Well, It’s official. Kyle has the bug too.

I was right. Today was no fun either.

Today was not fun. Tomorrow will not likely be either.

Many of you who visit this site know that Jacqui has some feeding complications, one of those complications being a diagnosis of Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome (CVS). CVS symptoms mean different things in different people, but with Jacqui, it means that she goes from being bright, sunny and energetic to very near catatonic. Like the flip of a switch. When she was really little, she used to have a week-long episode every other week. Most people with CVS have prolonged episodes of nausea and vomiting. Jacqui cannot throw up because of a procedure she had to have at 18 months old called a Nissen Fundoplication. Jacqui just curls into a ball and suffers.

Things with Jacqui’s CVS symptoms have been well controlled since learning at age three that wheat (gluten), dairy (casein), and feeding volume are the main triggers to her CVS symptoms. We can control those things. However, exposure to stomach flu symptoms is something that we can’t. A stomach flu bug that takes most people down for 1-3 days puts Jacqui out of commission for 1-2 weeks.

Tuesday I had the stomach flu. Wednesday Ken had it. And today - today it was Jacqui. We were getting ready to go out the door to swimming class and I saw it happen. A sudden change in her eyes that always makes my stomach lurch. One minute she was laughing and giggling as we put on her shoes, and the next minute something had changed.

I’ve seen it happen so many times that it seems like it should feel routine, but it never does. I carried her to the couch and then sat down on the floor next to her and sobbed. Kyle trundled across the room and crashed into me saying, “Ohhhhhhh.” A baby’s attempt at a hug. I cried harder for being the kind of parent that a one-year-old feels compelled to console.

I finally realized today why that change in her eyes bothers me so. It’s the exact same change that happens in her eyes the moment she slips under anesthesia. I hold her hand trying to calm her as she fights the anesthesia mask and suddenly, Jacqui’s not there. Before she goes, her eyes abruptly flick from animated, to glassy, to vacant. The shift is so distinct that the sight instantly recalls to my senses the antiseptic smell of an OR suite and the whiff of anesthetic that I always catch as I bend down to kiss her cheek before I have to leave. Then there’s nothing I can do but pray for God to bring her back safely. It’s a heartbreaking collection of moments that I wish had never had to be.

Kind of like today. Suddenly, at 10am this morning, Jacqui wasn’t here. And I don’t know when I’ll have her back. It seems so unfair. I don’t understand why one little girl has to have so many challenges, but I know God has a plan for her, and I trust him. All I know is that she is extraordinary and that for some reason, God felt that Ken and I were the right parents to entrust with such an amazing little girl. So today, when I feel like calling God to account for this, I will instead be grateful for the wonderful, healthy little boy with the very kind heart cuddled up in my lap, brushing away my tears with chubby little fingers. And I will remember that Jacqui’s not really not mine. I will wait tearfully and patiently for God to loan her back to me once more, and cherish every moment that he does.

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Jacqui greeted me with even more than her usual enthusiasm this morning…

“Mom! I finded somethin‘ when I was playin‘ in da backyard yesterday!”

“Oh, really? What did you find?”

“A Crista-list!!”

“A What?”

“I said, Uh…CRIS…DA…LIST!! It’s kinda like another name for a kuhtoon, Mom.”

“You mean a chrysalis? A cocoon?”

“Dat’s what I said. You needta pay da-tenshun when peeple’s talkin‘.”

“I was paying attention. How do you know what a chrysalis is?”

“Oh, Mom. Most evvybuddy knows dat.“

“Huh. Interesting… “

“Yes, dat’s what I say - interesting! Soooo… I peeked in it!”

“You what?”

“Mooooooommm! You needta lissen! I said, I…PEEKED… IN…SIDE…DA…CRIS….DA…LIST!!”

“You did? What was inside?”

Her shoulders drooped and she shrugged in disappointment, “Dere was no budderfly innit.”

“There wasn’t?”

“Nope. I looked and I looked, and I thinked, ‘Where’s da budderfly?’ I thinked like dis “THINK, THINK, THINK!! Like Pooh does (tapping her forehead), but I jus‘ didn’t find her anywhere. She’s missin‘ I guess.”

“Was there a caterpillar inside?”

“Nope. Just green squishy stuff.”

“Oh dear.”

“What do you mean when you say dat - ‘Oh dear?’ “

“I think the green squishy stuff is your caterpillar. That is, it was your caterpillar before you peeked inside.”

“WHAT??? Who squished my caterpillar Mom?!!?”

My little future entomologist.

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Jacqui has discovered a new sport… track. Her understanding of the track and field world though, is an eclectic combination of news footage clips and the Backyardigan’s “Racing Day” episode. So today, the following track and field event unfolded in our upstairs hallway:

“Mom can I borrow dis?”

