As you know I’ve been furiously attacking everything in my path here on the home front since returning from my summer travels. Files, piles, phone calls to businesses – you name it. I’m just a little proud of myself after having rescued my husband’s roomy garage storage shelves for him yesterday from all my book-and-travel-stuff overflow.
Funny how things just begin to creep in and breed over the winter months, demanding horizontal space 
and creating chaos. Never fear, Super-Ruthless-Cleaning woman is here. It did cross my mind to kindly organize and clean my hubby’s main handyman shelves, but my better judgment took over. (Sorry, Hun, maybe next year)
After spending a good 5 hours in the simmering high-90s heat sorting and sifting in the garage, I called it quits and ventured out on errands. Nothing fancy, just a few cleaning supplies, returns and office supplies. I was tempted to grab dinner out for the fam, but decided to call it a ‘fend-for-yourself-night’ and save the 30ish bucks I would have spent at a restaurant. Before I left the house, I wrote out a long list with a big fat Sharpie of all the delights to be found in the fridge for those willing to invest a little energy to eat well. Didn’t want the guys to be standing in front of the fridge pining for ’something to eat’ with that pitiful, hungry, forlorn look on their faces.
Have you ever noticed that on fend-for-yourself nights, men eat late or not at all?! What’s up with that? My usually-ravenous 15-year-old turned to fasting yesterday since I wasn’t in the kitchen preparing the food. Understandably, he was occupied; he was on his 3rd 8-plus hour day, now working on painting the inside of the fence for most of the day. (See July 10th post) I kept checking on him to be sure he was drinking plenty of water, but I didn’t take him food as is my usual habit.
He came in from working and went straight to the guitar and Garage Band program to record his latest brilliant musical revelation. I showed him the food list and off I went…
I returned a couple of hours later and busied myself with unpacking and assorted homemaker-stuff. The warbling-whine of the electric guitar could be heard time and again. My older son and I had a nice long chat and then decided to put on a movie. I kept thinking, “maybe I should take water and food to the musician.” But then my other, more reasonable voice would speak to me: “Stop your worrying, he is fine. He will live without your intervention. You are such a worrier!” Younger brother still hadn’t surfaced….
We were about an hour into the movie when the guitarist appeared, ashen-white and saying he was suddenly overcome with sickness, the sorest throat possible, achey, weak and dizzy.
“I knew it! All this time it was the voice of God telling me to feed the dear child!” I paused the flick and went about getting water for the famished boy, dicing watermelon and urging him to eat pickles to restore his lost salt from working in the heat all day. I Googled ‘dehydration’ and beat myself up some more as I considered his potentially serious condition. I grabbed his brother and began praying earnestly for my patient.
Then it got worse: He rehearsed, out loud, his diet for the day: 3 frozen Kashi waffles with syrup and butter and an iced mocha he made with my espresso machine. He also claims to have guzzled a good 3 quarts of water. I would never endorse or support such a diet (unless I was depressed, craving sugar for myself )I was embarrassed by his report, and regretted not being more hands-on…”CPS was surely on the way to rescue him; I should have done something!”
After a few moments and huge amounts of mother-guilt, thankfully his color returned; a little pink was now visible in the cheeks. I checked his pulse – ok – and grabbed a flashlight to check his pupils. Yes, they dilated on cue. I helped him into some warm jammies since he was ‘freezing,’ took him to brush his teeth, wash his face and tucked him into bed with lots of blankets, especially wrapping his ’so-cold feet.’ After about 30 minutes I checked him again. He was snoozing and breathing just fine.
After the long intermission, our movie ended about 1:15. I went to bed, tossing and turning, only falling asleep shortly after 2 (late-night movies are so not my thing) only to be startled by repeated, loud, banging on the wall at 3:30! It was my patient, burning up with a fever and needing his mama. I rushed in, blind as a bat (no contacts), fumbling with the thermometer…He was saying, “don’t you have one you can put under my arm? I can’t breathe through my nose!” I hadn’t used the darn thing for so long, I couldn’t remember how it worked and I certainly couldn’t see it! It did nothing, then kept beeping…I didn’t want to turn a bright light on, so I went ‘feeling about’ for my flashlight!
I got him more water, some meds, lots of love and tucked in next to him. He accepted my offer to stay close after he made sure he wasn’t inconveniencing me. Are you kidding?! I’m a mom.
After awhile I got my blankets and a pillow and moved to the floor so he had more room to move about. I had to be close in case he needed me. I had to seize my moment. He doesn’t need me so much anymore; he’s 15 and 1/2 now.
After nursing my patient diligently all day, I took him to the doctor to get a strep test. (Judging by the crowds, apparently there is no recession at the doctor’s offices in town). We’ll wait on the results and in the meantime, push fluids and real food.
No more waffles and mochas for Mozart.
