GLOW? More like EXPLODE!

Hey, you! You adorable bald guy with the mustache above this here post. Yeah. I'm talkin' to you, Gideon. I just want you to know: I plan on seeing real hair stubble grow on that face someday. Had to let you in on my plans, is all. And guess what else? You may wear your hair and your facial hair however you want as you grow up, and I will never say anything other than "You are gorgeous!" You may use this post someday when you are way into scraggly, long beards and hair that constantly covers up your eyes. I mean it. You be YOU. Stick around, kiddo. I can't wait to see how you'll turn out. You're so incredible NOW... To see what you've accomplished by the time gray starts peppering your facial stubble and hair will be phenomenal.

And now, for the blog. (Thank you for giving me a moment to have that little private conversation with Gideon... You patient one, you!)

I hung up the phone today with a friend and said, "If I have to pay-it-forward for all of the amazing things given to me or my family, I would have to become Mother Teresa." So, you can see my conundrum. I am no Mother Teresa, I'm Mama Manda. And, may I say... I am one over-the-moon thankful mama? I am.

Gideon is doing well. He has not been sick in the last few days. He is weepier and wants to lay on me a lot, but I'll take the overly sensitive/owie instead of the overly sick ANYDAY! We go in for labs and the rigamarole of Clinic tomorrow morning. We'll know where we're heading more clearly after that. But for delightful now, I'm spending my days letting my worn out boy lay on me and love me. He is back to being my "Gideon Third Arm," and I am okay with that.

I have been on a BLOG READING KICK as of late. I read blogs about other kids going through the same cancer as Gideon. Sometimes I wonder why I do it since it gets me all nervous and I check Gideon over from head to toe constantly, but here's the truth: Things could be much more difficult. Each case is so very unique. I'm convinced the dolphins are beating the sharks in my boy.

Yes, the dolphins are winning, but I'm noticing that Gideon gets down more often than he ever has in the past. We dropped Brody off at school, and I looked at Gideon in my rearview mirror. He had tears in his eyes and his precious bottom lip was practically getting traction on the street. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Brody gets to be around people. I want to see people. I want to see people smile. I want to hear people laugh!" Tug. Tug. Tug my heart! I completely get this. I am exactly the same way: I adore people (even the crabby ones) and find them fascinating. My energy is amplified when I'm with anyone. Anyone at all. As long as it is a human, I will chat it up! In fact, I invited the animal removal man (Mark) in for a chat when he was checking for any more flying squirrels the other day. We talked for over forty five minutes. Be careful if you come over: I might not let you leave.

*** HERE IS WHERE I'D LIKE MY GERMAPHOBIC FAMILY MEMBERS TO STOP READING. THANK YOU!***

"What would you like to do, Gideon?" I asked him, ready to head south to Disney World, that's how much I wanted to get a smile out of that boy! You think I'm kidding. I'm not. I would have pointed the car south and driven there with all this kid has been through. We'd worry about clothing and sunscreen and money once we got there.

"I want to go to the MALL!" he yelled.

Easier than a three day road-trip, huh? I have no idea how much his immunity has dropped since it was last checked, so I put a mask on him and loaded my purse with antibacterial paraphernalia. I told him we were going to walk around, look around, listen to the people, and stare at the people (I taught him how to do this without being annoying. It's an important lifeskill for a mommy to teach her nosey son)...but NO BUYING ANYTHING. He has been getting "stuff" a lot lately, and I want him to know that it is not always that way. (Sidenote: I must say, for all he is "getting" lately, he has not lost his appreciation for every tiny thing!) He nodded in agreement. His little eyes were twinkling and he was just completely stoked to be going OUT. Just out and among the living. It felt like the best medicine for the moment.