I peek around the corner from the kitchen and Jacqui is holding up Ken’s belt. “Sure. As long as you don’t hit or tie anything up with it.” If he left it floor, then why not?

“Oh good. Dis can be da finish line. Mooooommmmm! Say onnnermart, set, GO! Okay?”

“Mark, set, GO!”

Jacqui blasts down the hall, through the kitchen, around the dining table, back through the kitchen, and back down the hall to the starting line, which is also apparently the finish line. She marches proudly back into the kitchen for her applause and demands an imaginary blue ribbon. Then she yells, “Race me, Mom!”

I stop loading the dishwasher and head for the starting line. Jacqui is suddenly talking in the voice of an over-enthusiastic, circus ringmaster. “Ladies and gebblemens! Fanks for coming to see dee amazing Race Aroun‘ Da World! Intoeducing the Amazing Mommy, who’s gonna lose!” I step forward and take my obligatory bows before the invisible crowd. “And Intoeducing the ‘credible, ‘pendus, Racing Jacqui, who’s gonna win!” She pauses while I clap and takes numerous dramatic bows.

Kyle notices that something is up and trucks down the hall from the living room, clapping and shouting the only intelligible word in his vocabulary, “Brah-bo! Brah-bo!”

“And now, da minute yous all waited for! ONNERMART! SET! GO!”

All three of us, along with our psychotic cat, Jingle, barrel through the race course, and naturally, Jacqui wins. Applause is given, imaginary blue ribbons are handed out, and Jacqui yells, “Race me again, Mom!”

I graciously decline and head back to the dishwasher as Jacqui leads Kyle back to the starting line. That’s when I hear the following monologue…

“No, Kyle! No eating da finish line! Dats just for ‘onnermarting‘! Okay. Now, stand here. Onner Mart! ….Kyyyyyle! You’re not onnermarting. Like dis. Bend down like you’re watchin‘ bugs. NOOOOOO! Dat’s da wrong way. Over heeeeeere. Moooooommmm! Kyle’s not beein‘ a good racer!”

“Kyle’s too little to race. You’ll have to race someone else.”

“But you won’t race me and Daddy’s not home!”

“Mommy used to race an imaginary friend when she was a little girl. Give that a try.”

“You raced a WHAT?”

“Never mind. Just race yourself. I’ll clap.”

She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen to express her displeasure with a scowl and arms folded dramatically across her chest. Then she stalked muttering down the hall. I heard her reach the starting line again and I paused to listen.

“Ladies and Gebblemens! Intoeducing, Jingle da ‘Mazing Racing Kitty! Ok, Jingle. Onnermart! …Wait!! Come back! Jingle, you must listen to your coach!!!”

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So today was day number one of swimming classes for Miss Jacqui. Was she worried about the water, getting wet, or any of the normal things that the other little four-year-olds were concerned about in her “Guppies” class? No, of course not. She was completely distracted by another, more important concern. Why didn’t her feet turn into a mermaid tail when she got them wet??

She has recently puzzled over this conundrum - during baths, or at the beach, but came to the conclusion that she just wasn’t getting wet enough. A dip in a pool would certainly make all the difference!

Well, it didn’t and I had one mad little Guppy on my hands! She marched out of the pool and demanded to know, “WHERE is my mermaid tail? It’s broken!”

I reminded her that she was a little girl and little girls have feet, not mermaid tails.

“But I gott’em really wet! Where’s my mermaid tail?”

“You’re not a mermaid. You’re Mommy and Daddy’s Princess.”

“But I’m not a fairy, so I must be a mermaid!”

Jacqui has also spent many painful months coming to the recent and shattering conclusion that she is not a fairy. Try as she might, those Tinkerbell wings from her fairy dress-up costume just haven’t been able to get her airborne. A Saturday in May at a local fairy tea party event also didn’t clear her for take-off. Although she asked every “growed-up” fairy she met at the tea party for flying lessons, no one could help her “fly for real”. We spent several minutes in the parking lot as we were leaving “trying just one last time” per Jacqui’s insistence, but no. Jacqui reluctantly climbed into the car saying in a very dejected little voice, “I’m just a pretend fairy. Real fairies don’t have to hop.”

So logic dictates, I suppose, that if she’s not a fairy, then she must be a mermaid. A sopping wet and scowling mermaid. A confused little mermaid too, considering that every time she gets out of the pool, she feels compelled to shake off the water exactly like a wiggly little puppy would do while escaping from a bath.

“No, Honey. You’re not a mermaid, but I’m glad you’re my little girl.”

As she turned and trudged back to the pool, I heard a very forlorn little voice whisper, “Dis is NOT fair. I’m not a fairy, and I’m NOT a mermaid too!”

As far as I’m concerned, she’s the cutest little mermaid on the planet.

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