop to fill my tank. I left JP him a special voicemail to listen to in the morning. I suppose I could have waited to share my irritation in person when we both woke up, but I feared that sharing a bed and morning cuddles would taken away my ability to make him fully appreciate how unbelievably annoyed I was in the moment.

Then when I parked my now-full car in the driveway and walked in the door at 1:27 a.m. I heard wails coming from upstairs. It was the Clairebear, growing her canines and VERY upset about it. I snuggled her for a while, forced some ibuprofen in her mouth, and cuddled her some more. I finally got in bed a little after 2 only to find myself too hopped up to fall asleep. I couldn't let go of the feeling that I should have stopped writing my draft 2 paragraphs before I did... the rambling words I hazily remembered writing just keep getting worse and worse in my mind until I was left with a deep-seated fear that I had lost all punctuation and possibly proper English before I sent the draft to the partner. The thought haunted me all night. At nearly 3 I was finally drifting off when the wailing began again. I kicked JP out of bed to go comfort his daughter but lay awake until he came back. And so the pattern repeated- Claire crying, me kicking JP out of bed, every 45 minutes until 5 a.m. I was so tired at work yesterday that my body ached from the inside. But, it was okay. My draft wasn't as terrible as my exhausted 3 a.m. mind made it out to be (though the partner did highlight the last paragraph and insert a comment, that said "it seems we're repeating ourselves a bit- perhaps we could shorten? or remove? this paragraph". I deleted my text immediately without reading it again).

And that long exhausting night with Claire was a nice reminder of how well our kids sleep most of the time. I don't think we've been woken up in the middle of the nice in at least 6 months. Usually it's a book, a goodnight kiss, a song, and a closed door - it all takes about 10 minutes and JP and I are back downstairs by 7:45 continuing on with our evening. Landon wakes up about 7, checks on Claire, and either plays with her in her room or comes downstairs and entertains himself until about 7:30. It's a blessing I'd temporarily forgotten to be thankful for.

And speaking of blessings- we headed to the ER (or really, minor ER) for the first time in THREE YEARS last Friday. Landon had slipped off the monkey bars at daycare and busted open his chin. According to JP (who happened to be working from home that day and was thus 1 mile away when he got the call instead of his usual 55 miles away) there was blood everywhere, but Landon was calmly holding an ice pack to his chin and asking a lot of questions about these "stitches" everyone kept talking about. I left work to pick up Claire (daycare was going to close soon) and meet the boys at the Immediate Care place. I found Landon just as JP described- dried blood all over his shirt, holding an ice pack, now asking questions about the fountain on the wall behind him ("but where does the water COME FROM? Can I drink it? Where does it go?"). We were seen quickly and though JP and I both held our breath during the "how did it happen" questions, it seems now that Landon can talk for himself and give his own detailed account of just how his fingers slipped on the bars, we weren't subjected to any additional scrutiny. I don't think a spike of anxiety in that moment will go away until our children are grown and we don't accompany them to the doctor anymore.

(Side story: Claire was so offended in triage when the nurse didn't pay attention to her. She sat very nicely in the chair next to Landon and looked genuinely shocked when the nurse only took his temperature, his pulse rate, his blood pressure, etc. She kept looking at me like, "Um, I'm RIGHT HERE! Is she ignoring me? NO ONE IGNORES ME." It was pretty funny.)

We were quickly seen by the doctor and found out that Landon was a perfect candidate for the dermabond glue instead of stitches. What an incredible invention. After cleaning the cut and rubbing some clear sticky stuff, we were released! He had a bandaid we could take off in 24 hours, he could take showers and baths, and could even attend the bounce house birthday party of a friend the next day. My two siblings and I each had stitches once or twice as kids and I wish that glue had been around back then.

Landon's "bonked" chin (as he calls it) has been our single medical issue this year, another blessing I'm meditating on this morning. I'm a little irritated I have nearly $1,000 wasting away in a health FSA account that has me I'm frantically trying to think of eligible things to purchase, but am overall so thankful at our remarkably healthy year. Claire didn't have a SINGLE sick-baby visit and neither did Landon (though we had a few nurse calls during his big stomach bug in March). JP's ear was truly cured through his surgery last year and I've just had check-ups. In the 10 years JP and I have known each other, we've been in the hospital about seven times, had three surgeries between us, and been to the ER on numerous occasions. Landon's had two surgeries and went to the hospital more times than I want to remember his first year. Claire seems to have stopped our pattern.

And speaking of the Bear. She turned 18 months old on Sunday and had her check-up yesterday. She's in the 75th percentile for height, 60th for weight, and 99+ for head. She was very angry about her shots (daddy took her, so it was all his fault) and glared at everyone during check out. I need to write about her at 18 months, but turning a new draft of my brief takes precedence. So until then- she's healthy and happy, independent and cuddly, smart and sweet, and just generally adorable. 18 months might just be my very favorite age, with 2 and 3 years taking close seconds.

Now I'm off to turn a brief and research what else I can spend FSA funds on in the next 3 weeks besides a 5-year supply of contacts (and I only wear a contact in one eye, so that's a LOT of contacts...).