Gideon oooooed and awwwwwwwed about each and every miniscule thing: the Christmas decorations, the music, the smell of the food court, the way a lady walked "SO FAST" with her "clippety-clop shoes..." and "SOOOO many pretty bags!" Yes, he was soaking it in with each of the five senses, I promise. We stood outside of Santa's chair area and Gideon whispered through his mask, "Here's where he'll sit. Here it is! I will see him here sometime. He is building me my Lightning McQueen Powerwheel right now. That's why he's not here." I didn't rush him. I let him drag me wherever he wanted to go. We stood and looked at the fluff circulating in Build-a-Bear for what seemed an eternity.

Then we came to a little kiosk that sold stuffed animals that unfolded into humungous furry pillows. He pulled my hand and practically ran up to them. "LOOK! LOOK, mommy! A DOLPHIN one! Awwwwwwww!" I was waiting for the pleading and for my inevitable "NO," but no plea escaped his lips. Just a giggle. He just appreciated the sweetness of that stuffed dolphin and we moved on.

And here is when I started to cry. Dang it. Will I ever have a day without tears? About five minutes later, I heard a, "Ma'am! Excuse me, ma'am?" I wanted to turn around and say, "You talking to me? Don't you mean 'Miss'? My mom isn't here..." Oh, wait. I am a mom...aren't I (where has the time gone...)? Okay. So I turned around. A man in a business suit was running toward me. He must have been Christmas shopping on his lunch break. He said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but to witness how sweet your little boy is and I have been watching you two smile and laugh at everything. I saw how his eyes lit up when he saw this..." and he pulled out the stuffed dolphin pillow, "I hope you don't mind, but may I give it to him? Merry Christmas!"

Humanity!!! I didn't know those Hallmark Hall of Fame movies are FOR REAL! They ARE! And then...tears. Blubbering thank you's. I gushed over his random act of gorgeousness, and sweet Gideon asked me, "Is that okay, mommy?" before he accepted his gift. Big sigh.

Before we left, an elderly woman walked up to me and with diamonds ready to drip from her animated eyes she said, "They said I wouldn't make it! But I did! I lived to be a grandma!" She pointed at her cancer awareness pin. "He'll be a survivor, too! Don't give up!" Then, after I was able to talk to her for awhile (poor lady probably had somewhere to go...but, alas! I wanted to chat), she felt comfortable enough to show me her amazing tattoo behind her shoulder. It was a cancer awareness ribbon. What a FUN grandma! That's it...I need a tatt. Soon.

We got home, and Gideon laid down on his dolphin. He kept rubbing his face on the fur and making those cozy squeaks of delight from the texture and warmth of it all. I didn't demand a nap. Now I'm glad I didn't.

The doorbell rang and it was our mailman. Thank goodness I got the gab out of me or that sweet man would have been late to all of the other houses. In his hand was a package. The return address? DONAVON FRANKENREITER!

WHAT?

WHAT?

HUH?!

I think my face turned eight shades of red. Remember Gideon's chemo song I posted awhile back? "GLOW"? That is a Donavon song. Stop it. Stop the madness. My heart was racing and I screamed for Gideon.

I think Gideon thought something was wrong because he never comes that quickly when I call him, mostly because I feed him burning fuel-like meds right after I call his name these days. "What's wrong, mommy?" he asked with worry etched all over that precious face.

"DONAVON FRANKENREITER sent you a package, Gideon!" I yelled.

He jumped up and down and immediately started to sing, "GLOW! I wanna see you GLOW!" We hooked up the iPod and put on our favorite Donavon playlist. Then Gideon opened the package. It contained: signed drumsticks, a T-shirt, a signed poster, a signed set-list by every member of the band, mustaches (I will describe Donavon's "MUSTACHE MANIFESTO" another time...this is already a lengthy blog), an ALL ACCESS pass for their tour, stickers, and an autographed CD. Really? Now famous people we love are spoiling us, too? Woah. I was floored, as was Gideon.

Remember Gideon's tears from earlier today? They seemed to have been shed a million years ago. Except for mine. AGAIN. Sobbing and blubbering and wah-wah-wah and wow-wow-wow! More amazed tears...

