Spa Day Ahead!

We have been dealing with a stomach bug at the Widmer house this week and it’s a doozy. My youngest vomited for 6 days and my youngest son is now on his second day. Add to that a husband who worked two jobs all weekend, an ink pen exploding in the dryer, and a broken prong/lost diamond in my wedding ring, and I kind of want to run away.

In the middle of a conversation with someone about my week, (thank God for electronic forms of communication keeping you sane while stuck in the house), she said, “You need a spa day after all that vomit,” and I thought, “You know what? I think you’re right!” That thought had never occurred to me before but it has stuck with me providing both excitement and uncertainty.

April 9, 2014, I miscarried our sixth child. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing in the whole world. I wasn’t very far along and logically I knew that when that happens it’s usually for a reason. Still, I was sad and Matt had to go to Erie, PA the next day. I didn’t like the prospect of being alone so we decided that I would leave the kids with a sitter and go with him. It was at a time in our lives where we couldn’t afford a whole lot but I decided that while he did whatever it was he needed to do, I was going to go get a manicure/pedicure. It was $50 and I put it on a credit card. (I bet Dave Ramsey is rolling in his….recliner in his million-dollar mansion.) Then I took myself to lunch at Panera with a book and regrouped. It was lovely, perfect, and exactly what I needed. When I look back at that time I think of that day first. I remember all the bad and scary stuff but also that I took some time to heal and process and thus it’s much less traumatic than it could have been.

I allowed myself that “splurge” because a miscarriage was a “big deal”. I gave myself permission to feel and regroup and spend a little on myself to carry on. It probably wasn’t so much the money, but the time alone. Then I think about my week and I question. Is this a “big deal”? Does this “qualify” me needing time away? Does it make me a weenie to need it? Don’t laugh at that last one. I have certain rules for myself so I can’t be viewed as a wimp, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

Does my week…or however long it ends up being…allow me to be justified in spending that money? Thanks to the grace of God and my husband’s work ethic I’d no longer have to put that money on a credit card but is money spent on me for “relaxation” justifiable? Seriously, don’t laugh, I’m thinking these things even though as I write them it sounds ridiculous. My motto to my children has always been, “People before things” and Matt and I have always lived with the viewpoint that people are more important than money. (Everybody calm down, I’m not talking about not paying our bills to spend money frivolously) But we’ve stretched our very tight budget to donate to those in need or buy an extravagant gift for someone just because we knew it was important.

But I’m not altogether sure that I apply this same principle to myself. In fact, I know I don’t.

We are looking at Matt deploying later this year and me being single parenting for 4 months. It’s a daunting thought and I’ve been asking God to begin preparing our family for this, to give us strategies to not just make it through, but to thrive. What if this is one of them? What if I need to allow myself to take time to regroup occasionally? I have been known to scoff at “me time” but I’m starting to think that was wrong.

I think I’m going to plan a spa day when everyone is healthy…not because I NEED to, but because it’ll be good for me. After I’m done holding puke buckets I get to look forward to more than laundry!

What do you think? Do you think that time to regroup is important and what does that look like for you?

The Ick Factor Subtitled GERMAPHOBE LIVES MATTER

My husband and I were fortunate enough to be blessed with a babysitter this past weekend. A very nice family from our church volunteered to come over and babysit all 6 minions so Matt and I could have some alone time. It took a while for us to coordinate but last Saturday was the lucky day.

I’m a creature of habit, so we ended up at a local favorite Mediterranean place for dinner. We ate hot meals without having to stop to cut up anyone’s food, wipe a butt, or clean up a spilled drink. We had a full conversation. It was lovely. After our dinner, we decided to keep our romance going by visiting the Verizon Store. What’s more romantic than being able to talk to a sales rep without having to chase children through an electronics store? After a 90-minute stint there, in a last-ditch effort to be out past 9 o’clock, we stopped at Starbucks. Here’s where this gets interesting.

