Toddler Activity: Colored Ice

Food Coloring + Water + Freezer = Colored Ice

 Add toddler, warm weather, and a sunny sidewalk.

Let toddler play, discovering colors. . .

 Counting. . .

Melting, and so much more.

Miles LOVED this activity.

Actually, he ignored it at first.  Then, Mommy dumped the ice cubes out on the sidewalk and began pushing them around.  For awhile, they were cars, creating their own tracks as they went.  Then, he lined them up, counting, "Wun, tooo, freee, fow-ah".  Then, he listed their colors (occasionally, he even said the correct color - mostly, he just said "poor-pul" [purple]).  Then, he put the ice cubes back in the tray, and we worked on matching the colors to the residue left in the tray.

Then, we just dumped them, and put them back, and dumped them, and put them back.  And played in the cool, colorful, quickly evaporating puddles.

**If you choose to do this, know that one drop of food coloring per ice cube is plenty for a bright coloring.  I put the water in first, added the coloring, then mixed with a toothpick.**

Just. . . Breathe. . .

I have to keep saying this to myself this week.  See, we sign the papers on our new duplex tomorrow.  Yep.  Ten days before Christmas, and I'm going to be rushing from signing the lease to get to the office Christmas party on time.  I have laundry that needs folding, a kitchen that feels like a disaster (though I'm certain I've spent most of my week cleaning it), and so very much that still needs to be packed.

I've been unable to sleep all week.  I lay down at night, and my mind begins to race with the list of things I need to accomplish tomorrow, and the longer list of things I failed to accomplish today.  When I finally drift off, I spend the entire night locked in a dream where I am trapped somewhere (it's somewhere different every night) and have to spend my dreaming hours trying to figure out how to escape.  I wake exhausted from the effort, and start my day more sleepy than when I went to bed.

Last night, it all began again.  The racing thoughts.  The feeling of being trapped.  The near-panic of trying to do everything.  The stress of moving.  It all came rushing in the moment I laid my head down.

And that's when I gave in.  I took a deep breath, centered myself, and began talking to God.  See, I have this impossible urge to try and deal with everything myself.  And it never works.  I have to admit that I can't do it alone.  So, laying there, in the dark, breathing deeply, I told God everything.  And I asked for help.

For the first night in a week, I slept like a baby.  A dream began with Miles being taken from me - the catalyst for several of my 'trapped' dreams.  But I wouldn't allow myself to be trapped this time.  Instead, I walked straight up to the man who had taken him, sized him up, and knocked him flat with one blow to the face.  I picked up Miles and cuddled him, and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

I will get through this week.  Even if I have to punch it in the face.

Autumn

A few evenings ago, we loaded up the Boy and drove to a nearby park.  The air was warm, with just a hint of chill in the breeze.  We all wore jackets, but Patrick and Miles probably could have been just fine without them.  As they chased each other in lopsided circles, occasionally sword fighting, or tossing a ball, I lagged behind, breathing in the perfect weather, and the beautiful autumn colors.

 And sighed again at the passing of the seasons.  I will miss these spontaneous excursions, and the breaks by the waterside.

Oh, Autumn, how bittersweet you are. . .

Battles & Blessings

Battles:

• Short week.  Lots to accomplish.  Zero energy.  Not a fun combination.
• Trying to carve out time to spend with my husband and my son.
• Sleeping troubles.  For me, this time.
• Super-clingy Miles.  Probably because we've all been so busy.
• Super-stressed Maestro.  Nothing new. :)

Blessings:

• Bits of free time.
• Two days off this week, in return for 12 hour work days.
• Spent at least part of every day with Miles.
• Found a few moments to read and blog.
• Great new book.
• Support from family and friends, when even I didn't know I needed it.
• Toddlerhood.  I love it.  It is awesome.  The end.
• Re-connecting with a childhood friend.
• Glorious weather.
• An overall feeling of contentedness. <happy sigh>

Reminders

There are times that I wonder why I bother with the Festival.  Why I spend all the time and energy on it.  Why I don't just give it up and stay home with my baby.*

And then, something happens to remind me.

Sunday, I had a rather intense encounter with someone just before the Festival was set to open.  I am still not entirely certain what I did to upset him, but before I knew it, he was two inches from my face, spraying me with saliva as he cussed me out.  With every fiber of my being struggling to maintain my cool, I asked him to leave.  When he was finally escorted away, I breathed a sigh of relief, and fought back the tears of anger that threatened to burst out of me at any moment.