How did this come to be? How did Donavon know about us? I would like to point my finger at a friend of mine who I am CONVINCED works for the CIA or something that involves craftiness, cunningness, lack of fear, and ingenious people skills. The girl is not afraid of anything...nothing intimidates her, and she is just a complete riot to be around. Apparently, she also does not have any problem emailing and calling a band she knows has been integral in our healing over here in the Schripsema household. DAWN MARCINIAK. She emailed the band with a link to my blog (the one that references "Glow"). The band wanted to do something for Gideon. After conversing many times with the drummer, Craig Barnette, she handed over our address. I love YOU, Dawn. And, gosh! THANK YOU DONAVON and HIS BAND! You live out the positivity of your music, that is for sure!








Again, Donavon: You made a lovely day even lovelier!

BLACK Friday

THAT may be crossed off the bucket list with permanent ink, please. WOAH. I have always been up north for Thanksgiving, and "Black Friday" up there is actually called "Starry, Starry Night." It all makes sense to me now. "Starry, Starry Night" is just that: star-filled, and snowy, and each quaint Grand Marais shop has Christmas music, free refreshments and delectable hors 'd oeuvres, one-of-a-kind gifts, and jovial conversations. It is all incredibly cozy and heartwarming. This is absolutely opposite of what I experienced last night. Night-and-day, hot-and-cold opposite.

ENTER... BLACK FRIDAY...

I'm on the side that believes "Black Friday" was dubbed that way not because of the black ink profitability of it all, but because that is the color of most souls pushing and shoving all around the stores. Okay. Maybe that was harsh. How about the black and tarnished side of people is more obvious on this day? All of these years I have been wondering what it would be like to score these huge deals...how exciting it would be! It was not. Well, there was excitement...just not the good kind.

I got to Toys R Us at 9:25 last night. The boys were fast asleep with turkey grins plastered on their faces. The doors opened at 10. When I saw the line outside I thought, This isn't too bad. Then they started letting ten people in at a time. As the line inched along in a snail slither, I finally got to the corner of the store. The line wrapped BEHIND the building. Behind. I clutched my hopeful wishlist and wondered if it was worth it since I could no longer feel my feet, let alone my toes. I had visions of Christmas morning: As the kids tore into their gifts, my toe-less feet would be perched atop an ottoman and my raspy voice that was destroyed by the cold of this night would croak out, "I hope you like it." But I am stubborn, and I am curious. That trumped the need for toes.

I finally got in the door at 11:15 (almost two hours in the freezing cold). Then, I was pushed around like a ragdoll. I went for a cart, but a crafty lady with a shirt that said, "OUT OF MY WAY, IT'S BLACK FRIDAY!" tore it out of my hands. I am not lying. She really had that shirt, and she really did rip it out of my hands. Once I got over my initial shock, I turned for another cart. They were all gone. I was going in alone and without the armor/protection of a metal wheeled beast. I only got pushed down once by a mom who had to have some doll that peed. I was merely in the way. I was not going to buy it. By the look she gave me, you would have thought I was about to snag her daughter and make a run for it. Woah. I am not a fan of crazy eyes and they were E V E R Y W H E R E !

I ended up scoring SEVEN things from my list. All of them were at least half off the regular price, and I felt a small smile of accomplishment start to form. Once I got in the checkout line (which zigzagged from the back of the store to the front, I thought: I MADE IT! I DID IT! It wasn't that horrific!

I should have looked awhile longer, but without a cart, I was a towering, teetering and unstable danger to all around me. As I kicked a few things, and awkwardly cradled the rest, I got behind the ex-wife of Earl from the show "My Name is Earl." She is the character played by Jaime Pressly. Whoever dreamt that character up, KNEW the woman in front of me. Oh. My. Gosh. I thought my nightmare was over once I was in the check-out line, but I was dead wrong. I know I have a sign on my face that says, "DOORMAT," but it got ridiculous. She was sweet and talkative at first, and then she said, "Would you mind watching my cart? I forgot something." As I peered behind awkward boxes in my arms, a muffled, "Sure," was murmured. Off she went! For a LONG time. I had to kick her cart with my foot all while having my arms full of STUFF. Boxes kept falling. I had to put down my pile to maneuver her cart and then go back for my stuff.

