I Am Going To Chase That Happy

If there is one thing that I know Josh hates about me, its the fact that I let movies/books/TV influence me, or I compare my life to them.

Today, we saw the movie "The Vow," and it got me thinking.  Not about romance, not about car accidents, not about Channing Tatum (believe it or not...) but instead it got me thinking about jobs.

Rachel McAdams' character is an artist, quit law school to just follow her passion.  And when she cannot remember what she does after the accident, her husband tries to tell her by saying "I would have to come down to the studio and remind you that it was night time so that you would come home and come to bed." 

I want that.

I love being a teacher.  I feel like I make a difference in my students' lives.  I feel like I am a constant life-long learner, trying to make my content interesting, fun, and challenging.  I am a mother to 90 inner-city kids.  I offer them understanding.  They give me a new perspective on my life.  My car was broken into a few nights back..while I was having a pity party about trash being thrown about my car, one of my student's saw someone shot outside of their house.  I am motivated to do better by them, and I hope that I motivate them to be better than what they could have been the day before.

As much as I love my profession, I am finding it hard to love my job.  I feel handicapped by state test requirements, administrative demands, and general lack of time. 

I always feel tired.  I always feel like I have to fight...whether it be with a parent, a boss, or my government in regards to the teaching profession. 

I don't have to be dragged out of school because I am having a blast.  I leave with the biggest headache and so much pressure that carries the weight of the moon.

I fantasize about writing.  I want to write feature columns for a magazine...I want to be on staff where I write, and write, and write, and pitch ideas to someone who thinks I have a talent and a gift.  I don't know how to just abandon ship from where I am at, and fullfill that dream.

I can't move to where those magazines are...and I cannot afford to freelance.

I picture myself in a quaint small down, grabbing a Starbucks after taking Lulu to school, and going to my office and writing.    I always joke with Josh and say that I want to be Andy Anderson from "How to Lose a Guy In Ten Days."   

I want Josh to drag me away from my computer late at night to remind me to go to bed, and I won't be able to because I have a deadline, and I am writing about how to help women with loss, or a new trend in parenting, or how to be fashion forward when on a budget...or things that really interest me.

I am ready for a change.  And I don't know how to do it.  All I know, is that if I keep traveling along this path, this path of "I am good at what I do, and too scared to do anything else,"  then I am bound to feel this weight all of the time.  I will be handcuffed to stress and unhappiness and depression. 

Please pray that I am directed down the right road.

Common

Last Sunday night, Lucy had a seizure.

She was fighting a temperature all day, and at one point, it was 103.6, but I wasn't worried.  She was acting the same as she always acts....she was eating a little less than normal, but I thought nothing of it.  In the evening I was getting ready to give her a bath and I took her temp, it was 102.4.  I thought, bath time, and Tylenol time after that.

I got her out of the tub, and she just wouldn't stop shivering.  Her hands and feet were an odd gray color, and soon, her lips were gray too.  Josh was out of town, and I called my mom to come to the house and give me an opinion...something wasn't right.

Next thing I knew, she got all stiff, and her eyes rolled back, and she was gone.  Passed out I guess, but in my hysteria, I thought she wasn't breathing.  I literally thought she had died for a second.

I have never had to call 911 before, and here I was, calling in hysterics. 
Please save my baby, please hurry!

Her temp was 106 by then. 

To make a long and dramatic story short, she had a febrile seizure, or seizures triggered by a fast change of temperature. She is fine, thank God.  God provided a wonderful doctor at St. V's to help Lucy. 

Now when I say febrile seizure, so many people are talking about how common it is, and how its not serious, and even my own pediatrician said "next time, don't call 911, just schedule an appointment in the morning."

That pisses me off.

Anything that makes my baby sick is a big deal to me.  Whether its the flu or a seizure, it is a big deal.  She is my world.  There is nothing more in the world that pisses me off more than people making me feel like I am overreacting to something that endangers my child.  Even if Gabriel didn't happen to me, I would feel the same way.  Something came and took my child from me, and even if it was just for a second, it was a huge deal.    And if it happens again, I will call 911 every time.  What a scary situation, for me and for her.  I love and hate the word common.  That one little word can make me feel better, like I am not alone, and yet, it makes me feel like things are insignificant, unimportant.  Like...miscarriages are common.  I hate that word when used like that.   They are not supposed to be common....just like seizures are not common in my world.

Then the word common is used positively for relationships, like, Josh and I used to be so great because we have so much in common.....

Now it seems like all we have in common is parenthood.

Leave it to me to quote a TV show, but as I was watching Days of Our Lives yesterday, a character said "Marriage can be one of the loneliest places in the world, which is weird because you are supposed to marry the person who you share so many commonalities." 

Maybe I am just going through a common phase...marriage after baby. 

I just feel....so.....common....to him.