Absent...

On Thursday, I was fixin' my daughter's very first peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread.  I made my PB&J first.  Per gluten-free rules.  I have separate peanut butter for me.  Used separate spoons for the jelly (I don't let the spoons touch the bread).  I had two knives - one to cut her sandwich and one to slice mine in half.

Aubrey Kate was playing in the living room.  On any given day, from the playroom through the dining room, our house is a mine field of sleeping babies, monsters, Aubies and other various creatures "sweeping" (aka sleeping) on a pillow (some of which are chair pads from the hall closet) and covered up with sheets, change pad covers and blankets.

They "sweep" and then they "WAKE" and in between Aubrey Kate runs to tell me to "BE QUIET!!!!  SWEEPING!!!!"

It is totally as cute as you are imagining.  Okay, maybe cuter.

So I'm making her sandwich and just watching her.  Thinking about how fabulous she is and how much I love watching her play.

It was only as I was dragging my finger out of my mouth when I panicked.

My one finger.  Covered in peanut butter, jelly and wheat bread crumbs.

First thought was, nah, no way that could make me sick.

Fifteen minutes later, as my stomach began to make it's presence known, I realized, yes, that was enough to make me sick.

The serious pain lasted an hour.  Maybe a little more.  It's kinda hazy.  But after the pain, I was left simply uncomfortable.  A little rumbly.  A little blah.  And a whole lot of exhausted.

Dinner didn't sit that well.  Neither did the prenatals and iron.

Perhaps "pain" has become relative.  What might have been awful before is now just uncomfortable.

Friday came and I was just completely wiped.  What goes in must come out (you're welcome) and that left me even more drained.

Which basically means, I lost two entire days last week.  There are a million and two things to do before this coming weekend.  Getting glutenated, because of my own mindlessness, was not on the schedule.

Here's the best part:  a lady at our "old" church is going through the same basic things I did after having AK.  She just had a daughter too.  So for a good part of last week, I spent gigantic amounts of time "talking" with her about symptoms, diagnosis and living life gluten-free.  Including my rules for eating out.  And yet, there I was glutenating myself with my daughter's sandwich.

I felt so, well, stupid.  Maybe dumb.  Sarah did a whole post on Seven Days of Grace about the word stupid.  And that may be too strong of a word.  But oh, that's how I felt.

All that to tell y'all why there was no Gratitude Friday.  Which is likely much more of an explanation than you needed.  Or wanted.

I guess, when I think about it, I am grateful the pain was short-lived.  I mean it was wheat bread.  Would think only thing worse would be eating a flour tortilla.

Grateful that of all the genetic diseases out there, this one is so simple.  There are no cures for genetic diseases and they don't go away.  But the "medicine" is easy peasy.

Grateful to have it so I can help others the way I was helped.

Grateful God has already taught me I don't need to know why.  Chris said Thursday, "Not sure why God chose you for this, but there's a reason, babe."  Yep, and I'm fine with that.

But I won't be mindlessly making Pumpkin a sandwich again.  Nope, gonna be all kinds of present and in tune with the wheat bread crumbs.