Being sick is no fun

Evelyn had the worst weekend last week. It all began when she dropped the lid of our heavy furniture trunk onto her index finger. The nurse at the hospital told us it was a toddler rite of passage, but it was nevertheless frightening. Her little finger looked deformed and immediately began to swell. Oh and she cried like I've never heard her cry before.

We met Andre at the Children's Hospital where they x-rayed her and applied a tiny splint. Turned out not to be broken, just bruised and we still had time to make it to the circus. Yes, I know normal people would have gone home after that.

To be fair, the tickets were rather expensive and bought months and months in advance so that the girls could get really good seats. And they were good seats. If the tightrope walker had fallen we would have been hurt by the fall, they were that good. Plus, leaving the hospital, she seemed in good spirits.

She loved the opening show. Rowan was so excited she was dancing in Andre's lap. Never have you seen two more wide-eyed circus goers. It is the way the circus is suppose to be watched: full of wonder and awe.

You lose that sense of wonder as you get older. I couldn't help comparing it to Cirque du Sole and prior circus shows. Was this as good? The awesome eventually becomes expected.

About half way through Evelyn fell asleep in my arms. She even slept through people being shot out of a cannon. However, she had missed her afternoon nap, plus she had been given a pain reliever for her injured finger. She awoke long enough to see the tigers, the elephants, and to buy a plastic circus horse, then she feel asleep again.

As we left she began to complain about her belly hurting. Sometime in the night she had a fever that was pushing 104 and started to vomit. We spent most of the night on the phone to the nurse and trying to make her as comfortable as possible until we could get her in to the pediatrician in the morning.

Finally, after a full week--three doctor visits, two shots, and an antibiotic prescription later, she's back to her old self. Even her finger is healed. We took the girls out for hamburgers, ice cream, and playground fun. She was having such a great time, its hard to believe she was so sick.

Now, I try not to be an overly protective parent. A "helicopter parent" as I've heard them called, who hover over their children guarding their every move. I want them to grow and experience and try new things without fear. Without my fears at least.

And I don't want to be dramatic either. A smashed finger and an illness that can be cured in a week are not big deals in the grand scheme of things. Yet tonight, watching my husband and my two daughters playing together I was overcome with the feeling that these three people are my life and really how grateful I am to be watching them play in the park tonight.