let’s do this…going forward

“Don’t follow the crowd, let the crowd follow you.”
Margaret Thatcher


(the Mayor on a mayorial visit, enjoying a BLT with homegrown tomatoes/ Julie Cook/ 2020)

Both the Mayor and the Sheriff started a new daycare this past week.

Due to the Pandemic and life shuttering back in early March,
they’ve basically been footloose and fancy-free for a near 5 months.

With their mom’s school preparing to reopen, while she’s having to gear up for what will
be both an open school coupled with optional virtual learning—in other words, teaching
to those seated in desks alongside those opting to stay home—a new daycare was in order
and the only option was to begin now.

As a retired educator, whose child served bided his time in daycare,
I can vividly remember those trying days–
a time that our pediatrician dubbed ‘the necessary evil’.

But since both their mom and dad must each work, and we live over an hour away,
daycare becomes a difficult, yet necessary, thing to utilize.

I can remember crying each and every morning, after having dropped off our son
at his daycare, as I drove on to work.

Guilt is always the working mom’s middle name.

The Mayor and Sheriff’s mom has also experienced this same sense heaviness,
each morning this past week.

So “mom” (aka moi, the grandmother) drove over Friday for a bit of a needed diversion.

The Sheriff was nonplused…


(the week’s new schedule has been exhausting)

And the Mayor insisted she immediately leave the Atlanta Woobooville office in order to return
ASAP to “Da” (aka my husband the grandfather) who was busy at the satellite Woobooville office.

There were no if’s, and’s or but’s…she grabbed her “pursh (aka purse),
put on her rain boots (no rain in sight), blew kisses to her parents, hugged the dog,
waved good-bye to “Je” (the Sheriff), took hold of my hand while announcing for one an all…
“SEE DA!”

And so we left to come to see Da—a weekend visit of sorts.

But with visits and kids aside,
I am painfully reminded that we are living in some mighty precarious days.

They are challenging for all of us.
Frightening.

We don’t know what’s the right thing to do.
Daycares are opening as workplaces begin to re-open…
as schools prepare to re-open…
as cases continue to increase.

And yet we trudge through it all…
we do so because that is what we do….it is who we are.
We roll up our sleeves and head forward.

Standing still or going backward are simply not options.

And so we live each day, one day at a time.

We enjoy the precious moments a bit more strongly,
while feeling the day’s heaviness a bit more keenly.

As we prepare for the coming weeks ahead of life…of school…of work…of sports…
of living…
We say, “let’s do this”—
but let’s do this with God’s grace.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace,
that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Hebrews 4:16

love always you must…

“Truly wonderful the mind of a child is.”
Yoda


(a screen shot from my son’s televison / Julie Cook / 2020)

You might be wondering where I’ve been…or not.

It was supposed to just be a weekend visit.
Up to visit the grandkids.

I got to the daycare just following “something” having happened.
The owner was on the phone with a mom and she seemed very nervous
while trying to explain this “something” to the mom.
She looks up and tells me she’s talking to my daughter-in-law.

That sickening feeling hits my stomach.

What something??

Autumn fell.

She fell back, having pulled away from one of the assistants and fell onto her elbow.
Now her arm wasn’t “working”.
It was hanging limp at her side.

And I knew immediately that something was indeed wrong when they brought her out to me—
she just stood there staring at me…
not her typical jumping, running and squealing when she sees me.

Once I got them loaded up in the car, I called my daughter-in-law telling
her that I did think she should be seen.

We drove down to the pediatrician’s office meeting my daughter-n-law.

The doctor tried “manipulating” the arm, thinking it was dislocated—
which immediately sent Autumn wailing with pain.

But the doctor didn’t feel that the arm was “popping” back into place.
She sent us to the ER for x-rays.

No breaks showed up thankfully but the doctor wanted
us back in the office Saturday morning.

Autumn’s arm hung limply by her side for the remainder of the evening as she readily
made quick use of her left arm seemingly unphased.
But each time we tried bending the arm when taking off her shirt and putting
on her pajamas, she would cry.

Saturday morning, we were at the doctor’s office bright and early.
She tried popping the arm back into place but was unsuccessful.
She attempted putting the arm in a sling—that went over like a lead balloon.
A 23-month-old and a sling are not friends meant to be.
We were next scheduled to meet with a pediatric orthopedic Monday morning.


(The puny Mayor in her short lived sling with “ma” / Julie Cook / 2020)

Little by little over the weekend, we noticed Autumnn started using her arm a bit more
sparingly and gingerly.

The ortho doc said that the elbow could be fractured as the x-rays did not
focus on the elbow but rather the bones in the arm…the humerus, radius, and ulna
but he did not see a dislocation and doubted it was fractured.

He said it was a classic Nursemaid arm and that each day we should see improvement
as the arm probably did most likely “pop” back and was simply sore.

I headed home late Monday evening.

As a grandmother, I know that this will be the first of many calls…
calls about slips, spills, and falls.
Some will be scary, some will be minor and some will stop our hearts…

Oddly, during all of this, the Sherrif however never seemed phased by his sister’s mishap.


(the sheriff just happy as a clam / Julie Cook / 2020)

All I know is that there is no better place I’d rather be than in a big chair watching
cartoons with the two little people who I adore….dislocated or not.

Love always we must!

Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.
1 John 4:8

norovirus yet no cruise

Tuesday morning we received a call from our son that work had sent him home due to being sick…
really, really, sick.

A high fever along with the inability to stay out of a bathroom.

He was off to see his doctor.

