A couple of days ago I stood by the back fence with a drill in my hand that suddenly seemed very heavy. I’m in the middle of installing cabinet door handles all along the back fence that will serve as supports for the grapevines. I’ve trained the grapevines to grow in three horizontal lines down the fence on either side of a gate, and these darling little handles will help them stay put. But the other day, the thought of having any extra strength to lean into that drill… daunting. I stared at the fence and then went and put the drill away. The energy is still not quite there.

But I’m not a floppy mess in fleecy bunny pants, at least. The 5th thing kicked my butt for a full 24 hours, and then today I got up and went to the gym and refuse to give it another day. HA! I’ll show YOU, you stupid childhood illness. THIS is what a grown woman does when confronted with a childhood illness. Yeah.

We were halfway home from school today when Caden-7yr says, “Hey, look at that! Ethan-11yr has a NEW rash. It’s not the old 5th Disease one. It’s not like my Bendaroo rash. It’s a Brand New One!”

I have memorized the doctor’s schedule and know in which town on which days he is at his 3 various clinics. I considered detouring to the one where he would be today. And screaming. I seriously considered screaming.

Caden-7yr continued on, helpful as ever. “So! That makes three different rashes in the last month between…. um…. FOUR people! Well. I did have the Bendaroo Rash two different times, but that’s still the same one so I’ll just count that one once. ”

It turns out that Ethan-11yr did a science experiment with bath salts and some sort of oil from Bath and Body Works. I decided it was an allergic reaction to that, gave him benadryl, a hug,  a prayer, and an oatmeal bath. Because it’s Ethan-11yr Version 2.0 (the post concussion, gentle and sweet tempered version), he’s being cheerful and lovely even though this rash is so ugly it looks like it has thoroughly chewed up his once creamy white flesh and then spit it all out in red splotchy patches.

This rash means business.

But so do I.

The Benadryl has knocked Ethan-11yr out cold, even though it’s 5 pm. His non-rashy angelic freckled face is on the pillow next to mine and his long long lashes are fluttering in his sleep.

A few days ago when I was chopping lots of veggies, gorgeous little semicircles of deep brown mushroom gills kept ending up on my cutting board. I made a little pile of them, lined them up and took a photo. They reminded me of something but it wasn’t until now that I remembered what it was: Ethan-11yr’s eyelashes.

I just leaned over and whispered quiet little prayers with scriptures right over his sweet face. I had a maternal spiritual hankering to do that and it simply could not be denied. I guess he wasn’t as asleep as i thought. His Mushroom Lashes flew open and we both squeaked in surprise.

He waited until I retreated back to my side of the bed, then closed his eyes and seemed to go back to sleep.

Better watch out for those prayin’ mamas.  You just never know when one’s going to get up in your face like that.

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