OK, OK, I’m playing it fast and loose with the word interesting. Here’s where my story begins. After drinks at dinner and numerous water refills, plus an extended stay at a store without a bathroom, Matt and I both had to go. We walked into Starbucks and he ran to the bathroom while I ordered my drink. He returned and we swapped places. I walked toward the alcove in which the bathrooms were housed and stopped short. There were two individual bathrooms and both we marked with the same men/women/handicap signage.

Don’t worry, liberal friends, it’s safe to keep reading. This isn’t the conservative, Christian rant that you’re expecting. I have previously stated that I don’t care where anyone goes to the bathroom…I may alter that statement henceforth. Keep reading.

So, I am standing in front of the Starbucks bathrooms and having an anxiety attack. What was my problem? All I could think was that I didn’t want to go in the same bathroom as the gross boys...yep, that was my thought. Come on, don’t tell me that you’ve never had that thought. See, I know boys. I know how they go to the bathroom. Peeing never actually requires looking at the toilet. It’s based solely on sound. If they hear water, they’re good. Or so they think. In reality, when the sound of pee hitting water stops, it takes them 2.5 seconds to look down and locate the area where they are peeing and another second for the brain to send the signal to the body to move the stream back to the toilet. Do you know how much pee can get into unwanted places in 3.5 seconds? Come on…you all know this is true. I have cleaned up pee of the boys that I know and love in the weirdest places: shower curtain-twice, wall, bath mat…the list could go on forever.

And for real, that’s the least of the grossness than occurs in the bathroom. I won’t go into too many details but I’ll leave it with these facts. One, I cleaned bathrooms at McDonald’s for three years. Ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time the men’s room was the grossest and smelled the worst. Once, I even found an apple pie smashed in weird places….I don’t even want to know. Secondly, the term “dingleberry” did not originate in the description of women’s restroom issues.

So, what did I do? I reached back into the dark recesses of my subconscious memory and picked the bathroom in which I thought that Matt went, that way if I sat in pee I could pretend that it was at least the pee of someone I know and love.

I am now concerned however. We have solved the plight of the gender redefined, undefined…or whatever we call them, but what about the plight of the germaphobe? GERMAPHOBES MATTER TOO!!! If you find me smuggling bleach spray into bathrooms, you’ll know that I couldn’t take it anymore.

I CAN'T EVEN

            As many of you know from my whiny statuses, I’m on a lose-the-last-of-my-baby-weight kick, at least for this week. My hubby is also super amazing at keeping himself in shape and eating right. As part of his effort he has purchased some protein powder which he insists is wonderful mixed with his morning coffee. I, myself, am an iced coffee fanatic. I have it down to an exact science. One medium to bold K-Cup, cooled a bit with 1 T of heavy cream and 1 T of your chosen flavored coffee creamer. Add some ice and it’s better than Starbucks. I usually have one in the morning and then dream about it until the next day when the thought of my iced coffee helps me rouse myself to the screaming children.

            There are days, however, that call for more than one iced coffee. At 100 calories a pop I don’t want to drink all my calories for the day so it has to be absolutely necessary to indulge. Today is one of those days. There is excessive amount of wailing happening. The baby got her 15 mo. imms yesterday so she has an excuse. The boys….oh, the boys…they have no reason to be so ill at ease with life, and yet, they are. There was the “my waffle tore so I must have another one” incident, followed by the “why won’t you make me lunch NOW after I insisted I wasn’t hungry and you sat down to eat your lunch” incident. There have also been numerous spills and demands, including the child currently laying at my feet screaming for a treat. (Does that ever work? Why do they think it should?)