Until I turned to find myself in the middle of a sea of support.  Many of my performers were there to offer me hugs.  More than a few offered physical violence upon him should he return.  I was surrounded in an instant by the love of so many people that I did not know cared so much for me.

Even now, days later, I fight back tears.  But these are tears of joy and awe at the amazing Festival family I have been blessed with.  And I know that I would do anything for them.

This is why I stay.

*Other than the fact that staying at home all the time would make us both crazy, but whatever. . .

Today

Today, I woke up with the sun.

I got dressed in a silence that has become so unusual as to seem almost eerie.  Patrick was sleeping. Not so much as a peep from Miles' room.  Even the dog merely yawned and rolled over as I snuck out of the room.

Today, I rode with Stacey out to the Festival site, laughing, giggling, and telling stories with my best friend as the sun rose in the grey sky.

Today, as most people were getting out of bed to begin their day, I was huddled in a little blue shack with my pile of paperwork, nursing another cup of coffee.

Today, as you read this, I am walking the Festival site, radio on, dealing with problems as they arise, helping people get the things they need to be good performers.  I will be watching shows, interacting with characters, basking in the sunshine, and reveling in the Festival that I have helped, in some small way, to create.

Today is a good day.

My Hectic Life*

I've been complaining for weeks now about my hectic life.  I thought I'd give you a little insight into our day.

• 7:15ish am - I get up, get ready, make breakfast for Miles, and do my best to down a cup of coffee before
• Anywhere between 7:00 and 8:00 am - Miles wakes up.  Sometimes he plays quietly, other times (like every day this week), he bangs on the door yelling, "Mom-mom!  Mom-mom!" at the top of his lungs until I come running in, convinced there is a crisis.  There never is.
• Wake-up time until 8:00ish - Play with Miles in his room.  Eventually get him changed, and dressed.  Usually, end up leaving his room in a state of disaster.
• 8:00 - 8:30 - Turn on the TV and give Miles his breakfast to distract him while I (finally) get to drink my coffee and maybe even get dressed for the day.
• 8:30 - 9:00 - Do some light housework - dishes, laundry, decluttering - whatever I can manage in half an hour.  Miles usually spends this time between my feet "helping" or asking for any number of things I cannot help him with while carrying a basket full of laundry.
• 9:00 am - Load Miles - and his junk - into the van, and drive to work.  If I'm not already completely brain dead, I call one of my parents, as this is my only opportunity to talk to them most days.
• 9:30 am - Arrive at work.  Unload Miles.  Try to get him interested in something, anything to distract him so I can get some work done.  By 10:00 am, I can usually begin working.
• 11:00 am - Miles begins whining because he's a) hungry, b) tired, c) bored, or d) all of the above.  I try to placate him for a few more minutes so I can finish up what I'm doing.
• 11:30ish - Miles finally wins the fight, and we zoom out the door and off to lunch to avoid a Meltdown.
• 12:30 - Drag my exhausted rear-end back into the office, carrying a suddenly-heavy Miles, who fell fast asleep in the van on the ride back.  I spend the next 15-20 minutes making sure he stays asleep.
• 12:45 - I finally get to do some work. Until:
• Anytime between 1:30 and 3:00 pm - Miles wakes screaming from his nap.  Don't ask me why.  He does it at home, too.  It's just the way he is.  I pick him up and cuddle him while finishing my latest task on the computer with the other hand.  Eventually, he wakes up completely, and goes off to play again, quite content (usually).  I generally manage to get a good chunk of work time at this point.
• 4:30ish - Miles lets me know, in no uncertain terms - that he is done being at work and is ready to go home.  I try to placate him, or send him outside with to play with one of my co-workers who is finishing up for the day.  Meanwhile, I frantically wrap up everything, amend my to-do list, cross a day off the calendar, and clean up the remnants left by my son, the Tornado.
• 5:00ish - We finally load our weary behinds into the van, and drive the 30 minutes (longer if traffic is bad) back home.  If I have any energy left, I call the other parent, to make certain they don't feel left out.
• 5:30ish - I make dinner, while Patrick plays with Miles (or vice versa).
• 6:00ish - We all fall into a heap and eat our dinner while staring mindlessly at the television.
• 7:00-8:00ish - Playtime with Miles.  Possibly a bath, if he's amiable.  Or particularly smelly. :)
• 8:00ish - Begin bedtime routine.  Play quietly in Miles' room for 10-15 minutes, then read 2-3 books (with him in bed), then 2-3 lullabies, and goodnights.  Patrick and I take turns on this.  Whoever is not doing bedtime is cleaning up supper dishes, and shoving toys out of the walkway so we don't kill ourselves in the morning.
• 9:00ish - Patrick goes to work on a project (or a work assignment, if it's been that sort of day), while I sit down to catch up on e-mails, Facebook, and maybe my blog.
• Bed for us as soon as we have finished our chores for the night.

