Three sleepless nights sound like this

Today Tod turned 33.  We had to do the math last night to be sure.  I was so delirious these were my calculations:

"Okay, you were born in 1971 so in 2001 you were 20...add nine years.......(calculating)......you're 29?"

No, he's not.  And that doesn't even add up.  Plus he was born in 1977.

Here is why I was tired:

I took Larry to his doctor Monday morning because he couldn't breathe.  All night Saturday and Sunday...wheezing and coughing.  His doctor took one look at him and sent us straight to the E.R.  The E.R. doctor tried three different treatments and then admitted him into the hospital.  What?  A night in the hospital and my son has a severe case of croup?  I left about ten pounds of homemade fudge on my counter figuring I'd be right back to wrap it up and deliver it to friends.  Weird how what we THINK we'll be doing isn't always what we'll be DOING in life or on a Monday morning.

That's why I was tired.

My lovely friend Erica took Lennon home after preschool for me probably thinking she had to feed him lunch.  Little did she know she'd have him all day, he'd be joining her family for Christmas tree shopping that night and would sleep over as well.  Luckily she only has four kids of her own and nothing else to do.  Same with my other angel Angela...three kids and a full time job but took Lennon for dinner and hot chocolate that night.

Tod's birthday dinner...better than what I had planned

Tonight I cried just thinking about my friends. Because after Day II at the hospital and a fussy baby who couldn't leave the room and no sleep we finally brought Larry home and the doorbell rang.  The hottest most delicious dinner ready to eat.  Because it wasn't enough to take on my son for two days, Erica figured we'd love homemade Cafe Rio salads and brownies that tasted like Christmas.

Dinner delivered

So while I inhaled ate the dinner I didn't have to cook I thought about stuff that matters.  About how many friends would've done anything (literally) to help.  About how anyone in either of our families would've driven or flown out if we'd just said the word.  And how I'd worried that admitting my child into the hospital would cost a million dollars and it made my stomach sick.  I thought about how sad it felt sitting in that room all day so I went into the hallway and the door next to us had a sign: Do Not Disturb.  Chemo in Process.  That's when I decided to stop feeling sad because I probably don't even know what real sadness feels like.  I realized I'll look back on my two days in the hospital with Larry and think That was nothing.  Chemo is something.  Losing someone is something.  But no sleep and no money and day old fudge and watching the same movie four times in a row is nothing.

A positive about hospital stays...I love these things.

And then I thought about poor Tod on his birthday.  After working all day he came to the hospital and slept with Larry and me on the worst cot ever assembled.  We took turns getting up with Larry and holding Larry and rubbing his back until the sun came up.  And when it did I looked at him and told him Happy Birthday.  And we both sort of laughed because it wasn't funny.  But it felt like real life because real life isn't the one you plan, it's the one that happens.