Superdad Takes On Weekend Without Mom: Part 3

Parts 1 and 2 for those who need to catch up with the action.

May 4th, 4 PM

The drama had reached a fevered pitch with the pediatrician telling me I needed to take Knox, my 6 year old, to the ER at Children’s Hospital.

To say this is not what I wanted to hear is an understatement. But to be honest I was not surprised. This was not my first rodeo. We’ve had to do this before. We have experience with dehydration and ERs and hospitals for Children.

My first thought when the Nurse told me this was, “Man, I don’t wanna sit in an ER room holding a bowl for Knox.”

I called my Mom and Mother-in-Law and let them know what was going on. I made them swear they would not tell Bethany.

4:15 PM

Knox and I are on our way to the ER. he and his little body are up front with me. I’m holding the bowl.

I shoot Bethany a text while sitting at a light.

“How are you?”

“I think I am better.”

Phew.

We get on the interstate and it’s only a few minutes till we get to the ER from there. But it’s after 4 PM on a Friday on I-65, the largest parking lot in Birmingham.

So Knox gets sick before we even get off the interstate.

Now, I have only been to Children’s Hospital as a visitor. I’ve never taken a kid there. So, here I am driving around downtown Birmingham looking for the ER entrance holding the bowl with a boy who could need it any minute.

Finally I figure it out and as I pull up I think about Brian Regan and the need for valet parking for the ER. And then there it is, in brilliant Red and White for all of us to look upon and rejoice over –

“Free Valet Parking”

Yessssssssssssssssss!

4:45 PM

Knox and I walk into the ER. Thankfully a kind face greets us and I explain the situation. I assume we will fill out a bunch of paperwork and wait. But we didn’t. I answered a few questions and they took us back to a small room to get vitals.

Wait? I don’t have to wait out there with the others?

Yessssssssssssssssss!

Bethany sends me a text.

“How is our little boy?”

“This is the longest he has gotten yet without getting sick.”

Now that was a true statement as far as it goes. Of course she had no idea we were in the ER. But I mean, it would have done her no good to know. I had it all under, ehem, control.

5 PM

The nice young nurse takes us back to a shared room with Disney Jr. playing. Knox lays down on the bed and goes right to sleep and then gets sick. Another nurse comes in with purple Gatorade. I’m supposed to give him a syringe full every 5 minutes till he gets sick and then they will check him out.

So I do. And he gets sick after the 2nd.

Courtney, our awesome nurse then pricks his finger and he barely notices. He is worried about a shot and who wouldn’t be?

5:15 PM

Our brave little boy is getting an IV put in. And he does great. He has gotten sick again but only minutes after the Zofran courses into his little vein, he starts perking up.

He cannot understand what is happening as they push in this little miracle drug through his skin. He keeps looking at me wide-eyed.

Next the fluids. And he reacts to the coolness flowing into him, again, not understanding. This is all new to him and might as well be science fiction for all the science he grasps. I tell him it’s kinda like getting super powers injected into him.

“They come from that bag?”

“Yeah buddy, they do.”

“Maybe I’ll be able to shoot out bags!”

6 PM

Knox is better. He looks like himself and is smiling and talking and not getting sick. He says his tummy no longer hurts.

The doctor is encouraged. Dad is relieved…and pretty much ignoring any texts from the wife.

6:30 PM

The change is now dramatic. He is cold but being silly.

And now I begin to wonder, “Why can’t we have these machines at home?”

7 PM

I’m exhausted. And now my stomach hurts and I’m achey again. I’ve been taking Tylenol but now that I’m in the hospital, I don’t have any. So I ask the nurse for some and she kindly sends me to the Pharmacy. I buy some in hopes it will help.

7:30 PM

The Doctor orders us up some tasty “Gatorator,” as Knox calls it. Old school green. But he is happy to be drinking anything. Heck, he’s just happy. We both are, Phineus and Ferb just came on.

8 PM

Knox has kept down the Gatorade and so they are sending us home. I call everyone and let them know. Everyone, that is, except Bethany. We thank the Doc and the nurses.

8:30 PM

We get to the house and immediately set up our little “sleepover” in Daddy’s bed. He is excited about sleeping with me tonight. He falls asleep almost immediately.

There is a bowl between us, just in case.

