Days of Gratitude: Ten

10 12 2008

Lazy Days

Today, Zack and Eden stayed home from school because they woke up with scratchy throats and were coughing last night.

Yeah, basically I’m totally going soft.

They didn’t need to stay home from school, but I let them anyway. Does that make me a bad mom?

We didn’t go anywhere, just stayed home and watched tv and stuff. Well, the kids watched tv. I tried to accomplish a few things (cough! laundry cough!), but didn’t get much done, either. Hopefully, this day off will make us doubly effective tomorrow!

Right.

I’ll let you know how that goes.





One Tradition

10 12 2008

I’ve always loved reading about Christmas in Little House on the Prairie and other books like that. I love the simplicity of their holidays, and the excitement they had for getting three pieces of store-bought candy, which they’d take a couple of licks a day off of, making it last until March.

Those were the days.

I’ve always liked homemade ornaments, too, and every year we make gingerbread cookies to hang on the tree. (Except for one year, when I switched recipes halfway through. The cookies were white, still gingery, but with twice the recommended amount of salt. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you I like salt as much or more than the next person, but–man! Those cookies were nasty.)

Here we are last night:

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It ended up being a lot of cookies. They aren’t salty, but they’re a little grainy due to the rice flour factor. No matter. I’m perfectly confident I’ll be finding little bits of red yarn and half-eaten cookies all around the house from now until Christmas–they ate the salty ones, after all.

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And just a little random fact: gingerbread tastes really good with orange juice. Seriously. Try it.





Days of Gratitude: Nine

10 12 2008

Prayer

Last night when I was getting the kids ready for bed, I set Colby on the bathroom counter in front of me. I had applied toothpaste to his toothbrush and was just putting the cap back on when he twisted around to reach for something.

Everything went into slow motion.

(This happens, I found out after listening to a RadioLab podcast, because of adrenaline. The adrenaline released by your body heightens your senses to the point where everything seems to slow down. Not pertinent to this discussion, really, but still interesting.)

I could see him falling. I reached for him–any piece–but only just grazed his ankle. He fell on his head–on his neck–in the 18 inches between the vanity and the toilet.

I think my heart stopped.

Whenever we have a break, I get a little paranoid. Most of the time I’m a pretty laid-back mom, but a broken bone reminds me my kids aren’t exactly like everyone else. With Rainbow’s broken foot, I’ve sensed an increased anxiety in myself whenever anyone cries. When Colby fell, it felt like all my guts had been turned inside out.

There’s that initial panic, of course, but my brain had already fast-forwarded to broken necks and ruptured spines and lifetime paralysis. All this was made worse by the fact that it was my fault.

We both cried (well, Colby screamed) while I held him and said, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” And I prayed. Hard.

I consider myself a prayerful person, along with sincere and faithful, but it’s interesting how much more fervent my prayers were at this moment as opposed to when I’m kneeling by my bed at night. It’s also interesting how, during moments of greatest need, no eloquence is necessary. “Help! Please help me!” pretty much does the job.

I don’t think Colby was miraculously healed because of my prayer. I don’t think he was seriously injured in the first place. The miracle of prayer in this instance happened to me–in my over-anxious state, prayer gave me something to focus on, to hold on to while horrible scenarios flashed through my head. It sustained me and reminded me that someone bigger than myself is in control (thank goodness).

That’s why I’m thankful for prayer.

[And in case you were wondering, Colby is fine. He woke up cranky, which makes me think he was a little sore, but he’s moving around and acting normal otherwise.]