            So, I thought to myself. “Self, let’s go get another coffee. It’s just one of those days. It’ll be worth it.” Then I thought, “Hey, Matt keeps saying that the protein shake stuff is really good in coffee and instead of 100 empty calories maybe they can be chuck full of energy! Yes! Energy! I need energy!” So, I made my K-Cup, cooled it for the appropriate amount of time and mixed in the vanilla protein powder. I smelled it first. That’s in the Widmer code of conduct…you must smell new things before you put them in your mouth to make sure they’re safe. It smelled really good. “Great,” I thought, “this is the beginning of a whole new world of iced coffees.” Next, I added ice and the straw and took a great big swig. My reaction is best summed up in the words of Whoa Susannah and her grocery store Vlog, “MERCIFUL HEAVENS, WHAT NEW HELL IS THIS!?!?!?!”

                        “Why! Why is this so bad?” I wondered to myself. It tasted like someone had stuck a vanilla bean between their sweaty toes and waded through my coffee. It was salty and overly sweet and did not resemble my iced coffee at all. “Now what do I do?” I didn’t want to waste my coffee, it is earth day after all, so I contemplated saving it. To be sure I took another swig! ACK! “Why?! Why would I do that again?” “More Ice, more ice had to be the answer. I grabbed my blender (which I hate to clean so you know I was desperate) and I put ice in it and threw in the coffee and tried to blend it. I say tried because the coffee/protein mixture wouldn’t mix with the ice. “Seriously, what is this stuff? It doesn’t blend with water?” You would have thought that I would have given up, but sadly no. I continued to mix and blend. It grew! I held on to the lid for dear life. Finally, I stopped the blender and tried to put it back into my cup, or half of it. The ice had now doubled the volume. Ya’ll, I actually put it back into my mouth. I just drank as fast as I could. I still couldn’t bring myself to waste the coffee. Alas, after drinking the first half I couldn’t do it anymore. It was so bad.

            I have now tried one of the leading MLM shakes (which tasted like someone took my multivitamin and blended it into liquid) and an off the shelf protein powder and I cannot for the life of me understand why people drink this crap? It’s for real a multi-million dollar market! The only conclusion I can draw is that there must be crack in it. It’s gotta have some sort of addictive qualities. If anyone finds me twitching in the corner, from withdrawals, not from the children, which might be hard to differentiate, we’ll know for sure.

            Guys, I had to eat a half a bag of Cheez-Its and some chocolate covered blueberries to get the taste out of my mouth. Now, I’m slightly concerned about the possibility of anal leakage as an after effect. I just don’t know… I can’t even… I think I’d rather starve. Well, no, that’s not true. I’d rather eat cookies, but since that’s currently not an option I think I’d rather starve. If someone comes up with a protein packed, good for you cookie, that doesn’t include banana or peanut butter (gag, but that’s another rant) let me know. Until then, I shall return to my beloved iced coffee once a day and pray that the children don’t run me into the loony bin.

A Year in Review

…I will look up, for there is none above You. I will bow down to tell You that I need You, Jesus, Lord of all. I will look back and see that You are faithful. I look ahead, knowing You are able, Jesus, Lord of All. Jesus, Lord of All… (Elevation Worship)

At this time last year I was, to borrow a phrase from Anne of Green Gables, in “the depths of despair.” I was 37 weeks pregnant, ready to be done and exhausted. I was looking forward into 2015 and seeing myself as a “single” parent frequently. It looked like Matt, with away rotations and military obligations, was going to be gone for more than 3 months out of the year. I know that there are many military families who face deployments and training much longer than three months but with the last 4 years of medical school absence so clear in my memory, my heart was not ready for such a separation.

In addition to the upcoming absences, we were also struggling financially. Medical School can take a toll on one’s finances and the secret they don’t tell you is that Residency is worse. I pity the poor unsuspecting person who makes a comment about Physicians being overpaid in my presence. By the end of last year we had experienced 6 years of struggle and because of Matt’s busy schedule I was one who would play financial Tetris to make things work. I was burnt out. Matt had tried several things to bail us out, including the National Guard – which he was in, but not yet being paid, and getting his unrestricted license to be able to moonlight for extra income. Every avenue he tried wasn’t panning out. I didn’t honestly believe anything was going to change.