Which is why I am going to begin splitting my Assistant job with a friend.  We will each take half of the work load, and thus, half of the days in the office.  On my working days, I will drop Miles at her house before I head to the office, and on my non-working days, she will drop off her six-year-old with me.

It sounds like Heaven.  I can't wait to start next week. <sigh>

*True story: It took me four tries to type the title to this post correctly, because I am one exhausted Mama.

Mama's Boy

As I type this, Miles is watching his morning cartoons, nibbling on a banana, and pulling on my toes.  He has spent much of the morning on my lap, or leaning against me, or playing with me.  Out of nowhere, Miles has suddenly become a Mama's boy.  And I love it.

For months, my heart would break just a little when Patrick came home from work.  Miles would get all excited and spend all evening ignoring my existence.  Which wouldn't have been much of a problem, except for the fact that he never got excited about spending time with me.  I would sit down on the floor to play with him, only to have him say, "Uh-uh" and turn away from me, or push me away.  It seemed as though I got to deal with all of the tantrums, and dirty diapers, and struggles, and got very little of the happy playtime.  I'm being slightly overdramatic about it,* but that's how I felt.

But, in the past two weeks, I have found myself in the delightful position of Miles' Favorite Person, a title I now happily share with Patrick.  In the mornings, Miles eats his breakfast and watches his cartoons while sitting on my lap or nearby.  At work, he plays at my feet, or sits in my lap for much of the day.  At home, he will pat the ground next to him, inviting me to play with him.  And everywhere we go, there are hugs, and cuddles, and sweet, slobbery toddler kisses.

I couldn't be happier.

*Big surprise, huh?

Saying Good-bye

Last weekend, we went to visit Patrick's Grandmother LaDean.  At 84 years old, she still had one of the biggest personalities I had ever seen.  She laughed out loud at Miles dancing, and played catch with him, and smiled quietly while he drove his trucks around her feet.  At dinner, she told us the story of how she met her husband, and her eyes sparkled when she talked of their first date.

It's hard to believe that was only a week ago today.

Yesterday morning, this lovely, vibrant lady joined her beloved husband in heaven.  Though she will be greatly missed by those of us here, it is hard to feel sadness at the thought that her eyes are sparkling once again, as her eyes meet his across a crowded room.

We love you, Grandma.  So glad we got to see you one last time.

And thank you to Aunt Gretchen for use of the photo.  I'm fairly certain Grandma LaDean would be very upset if I posted the few pictures I managed to get of her.  After all, her hair wasn't done up. :)

Glorious Weekend

Shopping garage sales with my hubby, giddy with the knowledge that we were alone together.

Dinner and dessert with B and Stacey at Cheesecake Factory, then wandering the bookstore until it closed, mostly just chatting.

Taking Miles to the farmer's market, and reveling in the compliments from strangers on how cute he was in his little overalls.

Long, glorious naps in the middle of the day.

Stir fry made with veggies fresh from the market.

Exploring a local park, and watching Miles' delight when he saw the "Duck! Cack! Cack!" on the lake (even though it was actually a goose).

A quiet, lazy Monday, that ended with delicious steaks marinated with a sauce I designed on the fly.

Sunshine, and cool breezes.  Long walks, and holding hands with my hubby, and the joy of toddler giggles.

Perfection.

I Have Never Felt More Like a Working Mom

This morning, in just a little while, I will be dropping Miles off with a baby-sitter for the entire day, while I head off to work.  And I am a mess about it.

Work is going to be stressful today and tomorrow, and given that Miles tends to pick up on that, I chose to leave him with Amy today, and with Aunt Ninell tomorrow.  It's two days.  It's only two stinking days.

And yet, I am a mess.  I keep worrying over how he'll handle it.  How it will feel to drive away from him.  How much worse it will be if he's upset.  How I'll spend the whole day wondering if he's eating, if he's napping well, if he's happy.

It's going to be a loooong day.

Quack! Quack!

When Miles wakes up in the morning, I let him play for a few minutes before I go get him.  It allows me time to finish up what I'm doing, and it helps him build independence.  Plus, he usually wakes up grouchy, and a little quiet time often goes a long way toward improving his mood.

