They say it comes in threes

This has been an eventful weekend.
This is a difficult post to write because my brain feels a bit on the exhausted side, like it could handle some going in but not anything intelligent coming out. I don't know if I have not processed it all quite yet or if I have already started to put it in the dusty little storage box only to be dug out years later for walks down memory lane.

It wasn't all bad- no- we were blessed with a new baby cousin, had a yummy potluck at church, and learned the Texas Two-Step (YES, Phil and I, two people who didn't even dance for their wedding, learned a dance yesterday!). We tried to play a fun joke on the pastor and wore slightly out-of-date clothing to church in honor of April Fools day (picture my side ponytail "For a limited time only glamour shots by Deb are half price." and Phil's t-shirt with sport coat ensemble, complete with white tennis shoes). It was so effective we even embarrassed kids that weren't our own! We had a fun game night with friends and tacos.

On the other side, we also had wind that slowly (or quickly) tore apart parts of our house and an emergency room visit. Small paragraph compared to the other, I know, which is why I am still standing, most likely.

We have moved quite quickly into Spring- something which has been much anticipated by our family. Last year we were so over-cautious about tornadoes and storms (mostly because we had no idea what we were getting into) that we were relieved by the lack of severity that came with it. This might have also put our guard down a bit when it comes to these Spring storms. Who knew that a gust of wind could take a 10X12 metal machine shed door, flip it straight up, rip it from it's track and hinges, and fling it over a trailer and tree line 30 yards away into the cornfield behind ours? Yes, this wind has some power. Some expensive power.

On the way over the tree line it was kind enough to leave some small shards of wood and metal to poke holes in the camper of a friend that is being stored here for the winter. In all seriousness, we count our blessings that the door didn't fly onto...or into...the camper instead of over it. The track that the door usually hangs from looks like a crazy roller coaster now.

So, that was Saturday. Sunday brought more winds, and that caught a screen door that had been improperly latched (by myself, I might add). An hour into our mid-Sunday respite came a loud crash, and upon investigation Phil informed me we had also lost this storm door. I feel like our house is slowly blowing away...

Later that day we went and had some desert with Phil's boss and his family, after which they taught us a dance. This was neat, by the way, since all of our friends back home AND my parents have been taking dancing lessons while Phil and I still sway to the music. Their sweet daughter took Ryan inside to watch a Veggie Tales movie because he couldn't stand his parents touching without being wrapped tightly around one of our legs (which makes dancing challenging). About an hour into the lesson, I see this daughter walking Ryan back to the shop where we were, his cheeks red and his face covered in tears. I walked out to greet them and pick up my son, and that's when Phil asked if there happened to be peanut butter in those yummy bars we had for desert.

I don't know why I didn't taste it. Or ask about it. Every time I leave Ryan with his babysitter- the same one- she gets the nuts-epipen speech. I always ask...except this time. This time I thought it was odd that he only ate one bite of the m&m bar, but I don't put it together. I felt like a complete dunce AND just plain awful as I watched my son swell up and gasp for air. Thankfully we had his epipen as well as some benadryl with us. I gave him three doses of benadryl hoping I wouldn't have to use the epipen (the kid was already in enough discomfort without my sticking a needle into his thigh) but after ten minutes he was still not looking much better. By this time we were on the way to the hospital and at a stop sign I pushed it into his pantleg- and then held him while I cried and he cried, knowing I had done the right thing as a mamma, tough as it was. By the time we reached the emergency room he was happy enough to go look at the fish tank and talk excitedly about the "Nemo" in there, his stuffy nose sounding like he had a bad cold and a touch of bronchitis.

I would like to say this for small towns, though. We were seen by a nurse who came out and checked his oxygen levels about five minutes after we walked in the door. When they called for Ryan to come back ten minutes later Phil and I didn't even respond because we had NEVER been seen in an emergency room within 15 minutes. The nurse had to give Phil a nod of the head before he realized she was talking to us. They looked Ryan up and down, and praised us for doing the right thing, saying he looked really, really good. They called the pharmacist at home to issue us another epipen to add to the one at home, in case we needed it throughout the night. We were in and out in an hour and fifteen minutes. I don't even remember going to a regular walk-in clinic and being done that soon growing up- let alone notorious 8 hour ER trips.

Ryan slept just fine through the night and is still up sawing logs as I write this. I am SO thankful we have technology now that is so effective for allergic reactions. They are quite terrifying, and it is really heartening to know that I have all the tools possible to help him if needed. But I am tattooing "no peanuts" onto his head- that is certain.