My outlook about the upcoming year was bleak, to say the least. In January, trying to steel myself from the struggles ahead I started a 20 day Bible study by Havilah Cunnington called, “I Do Hard Things,” and honestly I cried my way through most of it as God spoke to my heart. The thing that stuck out the most was this statement (that I’ll paraphrase): We create these scenarios in our heads, we imagine how we think things are going to look or how people are going to react and then we attach our emotions to them. We become emotionally invested in things that have not yet happened and it’s a giant waste of time and energy. WOW! That is exactly what I had been doing and it needed to change. I didn’t know what my year would hold so why was I despairing now? That helped my perspective…a lot!

Another thing helping my perspective was the delivery of Vivienne! I’m not the norm, but I’m always MORE rested when I have a newborn than I am at the end of the pregnancy. As soon as I get out of the hospital and I can do things my way and on my terms I’m a better person. Vivi was no exception and has been an ideal child…way to make me sad that you’re the last baby, kid.

In February God did what we couldn’t! Matt’s back pay came through and also his unrestricted license, allowing him to moonlight. Over this year we’ve watched our income double and we’ve been able to pay of a new car’s worth of debt in less than a year. I am grateful to have a husband who works a full time job, three part time jobs, and a contingent job to get us through this time. I love how we play a part and God picks up and completes the work.

Over the spring and summer I watched as what we thought would be long periods of separation for our family unraveled and fall apart, and the ones that remained were covered in grace. Matt’s weekend drills weren’t as big of a deal as I’d anticipated and because his audition rotation at his chosen Sports Medicine Fellowship program went so well he didn’t have to do many out of town. In fact, he was gone just one week! One week instead of 3 month! I cannot tell you how happy that has made me. My life is always distinctly better when my husband is by my side.

As we looked forward to 2015, we didn’t think we’d be able to take a family vacation, but we’ve had three! THREE! Sometimes I’m amazed at the extravagance of my heavenly Daddy! Our family get-a-way to the cabin in Canada in August fell into perfect place. Then, God gave me a kiss – a nod that my dreams weren’t forgotten – in the form of a sports medicine conference in MN on the dancer’s hip. Day one of the conference was for the medical professional and day two was for the dancer! I learned so much and spent many of the lectures sitting in the back in tears of amazement that even this Mama of 6 could continue my dance dreams.

One of the things that we thought would cause times of separation was a medical policy program to which Matt got accepted. Only 10 people in the nation were selected for this program and Matt was one. It’s quite the honor but it requires conferences in NYC, DC, Chicago, and AZ. The December conference was in DC so we packed up the kids and went a few days early for their first trip to our Nation’s Capital. DC is one of my favorite places, although, I’ve not been there many times. Our time there as a family was precious, even if Elaina was miffed that we not going to a shopping mall but, “a large plot of land that they could build a mall on!”

God spoke to me through my kids the other day. Jillian was playing a game on her tablet and Evelyn watched. Jill quit a round and Evelyn asked her why she quit. Jill’s response was that she was going to lose so she just quit. Evelyn said, “No you weren’t. You just had to shoot this ball over here and then you would have won!” At that point God said to me, “You do that, you know. You quit when you think you’re going to lose but you can’t see what I can see. Don’t quit because you’re going to win.”

I know that this has been a year of reaping for us. I believe there is more reaping to come but I also know that there will be periods of sowing, more times where we will be giving to accomplish the call that God has placed on our lives. But what a year of learning this was for me. I cannot attach my emotions to events that I don’t know are going to happen, it is a good thing to look for the harvest, and I can’t quit just because I think I’m going to lose!

I look back and see His faithfulness and I now look ahead to 2016 knowing that He is able to not just help me survive but to thrive!

I thank God for His goodness to us and I pray that you experience His overwhelming love for you this year.

Blessings,
Jen

Keep Jumping!

