Thank You, Mom. For Saving My Life. Again.

The first time, we were hiking. On a trail we know and love but hasn’t been properly maintained. We won’t be hiking it again until the boys are older, due to the dangers that lurk, but we didn’t know this at the time.

A narrow portion of the trail with a steep drop-off.  Tree roots underfoot. A broken railing.

“Stay to the right. As close as you can,” my husband cautioned.

There was no talking. Only concentration. And then it happened. My not-so-graceful 7-year-old stumbled and tumbled over the edge. With reflexes of a Jedi, I grabbed his flailing arm. He dangled for a moment in mid-air and I yanked him toward me.

His eyes wide with fear, he said, “Mom! You saved my life!” And then tears started to well up. In both of our eyes.

…..

Yesterday. Giggling in the TV room. I walked in. Two little boys, cuddled on the couch together. One boy at each end, sharing a blanket.

As soon as I walked into the room both boys hid under the blanket. I knew something was up. I yanked the blanket off them. Their little legs were buried in Starburst wrappers. An entire bag, gone. All before 9am. Breakfast of champions.

I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a comical scene. Two little boys, sneaking candy for breakfast. Succeeding – at least until Mom walks into the room. I’m a horrible disciplinarian and I own it. With my laughter, they begin laughing, too.

And then it happened. #2son started choking.

Any first aid training I’ve ever had started racing through my mind. As long as he’s coughing, it’s OK. Don’t do anything. But the Heimlich maneuver. I know how to do it for an infant. I know how to do it for an adult. But a 7-year-old? Will I crush him? What if I don’t do it hard enough. Ok. Calm. If it gets to that point have #1son call 911.

“Can you walk?”

Eyes wide with fear he nods, yes.

“Go into the bathroom,” I direct him. I don’t know why I want him in the bathroom. I suppose because I’m envisioning squeezing the guts out of him and anticipating his vomit and offending candy all over the place. After all, I just vacuumed.

“It’s OK,” I tell him. “Keep coughing. It WILL come out.”

I don’t know how I’m staying calm. Three minutes, I remind myself. Only three minutes without oxygen. How fast can the ambulance get here?

And then it happens. He can’t cough. He looks at me, afraid, and his skin is starting to turn colors.

I shout, “Open your mouth. Wide! Wider!”

I jam my hand in his mouth and yank on a enormous gob of chewed Starburst. It’s stuck on his back teeth and blocking his airway. The coughing starts again and the huge blob lands in the sink.

He grabs me around my middle, holding me for dear life. I hold him exactly the same way.

“Thanks, Mom. For saving my life again.”

Again?

Oh. That’s right. Two months ago, on our hike.

“I hope I’m here, every single time, to save your life.” And I hug him even closer.

…..

When things like this happen. When I hear of the teenager playing hockey, who in a freak accident, is now paralyzed. When a child dies in a bicycle accident. I just want to wrap my children in bubble wrap. Or keep them at home and pad the rooms. Feed them liquids and finely diced solid food. Make wearing bicycle helmets a prerequisite for leaving the house.

But I can’t. Life is full of risk. In order to fully live, we must take risks. Every single day. Small risks. Big risks. Calculated risks. Split-second risks.

We can’t live in a bubble. And our children shouldn’t either.

But, dag gum it, I’m going to be there, every step of the way, with hands at the ready.

To save his life.

If I can.

What IS All This Brouhaha Over Facebook Changes?

Sipping tea, watching Headline News yesterday morning, I hear Robin Meade mention the changes on Facebook and how everyone’s panties are in a twist.

I think, “Oh no. Not again. Not something new for me to get used to.”

So, I rush up to my computer and log onto Facebook to check it out.

Changes? Huh?

What changes?

Oh, sure. There’s a little ticker on the right sidebar that shifts every so often. (No different from the little ticker at the bottom of the television screen on most news programs.) And now there’s a handy, dandy little blue triangle located in the upper left hand corner of homepage posts. (What it’s for, I have no idea. And I don’t care, either.)

But people tweeting and twittering decrying these changes? Or, shouting out to fellow Facebook friends with evil status updates belittling Facebook powers that be?

Silly.

A little change never hurt anyone. (Except when they messed around with the formula for Coca-Cola, of course. But that’s for another post.)

Change keeps us young. Change challenges us to adapt. Change encourages problem solving.

Change is good!

All this crying about change reminded me of a pithy comment I saw on a church sign recently:

“If you are resistant to change just remember the beauty of autumn.”

Truer words were never spoken.

Wordless Wednesday – Fall Color

The Best Day of the Year!

Ok, maybe not the best day, but certainly one of my favorite days. And this year it snuck up on me! I was on my way to bed after the Halloween revelry, checking the weather channel (as is my practice every evening before bed – gotta make sure I’m dressing the kiddies for the weather!) and it said the sunset for that evening was 6:21pm. For Sunday? 5:20pm. Huh? Seriously? Tonight I get to set the clocks back? Really?

You see, usually, I count down to this day. But I still haven’t adjusted to the new schedule of first Sunday in November. Usually, I look forward to it. I plan for it. I purposely schedule absolutely nothing for the Sunday it falls on so I can savor the day. And drive my family crazy.

Stretching and yawning as I get out of bed, “It’s only 7am? Gosh, it feels like 8am to me.”

“What time is it?” my daughter asks. “It’s 3,” I answer, “Doesn’t it feel later to you? For the life of me I would swear it was 4.”

“Are you hungry? I’m starving! And it’s only 6 o’clock. I’d swear it was at least 7.”

And on and on it goes. Cracking me up every time. I’m typically the only one laughing. But I find this little trick on my internal clock so much fun. And Daylight Savings in the fall feels so satisfyingly delicious.

If I ruled the world – ok, the sun and moon – I would have 36 hour days. Sleep for a good 8 hours every night (I’m one of those who needs a bare minimum of 7 hours of sleep) and then be able to accomplish everything I need to in the left over 28. My husband thinks I would just add that much more to my plate and then start plotting a way to have 48 hour days, and he’s probably right. But I’ll settle for 36 hours in a day. Now…….how to arrange it……hmmmmm…..

One of my least favorite days of the year? Daylight Savings in the spring. I hate it. And when they bumped it up a month earlier in 2005, I hated it even more. Moving it to March is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. Right near the end of  flu and cold season. When sleep is precious to a mother with 3 little ones in the house – trying her darndest to keep them all healthy AT THE SAME TIME.  Those of you with more than one child know exactly what I mean. They never get sick all at the same time. Noooooooo. One gets sick. Then the other gets sick. Then YOU start sniffling but never enough to put you to bed but just enough to suck every last bit of energy out of you. And then the last one gets sick. And then you’re all healthy for a week and the cycle repeats. Then, just when you think you’re in the clear, the powers that be declare it Daylight Saving Time – smack dab in the middle of your healthy week and sure enough that lost hour of sleep is just enough to invite Mr. Cold and Mrs. Sniffles back for a visit.

But it’s not spring. It’s fall! And I just got an extra hour this weekend! And I’m going to feel it (and comment on it!) for days! Oh sure, it gets darker a little earlier but that just makes the evening that much more cozy. After supper, light a fire, cozy up with a cup of tea and a book to lose yourself in. Heaven.

And I’m not the only one that loves this time of year. Nancy’s writing about it, too. Seems like I’m not alone. Yawn. I’m feeling so sleepy all of a sudden. It’s only 9:30pm. But I swear it feels more like 10:30pm. Really!

Wordless Wednesday – Welcome Fall!