Monday morning, I was sitting in the living room, listening to him on the monitor, and waiting for him to yell, "Mom!"  After a few minutes I heard, "Mom-mom!  Cack!  Cack! Cack! Duck!"  I was laughing so hard.  The kid is obsessed with ducks and walks around quacking all the time.  After a couple of minutes of this, I finally went in to get him.

I found him naked from the waist down, and playing in a puddle of his own making, utterly proud of himself.  "Mom-mom!  Hi, Mom-mom!" he said, "Duck! Cack! Cack!"

Apparently, this was a fun game, because he has woken up this way three days in a row, now.  So, other mommas: how do/did you keep diapers on a toddler who is way too smart for his own good?

Bad Day

I talk a lot on here about the progress I've made, and the good days I've had.  Because I am relieved that they keep coming.  And I'm optimistic that they are becoming the norm, instead of the exception.  But sometimes, I still have a bad day.

Yesterday was a bad day.  Our weekend was way busier than I had intended, and Miles' schedule got thrown entirely out of whack.  So, when Monday rolled around and it was time for work, Miles was not his normal cheerful self about it.

In fact, he screamed most of the day.  It was miserable.

Many attempts were made to cheer the child up.  Each was met with more and more screaming.  Eventually, I talked a young man who works there to take Miles for a walk around Faire Site so I could think.  As soon as they left the office, I put my face in my hands, and had a quiet little panic attack.  How the hell am I going to handle him all summer long if he has trouble with a couple of days a week?  How am I going to get anything accomplished with a screaming toddler demanding my attention?  If he and I can't handle a low-key Monday, how are we ever going to manage the stress-storm that is the final Friday before we open?

If I hadn't been at work, I would have cried.*

Instead, I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face.  I breathed.  I tugged on my hair, willing myself to think about something - anything - other than the panic rising in my chest.  I sat on the cold (nasty) bathroom floor with my knees pulled up to my chest, using the calm, quiet, safe place to calm down.

And then I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and exited as though nothing was wrong.  Even now, when everyone knows about my PPA, I still can't admit to people when I'm actually having an attack.  I don't know why.  I just . . . can't.

Hours later, as I sat at the computer at home, in the quiet of the evening, while Patrick and Miles took a walk, I still felt that edge of panic.  All of my triggers, all reasons for panic were gone, and yet, the panic remained, steely and sickening in my chest.

So, when I sat down to write today's post, I wanted to be positive.  I wanted to be the optimistic person you have all seen recently.  But, it's just not in me to lie right now.  I had a bad day.  And that's okay.  As hard as I try, I can never make every day a good one.

Today, I will try again.

*I have this weird thing that I cannot cry in front of people I work with.  I don't know why.  I just physically cannot make myself cry at work.  I wish I could.  It would have been a nice release.

Can't Keep Up!

Too many awesome things have been happening recently, so the updates you have read all week are usually at least a week old by the time you see them.  In an effort to catch up, here is another of my (in)famous lists.  I think I shall title this:

Cool Things That Have Happened This Week:


Saturday: Stacey and I hosted a baby shower for our dear friends Bethany and Shelby (whose mysteriously-named little boy is due in August).  The games were hysterical.

The cake was beautiful and delicious.

And the parents-to-be seemed to enjoy themselves.

All in all, a good day.

Sunday: I slept for an indecent number of hours, then spent hours playing with Miles, before wrapping up with dinner with Paul.  Not a bad day at all, I must say.  Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures worth sharing. :(

Monday: Took the Boy and met Bethany for brunch.  We had a marvelous conversation, and Miles was (for once) perfectly behaved the entire day.  It was glorious.  Even better, he fell asleep when we got home and napped for over three hours.  Then, we went outside to play, and he showed off his belly button:

Tuesday: Playdate at the Children's Farm with several friends and their kiddos.  A beautiful, relaxing trip which was sprinkled with lots of praise for my once again perfectly-behaved son.  I'll admit, I basked in it. 