In a ballet class a very long time ago, one of my mentors and dance teacher extraordinaire, explained a new concept to me. We were doing sautes, jumps in laymen’s terms, and she was telling us how to improve. With each jump a ballerina must begin with bent knees in a plié, then must push off the ground stretching her legs as much as possible and then pointing her toes as if they were reaching for the ground, then land softly in another plié, rebound and again stretch her legs and toes with energy emanating from them. In amongst the technique she said something like this, “When you feel tired, your muscles are screaming at you, and you’re tempted to not point as hard or stretch as much. When you’re tempted to let things relax, that’s when you need to push harder. Keep pointing and stretching with everything you have. Do one more jump that way, then another, then another; that is how you’ll improve.” I suddenly found myself contemplating those words this week and as usual found that the lessons and discipline I learned in ballet translates to adulthood and real life quite well.

It’s been a really rough week. Matt’s been on an Internal Medicine rotation. When that happens he works a minimum of six 12 hour shifts. Add in an hour drive to work and back and a National Guard Drill day in the mix and you have a very tired hubby and a family who has been without a father for most of the week. Then we’ve gotten another round of the plague. I’m not exactly sure how one family can experience so many viruses in a 5 month span but my guess is we’re super special. (Oh, and I’m pretty sure it’s mostly because I eschew essential oils. For this reason we may never have the ability to be healthy again. But I digress.) And I’ve felt very judged and maligned at times this week, even in the places where your heart is supposed to be the safest.

Anyway, it’s been an exhausting week. Many, many times this week I’ve felt like running away. On one particularly frustrating day I saw myself in my mind’s eye standing in front of that dance studio mirror, jumping, jumping, jumping, pointing my feet for all I was worth and when I was tired, pushing even harder. Years later at a dance intensive run by a professional dance company I was complemented on my jumps. It was because I was taught keep going when things get hard. It was because I learned that we don’t improve when things are easy, we improve when we come to a wall and we push through it.

So, in this crazy thing I call my life, I press on. When a kid dumps an entire plate of food on the floor, I take a deep breath and jump again. When I have to wait with a cart full of squirming kids behind Frick and Frack perusing the yogurt aisle so I can buy my toasted coconut greek yogurt…jump higher. When I have to breathe deeply instead of freaking out at mascara on my kitchen rug…stretch. When I have to apologize to my children for freaking out…stretch harder. When I’m so exhausted but I have to get up with a coughing child…keep pushing. When I need to discipline a child for the same thing they just got disciplined for…reach. When I’ve got to try and find an Easter outfit for a body that’s not what I want it to be…jump, jump, push, SQUEEEEEEZE…Ha! You get the picture. When it’s hard we just have to keep jumping, stretching, and pushing through knowing that the reward is worth it.

Philippians 3:13-14           Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal of the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Be encouraged, friends, for there are many of us, jumping together. Once again, in my mind’s eye, when that young ballerina sees herself in the mirror there is a whole class with her; jumping together to reach the goal.

Vivienne's Birth

I've made it a habit to write down my labor experiences for my kids. My mom did it for my birth and I always enjoyed reading the story as I got older. I've shared the last few here on the blog and I'm doing so with Vivienne's story. It's written as if I'm speaking to her because it's for her, you just get a peak into our conversation.

Vivienne’s Birth

Your birth, Vivienne, was a completely different story than any of your brothers and sisters. After William, Daddy didn’t know if he wanted any more babies but I was not quite ready to be done. In late February we found out that we were pregnant. On April8th I began to bleed and we lost that baby. Five short weeks later I again got a positive pregnancy test. I had poison ivy all over my legs and was going to the doctor to get something for it when Daddy suggested I take a pregnancy test just to make sure I could have the steroids the doctor would prescribe. As it turned out, I was expecting you and just had to suffer through the poison ivy. Thankfully, it didn’t last long.

We again opted to not find out whether you were a girl or a boy at the ultrasound. The ultrasound tech was fantastic and went out of her way to keep your gender a secret. I thought for sure you were a boy just based on some of the symptoms that I had during pregnancy and the fact that Daddy and I had so quickly agreed on a girl’s name but couldn’t agree on a boy’s name.