I watch Braves baseball and read, just so I can keep an eye on him. Bethany and I text each other and I use his sleeping to keep from talking on the phone. She is relieved that she is feeling better. And even more relieved Knox feels better.

I’m thinking, “We are going to survive.”

9:30 PM

I decide to turn off the lamp, put down the book, turn off the game, and go to sleep. And it comes quickly. It’s been a long day and I’ve longed to be here in my bed with a healthy Knox.

May 5th, 3 AM

The phone rings. I’m delirious and cannot understand why my Mom is calling.

“I hate to tell you this but Emma has been sick now for over 2 hours.”

(To be continued)

Part 4 here

Superdad Takes On Weekend Without Mom: Part 2

The first installment ended with me feeling awful and getting a call from Bethany (who is on the way to the beach) telling me our 6 year old had gotten sick at school.Friday May 4th, 11 AMNOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo…..

At least that is what I said in my head. On the phone I responded with appropriate grief but reassured her we would be OK.

And I ask you dear reader, what could go wrong? My 3 year old got sick that morning in his crib, I got sick on the side of the road almost 2 hours earlier, and now my 6 six year old has gotten sick at school.

Scenarios rush through my mind quickly to fix this problem. I land on one. It’s solid. Secure. It will work.

“I’ll get Mom to go get Knox from school and she can just go ahead and get Emma also. And I’ll see if my mom will take Dylan and Emma home with her until I get Knox over the hump.”

Bethany is still clueless about me getting sick less than 2 hours ago.

12 PM

My mom has agreed to take Dylan and Emma with her. They are excited about hanging out at GiGi and DiDi’s house and spending the night there. I pack their things – and it was painful because my stomach hurt and every joint ached. Plus Knox was going to get sick any moment. They leave.

Knox and I watch Spider-man when I am not emptying the Tupperware bowl. He is getting sick about every 15 minutes. He is so thirsty. And sad.

1 PM

Like I pointed out earlier, our 3 year old had this same bug earlier in the week. His pediatrician called in some Zofran for him. We had one left over. So I thought I might as well give it a whirl.

The Zofran was a small pill meant to be held under the tongue. Hello? That’s gonna make a healthy Knox gag! So of course, that’s exactly what happens when I give it to him. It had no time to dissolve before going into the bowl.

Awesome.

But I wait and hope to see if it did any good…for 15 minutes.

Aaaaaaaaaand it did no good. At all.

1:45 PM

Knox has not stopped getting sick. He looks worn down. The Zofran was my own personal chimera.

At this point I begin to to think about the unthinkable. I begin contemplating a remedy I can hardly bear to think about.  You see, I have a queasy stomach. I don’t do well in hospitals. My skin crawls very, very easily. Not sure why, just does.

But I’m getting worried for Knox. And I’m tired of watching him suffer so, every 15 minutes.

So I get on the Internet. I call my friend, the doctor. And then I decide to do it.

I go to the fridge and take out the…suppositories.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo………..

Let’s just say I made it through the unpleasant experience. Knox was a trooper. But all my promises – given to him as seeds of hope he would get better never found purchase.

Right after I give him the suppository, Bethany sends me a text telling me she is not feeling too good and asking if I would pray for her.

3:20 PM

Bethany sends me another text from the place they are staying at the beach –

“I think I’m going to be sick!”

She still has no idea what is going on back home. Now is not the time to tell her.

3:45 PM

The suppository always works. Always. And….and the unpleasantness of the experience is supposed to be offset by the surety of it all stopping. At this point I decide to call the pediatrician. I get a receptionist who listens to my pain.

“Who is your child’s doctor?” is her response.

Thanks.

(Parenthetical thought: Listen, I think everyone who works with people day in and day out should be nice and friendly. Am I crazy to think the person who answers the phone at a Pediatrician’s office should be more so than most? First qualification? Winning a Miss Congeniality contest. OK, I’m done now.)Then I rehearse the whole ordeal again to the nurse. Who responds by telling me she will talk to the Doc and call me back. She seemed particularly interested by the ineffectiveness of the suppository.Knox is now sleeping because of it and only wakes up to get sick. But hardly anything is coming out. As soon as he finishes he closes his eyes and sleeps for about 12 minutes.