When she came back fifteen minutes later, I was relieved. I was starting to feel anger bubble up in me. I knew she arrived back to her cart because she was mindlessly plowing people over and smacking them with the corners of her boxes. I thought that was it, but then she kept disappearing over and over without saying anything. It was like my "Sure" from an hour ago still stood as our spoken contract/pledge. Over and over and over again I found myself having to move her cart all while being some supernatural-balance-freak at the same time. Honestly, it was ridiculous. I should have left her cart and walked around it, but the truth is: I was afraid... On one of her rare appearances, she told me how she almost got in a fight with some girl outside who wouldn't let her back in HER spot. Her story was peppered with obscenities. I believed she would have pummeled me, and honestly: I was tired. I would have balled up in a fetal position and just let her go. I think she meant it as a threat. So, I kept maneuvering her cart with my foot and repeated to myself, "It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon."

"Soon" came two hours later. At least this line was inside the store. I had done it! It was over. All of my gifts were put in one ginormous bag. The bag ripped as soon as I walked outside. My car was in the very last row in the very far corner of the lot. I wish I was making this up. There were STILL no carts around. So, I did my crazy balance act one last time as the finale to my night. TA-DAAAAA! Once I sat in the seat, I realized it was not worth it. It would have been if I had my iflip. I could have entertained myself video recording the craziness around me. But I pledged to myself, "NEVER AGAIN!"

So, I am hoping Gideon will be healthy enough for us to resume our up north Thanksgiving tradition next year. I will never BLACK FRIDAY it up again. I'm over it. I don't even like to shop, to be honest. I just wanted to make this Christmas a little bigger than those in the past, and Black Friday was a means to an end. Gideon did well with the shot in the leg at home, but he is still sick of it. Thankfully, he listened to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and wants Santa to catch him being good and brave. Before his shot, I yelled out, "LOOK, Santa! Look at how brave Gideon is behaving!" Even behind Gideon's tears there was a little glimmer of a proud smile. Yes, I'm thankful Christmas is on its way (and that BLACK FRIDAY is in my past).

"I'm thankful for..."

Two-sided.

Remember how spiders have always scared me into a dither of high-pitched girly screams? Remember how I now can practically pick up these venomous creatures by a leg and easily escort them outside without so much as a wince? Spiders are nothin' anymore. Things have gotten even more Twilight-Zone-ish since yesterday. (For you young ones, Twilight Zone has nothing to do with vampires in love with humans. Google it.)

So, cue the do-do-do-dooo-do-do-do-dooo music as I begin this story: I completely stepped outside of myself yesterday for a brief moment. I don't know who that person was who filled in while I was away, but she was one efficient and focused mama. She didn't feel any emotions, just felt attuned to the task at hand. Where was the bleeding hearted and sensitive Amanda? I don't know, but I am so thankful this Amanda has been hiding out within some crazy disguised and cobwebbed corners of my persona.

I had to give Gideon his shot of chemo yesterday, and the hardest part was putting on those rubber gloves. You nurses make it look so easy. I am shocked by how this went down. This is not what I was expecting. I envisioned tears blinding my eyes and a shaking hand and a dry heave of sickness as I inserted the needle into my baby and injected poison, yes, POISON into my little boy's veins. Gideon was crying, and I reminded him that we HAVE to get those sharks. Then, it was done.

I did not cry. Is there something wrong with me?

I think it's mind over matter and about 65 hours of prayer over this situation. Plus, it wasn't even me. It was someone else. We need to name this person I became in that instant. Edna? Maybe. Needles always topped the chart as the freakiest things ever. I made the mistake of watching one go into Brody when he was a baby and I instantly felt queasy. I never looked again. Now I am giving them. Who knew? Maybe it was watching so many spinal taps that calloused me, I don't know.

