Day two of fever. Not spring. Not sports related. Just a plain 'ol 'where did it come from because there were no symptoms' low-grade fever.
I received a call right around lunch time yesterday that my sweet Caroline (cue the song) had a 100.4 degree fever. She bought her hot lunch -- they get one a month and she had picked a Wednesday, which around here means one thing: Mexican food -- decided she didn't feel like eating and walked over to the nurse's office. Temperature taken, call made and I'm on my way.
(I did have to make a quick stop to pick up some darling teacher appreciation gifts -- handmade cake balls shaped like little popped popcorn kernels packaged in a plastic popcorn container.)
(Remind you of Elaine and the Jujyfruits?)
(This week's teacher appreciation theme is 'in the movies.' What? No flower to bring or favorite soda? Thankfully, Walgreens stocks Fandango gift cards and it is a store open late on Sunday nights. Double thankfully, I'm in a Facebook group where people sell things like popcorn cake balls and, yes, I bought two.)
After bringing Caroline home and giving her some Motrin, she slept. I mean, slept. I got some work done. The babysitter scooped up Camille and ran her over to the Simon Biles program we are on for gymnastics.
This little girl had been off the last couple of days, which I'm now piecing together as she wasn't feeling good. At the Fairy Tale Rodeo Tuesday, Caroline's team lost. But, it wasn't the loss that clued me in, it was her reaction to my being there. She was just mopey and kind of well, off. Then, she called me from school crying because she didn't say good-bye to me. I reminded her we did say good-bye and then thought to myself, it's because she was not in a good mood and didn't remember. At horse riding that night, her instructor said Caroline seemed uninterested and not wanting to do the normal things she does -- such as saddle the horse.
On the car ride home, I talked to the girls and Caroline cried. (OK, maybe I was a little upset. It's my control thing and wanting everything to go according to my plan and the moping and the spending money for her to ride horses and not being interested and I think you get the idea of how it could snowball, right?)
The car ride home also presented a conversation about a new girl coming to her class and she was excited because her teacher picked her to be the new student's buddy.
Fast forward to the fever, coming home and feeling a bit better last night.
'I feel invisible.'
'Everyone wanted to play with her and not me.'
'When I tried to be her buddy, she didn't need me.'
'I had to read the poem that was eight lines because she said the teacher already knew she could read.' (I'm still not sure what that really means, but it came pouring out as if it was the fact that explained feeling invisible.)
Those conversations are hard. I encouraged her. I talked to her about being new and maybe the little girls was just nervous. I shared that everyone was probably excited to make a new friend.
My Caroline has always been my sensitive one -- from her stomach to her feelings. She doesn't have the confidence Camille has (even though Camille is very tender-hearted) and can't just blow off what people are doing or thinking or saying. Caroline takes it all in. And, she waits until she just can't take anymore and then cries and cries and cries.
She is a people pleaser, too. She wants everyone to get along and I mean, everyone. She wants everyone to play together. She wants to have one special friend, but still all play together. She tries to make new friends, but struggles with being forward. She always says yes and let's others choose. She believes that is how you make friends.
The balance we have to strike usually involves encouraging and nurturing along with 'move on.' And, when you are seven-years-old, you really don't want to hear about 'move on' and 'let it go.'
I get feeling invisible. I've been in that place before. Even as an adult, I sometimes feel not a part of something. And, I'm a pretty confident person who more often than not, chooses to be by myself. I have a small group of very close friends.
I, though, am an adult. I know how to process through those things and have a husband and family I can always count on to see me.
You know who else I know sees me? God. And, I have been through things where I know He's seen me. He keeps His eyes on me and I feel it.
When you are seven, that's a bit harder to get, right?
This morning, since I stayed home with Caroline, we read my Jesus Calling devotion together. It was on giving yourself to God to be filled with His inexpressible, heavenly joy. In the reading, there was a reference to the word divine. Caroline asked what that meant because she knows it to be a city where Gigi and Pop lived and where Granddad grew up.
I tried to explain that it had to do with God's power and spirit and then, kind of stumbled through some other words. Then, I looked up the true definitions.
'From or like God'
'Extremely good or unusually lovely'
So when you run out of your coffee creamer a week or so ago and have been subbing it with plain almond milk and then that runs out so you get on-the-border, maybe expired 2 percent milk as a replacement, you think this is not so extremely good or unusually lovely.
Where's the joy in that?
It's having that time to drink coffee at home while working from home.
It's recognizing that even with the work requirements today -- and there are quite a few -- it is feeling more like a very long fourth part and you can find time to order coffee creamer and milk from HEB for pick up.
It's getting to share a 'grown-up devotion' (what Caroline called it) with your sweet one not feeling 100 percent.
It's watching her Bible journal because the verse referenced in the devotion was on a page where she could color in a word.
It's not watching the news and, instead, finding a cartoon favorite.
It's taking that invisible feeling and turning it around to feeling filled with something inexpressible.
Joy. Heavenly joy. Something divine.