While I’m waiting for the nurse to call me back, I’m getting more and more anxious. This is not like any other stomach virus I’ve seen hit my kids. Though I only got sick once and am starting to feel remarkably better, I am worried about Knox. His tendency is to get over these things quickly.
The questions start forming. Do I tell Bethany? How much do I tell Bethany? When do I tell Bethany?
I decide to at least wait till she is better.
4 PM
The nurse calls me back”I just talked to the doctor and she said you need to take Knox to the Emergency Room at Children’s Hospital.”

(To be continued)

Part 3 here

Superdad Takes On Weekend Without Mom: Part 1

This is the first of at least a four part series. Everything I am about to tell you about this past weekend is true.

Friday, May 4th, 6 AM

About 3 minutes after I wake up, I find myself in the kitchen with my stomach in intense pain. I assume it is hunger. we did not have a big dinner the night before and we both acknowledged we would be hungry the next morning.

The problem was nothing sounded good. And it felt more like nausea than hunger.

“Wait, there’s a banana.”

So I ate a banana and drank my coffee – slowly. I still felt terrible. And the fear in the back of my mind was creeping to the forefront of my mind – stomach virus. The very stomach virus my 3 year old had a few days earlier, his first by the way.

I tried to ignore it. Today was too big a day.

Bethany, my wife was headed to the beach with two friends. I was watching our three kids. This was her first trip like this since we’ve had kids – just her and some friends, with us kids at home alone without her. I’d taken off work to be superdad and give the kids a weekend so awesome they will not notice how poorly they are being taken care of.

6:30 AM

Dylan, the 3 year old who had the stomach virus has not yet shaken it obviously and has gotten sick in his bed. This means cleaning him and his bed up quickly. The wife is supposed to meet the girls at 8 AM at a Cracker Barrel parking lot about 20 minutes away. I still have to take the kids to school and then come back to get her and take her down there. Dylan will be riding with us.

7 AM

My wife’s stomach is bothering her also. But it has been for a few days, so she is not all that worried. I get down a granola bar hoping it will curb the grueling hunger pains.

7:15 AM

I am on the way with the kids to school and Knox, my 6 year old tells me his stomach hurts. I hope it is hunger because he often is hungry and begins his plea for food or snacks with, “my tummy hurts.” But fear shoots through me like lightning. He tells me he feels sick and it is not hunger. So we drive back to the house. Bethany is getting worried till we see the glee on Knox’s face at being able to watch Spider-Man and play Angry Birds. So we tell him to get back in the car and I take him to school. I drive carefully because if you know anything about Birmingham, AL, there are no flat, straight roads – especially on Shades Mountain, where we live. I feel terrible, by the way.

I think it is at this point we delay the meet up between the girls. Holly’s little Ellie has a fever.

7:45 AM

Let me preface this by saying I feel terrible but I am still optimistic. I’ve been nauseous before and seen it disappear in a few hours. When I get back to the house, Bethany is worried the trip is not going to happen. Me too. She needs this trip and deserves it. She never does things like this. I want her to go on this trip as much as she wants to go. Her excitement has been a real source of fun for us. Plus I can eat unhealthy food while she is gone and watch Phineus and Ferb with the kids.

8:30 AM

The trip is on. We load her gear up and then her, Dylan and myself are on our way. We had to stop and mail something at the post office because I didn’t want to worry about it feeling the way I did while having the 3 year old with me.

Have I mentioned that I don’t fell well? And the contours of the roads in my fair city? About 5 minutes in to the drive I burp and it helps.

9:00 AM

We arrive before anyone else at the parking lot of Cracker Barrel. I immediately get out of the car because I thought it might make me feel better. It does for a moment but I am anxiously looking for concealed bushes in case I get sick. It’s been many years since it has happened but I know the feeling well enough. Just typing about this makes me feel terrible. I hate being that kind of sick. I hate that I’m even having to tell you about it. But I was worried. Imagine my worry – I’m about to drive off with Dylan – who, by the way just really got potty-trained about 2 weeks ago – and will be picking the other two kiddos up a little later in the day.

I cannot. Be. Sick.

9:15 AM

The ladies are driving away and I step out of the car again and I’m worried. Another good burp makes me feel better. I start driving home but I’m worried enough to stay off the interstates. I take highways and the straighter the better. Yeah, right.

9:30 AM

OK, at this point I am done with optimism. I’m going to be sick. It is going to happen. I just want to get home first.

