Glory Days

No running post to write tonight. Today's intervals never happened. They sit on the back burner while I tend to my sick littlest one.

Isaac and I spent last night in the Emergency Room. He is okay, has croup, barking like a seal, body writhing in pain with each cough, new top tooth broken half-way through the gums on top of that, but he is okay.

Alan and I went for an amazing Thursday night bike ride last night, under a pink sunset which gave way to a moonlit sky. Good conversation, fast descents and empty trails made for the perfect evening spent together outdoors. Back home and babysitter paid, we ate a giant chopped salad I had prepped earlier in the day and some flatbread a la Trader Joe's. A half-glass of wine and I was toast, quietly falling asleep on the couch as Alan watched a show. Then we heard a bark. "Just the neighbor's dog," Alan commented. But I knew it wasn't. Tonight it was coming from Isaac's room and instantly I knew he had croup. I knew the night ahead was going to be long, most likely involving a trip to the ER and steroid shots.

For the next five hours, I did everything I could to keep Isaac home and asleep. Exhausted myself, I kept thinking if we could both just get some rest and make it through the night we would be okay. His breathing was so labored, short, whistling breaths followed by piercing barking coughs. We spent 10-11pm on the couch, 11-12 out in the yard trying to breathe in some cool night air (often the best home remedy for croup), 12-1 in his crib (yes, I climbed in with him, desperate for some sleep), 1-2 back on the couch, 2-3 walking around the house with Isaac's 18-lb body cradled in my arms like a newborn, deciding our next move. Nothing was helping and I knew he needed some relief. By this time Alan was also awake on the couch, per usual, working away on his laptop in the dark. He wished us luck, told me to text him with updates and drink some coffee if I needed it.

I had never taken any of our kids to the ER alone before. Once, Alan and I went together when Adara was about 18 months old and had her first bout of croup. All the other emergencies were handled solo by Alan. He is my caretaker in the face of danger, the calm against the storm. I get nervous, my heart breaks watching my children in pain and I melt. So I typically stay back, guarding the home front and ready to give extra cuddles and snuggles to my sicklings when they arrive back to me safely. Tonight there was no choice, I had to go alone with Isaac. He needs me, my milk, it was 3am and Alan had to stay home with the sleeping girls.

As I lied there in the hospital bed in the early hours of the morning, in between sleep, with Isaac milk-drunk in my arms, it suddenly occurred to me that these are the happiest days of my life. Sure, Alan and I had our glory days of five hour bike rides followed by a burrito and nap. Back then our biggest decision of the weekend was whether to take a shower before walking the 1 block to Baja Fresh or shower and then buy the burrito. This was a big dilemma you see, as exhaustion was sure to hit you full force the second you consumed your final bite of the burrito, and if you hadn't yet showered, then you had one more roadblock in front of you before your head could touch the pillow.

Sometimes I still miss those days like crazy. I remember the feeling of legs burning, lactic acid slowly seeping into the quads and then sleep overtaking me on a Saturday afternoon. Things are different now. Very different. I don't get to nap, I don't have the freedom to ride my bike (I don't even get 5 seconds of alone time in the bathroom now), but I can't help but think they are even better.

These are the real glory days, I realize. These are the days that challenge me to no end (Cesia is full on in the terrible 2's right now, Adara never stops talking and just annoys the heck out of me by 4pm, and Isaac lives in my arms these days with teething pain and separation anxiety causing him to need a comfortable spot on my right hip), but, yes, these are the glory days. I'm young, I get to play 24 hrs a day. I don't have to work outside of the home (thank you, Alan!), I get to run, hike, explore with the kids and spend entire days outdoors. I get to walk the girls to school every day with Isaac snug and fast asleep in the carrier pressed against my heart. I remember seeing women and men walking solo through the mall a few months ago while I struggled to corral Cesia from the carousel and get to the car with 3 kids before any further melt-downs ensued. Looking at these lone soles, I realized that this will soon be me. Soon I won't have 3 kids to chase around, to drive me crazy, to clean up after. Soon they'll be grown, on their own and I'll have all the time in the world to myself. Now, those are the days I'm beginning to fear. And so I stare at Isaac for another 30 minutes, begging my hippocampus to store these memories for as long as I shall live. I never want to forget the weight of his little head against my forearm, his sweaty milk-spilled over scent I get to inhale at 4am, his little eyes flickering quickly taking him through another REM cycle. These are the days I love, I cherish and I need.

Isaac, peacefully asleep. Hoping tonight will be more restful than the last.

Adara, focused on her art work.

 Cesia and her devious smile.