Not Gonna Go There

Beaner informed me the other day that she is considered "dumb" at school.

Me: What?! You have 5 A's and a B+, how is that dumb?

Bean: No, not that kind of dumb. Like, I looook dumb.

Me: How do you look dumb?

Bean: Oh, it's my clothes, my friends think they are dumb.

Me: What's dumb about your clothes?

Bean: Well, K shops at Macy's, and her clothes are really cool. And E goes to Younkers, she has cool clothes too.

Me: What about C? (another girl who wears a lot of hand-me-downs, like Beaner).

Bean: She just went shopping, she has all kinds of new clothes.

Me: Do you like your clothes?

Bean: Yup.

Me: Do you wish you had new clothes?

Bean: Weeeeeellllllll, kind of. I like my clothes, but my friends don't. K always has to tell everyone when she gets a new outfit, and that's like, every week. Last week she noticed that I never get a new outfit.

Me: Hmmmmmmmmmm.

OK, every mommy bone in my body wanted to hope in the minivan, go screaming to the mall with a pocket full of credit cards, and remedy the situation. The Chief popped into the conversation and said, "They're just jealous."

Eh, not really. But overall, Beaner is secure and in balance. She is a bit too passive at school, and struggles to insert herself in group settings, but she is amiable, outgoing, fun and funny.

She wears primarily hand-me-downs. These hand-me-downs are not junky, they actually come from the child of a real estate mogul and golf pro. They are nicer clothes than I would buy myself, but they are far from trendy. They are the styles of just a few years ago. They are not threadbare, this child attends parochial school, so her uniforms and sports clothes get all the wear and tear, her "regular" clothes are worn only a few hours/week.

So what's a mom to do? We really don't have the money to go buy a few new outfits. Rockstar's graduation package and Cheerleading uniforms got ordered yesterday, and that put a dent into the budget that won't soon be smoothed over. Add that up with the Christmas goods (yes, she gets one outfit for Christmas), and you have a drained savings and bills still rollin' in.

Does any of that really matter? To me, at the end of the day, it's a matter of priority, of what really does matter.

My daughter has a Christlike heart, she is filled with the Spirit. She's a bit on the dorky side, but we're all like that in the Smugglerschmoo house. If I spend $500 and get her all decked out in this year's trends, will it change a thing? Eh, maybe for a week. The catty girls will still be catty, and Beaner wills still be too sweet, too passive, to dorky to play that game. Will she ever really fit in with that crowd? I think not. Would I ever even want her to? Heaven forbid!

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS--WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

Thankfulness

After a great night's sleep last night, Schmoozer woke up this morning and started coughing. We plopped him in the tub, hoping to clear his crud up, and he kept coughing. We dressed him, and the Chief took him out into the cool morning air while I took a shower. He had stridor and retractions. We called the pedi's office, and took him right in. They gave him Albuterol which pissed him off, and made him worse. By this time every breath is a whistle, they send us off to the ED. Off we go to the ED, me driving, Schmoozer in the car seat, and he starts coughing, and coughing, and coughing, and stridoring, and squeaking, and gasping, and gasping, and I am about 5 minutes from the ED with a baby gasping whistles and drooling in the back seat. I call the Chief crying (cuz I need one more thing to do while racing to the hospital with a baby who could stop breathing at any moment.) He tells me to have security park the minivan (because he knows me and I would have parked myself) and run in with him.

Upon entering the ED we are met by a triage nurse who runs us into a room, calling for docs. We get 2 nurses, 2 ED attending docs, 2 respiratory techs, and an ED tech. The intubation kit is open and ready. He was struggling for breath. They try the racemic epi, and it works. Oh, Praise Jesus, it works! More Decadron, more racemic epi. Crisis averted, baby breathing OK, mommy shaking and sobbing. We are upstairs on the unit, thankful to be here rather than in the PICU. I thought my baby was dying this morning--seriously I was a paramedic for 9 years, and I thought my baby was dying.

My baby is alive upstairs, not intubated, and we may even go home tomorrow. Floppy airway and all.

So what are you thankful for?