Oy, what a week

I should have known it wasn’t going to be a good week when my vacuum broke. I live in the country and have three sons – my vacuum is a dearly prized necessity. Since Adam and I have been wealth-challenged for the majority of our marriage, I’m pretty good at fixing things. Still, nothing I tried put my poor little vacuum back together again.

Next up on my week was Blake, the middle son. He’d been complaining about a sore under his ear. No matter how much we cleaned it, the darned thing kept getting worse, so he earned himself a trip to urgent care, a whole lot of high-powered antibiotics, and a few days off of school while the plague on his face healed.

Cue Dylan, the oldest. Monday night he took a few good hits at football practice, the kind that leave a guy staggering a bit while he assures his coach he’s fine. Tuesday morning, he just can’t get out of bed and tells me he really isn’t feeling well. So he stays home with the leprous child. By the end of the day, his lower right abdomen is in serious pain. He’s not running a fever but he’s showing other symptoms that have me a little on edge. So when he’s no better come Wednesday, back to urgent care I go, this time with child #1. Luckily, #2 was back at school by this point.

At this stage in my narrative, I have to pause to say that Reggie (the Jeep) must have felt left out, because he decided on Tuesday that it would be a good time to quit working. He’s our only vehicle. Thank God we have friends who know what they’re doing and are willing to help out. So the entire time I’m juggling kid drama, Adam is outside with our friend Dave trying to figure out why the danged Jeep won’t start. About all I’m good for on that end is Googling possibilities, which the men assured me was quite helpful.

So back to the kiddos… my mother gave us a ride to urgent care on Wednesday, where they examined Dylan then sent him straight over to the emergency room because they were afraid he either had appendicitis or internal bleeding/damage to an organ. Since he still wasn’t running a fever, the appendicitis was unlikely.

Commence testing. Seven hours of testing. The poor kid wasn’t allowed to eat or drink just in case they decided to do emergency surgery. He was nauseous, so the no food wasn’t a crisis, but by 9 pm he was kind of wishing they’d let him have a cracker or something. My mom and I weren’t at all nauseous, so the no food thing was kind of a crisis in our book, but we abstained out of solidarity.

The good news is Dylan didn’t need surgery, just time off physical activity. (No football until Monday at the earliest and the big game against their rivals is Tuesday.) Still, in the grand scheme of things, I’ll take it compared to what could have been.

All I’ll say about the insurance being submitted wrong is grrr.

Thursday, a little voice told me to try my vacuum again. It worked, and I’m calling it a miracle. I think Jesus knew I needed something to go right before I wound up in a corner braiding my hair and babbling.

Then Dave came up with a brilliant work around to get Reggie running again. Part of that was installing a push-button starting system, so Reggie is now high-class. Unfortunately, it’s gone to Reggie’s head because his instrument panel (and lights) won’t stop flashing. They were before, that was part of the problem, but now I think he’s just being a diva. Or there’s a short somewhere, but I’m leaning towards the diva explanation.

Child #1 is back at school today, although he’s hanging out in an “academic recovery room,” which just means he gets to stay put all day instead of changing classes. I love how much his school has worked with us to help Dylan. The people who work in the schools here are pretty fantastic.

Adam is seeing if he can figure out the mystery that is Reggie.

Even though it’s Friday, I guess my week is far from over. I still have to send a bunch of chickens and ducks to freezer camp tomorrow, which is my least favorite part of farming! I’m a little scared to ask “what else?”

My youngest son said something this morning that put it all in perspective for me, so I think I’ll end with that. He informed me that he’s ironed out his projected career path through life.

At age 18, I’m going to be a ninja. At 20, I’ll be an FBI agent. When I’m 31, I’ll be a PE coach. When I’m 40, I’ll be a redneck millionaire. Then at 50, I’ll be a pastor.

I’m glad at least one of us has things all figured out.