All We Knitters Like Sheep...

 but I will happily count my blessings as well.

 Nothing worries a mother more than having very sick children. As your kids get older, illness seems a little more doable because they can tell you what's wrong, take medicine on their own, and are not so seemingly helpless. But yesterday afternoon, when the pediatrician wanted to show me Perrin's "impressive" x-ray, my stomach sank. Not only was his right lung full of bacterial pneumonia, it was 99% likely that Cashion and Griffen (who were also there because they were sick) had the same very contagious illness. Really God? Three kids with bacterial pneumonia? Seriously? Fortunately for Cashion and Griffen I caught it early enough due to Perrin, who wasn't so lucky, having already been sick for nearly a week.

He came back from his Thanksgiving break with his other grandparents already sick, which he said this morning that he had started feeling bad the day after they got there. He was out of school Monday through Wednesday this week when I finally took him to the doctor. I was told he probably had pneumonia but maybe bronchitis and they didn't do an x-ray. Over the course of the next three days he just got worse. So yesterday, when Cashion and Griffen woke up sick, it was time to go back. Poor Perrin. For those of you who know him, he is an extraordinarily tough kid. It takes a lot to make him cry. He will typically sit without any issues during  a vaccination, possibly flinch a little (as we all do) at the surprise of being "stung". Yesterday, he received two very strong doses of antibiotics via intramuscular injection, one in each leg. Perrin I think was nervous, but it wasn't until they stuck him and started injecting that I actually, for the first time in all of my child rearing, vaccinating, dr. visiting days, wanted to cry. The look on his face was sheer horror, he clinched his jaw and held in an agonizing wail of pain. Afterwards, all he could say as tears rolled down his face was "that really, really hurt." He spent the next thirty minutes silently sobbing into my shoulder. I could tell that it really got to our nurse, Amy, too. She looked so sad and just said to me that it does in fact, "really, really hurt" and that is probably an understatement. Apparently the pain with this particular antibiotic injection has been compared to being stabbed with a smoldering hot poker in your thigh. We left several hours later with the instruction that if he was not fever free by tomorrow evening, he will have to be admitted to the hospital on Monday morning.

Where do I count my blessings in the midst of the insanity that is my life right now? Funny enough, I find my biggest blessing in being alone at night. I have had so many wonderful friends and family offer to come and help me and I am so thankful for each and every one of them. But come 8pm, I am immensely grateful to have my little Burrow that is cozy and warm, my haven of peace and security, all to myself. I can listen to any Pandora station I choose, get warm by the wood stove and enjoy my balsam pine candles. I am able to knit or spin as long as I'd like without any interruptions, call someone if I want (or don't answer the phone at all). I blog, or write, drink a glass or a bottle of wine, and even enjoy an hour or so of yoga. I can leave the laundry unfolded and dishes in the sink. I don't have to think about conversation or entertaining anyone. I reflect on the years past and count the blessings in every little victory and event throughout my life that has shaped me into the woman and mother that I am today. It's a time during my day when I can take care of me, just me. The one and only priorities in my life are sleeping safely and peacefully. Nothing else in the world matters during the hours of 8pm and 7am, they are all mine to do with whatever I please.

"So, if you're worried and you can't sleep, 

just count your blessings, instead of sheep.

and you'll fall asleep, 

counting your blessings."