Because we were worried still about Dylan, we brought along a tupperware bowl. About a stone’s throw from home I needed that bowl. I will spare the details but there was one part that needs to be told.

Dylan: Are you sick Daddy?

Me: Yeah buddy, I’m sick.

Dylan: I sorry, Daddy.

And he meant it.

I know what you are thinking. But I did not call her and tell her. She needs this trip and the less she knows the better time she will have. She may kill me later, but she will enjoy herself now.

This is when I started to pray like a Pentecostal.

10 AM

Dylan is watching cartoons. I’m down the hall in bed. He can’t do too much harm. Besides, I feel a little better and I rarely deliver a sequel in these situations. But now I feel achey and feverish.

Bethany sends me a text checking on me and I tell my first of many, many lies on this weekend of Lying. I told lies of omission and I outright told some big whoppers. Sometimes the truth was technically there, but I was really a liar, liar pants on fire.

I tell her, “Yep, Just taking it easy.”

How many lies did I tell her over the weekend? Well, let’s put it this way, if there was a land called Liardom, I would be Founder and King. But as King it is my job to protect the fair maiden of this household from the truth so she can relax in sun-soaked bliss.

11 AM

By this time, I have called my own mommy and asked her to come over and watch Dylan while I lie in bed and moan. She had already volunteered, so back off.  Bethany’s mom is closer, but if I’m going to be sick I want my own mom to be there.

The phone rings. It’s Bethany and to my dying day I will never forget her words –

“This is the call you’ve been dreading.”

“What?!” “What happened?”

“Knox got sick at school.”

(To be continued)

Part 2 here

Practice Your Unrighteousness on Facebook and Twitter

“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them.” 
– Matthew 6:1

I am certain I’ve done it before. But when I saw someone on Twitter a couple of days ago, say how they would be spending the day in prayer, I was reminded of why I don’t like looking at my Twitter feed. And I was reminded of the temptation to show off how awesome we are as Christians.

But here’s an idea:

Maybe we should stop practicing our righteous on social media and start practicing our unrighteousness there. You know, start telling people how much we need the righteousness of Christ credited to us instead of telling people how much time we spent in prayer for the hurting throughout the world. Maybe we should start telling the world how much we struggle with unrighteousness instead of only telling them about how passionate we are about holiness, leading them to believe our lives are as pure as the wind-driven snow.

What if some Mom started a revolution of telling other moms how much she fails her kids and in longing to be better she leans on the merciful arm of the living God? What if she did this instead of trying to impress everyone with the beauty of her kids through doctored pictures and expensive portraits?

What if fathers confessed their inability to lead well in the home instead of acting like all is well by telling the world about the wonderful times of family worship meant to conjure up enviable Rockwellian moments?

What if we kicked self-righteousness in the teeth and in the interest of encouragement, found ourselves more willing to admit our struggles with righteousness than making sure people see our perceived righteousness?

What if?

The God of the Mundane

(This post in it’s original form is here . It has grown a little.)


Perhaps I am missing something. It is possible.

Most of life seems to be pretty ordinary, mundane even. Mundane tasks liter our days and swallow our hours. We open our eyes, close them again, rub our faces and look in the mirror. Shower. We then shave our faces or legs. We all dress every morning, undress every evening. And throughout the day, regardless of sun shining or rain drenching, we must do mundane things over and over. Usually without thought we take on these tasks.

And I have not even mentioned the decisions, moral and practical coming our way in every lane we drive in and cubicle in which we answer the phone. None are earth shattering. Telling the truth here, a kind word there and on any given day not losing your patience with spouse, children, boss, teacher, and neighbor gets no press. No one will notice the steadiness – the victory over the rebellion we all know lies within. More than likely after not losing your temper, you will look out the window of your kitchen/cubicle/office/drive-through teller window and long for something beyond the mundane.

It is hard to imagine you are being spiritual in the midst of all this mundane stuff life throws your way. How do you feel spiritual when you are scrubbing grape juice out of your 6 year-old son’s white shirt? My guess is you prayed God would give you super-human mom strength so you would not have to return to target to replace the only unstained shirt he has.

Brewing coffee and writing legal briefs and making change are what you get paid for but it feels terribly unspectacular and never spiritual. In fact, it feels small, mundane and far afield from the radical lives of the missionary biographies you started to read.