Yes, that is my very active toddler, waiting quietly and patiently for his friends to arrive. *mommyglow*

Wednesday: After a week of playing around, Miles and I decided it was time to actually do some work.  Miles ran around playing nicely while I worked for almost an hour and a half straight, before he started getting cranky.  When asked what was wrong, he signed, "Food, please," so we ran to Arby's and grabbed some roast beef sandwiches (which he inhaled).  After lunch, he crawled up in my lap, gave me a huge snuggle-hug, and asked for his pacifier.  When I asked if it was naptime, he floored me by responding, "Yesh" and signing 'please'.  I rocked him for two minutes before he passed out.  I once again beamed with the delight of mommy pride. :)

And a bonus list, just for you loyal readers, who love them oh, so much, I'm sure. :)

Good Things I Discovered This Week:

• Something is working.  Whether it's medication, my renewed commitment to taking care of myself, a widening circle of wonderfully supportive friends, or maybe just the onset of an easier stage in Miles' development*, I have actually felt like a good mom a lot this week.  And that feeling has allowed me to remain calm and collected over things that usually throw me into a tailspin.  Hurray for a sense of normalcy.
• I have started to enjoy being around other people's children again.  Since I became pregnant with Miles, this has been a continuing struggle for me.  There are a few kiddos who have managed to endear themselves to me, but for the most part, I have had little interest in any kid except Miles.  This week, I found myself delighting in the antics of strangers' children for the first time in recent memory.
• I can be around babies without having a panic attack.  Even tiny ones.  And I think they're cute.  Which is good, since every freakin' woman I know is having a baby this year.
• Rather than freaking out at the thought of leaving Miles for even a few hours, I have started planning outings without him.  I have a date night with my charming hubby tomorrow, and a girls' night next weekend.  And I'm excited about it.
• And most of all, I've realized that, for the first time in a long time, I am content.  Thanks in no small part to all of you, who have supported me on this journey, and allowed me the room and given me the push I needed to get here.  I am so blessed to have each of you in my life.  Yes, even you, random internet stranger. ;)

*Please, oh please, let this be true!!!

The World Lost a Hero Today

My Great-Uncle Wayne passed away early this morning.  His entire life was defined by a draft notice for the Vietnam War, when he was little more than a kid himself.  The horrors he saw there haunted him every day, yet he was a happy, friendly guy to all he met.  I will forever picture him with his long grey hair and beard, walking across my grandmother's farm, where he lived, laughing and looking every bit the cowboy.

I love you, Wayne.  Enjoy Heaven.  I'm sure it will never be the same again, with you there.

Tired

I am exhausted.  So, the post for today will suck.

This is because yesterday, I:

• took Miles to the children's farm with friends
• cleaned the living room
• vacuumed
• did a pile of laundry
• chased Miles around the living room trying to keep him from destroying everything I had just cleaned
• cleaned the kitchen
• took Miles off the dining room table where he had climbed and gotten stuck [repeat x 10]
• made stuffed peppers for dinner
• had friends over to share the peppers
• walked to Dairy Queen
• had a lovely conversation on the patio while we ate our ice cream
• chased Miles around the patio to keep him from darting out into traffic
• walked home
• chatted for a few moments with the roomie
• stared blankly at the computer for awhile, trying to think of something witty to write
• gave up and went to bed.

The end.  Have a good day.  May it be a tad less busy than yesterday.

Unstoppable

On Sunday, I wrote of the many qualities that Miles possesses that make me proud to call him mine.  I spoke mostly of bravery, before, but equally impressive to me is his willingness to 'get back on the horse', as it were.

Being that Miles is an incredibly active little boy, he has had more than his share of bumps and bruises.  His share of falls, wipe-outs, trips, and stumbles.  Each time, my heart leaps into my throat, certain that this time, he is really going to hurt himself.  And that he will become scared of [playgrounds/hills/animals/furniture/whatever-he-has-fallen-off-this-time] and refuse to interact with it again.

If only I were so lucky.

I'm joking, of course.  More or less.  While his insatiable need to go right back to what he was doing is a positive quality in a lot of ways, the part of me that wants to protect him from the world fears for him.  Instead, I sit on my hands and allow him to try again, because I don't want him to lose that determination to keep at it until he gets it right.  Someday, this quality will help him score a goal in a sport that was difficult for him, or master a difficult mathematical concept, or ask a girl on a date.  It will help him become a successful person, never accepting defeat.  And that's a quality I want him to have.

For now, though, it's difficult to watch.  On Saturday, as he played on the playground at a local park, he lost his balance and face-planted onto hard plastic.  Patrick immediately scooped him up, and together we tried to examine the damage, fearing that he had bitten his tongue, or worse, had loosened a tooth.  In his moment of pain, however, Miles twisted away from us, clamping his mouth closed.  I wiped the blood off, trying to get a better look at him, but he tore off, and climbed onto the same play structure that he had been injured on.  It wasn't until much later, when we were finally able to get him strapped into his carseat to go home, that we were able to see that the scary amount of blood had all come from a split lip.  Sore, definitely, but not nearly as bad as we had feared.

