The simple things

Dec. 5, 2010

This week was a struggle. Nathan got the stomach-bug going around which means any success we had gained in getting his weight up would soon be negated and we’re back to finding ways to get enough calories in him a day.

Keeping Nathan at home is a punishment for him on multiple levels. Not only is he battling a body that doesn’t let him do anything, but not getting to go to school, leave the house, or anything fun doesn’t help his spirits. He doesn’t have the energy to play the way he wants to, and neither of us could get comfortable making sleep a rare commodity. It didn’t take much for either of us to get on each others nerves, knowing germs were the stake being driven between us.

He gets his cabin fever from me, there’s no doubt. I can’t stand being cooped up, staring at the same walls hour after hour. When heavy snow hits, I grab a shovel and start working on the driveway. Even with nowhere in particular to go, at least I’m outside, and creating a pathway should the need to go anywhere arise.

After 2 1/2 days inside, Annette knew I needed to get away…anywhere. Even a trip to Walmart or Target would do the trick, just to get out. Once she made it home from work, we agreed I would have some time just to get away from the sickness and back into the world. The problem was I wasn’t the only one needing to get out.

Nathan knew what was going to happen as soon as he saw I had shoes on. I’m not one that goes around the house without shoes normally. I only take them off if it’s been snowing or raining and I don’t want to track it everywhere. Since Nathan spends so much of his time (both well and sick) laying/rolling/playing on the floor, I suppose it make sense that shoes stand out, and he knew exactly what that meant.

I was simply talking to Annette about her day, (nothing about leaving) all the while Nathan would grunt/pout/wiggle towards me, pleading wherever I was headed, to take him with me. Annette looked over at me to see if I saw Nathan’s efforts, and it was one I couldn’t deprive a sick little guy who really asks for so little.

Annette and I agreed, he and I’d get out of the house, but he wouldn’t leave the car. I could go to the drive-thru ATM, get gas, and drive around for a little bit. The sun had already gone down so the glowing headlights and Christmas lights around the neighborhoods illuminated our way. Nathan simply grinned once clicked into the car seat, and not a sad-peep was heard the entire time. With the radio playing our favorite church-based Christmas songs and the nip of cold in the air, we got out of our infirmary for just a little bit.

I ran my errands and headed down some of the back roads and a simple calm came over both of us. All the of the hustle and bustle of the season seemed to subside, I was still with my favorite little guy. With a simple glance over my shoulder to the back seat, I saw he had that peace too. The queasiness apparently tamed, congestion soothed being more upright, I could see he was finally getting some good sleep. I didn’t want the feeling to end, but knew we couldn’t stay away all night. We went home, back to the same walls and reminder of all the sickliness we both were experiencing. Still that stake working its way between us was gone, and we could both get back to trying to get better.

As the week rolled on and we both recovered, it was easy to see that Nathan was feeling much better. The songs he sings while he’s playing came back as did the smiles and fun times. We went out of the house later in the week, and when we parked the car and Nathan got to go in the store, he knew things must be improving as well. On Friday he got to go back to school.

You’ve probably read of him dragging his feet in the walker and not moving the way he had lately, but Friday he raced in faster than the first day of school. He didn’t complain about choosing his letters to sign-in, and he raced with the teacher to help welcome the other kids back as well.

Most of us are at our breaking point of picking our battles when we’re at our best, so when we fall ill, it can become too much too fast. Enjoying a moment with those we fight can do as much for our health as any pill. Fighting life’s battles one at a time works best together when we don’t have the strength to do it our self.

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