The church may not be helping.

It appears the current religious climate is one of faithfulness and spirituality measured by the eventful and the big – the bombastic. If the waves are not huge and the shifts are not seismic then we assume a kind of carnality. We have redefined radical to the point where the only radical people in the church are those who have sold everything and gone…well, anywhere. But for everyone who does not sell everything, you know, those who shop at Target, go to the beach for vacation and grab some sushi (or Cracker Barrel) weekly – is there a spirituality for them that can be called “radical?” What of homemakers and tellers, clerks and customer service representatives, doctors and lawyers – is there a spirituality for them in the midst of just living a mundane life? Is there a God for them?

We know there is a God for those who are missionaries, pastors and ministry leader; they are living lives of obvious spiritual and eternal consequence. But what about everybody else? What about those who are not pastors and do not want to be?

Am I alone in worrying there is no God for the mundane? You know for those who, in the name of Jesus, are simply faithful spouses, honest in business, love their children well and enjoy the world they live in while waiting for the next – is there a God for them?

I think we have gone awry somewhere along the way. It is no longer not enough for a husband to love his wife as Christ loved the church, he must now agonize over whether to sell everything to go overseas as a missionary. We think someone who does not want to do ministry is unspiritual. Sure, not everyone can be a vocational missionary. But according to the popular wisdom we should all want to. The only acceptable excuse is ability. Lets face it, this sounds really good and spiritual. But it’s not. It is the very opposite.

It is the very opposite because it says to those are not missionaries and pastors, “If you had the ability, you would be doing something really spiritual, like be a pastor or missionary.” The implication is of course, you are not spiritual and not doing something spiritual…unless you are supporting those people and listening to those people.

In fact, in many ways it is really hard to stay where you are. It is hard because no one celebrates the day-in and day-out faithfulness that goes unseen by the wider world by those who toil in obscurity. No one puts pictures of a mom in Tacoma on their refrigerator so they can pray for her – unless she is in ministry. It is hard because life is not easy anywhere, there is no idyllic paradise in America where sin is not pervasive and the devil is not crouching outside of custom-made doors. And it is probably hard for a few because of the guilt heaped up on them who stay and are made to think they are unspiritual/carnal/unfaithful for doing so.

Right now, someone is questioning whether I care about missions/ministry/etc. at all. You see, that is the problem. We have elevated what is seen as being spiritual and what is radical to the point where all other activity (or seeming lack of activity) leads people to think one may not care. That may be damnable. We must assume there are untold numbers of men and women spreading the gospel of grace quietly throughout their community and making it possible financially for others to go without making a big deal about it and telling everyone on facebook they are doing it.

Part of the problem may be we have made Paul our only hero and not the nameless recipients of his letters. Who would want to be like one of the unknowns when you can be like Paul? What pastor would want to be simply one of Timothy’s appointed elders, never known and never mentioned? What man would want to be simply a day laborer, who has believed the gospel and against the trends of the day treats his wife and children with dignity and affection, dealing honestly with his neighbors? What woman would want to be a nameless mother who at the risk of ridicule and inconvenience, huddles with other brothers and sisters in The Way and listens to a nameless teacher about Jesus? It is all so mundane.

It is almost like a new legalism is emerging. “Quit your job. Do something crazy. Pick up and move. If you do not or are not thinking about doing it then you are suspiciously lacking in the necessary requirements of what we deem ‘spiritual.’

The rock-star preacher thing isn’t helping either. Life seems so mundane after watching them, reading about them and then listening to them. Changing diapers and paying bills on time and being generous and holding the hand of your spouse and caring about your aging parents and having deep friendships and being committed to the church and crying with those who hurt – well, its just not crazy enough. It is so absolutely mundane. And I fear that for most, they do not worship a God who can be glorified in the mundane.

They worship a God who acknowledges only those lives described as crazy, radical, extreme and extraordinary. So not only is there no God for the mundane parts of their lives but there is no God for ninety-percent of their life. He works in the great deeds of great lives alone.  No wonder we try to buy his affection with our acts of sacrifice and the forfeiture of our dreams. Or just give up on him altogether.

Is there a God of the mundane? Is there a God who can give meaning to the mundane duties of moms, the mundane tasks of those who clock in and clock out? Is there a God in heaven giving meaning to the mundane lives most everyone leads?

I think there is.