Gideon is over all that chemo offers him -- the attention, the prizes, all of it. He just wants to never get a shot again or swallow burning liquid. We go in again today so that the nurses can watch me give him another ARA-C injection, and then I will be released with pre-filled syringes to give the shots at home tomorrow.

I was so thankful that Gideon got up before dawn this morning since he woke up peacefully and not ready to hurl. He sat on my lap and we just talked. I reminded him about the painful sharks in his legs before we started chemo. We talked about how that pain lasted a long time and a shot only lasts a second. That tiny second is better than a long time. We talked about how the shot put DOLPHINS into his blood to fight the sharks: the most fierce of all shark-fighters. It makes sense it would hurt more to get dolphins in there. He promised he would try to be brave today and won't try to wiggle away. I asked him if I made the shot feel more gentle since I gave it to him yesterday instead of a nurse. He said, "No, but that's because you forgot to put kisses inside of the needle first. Don't forget today. That's what mommies do: put kisses inside of the owies." Mmmmm...more opportunities for magic. Another thing in which to be thankful.

I'm trying to be creative in making this experience easier on Gideon. Unless someone is with him every single time he goes to chemo or takes his oral chemo, I don't think it is comprehensible the amount of stress this places on his little body, mind, and spirit. I will let him pick out a treat before every single one of these injections. I will unspoil him later. For now, I just want him to feel more peace and less angst over this entire situation. I will speak his peace language: fun and toys. Emphasis on the fun.

Speaking of fun, it is exciting to see that I'm not the only one with a dual personality. Even the rockers of Led Zeppelin needed to tap into their more sensitive side as The Honeydippers. Let's celebrate the many facets of humanity! Sail with me as the dolphins take to the seas within Gideon...

Sports Sunday

Thanks, Rob and Priya for accompanying us on the couch for some Lions letdown. WE MISSED YOU, TEAGAN! Happily, this couch went from a glum place of ho-hums to one of complete celebration over the RED WINGS! At least we have you bright red boys to get our hearts resuscitated once again. Someday, Lions... SOMEDAY.

Gideon did well this weekend. We had some Gideon-mommy time as Tom and Brody went to the Western football game. Brody got to go into THAT locker room, as well. We love Coach Cubit. I wonder if Brody just thinks it's normal to go into locker rooms with teams. He is one LUCKY boy.

While Gideon and I chilled at home, I watched his energy level go from nonexistent to pretty normal all in the matter of a couple hours. As a mom, I have experienced taking care of an ill child. But this is nothing like I've ever seen before. During normal viruses, there are a few days of absolute sickness and then....better. This chemo stuff is a whole new kind of sick. Sometimes it lasts days, sometimes hours. One thing is a fact: I am doing everything I can to get Gideon to eat. He has no appetite. I even Google image searched different foods with him, pointing and saying, "Does this look yummy? How about this? OoooOooo...Look at this!" No. That didn't fly. So, I am just pushing fluids. I have read WAY too many ALL Leukemia blogs about dehydration, lately.

Gideon wanted to go on a bike ride with me during our playdate together. He then was the Bubble Dictator on his little outdoor chair. As he blew bubbles, I had to perform crazy acrobatics to pop every single one. They flew a little high once in awhile and Gideon yelled at me, "C'mon, mom! JUMP! You can do better than THAT!" And then he'd scream, "Duck!" or "LOW! GO LOW!" Oh, he loved being in charge. So much so that we did this for an hour and a half. We painted after that... I needed a little reprieve.

After MUCH fussing and naysaying, I finally convinced both boys to watch the newest Tinkerbell movie with me. I am a girly girl and I never get to see these kinds of shows! They gave in and reluctantly cuddled with me. They finally got into it when Tinkerbell was almost eaten by a cat. It figures! Still, it ended up being a fabulously relaxed weekend.

What feels the BEST is that this entire blog was as relaxed and low-key as a Sunday SHOULD be... there were no emergencies. There were no scary situations. Just relaxation. Thank you, God.

This week:
- Daily oral chemo (NOT a fan of 6TG)
- Labs and port chemo on Tuesday
- Leg shots Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday
- Normal doses of Bactrim and Zofran

Brody with Western's quarterback, Alex Carter

My Own Early Thanksgiving...

