We’re at camp this week. Have been since last Thursday. Won’t be returning to civilization until Saturday afternoon. I’ve had lots of photography opportunities, chasing my two boys around camp. The best black and white opp (for the You Capture theme this week) came on Sunday for morning church service. I had the boys in their Easter outfits. They were throwback outfits which kind of fits with the whole open tabernacle church thing.

See?

Old-School Brothers

Singing

The latter picture made me melt. LittleBrother has taken to singing loudly (in the back row) during church services. He picks out a song from the hymn and just repeats it over and over. Sometimes it’s “JEEEEEEEEEESUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHS!” and sometimes it’s “WOOOOOOOOOO-YAAAAAAWWWWWWW.” Whatever it is, I melt every time. I’m so blessed.

Speaking of LittleBrother, if you follow me on twitter, you know that today was not an easy day. LittleBrother was bored during the last ten minutes of this morning’s service, so we were walking around outside of the tabernacle… when his forehead met the sidewalk. No hands before his head hit. I swear, it was the most awful sound I have ever heard in my entire life. I almost threw up… except for the fact that I ran, scooped him up and dashed inside our cottage. I sat on the steps and took a look.

His head was indented. Cue more gagging.

I immediately laid him on the couch… and he didn’t try to move at all. Very un-LittleBrother-like. Panic began to set in. At this point, his lips were white as a sheet. More panic. Amazingly, my cell phone had service at that moment and I got ahold of FireDad, our resident paramedic. He instructed me to take him to the local Emergency Room. I found my aunt, told her to pick BigBrother up from his class and headed the twelve minutes down the road, windows in the back all the way down to keep LittleBrother awake. The indent was now turning to a goose egg, which I took as a good sign, but we made our way to the hospital anyway.

We waited far too long for my liking. In the end, he had a CAT scan and we found that he (just?) has a concussion. While it could be worse, I still feel pretty awful. And exhausted having waited at the ER for most of our day. I did learn, however, that there is a hospital worse than our local hospital back home. (Shocking, I know, for the locals reading. Scary.) The doctor never told me his name. Never said more than four sentences to us. And he didn’t even offer the final diagnosis. Our (wonderful!) nurse did. Ugh.

He’s feeling better. In fact, we had to stop him from rough-housing with BigBrother. I have to wake him up tonight to make sure he is easy to wake up, functioning and, you know, grumpy with me for waking him up when he should be sleeping. Should be a fun night at camp. Thankfully, it is our next to last. I’m now more than exhausted, having been at camp for eight days at this point. I’d throw in the towel and just go home but BigBrother is very excited about his program on Saturday afternoon (for which FireDad is driving down to join us). I can make it another day and a half, right?

For other black and white photos, hopefully without accompanying sob stories and ER visits, go hit up Beth’s post. I hope to have something more encouraging for next week’s theme (and on time instead of at 9:49pm): Friends.

 

I should state, first and foremost, that BigBrother is loving the whole preschool experience. Yesterday? They made cut and paste “Very Hungry Caterpillars,” which just so happens to be his favorite book ever, and he was so excited I thought he might burst. He’s learning. He’s socializing. He might even be learning to share (though the rumored scuffle yesterday leaves me wondering). But there are things I don’t like. Obviously. We don’t live in a Utopia, right? And, so, I present:

Reason #1 Why I Hate Preschool: OMGTHEGERMS!

BigBrother is sick again. Again. The kid actually got sick before school officially started, catching a cold after orientation. He had kicked it before his first day of school though. Two full weeks later and, goodness, the child is sick again. We were up most of last night. (Also, LittleBrother wanted in on the fun and was up four times!) BigBrother is currently putting himself back to sleep in my bed after asking for medicine. Poor Buddy.

He’s never been an overly sickly child. He does, however, react like me to colds and other similar germ-infestations. Almost anything becomes a respiratory infection. It’s a grand curse. And so, today’s Wordless Wednesday picture is a shot of FireDad with BigBrother using the nebeulizer we had to purchase just after BigBrother’s first birthday. We haven’t had to use it much since that first purchase but the purchase was wise as it has been a big help any time we’ve actually needed it.

He’s going to be okay, of course. And then he’ll get another cold, I’m sure, next month.

I feel kind of guilty, of course. I was never the overly-protective “you-must-use-hand-sanitizer-to-touch-my-baby” kind of Mom. So, he had some exposure to germs but nothing big or constant. He had that cold after he turned one. And probably two or three others up until this point. But two in one month seems a bit much to me. And I know it is because while he has had some exposure in the past, he’s never really been surrounded by other germy-kids. (Gimme a break, all kids are germy! Even yours, hand-sanitizing-mom!) If only I had stuck it out with that one playgroup (that I despised and he hated). If only I had stayed at work and left him in daycare (uh, no). If only… what? If only I had doused him in germs everyday? Was anything going to prepare him (and me, as I may or may not have broken my toe while stumbling around in the middle of the night) for this?

I’m not quite sure there was anyway around this transition. Even if he had been in daycare, it would have been different from this preschool and thus would have been a whole new set of germs. While I have guilt every time I look at his big, sleepy, sickly brown eyes (with lashes to die for, right?), I’m not going to berate myself too much. Kids will get sick. He’ll most likely have to stay home from school tomorrow unless this fever breaks. And, quite honestly, that’s scary. Telling him that he can’t go to school. Yikes. He’ll be devastated.

Someone please tell me that he’ll get used to the germ influx sometime soon and will stop making me feel super guilty. Sometime soon, right? Right? Bueller?

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