Tonight’s catchup post is brought to you by a stomach bug/fever suffering young’un and a tired Mama.
First of all, this happened this week.
This color, out of all of them, was the most stubborn. It took three or four coats. The first one looked like my littles had painted the wall. It was such a thin paint. I’m learning all about bases and the like. Base C, and a color with as much yellow in it as this one–those take way more than just two coats. But I LOVE it. It just suits. Us. The room. This house. It does. And there’s a lesson in this. The two colors I love the most, this green and the gold in the kitchen/living room–I had no samples for. Not that I will give up trying samples out. I like the ones I chose after trying way too many colors out, but these two I ran out of time and had to get the gallons needed THEN. I took a huge leap of something and made the choice. The gold without backup and the green with my Fella and Aub sharing their thoughts.
And turns out I love what happens when I make a choice without obsessing over it. Is there a lesson in this? Perhaps. But I’m a really slow learner.
And this happened. With a child with severe food allergies, we don’t go to a lot of restaurants. And we especially do not do buffets. The risk for cross-contamination is just too great. The last buffet I remember us going to, looking back, I realize she had a mild reaction. That was before the bad one that made me wake up and start carrying an epi-pen everywhere.
Wednesday was the day I met Mr. A. A. Law in person and finished handling some business for my Great Aunt and Mama. For those who might be wondering, I behaved myself. I apologized to the women whom I inadvertently took my frustrations out on via a bad attitude when I spoke on the phone with them last week. I was prepared to have a conversation with Mr. Law if the opportunity presented itself. It did not. And I’m okay with that. But I acted like I was raised to behave, and that’s all that concerns me.
His office was right across the street from Side Tracks, the buffet restaurant that my Great Aunt used to take us to. Cooter, who made the trip with me–exactly because he figured we’d have to eat out and he really wanted to, joined me there for a trip down memory lane. He’s been there before, back when he ate baby food sitting in his car seat/carrier. He doesn’t remember going at all. When his little eyes got over the disappointment over so many vegetables (he’s a self-proclaimed fruitatarian, y’all) and he chose some rice, catfish, and a biscuit, he saw the desserts. Cake and pie slices wrapped securely under plastic wrap. He looked, with his eyes popping, “Whaaat is thaaaat?” “Dessert, buddy.” “Can I have some?” Sure, I said. And he was off. He carefully perused and chose a slice of chocolate cake. Bless him. The joy in that little guy that day is a memory I hope to treasure for a long time. He took pictures of the plates on the table and he was fascinated with my catfish bones. If I may for just a minute indulge in a bit of pity pot sitting, food allergies stink. I wish I could take our Princess too. I wish we could go in a restaurant without mapping out a game plan first. I wish I didn’t have to quiet my anxieties every time we have a meal prepared by someone else. But we do. And I will do it over and over to keep her safe. And maybe my meal with my little guy was all the more special because we can’t do it all the time.
And then there’s this.
Miss Sophie sure worried us all after her fairly routine surgery. She wouldn’t get up and walk around. I called the vet. Twice. One time at 11:30 at night. He is a kind, understanding person, and I’m thankful for that. He knows I’m overprotective and a worrier, but when Miss Sophie wasn’t up and walking around three days after surgery, I knew something was wrong. Turns out maybe she doesn’t like accessorizing. When I took her cone off, she got up and started moving. Slowly at first, but then she was back to her old self. And that little face and wagging tail on the one who barks and pouts when I leave the room–I am thankful for her.
Lastly, I was reminded today of what little good it does for me to worry over things. Things in the future. Now, don’t think I’m going to stop. I’m a work in progress and change for me will take as long as the rerouting of Highway 96 out my way will take. LONG time. Still. Lesson learned. Again. I’ve been worrying for a week over how to fit things in and do what we were supposed to do today and tomorrow. I just about had it all figured out, after much worry and figuring and planning, and then this morning at 4 a.m. I heard a little voice next to my bed. “Mama, I feel like I have to throw up.” Followed by proof.
And just like that. Plans for today and tomorrow cancelled. (Tomorrow’s cancellation was validated by a fever this evening. Yeah, we’re staying put for a while.)
All that worry for naught. I do that a lot. Burn a lot of energy and wear myself out doing just that. Worrying.
But with Anxiety Girl as my BFF, how could it be otherwise?
Wishing you all a day filled with surprises and good things as full as the dessert bar at Side Tracks.
Love to all.
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