I remember being a child.  I remember how afraid I was of pain.  How afraid I still am.  When I fell off of a playground structure, it terrified me to go anywhere near it for months afterward.  And yet, and 19-months-old, Miles has nothing of that quality in him.  And I am so happy for this one thing he did not inherit.

Long Weekend

I hate making weekend trips home.

Let me clarify.  I love going home.  I love visiting everyone, and spending time with family, and being in a place that holds my entire childhood within a thirty-mile radius.

I hate that there never seems to be enough time.  Going home for a weekend means leaving after Patrick gets home from work on Friday night, and arriving after Miles' bedtime.  It means spending a day and a half seeing everyone we know.  My mother.  My father and grandfather.  My sister.  Patrick's parents and sisters.  Patrick's grandmother, who is sweet enough to give us crash space every time we visit.  Needless to say, there's just not enough time to spend quality time with everyone.

And this weekend, we went home for their Renaissance Festival, accompanied by Bethany and Shelby and Stacey.  Which meant that most of Saturday was reserved for that.  I ended up getting to spend time with my mother, but only because I wasn't feeling well, and didn't want to be a downer at the Festival.  But I never got to see my dad, my grandpa, or my sister.  Which stinks.  And I got to see my in-laws, but only very briefly, since they were all busy running the Festival.

Add in the fact that I spent the weekend battling a sinus infection (which was diagnosed yesterday), and that Miles was uber-clingy and whiny for much of the weekend, and it became a less-than-ideal weekend.

I miss everyone so much, and I just wish there was a way to spend as much time as I want with each of them.  But, for now, I have to get as much as possible out of these whirlwind weekends.

<sigh>

Breakthrough

Yesterday was awful.  Completely and utterly awful.  Like Tuesday was biding her time to strike a day late.  Yeah, that kind of awful.

Miles is still working on getting those canines.  At least one of them is almost completely in.  The other three have all broken the surface, at least, but he won't let me look in his mouth long enough to evaluate past that.  Regardless, the poor kid is still a drooling mess of teething.  And he's still going through that growth spurt, though it appears to be winding down.

Now, we've added seasonal allergies to the mix.  The poor kid is forever rubbing his watery eyes, and snuffling his nose - which is leaking like a faucet all.the.time.  And when he sneezes?  I'm not even going to give you that visual.  Just trust that it's entirely disgusting.

To top it all off, Miles woke up at 5:00 am yesterday morning.  And stayed awake.  He had his 18 month well child check at the doctor.  It was an hour of whiny, cranky, clingy toddler in a tiny room, asking repeatedly to go bye-bye.  He was so upset, the doctor had a hard time making all of the checks she needed to make.  And then, as the final insult, he had to get a shot.  He hasn't carried on that much about a vaccine since his first ones at two months old.  It was dreadful.

Miles fell asleep in the car on the way home, so I opted to pick Patrick up for a quick drive-through lunch.  After a twenty-five minute nap, Miles woke up, cranky, and more tired than before.  The afternoon was no better.  He whined and carried on, screaming if I was not touching him for more than a few seconds.  Eventually, he passed out on my lap, and slept for another 45 minutes.  And woke up cranky.

In short, it was the sort of day that usually throws me into multiple panic attacks, and leaves me crying and shaking in a corner by the time Patrick gets home from work.

Not yesterday.  I was frustrated.  I was exasperated.  But I was calm.  At one point, panic crept in, threatening at the edges, waiting for an opportunity to take over.  And I managed to fight it off.  With a lot of effort and a little bit of time and luck, I banished that panic from my body.

The meds are beginning to work.  Yesterday was proof.

Amazing

Do you ever have a moment where you are utterly in awe of the people around you?

I had a moment like that recently.

In my job with the Festival, I work with over 200 performers a year.  Needless to say, there's no way I can form close, personal relationships with every single one of them.  Nevertheless, they all tend to be very sweet, wonderful people.*

Anyway, there is another stay-at-home mom who performs for us.  She and I have always performed in different groups, and have never really gotten to know one another, beyond the basics.

The other day, we were making arrangements for her to bring me some things I needed for work.  In the course of the conversation, she offered to watch Miles for me once in awhile during the day, so I could run errands, or just have a break.

I am so blessed to work with such amazing, giving people.  I cannot believe the incredible selflessness of her offer.  I hope that this season sees the beginnings of a new friendship with this wonderful lady. :)

*For the most part.  As in any job, I occasionally meet people I'd like to drop-kick . . . :)