What they do when they are supposed to be napping

Isabel sounds like the boss of this outfit this afternoon, but don't let the sound of things fool you. I heard Isabel saying "come on" as the kids headed for the other room, and then heard her say it again as they came back in, but to my surprise, it was James leading Isabel by the hand and Isabel hurrying to keep up as she continued saying "come on, come on". Maybe she is narrating for him. She's sticking up for herself, though, never fear. She said "Stop it, that hurts," when he pushed her to the wall, and says "turn, turn" when James has something she wants. James has, thankfully, decided against washing the dishes and has decided to read a book while Isabel slides her boat down the slide.This is the fourth day without naps. Why is it that children STOP napping when they're sick, just when they need it most?

"OHHpm"

James tried to open the freezer door for a popsicle, but it was too high for him to get a good grip on the handle. I said "open?" and as he signed I repeated "ohh" as I signed and then all the sudden, James said "OHHpm"!James clearly feels that he has well-earned his popsicle, and is smiling his way through a blue popsicle on our gigantic blue glider. This is his sixth spoken word that really feels like a word. Though he vocalizes quite a bit, it's usually just one sound at a time. It's especially wonderful, because James has had some hearing loss in the past few months.

In other, unrelated news, look at this spectacular feat of naptime mothering! Two kids asleep in the same bed! If I ever accomplish this again...well. Even I can't imagine the consequences, but I'd probably at least have to gather up a bouquet of big lush peonies and conjure up a slice of coconut cake before falling asleep on the couch.

The rash

Intermittent waves of relief keep washing over Marco and me this evening. I took James in to the doctor this morning for a rash that had spread very quickly over his body, thinking it was an allergic reaction. There had been an outbreak of measles recently, so the doctor came in with a mask. He was worried by the targetoid nature of the rash, and I realized quickly that he was aware of much more dangerous possibilities than hives. James got blood tests and I gave him an antihistamine. I watched him like a hawk to make sure no rash appeared on his face or in his mouth while we waited to see the dermatologist. The rash crept up his neck and hovered at his jawline. After a very careful and thorough examination by two doctors there, I heard that it was, after all, hives, and not what had been feared.

It wasn't, perhaps, wise to look up the possibilities the doctor mentioned, but it was impossible for me not to do so. At "5-15% death rate" I stopped, and took a deep breath. I thought, "I'm not going to think about this until I know for sure what he has. I'm just going to keep him calm and happy with me." And that's what I did, until I knew he was going to be okay. What a tremendous, overwhelming relief.

The strange thing is, it didn't just overcome me once, but every hour or so, it washes over me again, and I feel the stiffness I didn't know I had relax. It's remarkable how much my body worries when my mind has determined not to worry itself. Marco was so worried while we were at the dermatologist's office. He'd prayed about James before we left, and had tried to do something calm while he waited for us to come home, or call, but he couldn't sit down. He ended up installing all of our air conditioners by himself during the hour we were gone. Sometimes you get so used to bad news that it seems no other kind will come. Feels pretty wonderful when everything is better than you'd hoped. We're very grateful for all the people who know the possibilities better than we do, and make sure our James stays healthy.

The rash is now fading away, slowly. I suppose I should have taken a picture, but I'm so glad it's on its way.