We got another call later that it was not the flu… but…..
The doctor told him that if he was no better by the afternoon, he needed to go to the ER.

I think when your doctor sees you and then tells you to go to the ER,
things must be getting out of hand.

Next call… he was in the ER.

So off we went to rescue the Mayor and Sheriff, or maybe we were rescuing their mom…
either way, we were the cavalry riding in for the rescue.

I did consider donning rubber gloves, a surgical mask along with a bottle of Clorox for
the drive over.

We went and rescued the children from the Big House, the Pen, the slammer…aka daycare.
Next we did the grocery store run and finally the pharmacy.

The ER called with the following day with the lab results…
The Norovirus…
the bane of anyone who likes to frequent the cruise world.

And here we were with none of us having been near a cruise ship and yet we were living
with the same associated misery…
pity…

The kind ER doctor thought to email the CDC’s Norovirus fact sheet…

Norovirus is a very contagious virus that causes vomiting and diarrhea.
Anyone can get infected and sick with norovirus.
You can get norovirus from:
Having direct contact with an infected person
Consuming contaminated food or water
Touching contaminated surfaces then putting your unwashed hands in your mouth

Outbreaks are common
The virus spreads very easily and quickly
Norovirus spreads:
From infected people to others
Through contaminated foods and surfaces
Outbreaks can happen anytime, but they occur most often from November to April.

The culprit, in our case, was most likely from last week when the Mayor took ill
as the ER doctor said cruise ships were not the only hotbeds… daycares were also
a highly likely suspect.

We are finally back home as everyone seems to be on the mend… for now…
and I just pray we are spared!!

Meanwhile the Mayor liked her watch that her watchmaker ‘Da’ brought her
and the Sheriff continues to practice his push ups…

Wisdom and understanding

“We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom.”
― Leo Tolstoy

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

DSC00297

Blessed are those who find wisdom,
those who gain understanding,
for she is more profitable than silver
and yields better returns than gold.
She is more precious than rubies;
nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are pleasant ways,
and all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her;
those who hold her fast will be blessed.

(Proverbs 3:13-18)

The morning light, streaming through the kitchen window, hit the raspberries in such a way that it magically appeared as if a scattering of plump rubies had been randomly tossed across the bowl of cornflakes. Lusciously translucent, a smattering of iridescent and succulent gems beckoned to be tasted.
No longer did breakfast seem so unimaginably ordinary.

It was a morning, just like any other morning, as the early rising sun worked its magic to warm the kitchen, despite the bitter cold air on the opposite side of the window pane. The silence was heavy but pleasing as she was lost to her own thoughts.

Thinking back, racing backwards across time, back to the younger girl she had once known, a slight smirk formed at the corners of the mouth which was now anxiously anticipating the crisp crunch of the cereal. How does one start out as that, tossing in a few decades, and voila, is now this. . .as whatever “this” is, is perceived to be so much better than that. . .
A musing mind now ruminated over all of the events that had worked together to bring both she and the ruby red raspberries to this particular kitchen on this particular morning.

“Life is nothing but one big mistake right after another,” she heard a voice echoing off the kitchen walls, coming as if from some place far away other than that of the empty room as she realized she’d caught herself speaking the silent thoughts out loud to no one in particular but herself.
“Hummmm” she mused.
“Mistakes aren’t really mistakes now are they” . . .again hearing the silent thoughts spoken out loud.
“More like the continuous onslaught of life lessons, one right after the other—picking up steam, say around 13, and not letting up until 50 or so . . .”
“Some lessons simply being easier than others. . .as others are more fun with some being downright wearisome. . .” she chewed over the words with each crunch of cereal.

“Cut, honed and polished . . .”
Her thoughts trail off as she works to corral the last raspberry onto her spoon.

The younger girl wouldn’t have bothered with the raspberries, let alone the cereal, preferring to unwrap some sort of cardboradesque breakfast bar while driving to work. “Who has time to sit down for breakfast anymore–“grab it and go” being her mantra of the day.
“Maybe just an extra coffee instead.”
So busy rushing off to some place she didn’t really want to go, preferring to just stay home, as the fleeting thought raced across her mind “the baby wouldn’t stay so sick if he wasn’t having to go to daycare everyday of his life. . .” This as she pulled into the daycare center’s front drive.

Yet the choice not always hers right?
There were the bills. There was the career. Wasn’t that what this was all about. . .the marriage, the family, the career, the “things” that made the life “special”—isn’t that why we did it? What about his schooling, college. . .what about more kids. . .a bigger house. . .isn’t this what we do. . .the quintessential chasing of the “dream”. . .

“Juggling, balancing, and managing. . .”
Her thoughts trail off as she unbuckles the baby’s carseat.

The younger girl races through life hurrying everywhere she goes, never seeming to have time to enjoy, let alone savor, the moments of the present. Her mind is constantly working on the next step, the next errand, the next meeting, the next hour, the next day. . .never on the current time or events at hand.
What of the little boy?
Daycare sees more of the baby.
As do the endless sitters.
And what of her. . .doesn’t she see more of her own students than their parents?
Isn’t that the way it is, everyone raises everyone’s else’s kids. . .as everyone is just so busy tending to their piece of the pie, of this thing known as living. . .
Just part of the price paid for the job, the house, the car, the trips, the clothes, the life. . .
Maybe next weekend will be different, maybe this summer. . . she rationalizes there will be time sometime in the future. . . sure there will. . .we’ll have more time then, right?

The older woman merely casts a knowing smile