I'll take the headache if it means killer brownies

The good news is that Weston is on antibiotics and his fever has gone down.  The not so good news is that he is still having trouble hearing.  Sometimes I think he's  not listening and then I realize he just can't hear me.  It's quite an adjustment.  And it's troubling, but all we know to do is wait.

It was overcast at times today which was deceiving because it was really warm so I still felt tired and muggy.  Yesterday was Canada Day and we were all up pretty late.

Nate brought by some killer brownies and he and Kelsey and Dave and I watched the fifth installment of Cranford. (the wonderful BBC mini-series based on Elizabeth Gaskell novels.)  I bawled my eyes out and loved it.  I'm really liking this dessert/movie habit.  With a miniseries you only have to watch for one hour at a time so it's easier to rationalize into your evening than a full length movie.

I'm in a struggle spot with my play.  It has so much poetry and great quotes that I'm not sure where to create the conflict and still follow my story line.  I'm feeling troubled.  I hope to have a reading sometime this month so I can have a draft ready for August 1.

We've had a few welcome days off from the Passion Play so we can get the coughs and fatigue out of us before tech week.  It'll be a doosey the next two weekends, etc. - the boys have no idea.

Dave is working hard on his playwriting class too.  We have to keep checking in with one another to get writing time... now if we can just find some together time.

It seems as though we're far into summer now, even though Donovan just finished school last week.  Everything is leafed and green and it seems time to look ahead.  Suddenly my "summer writing time" is feeling a bit rushed and I wince.  I really am proud to be the champion of this story, but I really feel the weight of such a complicated task.  Once I get about 40 minutes in, I start to get assertive and it usually works out for the better, but for some reason it is always a hurdle to get to that brave place.  Especially when I already have it roughed in; somehow changing things feels riskier than creating from scratch.

I'm looking forward to going down to Oregon in August.  It'll still be busy down there, but a nice change.  I won't be doing as much writing and I'll attend the Gutenberg Summer Institute and a few plays at Ashland, but best of all it's at home with family.  I hope I can get the boys into day camp.

Dave and I are a little concerned with our cash flow right now with that trip on the horizon, etc.  It's strange how my mind wanders into other ideas for making money: the old "Elizabeth's Scones" breakfast stand?, lemonade and cookie stand like the boys?, get a grant to write my play?  It's a strange feeling to be working five days a week on a big theatre project, but not receiving any income.

My other struggle is with the tension in my head.  I still have this hacking cough and a lot of fluid in my sinuses.  It makes for the possibility of a tension headache almost any day.  I wish I could get back to walking... but that would mean getting up earlier, and that would mean, getting to bed earlier, and that would mean less gatherings with friends eating mammoth home made killer brownies.  Hummm....

I guess I'm doing OK.

My little panda needed tending...

My little son Weston woke us up this morning with a story about a robin bouncing on the grass and pulling up a worm.  Dave pulled him up into the bed and asked him questions.  -No answer.  More questions.  No answer.  I rolled over and stared at Dave, concerned.  Then Dave turned his face away slightly and said clearly, "Weston, can you hear me?"  "Weston, can you hear me?"  "Weston, can you hear me now?"  "Then the robin flew away, " said Weston.  My heart sank and I felt panic creep in.  I sat up, now fully awake (which is a lot for me.)  I looked down into his eyes, and inches away from his face I ask:  "Weston, how are your ears feeling today?"  "They still hurt."  Thankfully he heard that.

"I'm taking him in," Dave says, getting up.  I think: it's actually a pretty good time to go to the hospital because there won't be such a back up early in the morning.  But it was still strange; they left quietly and I was left with a sleeping Donovan in a very quiet house.

My thoughts went back to the evening before.  Weston had spent most of yesterday resting on our bed with warm wheat bags under his ears and regular doses of Tylenol every four hours.  Dave had taken both he and Weston in to the clinic to get checked last week and the doctor said there was no sign of infection, so we were trying to wait this one out.  Then last night on the couch he kept asking Donovan and I to turn up the movie.  We did, but then he said to do it again.  "It's plenty loud, Weston."  "No, believe me, Mom, it needs to be louder" he had whined.  Now it came back to me.  --He didn't want to do the "Market Scene" in the Passion Play because of all the shouting.  I thought he was just scared, but then it dawned on me that it actually hurt his ears.  He had agreed to try it with ear plugs, but on Sunday, there he was backstage with another ear ache and refusing to go into the scene.

Long ago in high school I was playing the role of Kate Keller in the opening scene of "The Miracle Worker".  I remember I kept saying to Captain Keller, "She can't hear you!  She can't HEAR you!"  and one time I just snapped.  Instant bawling.  I couldn't explain it.  I remember my director pulling me aside and asking for any personal chords this scene might be striking or if I needed a break.  "No," I said, "I'm fine."

But today those the feelings of panic flooded me when I thought Weston was loosing his hearing, as though this was the personal chord -- in the future.  The little guy.  He seems especially frail right now that he's ill.  I was already chiding myself for not taking the effort to take him in sooner.  What if we had waited too long?

In a rare agreement, Donovan walked with me in the cool morning to the prayer labyrinth behind the church and we prayed for Weston before breakfast.

Later Dave called from Drum: they were doing OK, the doctor didn't seem too worried, and they picked up some antibiotics.

When Weston got home he still looked pretty wilted.  Donovan asked him how he was doing and Weston stared straight ahead.  Pause.  "He can't hear you, Donovan; look him in the eye."

By lunch time Weston seemed more himself.  He even chuckled a little and I felt like crying with relief.  It was such a wonderful sound.  He was engaging with most of the conversation around the table!  And his laughter was music to my ears.

He fell asleep on his Daddy's lap after a bit of time outside and now he's snoring on the couch.  I'm so glad Dave has this day off.

And I'm so glad Weston seems better already thanks to the medication.  His fever was up to 102.2 last night, but it reduced some before bed with Tylenol.  He did call out twice in the night, but I think now we're doing OK.

Other than his lips are chapped, I think the antibiotics are subsiding his fever.  He feels cooler.

Whew.  What a scare and what a ride of emotions and scenarios in my mind.  What fragile creatures we are, and how bound to our children we parents are. It's a lot.  But thankfully it comes naturally.  Like all those baby pandas saved from the earthquake, you know how to care for them because the tenderness just comes to the forefront when you see them.  Little boys can be like that too.