As Thoreau sat for hours mesmerized by a leaf, tracing its outline with absolute fascination, I feel I share that same wonder and total awe when it comes to people. I have felt like I have reached my quota of good people doing extraordinary things for me. Really. I could live until 2080 without anymore amazing souls giving so much of themselves, and still feel as though I was given too much. Sometimes I feel like my heart is going to completely rupture from being utterly overwhelmed by the sheer goodness around me. I know this is cheesy, but it is TRUE. I know some of my cynical friends are rolling their eyes at me, but thankfully they know what I am saying is my honest truth. Truly. This is not just a bunch of blog fluff.

I think I have cried about ten times today out of gratitude (and once since we had to hold Gideon down to get his shot...that was a first, but I won't focus on that tear genre). I'm pretty sure I will remain misty-eyed for the remainder of the night, as well. Maybe my eyes will be perpetually aqueous for the rest of my days, and I would not be surprised. I just can't fathom this goodness. I can't. It's too big for me.

As you all know, I have been taking off from school to take care of Gideon. Between the appointments, transfusions, and bouts of vomiting, I would have missed most of the school days anyway (even if I had gone back to work). Besides that, Gideon has just needed his mommy. He has. We have had days of cuddling and maybe I'm about to say this just to make myself feel more important, but I really think my constant presence has benefitted Gideon and his health. I feel like Gideon is at ease with me. No matter his pain or discomfort, I can rock him or dance him into a more tranquil place. This does not make me magic, it simply makes me a mommy...a mommy to a sick boy who, unfortunately, has been and will be sick longer than I ever imagined he would be. But, I had thirty three sick days, and my fantastic school system let me use every last one of them without question.

Now my sick days are up. I have to have my job, not only from the insurance and pay standpoint, but...I love it. I thought about taking a year leave, but that would leave me without insurance. Since Tom has to get private insurance if we don't use mine, that would ruin us. Without getting political, what insurance company would want to welcome us to their ranks? So, we ruled that out. We have been praying and waiting.

The waiting is over. Kirt Brown, a teacher at Mattawan High School, called to inform me that it was voted that I be granted "Critical Leave" to take care of Gideon. Kirt introduced this concept to our staff last year, and I remember whispering to my neighbor, "Isn't that amazing?" He worked hard to get this program in working order for our district. Never did I fathom I would be the one benefitting from it. Do you know what this means? It means that I work for and with a whole host of humanitarians. Mattawan Consolidated Schools is by far the district with the strongest heart and most giving spirit. No one has been anything short of supportive, from the top down. Basically, the staff will willingly donate their own sick days to me. I am dumbfounded, and yes -- teary. To work with a group of individuals who continually give of themselves makes me realize that the students we let loose into the world have had to have some of that beauty of selflessness seep through to them, as well. Love can be learned through osmosis. Thankful is not a strong enough word for how I'm feeling right now. Indebted? Nope, still not strong enough. I will work on that... I may be working on that for the rest of my life when I think back on this precious time I was granted. Every second I am able to comfort my sick baby is another eternity of gratefulness I feel towards you, Mattawan staff.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but besides my church who is still delivering meals, so is Mattawan. We have home cooked meals constantly without any of the work involved. Also, I have someone who is assigned to be ON CALL for me if I need anything and can't leave for any reason: milk, eggs, a trashy magazine...anything. This was all organized by the staff as well. I don't think any human being could have been more loved and treated like a queen.