Fast forward several months and you were late! William had been overdue and it looked like you were going to follow suit. It was different this time, though. With William I had been so panicked and so concerned that I was going to have to be induced or that something would go wrong and I’d have to have a c-section. With you I was not panicked at all. I had peace that everything was going to be OK and that you would come when you were ready.

At 1:00am, Saturday morning, January 17^th, I started having contractions. They were pretty irregular and even when they got a little more regular they were still only 6 minutes apart. I had learned by labor number six that anything over 5 minutes apart can stop at any time. I didn’t get too excited. I got out of bed and watched a Netflix for a while. At about 3 your brother woke up and I rocked him for a bit. William is almost as notorious for not sleeping as Jillian was. My contractions slowed down considerably at that time. At about 4am I decided to go back to bed. The contractions slowed more and I slept the rest of the night with only a few contractions waking me here and there. All during the day the 17^th we had plans. Uncle Ben Widmer’s birthday party was at 11:30 and Elissa Garcia’s birthday party was at 4:30. Daddy wanted to know if I wanted to stay home since I was still having contractions but they were so random I didn’t want to stay and be anxious. We decided to go about our day and stick with the plans we had unless something changed. And that’s exactly what we did. I had contractions all through the day and they hurt but nothing ever got regular so I didn’t think we were that close. We got home from all our partying at about 8pm and Daddy helped me bathe your brothers and sisters for church the next day. I set out clothes for the girls and we got everyone to bed.

Everyone got to go to bed but me. Aunt Val and Aunt Sandy had both sent me text messages asking if I thought you were coming soon but I told them both I didn’t think so. I guess that’s what I get for thinking I knew what you were up to. At 11pm my contractions again went to 6 minutes apart. I decided to sit on the yoga ball and watch HGTV shows on Netflix. Daddy went to sleep at 12:30. By 1:30am, January 18^th contractions were 4 minutes apart. I woke Daddy up and told him I couldn’t take it anymore. The contractions hurt, I was 40 weeks, 5 days gestation, and even if they needed to give me Pitocin at the hospital I just needed to be done. He told me he thought this was definitely labor. I called Aunt Sandy to come and stay with your siblings and then I called Doctor Owen to let her know we were coming. Aunt Sandy got here at about 2:15 and we left for the hospital shortly thereafter.

All during the drive to the hospital contractions were 4 minutes apart and pretty intense. Both Daddy and I were thinking that it seemed like transition contractions but neither of us wanted to say that and be disappointed when we got to the hospital. I got to the OB unit a little before 3 and as it was the last few times the night nurses couldn’t get an IV in. I really miss those veteran labor and delivery night nurses! Anyway, they called anesthesia and got an IV in and started my antibiotics. The resident, Dr. Denny, checked me and said that I was 6-7cm dilated but that you were -2 and posterior. Shocker, all my babies like to be posterior. She said, “We just have to get this baby to turn and it will come flying out.” I thought, “Yeah, right. None of my babies come flying out.”

After they got the IV in and everything settled I sat on the ball for a while and then they set up the squat stool and squat bar for me. I told Daddy I needed to do something because I didn’t just want to sit and think about how much the contractions hurt so he turned on an episode of FRIENDS on his iPad. We watched and Daddy used a method we developed over the course of all my different labors to get you to turn. I watched an episode, about 20minutes, and then I felt a lot more pressure. I was the only person in the OB unit and when I yelled “OUCH!!,” 3 nurses and the resident came running in the room. Dr. Denny checked again and I was 8cm dilated, zero station and you had turned! She was sure that you were just going to fly out and I was sure that you weren’t going to. None of your brothers and sister had been that cooperative.

