The phone rang at 5:15 yesterday morning. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was Abby’s alarm or a dream. Brad answered. “uh huh, uh huh.. she’s right here.” “It’s your mother,” he said. “Oy, I thought.” I figured no one died, thank G-d, but I knew it was something about Ari. He had slept at my parent’s house the night before. Was his fever up again? “Hi, what’s up?” I asked. “Ari has a bad stomach ache. He’s been up since 4 a.m. on the toilet.” “Well, I replied, do you think he’ll go back to sleep? Do you want me to pick him up? Put him on the phone.” “Hi Mama, I have a bad tummy ache.” “Hi Boo Bear, want me to pick you up?” “Yes.” [said with slight drama]. I spoke with my mother. “Can you take his temperature? Have him ready, I’m coming now. Thanks.”
So, I got dressed and picked him up. Fortunately, my parents live only 15 minutes away. Driving at that hour reminded me of going to the airport to catch an early flight. I was sorta awake, as I had gone to bed fairly early the night before. Very few people were out. It was eerily dark. Can anyone really tell if it is the evening or early morning? I thought about what to do in this situation. He wasn’t running a fever. He wasn’t throwing up. He didn’t have diarrhea. I made a mother’s guess that this was not ER worthy, maybe doc worthy. I decided it was gas that needed to find its way out.
When I arrived, they were sitting at the bottom of the stairs near the door. Ari’s head was on my mother’s lap. I filled up my water bottle with warm-ish water. In the car, I made him drink as much as he could. When we got home, I put him into bed with Brad as I had a tennis game in 30 minutes. Hey, nothing was going to happen in the next hour anyway.
During my tennis game, he called, “Mama! I made it! Can I go to Ben’s house?” “Great! Sure. I’ll drive you there in an hour.”
Score one for the small stuff.
Just about 12 hours later, I was taking a much needed shower. The phone rang. Brad then called through the door, “It is Abby. Carly’s mother thinks she has poison ivy.” “Oh no! Call the doctor’s office and see if they’ll still be open when you pick her up. If they’re not open, go straight to CVS Minute Clinic or talk with the pharmacist.” I finished my shower in a hurry and quickly changed the sheets on her bed, as well as all of the towels. Then, I called Brad. He said it didn’t look like poison ivy, but rather a rash from when she had shaved in the morning. Sure enough, it was just a rash. She shouldn’t use shaving cream anymore. I got on the phone with Abby. “I’m going back to Carly’s house,” she said. “Good,” I said. And you can use Dove soap when you shave from now on. Have fun.”
Score another one for the small stuff.
Fast forward 20 minutes. I decided to check email while waiting for Brad. I was starved, but we were going to go out for dinner, so I didn’t want to eat too much. Just enough. I decided on a chunk of Gouda cheese. One chunk wasn’t enough. “One more small one.” In my slight rush, I not only took a chunk of cheese but also sliced my left ring finger and some of my thumb. “Oh, this is terrific.” I usually pass out with this kind of thing, but I didn’t. I actually studied the damage and realized I would be able to keep the fingers and likely not need stitches. The thumb was a grazing, so that came second. I wrapped the ring finger as tightly as I could in a towel and laid down. The skin was intact. During all of this Ari was oblivious, playing video games. I took two Advil and we went out for dinner. After dinner, we watched a movie, read and went to bed, fingers intact although a little achy.
Next morning, my fingers hadn’t turned gangrene. I went to spin class and yoga. I can type.
Score a third for the small stuff.
My point: Things come in threes. Think about it. You’ll see what I mean. At the time, each incident consumes you. When it passes, it’s another notch on the life continuum. Fortunately, my incidences were small compared to the horrid illnesses people face and the ongoing problems the world faces.
And I am thankful for the small stuff.
So, I got dressed and picked him up. Fortunately, my parents live only 15 minutes away. Driving at that hour reminded me of going to the airport to catch an early flight. I was sorta awake, as I had gone to bed fairly early the night before. Very few people were out. It was eerily dark. Can anyone really tell if it is the evening or early morning? I thought about what to do in this situation. He wasn’t running a fever. He wasn’t throwing up. He didn’t have diarrhea. I made a mother’s guess that this was not ER worthy, maybe doc worthy. I decided it was gas that needed to find its way out.
When I arrived, they were sitting at the bottom of the stairs near the door. Ari’s head was on my mother’s lap. I filled up my water bottle with warm-ish water. In the car, I made him drink as much as he could. When we got home, I put him into bed with Brad as I had a tennis game in 30 minutes. Hey, nothing was going to happen in the next hour anyway.
During my tennis game, he called, “Mama! I made it! Can I go to Ben’s house?” “Great! Sure. I’ll drive you there in an hour.”
Score one for the small stuff.
Just about 12 hours later, I was taking a much needed shower. The phone rang. Brad then called through the door, “It is Abby. Carly’s mother thinks she has poison ivy.” “Oh no! Call the doctor’s office and see if they’ll still be open when you pick her up. If they’re not open, go straight to CVS Minute Clinic or talk with the pharmacist.” I finished my shower in a hurry and quickly changed the sheets on her bed, as well as all of the towels. Then, I called Brad. He said it didn’t look like poison ivy, but rather a rash from when she had shaved in the morning. Sure enough, it was just a rash. She shouldn’t use shaving cream anymore. I got on the phone with Abby. “I’m going back to Carly’s house,” she said. “Good,” I said. And you can use Dove soap when you shave from now on. Have fun.”
Score another one for the small stuff.
Fast forward 20 minutes. I decided to check email while waiting for Brad. I was starved, but we were going to go out for dinner, so I didn’t want to eat too much. Just enough. I decided on a chunk of Gouda cheese. One chunk wasn’t enough. “One more small one.” In my slight rush, I not only took a chunk of cheese but also sliced my left ring finger and some of my thumb. “Oh, this is terrific.” I usually pass out with this kind of thing, but I didn’t. I actually studied the damage and realized I would be able to keep the fingers and likely not need stitches. The thumb was a grazing, so that came second. I wrapped the ring finger as tightly as I could in a towel and laid down. The skin was intact. During all of this Ari was oblivious, playing video games. I took two Advil and we went out for dinner. After dinner, we watched a movie, read and went to bed, fingers intact although a little achy.
Next morning, my fingers hadn’t turned gangrene. I went to spin class and yoga. I can type.
Score a third for the small stuff.
My point: Things come in threes. Think about it. You’ll see what I mean. At the time, each incident consumes you. When it passes, it’s another notch on the life continuum. Fortunately, my incidences were small compared to the horrid illnesses people face and the ongoing problems the world faces.
And I am thankful for the small stuff.
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