Crushed

Today I found myself standing in the kitchen feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack and David asks me if I'm going to pass out again like last time. Of course my instinct was to say no, that I would be fine. But I wasn't feeling fine. I told him I was probably ok, but just in case, he should call 911 if I pass out. I wrote down our address for him in case he should have to actually call an ambulance. He said OK, phone at the ready, set his lips in a firm line and watched me closely, intent on doing his job well. Then I called my husband to come take me in to the ER. Zachariah pulled up within a couple minutes and David breathed a sigh of relief. Then the little stinker says, "Dang it, I really wanted to call 911." Turns out that was not a sigh of relief, that was the sound of a little boy's dream being crushed.

I was talking to the snail

In the time since my last post, our family has moved to a new house, gotten bronchitis, lost a fingertip and had it sewn back on, flushed a couple fish, spent a few days in the hospital and been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, started a new college semester for pre-nursing and pre-dental, spent the night at the science museum, had a few haircuts, rode on a train, blown 2 tires and a fuel pump, had said parts replaced,  started a new job, attended some BBQ's and threw one of our own with some of our besties for the fourth, been bitten by a spider and have managed to keep all our marbles because we have each other. Through thick and thin, and crazy, we live with each other, laugh with each other, and love each other. This is what makes life worth every agonizingly wonderful second. My husband and kids are the best part of it all.

Just as I finished writing this up, Deacon sat in his Daddy's lap watching our snail creep slowly over the glass of his tank and declared, "I LOVE you." So Dad says "I love you too, Deacon", to which Deacon responded "I was talking to the snail! But I love you too Dad." This is the stuff. I love my life.