We turned on another episode of FRIENDS and watched half when my water broke and I started to feel the need to push. Dr. Owen walked in and we were ready to rock. I still didn’t think you were really going to come out and I began begging for Nubain. They told me that I was going to deliver and didn’t need it because it wouldn’t help. You were coming and they didn’t want to depress your breathing when you were born! At this point I freaked out because I’ve always had Nubain and didn’t know what to expect without it. I got on the bed on my hands and knees and started to push. But I also started to yell! “Give me Nubain, even half a dose,” “I can’t do this!” and then, “I’m going to pass out!” At this point your Daddy said, “Quit your yelling and breathe!” This still makes me laugh just thinking about it. He was so unsympathetic (which I find hysterical) but it was exactly what I needed. A few more pushes and you were out.

As I said before, I really thought that you were a boy and Daddy did a double take and said, “Jen, it’s a girl!” The nurses asked what your name was and your Daddy right away said, “Vivienne Jane.” The time was 5:11, less than 2 and ½ hours after getting to the hospital and you weighed in at 7lbs 12oz and 20” long. Your head was 13 1/4'” around.

Your sisters were so excited that you were a girl. Even over 2 weeks later you’re still creating a stir around here. They want to hold you constantly. Your brothers love you and also don’t want to leave you alone. You’re pretty spoiled since between me, Daddy, your brothers and sisters you are held constantly! Jill constantly thanks God for you and says that you’re the perfect baby for our family and I agree! We are so glad you’ve joined our family.

Adulthood and the Icky Sickies

The older I get the more I find myself longing for my younger years when I knew everything. You know, that point in your late teens and early twenties when you have everything figured out and you don’t know how in the world your parents are so stupid as to not know this stuff. One thing I totally had figured out was how to be healthy.

            I grew up as the oldest of 5 kids. The youngest was almost 11 years younger than I. As with most large families sickness was no stranger to us. I’m not sure which was worse, getting sick first or watching everyone drop one by one just waiting for your turn. I remember one Christmas/New Year season, after high school, that any time I spent at home I spent in my bedroom because everyone had this terrible stomach bug. My self-imposed exile didn’t work. I still got it.

            Then one magical day Matthew and I got married and moved out on our own. I had a home of my own. I grocery shopped for us, cleaned for us, and managed the home. That winter we didn’t get sick. We didn’t really get sick the next one either and that’s when I figured it out. We, Matt and I, obviously had this nutrition/immune system thing figured out. It was plain to see that we had gone from living at our parent’s, being sick, to living on our own with not a sickness in sight! Clearly, we were eating better. We had a plethora of fresh fruits and vegetables that we ate which of course boosted our immune systems to the point of near superhuman. We also made sure we had the proper amount of exercise in our lives. This also aided the superhuman immune system. We got the right amount of sleep. I made sure the bathroom was sparkling clean. Yes, we had figured out the secret to perfect health and it was so obviously easy I’m not sure how our parents missed it all those years.

            And that’s when Elaina was born. As the parents of a newborn we were very careful with her and she never even knew what vomit was until she was over two years old. And then she started licking things and touching things and putting random things in her mouth. She got sick and then so would we. But still, this didn’t mean anything. We were still way beyond what we had grown up with. Kids have to get sick sometimes and since we were cleaning up snot it wasn’t unusual to get a small sniffle here or there.

            After one child comes two, and three, and more; after more children comes school. This, this is when you figure out that you actually know nothing. You take those angelic looking children who lick things, let snot drip from their noses, cough and vomit wherever they feel like and you put them all in one school together. Suddenly, your magic world of superhuman immunity comes crashing down around you. I very vividly remember one winter where Matt and I decided that we were going to do the whole “5 fruits and veggies a day” thing. I, no joke, had 5 colds in a three month span of time.  I was completely baffled!

            Are there things you can do to aid your immune system…sure there are. Are they more powerful than a room full of snotty children…not on your life! Children are the kryptonite to an adult immune system, it’s just fact. This winter has been a particularly brutal one for us. Colds/Flu/Hand Foot and Mouth,ugh! Some days I really miss knowing the secret to good health and wellness.  Be assured, someday the kids will grow up and move out and I will again discover how to be healthy, at least until the grandkids start coming around.