This news was enough to keep me singing unending versions of Zippity-doo-dah all on its own, but get ready for another massive load of human beauty in the form of a Mattawan student I had the pleasure of teaching when she was in seventh grade: Katelyn Drake. She has dreamt up, planned, and organized a fundraiser to benefit Childhood Leukemia, and I am honored to be involved. The event itself is called "We Play for Hope Campaign." Please become a fan of it via Facebook by clicking here. It will occur at the Mattawan vs. White Pigeon Varsity basketball game on December 14. Everyone will wear ORANGE in support of this cause, and there will be orange apparel on hand to be ordered ahead of time. The NO SHARK shirts are BACK and in orange (with a newer picture of Gideon on the back)! There are also "We Play for Hope" shirts available. This is the ordering page. Orange wristbands and Mardi Gras necklaces will be on sale during all lunches and at games. For every dollar that is spent, a ticket will be entered into a raffle to win an Ice Watch courtesy of Medawar Jewelers (the sponsoring company). You do not have to be present to win. I am hoping that every set of eyes that read this post will be somehow involved in this event, or will participate in it. If you have any questions, you can email Katelyn at weplayforhope@gmail.com. Katelyn, it was a joy having you as a student and an absolute delight to witness who you have become as a person. You are an inspiration!

I ended this grateful day with a snuggle-fest with my boys. Here they are, wrapped in their favorite quilts. Oh! And these quilts were made for them by the very talented Carol Grant...who happens to be the Mattawan Early Elementary music teacher. Sheesh. I'm crying again. I think I may rent a sappy chick-flick now. Might as well keep this dreamy-ooey-gooey heartbeat going...

*Flllllllllllluuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrp!*

I completely jinxed myself. The puke bowl was needed last night, unfortunately. Thankfully, my friend Dawn taught me an anti-jinxing technique that I will administer the next time I feel the hackles rise up in a strange foreboding of a backfire towards anything I say (I hope that run-on made sense to more people than just me. It's staying). Gideon was very sick early this morning and on. He did not want a bite of anything. Nothing at all. He was crabby and hurting; I just stared at the clock knowing the inevitable Clinic visit would fast approach. Dread was the word of the morning. Then Brody walked into the stressed-out room with something in his hands...

I am not materialistic, but sometimes a small man-made devise can change the trajectory of an entire day. What Brody had in his hands did just that, and he knew he was saving me grief when he walked in with a happy and proud smile plastered on his face. Gideon was crying and laying on the ground. Every time I tried to pick him up to get him numbed up for his shot, he went limp-noodle on me. Boneless. Brody sauntered over and whispered in my ear, "Let me help, mom." He then opened his hands to reveal the Object. I promise the gloomy day got sunny for the half of a second it took for Gideon to see what he had. "Fllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrp!" and Gideon instantaneously burst into a bout of hysterical giggles.

It was a fart cup, or a "Toot Cup," which is what my boys call it. A precious, precious fart cup made of that priceless, noisy putty. Farts never stop being funny. They can even make a kid in pain and anguish giggle, or even belly laugh (as I found out). But the story gets better when it comes to Brody's grown up problem solving...

"Don't you want to show the nurses, Gideon? You could sneak up behind Dr. Lobel and make him TOOT SO LOUD! Won't that be funny?" Brody asked.

"YES! YES!" Gideon nodded with that mischievous glint I've been missing so much. While he was letting the scenario play out in his mind, I applied the cream to his leg without him even twitching in panic or anger.

THANK YOU, Brody.

I told Gideon I would be giving him his shot tomorrow. He does not believe me. He keeps saying, "A PRETEND shot, right mommy? Only nurses give shots." It must be confusing for this poor little guy. I don't blame him. It's not something I'm looking forward to, but I pray that I can somehow explain in a way that makes him understand.

Gideon got a glimpse of himself in the mirror today. That was another big moment for him. He realized he is almost completely like "Caillou" now, and his bottom lip instantly protruded and those sweet and tired eyes welled right up. "No more curls. None. People love my curls," and he started to cry. I promised him people just mentioned his curls because they had to find something to say since it was his happy heart that they actually noticed to begin with. How did he understand that more abstract explanation but can't picture me with a needle in my hands? I don't know. But it calmed him almost immediately and I am praying we are all finally over the hair issue. Please.

Tomorrow is FRIDAY. That means we have the weekend without SHOTS. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Never has TGIF rang more true with me!

Goodnight. Now a lullaby for me (and you, too!).