This might be the last time (see also: offending object in ear)

At the risk of being suspected of Munchausen by Proxy syndrome, I would like to share the following as I trust I am not alone. This past week I had the double sads. One, Little Man had a 104 degree temperature. Poor little lambchop. My sadness doubled down when I realized this might be the last time I take care of a child who can legitimately curl up into my lap when sick. Petite, short-waisted mother. Children with large melon heads and lanky limbs. There's a reason why there's a role reversal in Love You Forever by Robert Munsch (which sounds a little like Munchausen, though that is neither here nor there, hey?). The son gets bigger. The tiny mother does not.

Little Man was just the right size for snuggling as we monitored his fever. Just a lovely fit for carrying into the urgent care when he said his legs were in too much pain. Perfect ergonomics for holding while he slept in the waiting room.

The shame in my game was discovered upon the doctor examining Little Man, "What's this green stuff in his ear?"

I wished I had a remote clue. I mean, the possibilities were endless. Sweater fuzz? Shards of a tennis ball? Mutagent ooze?

After several rounds of ear irrigation (earrigation?) which convinced me of the wonders of both plumbing and medical school, the errant pea-sized serving of neon green play-dough was properly extracted from the ear canal and the origins of his ear infection and possibly the accompanying wicked case of strep throat were discovered.

Totes love when we get our co-pay's worth!! With a freezer pop to boot!

The inevitable cocktail of pink medicine and probiotic gummies was acquired from the latenight Walgreen's and our boy was returned to golden Tylenol-induced slumbers.

He was back on his bike by noon the next day and even as I mourned the role of wee person caregiver that is starting to pedal away from me like a ninja turtle on a two-wheeler, I gave thanks that this is an anomaly. There are millions of parents around the world who are in constant caregiver mode to sick children or sick parents, whose most precious resources of energy and clarity of mind are constantly depleted ("Thanks, Obama" not necessary).

**Awkward bust-a-move to charitable donation talk**

A couple funds that are close to my heart that I know do a great job of supporting parents as they fight disease or care for children with compromised immune systems, etc. etc. are the following:

JDRF Ronald McDonald House St. Jude Children's Research Hospital Kinder Key for Nationwide Childrens Hospitals And you? What are your favorite organizations to support?

A note I received during Teacher Appreciation Week

Sharing a note I received from a student this week. It is not the conventional syrupy sweet letter one might expect during Teacher Appreciation Week. The author is a very special student to me, a comeback kid with superb writing abilities, but this could be written by any who know the taste of failure or deep disappointment. It's a reminder to me how I need to acknowledge the people whom I've disappointed--it's not a reflection on them.  The spiritual implications here are infinite.

Mrs. Lee,

As I woke up at 9 this morning with the realization that I had actually missed the final, the same way I missed nearly/skipped every class this semester, I decided you needed to hear something.

You are an excellent teacher.

I don't want you to look back at me or any of the other students that may take your teaching and classes for granted (as well as our own education and money) and feel that that is a reflection of you. While that may not ever have crossed your mind, I still feel you needed to hear that. This is not me asking for mercy, or sympathy, or anything as arbitrary and useless as I feel those sentiments are. This is just me being a sub-par student that doesn't feel like I should leave my favorite teacher with any sort of doubts of her ability. Thank you for being the person you are.

- Student

Disgustingly perfect

This afternoon was one of those disgustingly perfect Sunday afternoons where you just want to punch yourself in the face to counteract the goodness. I suppose some would settle for a more polite pinch to make sure they're alive, but you know that feeling where the beauty just overwhelms. This sweet, intoxicating prelude to summer weather we're having. You get so high off of it that you forget to worry about your diet, the lawn you need to mow before it rains, the e-mail bombshell that is ticking like a tell-tale heart in your inbox awaiting your reply. We went to a Chattanooga Lookouts game today and it was bliss. We overbought slushies and overate overly salty pretzels and we cheered and switched seats and ogled fat babies. It was just so disgustingly perfect, all four of us sitting in a row with backed bleachers, Loverpants and I putting the bookends on our little treasures in the middle. I held their hands and prayed a silent prayer over and over. Gross, right?

This school year has been a satisfying one for me. For the kids, it has been much harder. There have been some mean-spirited things done to our children, and by the same token, I have complete faith in the fact that our kids have done mean-spirited things to others in return. But this year things felt a little more magnified. The safe hedge that surrounded them in years past seemed to get cropped out. Kids showed true colors. Cold shoulders jabbed from unexpected places. Silent treatments were prescribed. We talked through a lot of things and role-played more playground theatrics than I can recall.

With all the anti-bullying education that is infused into elementary ed these days, I just have to return to our sun-drenched bleacher bench above first base. I know the next years will be hard on our parent hearts as we lead little hearts toward the truth: They are eternally cherished and made for more than this world. I mean, some days/weeks/months are just going to be plain terrible, right? But our hope is that our kids will remember days like this, where it kind of didn't matter who won or lost but that they got sick on Dippin' Dots and too much love.