A Good Day

You know the saying, "Outlook determines outcome"? To some respect, I really believe that's true. Oh, not necessarily in the direct sense that "if I wish for a pile of cashmere yarn, a cashmere goat will wander into my back yard", but in the notion that if I have a positive outlook, my day will seem positive.

That's why I'm calling Saturday a good day.

To start off with, in the morning, our little clan drove to Bob and Rachel's house to join up with the rest of Handyman's clan.
They're a horrifying bunch, let me assure you. Absolutely frightening. Look at those maniacal grins of naughtiness and mischief!

Baby Gabe was above such silliness, mostly because he wasn't feeling well and too miserable to participate.

The poor thing sat in his stroller, moaning softly to himself and weeping fluids out of every orifice on his face. He was teething, which led to a small ear infection, which led to a low fever, which led to . . . other things. But I'll get to those "other" things later.The food was great. Rachel provided the barbecue, and the rest of us brought side dishes and I made bread rolls. Considering the fact that I can't have wheat, I thought this very valiant of me. I only nibbled on a roll once. Or twice. I can't remember. I deny everything.
Miss Boo loved playing with her "bestest-buddy-in-the-whole-world" Mariah (a.k.a. "Riah"). Although she doesn't like peppermint, she insisted on eating this pie, simply because it was pink. I couldn't really fault her, as I will wear shoes that are painful as long as they're cute. We don't change much as we age.
Super Josh was home from College. He'd just gotten off work as a security guard, so he proudly wore his new duds for us. We found it amusing that he even wore his "security" outfit while he went trespassing through the woods looking for Morels. (Please take a moment to marvel at my self-control, in passing up any number of depressingly bad puns).
I enjoyed catching up with my in-laws, especially my sisters-in-law. The menfolk are tolerable, I suppose.
See my hair? I didn't fix it that way on purpose. It was cooooooold that day and very, very windy.

The boys got together for the requisite game of touch football. They weren't very good; even I could see that. It was rather like watching a flock of geese run around after a beetle.They insisted their butter fingers was due to the wind. Sissies.

Handyman found interesting ways to amuse himself while dropping the ball. (That's his dad to the back right. Big man, is Pops. He had to be in order to handle all those boys. His wife isn't big at all though. She's a tiny woman. Of course, women can handle more than men.)

Speaking of women, here's Miss Boo picking dandelions with her bestest-buddy Riah. My mother-in-law, knowing Miss Boo's personality, told my daughter, "Breanna, don't pick dandelions, because you might not be able to pick enough for us. We'll just let Mariah do it by herself."

Reverse psychology is a powerful thing for the snarky-minded.
Handyman and Gabe decided to take a time out from all the chaos and snatch a nap in the van. When I found this picture on my camera later, I was slightly horrified and had trouble holding back tears.
Remember that mild fever Gabe had? Well, the combination of that, plus his coat, plus being on his warm daddy, plus being out of the wind, caused his temperature to spike quickly, and he started having a febrile seizure.

I watched in horror as he convulsed violently for almost 2-3 minutes, turned blue around the lips, and started foaming at the mouth. When he finally stopped seizing, he lay in his daddy's arms completely "boneless" and limp, something I never ever wish to see again.

In what felt like hours later, the ambulance pulled up, and Baby Gabe and I got in and rushed to the ER. In the ambulance they stripped off his clothes to cool him down and gave him oxygen to stabilize his breathing. I was astonished to feel how hot he was under those clothes. His face wasn't red, and he wasn't sweating, but his back was so warm I could barely stand to touch his skin.

When we got to the ER, they gave him tylenol and checked his temperature again. I think it was around 101 degrees, which was better than the 104 degrees it was a few minutes/eons earlier.

The poor little thing was so exhausted from his ordeal, that as soon as the tylenol kicked in, he kicked out.Thankfully, the febrile seizure, while terrifying to watch, didn't cause any long term damage (except to my psyche. I now have a permanent twitch over my right eye). Since the ER was backed up and Gabe was stable, we weren't able to leave until 9:00 PM, having been either in transit or in the ER since 4:00.

It was a long day, but a good day.

Here's a few of the things that I've been thanking the Lord for; first of all, obviously, Gabe's health. No long term health problems.

Secondly, the fact that his seizure happened when and where it did. I was surrounded by family and had my husband there during the whole ordeal. If I were home alone, Gabe would have had to go in the ambulance alone while I found someone to watch the other two. Just the thought of possibly having to send my baby off alone while in that state gives me inner convulsions.

Thirdly, I'm so thankful for my friends and family. My sister in law Kerissa watched Peter and Miss Boo at the house so Handyman could come to the ER, my mother-in-law and brother-in-law Bob came to the ER right away to be with me until Handyman could get there (despite the fact that Bob gets twitchy around needles and sterile white rooms). I knew that they were all praying for me, and was beseiged (in a good way) by well-wishes and prayers via text. Finally, when we stumbled home after a long and tiring day, we found a delicious homemade chicken pot pie waiting for us in the freezer, ready to be cooked, courtesy of Flip Flopping Mama. Another friend kindly dropped off a tasty casserole for us for the next day, so I wouldn't have to feel rushed about getting food on the table.

So, despite some of the moments of horror and stress, it was indeed a good day;

A very good day.

Now please excuse me while I go smooch my baby until he's 23.