This is not a Rant, it's a convoluted Thanks.

Ever feel like the life you're living surely must be a mistake? This week has felt a little like a borrowed week from someone else's life; anyone care to have it back?

Tuesday morning I babysat at six am (a half hour later than my normal time of five-thirty). We'd babysat on Mnday, and planned to babysit on Wednesday as well. Normal as normal gets. Well, at 8:30 am Lydia woke up at their house, throwing up. Repeatedly. All over their guest room bedding. At this moment you need to remember that the younger of the two children I watch has many health difficulties, among them a feeding tube and he gets sick very, very easily. Whenever he does get sick he inevitably ends up at the hospital. You also need to remember that there was no phone in the house. The family I watch has no home phone, and I am the last person on earth (besides Avram) with no cell phone. The dad had been leaving his phone at home, but he has been driving for his company and had to have his phone with him.

So as I frantically put down Breaking Dawn (Yes, I caved in and read the Twilight series. Yes I actually liked it - except I actually didn't like the last book really, for several reasons. Yes, I even thought about writing a blog post about it, but then realized I don't even write blog posts about books I incredibly love forever, so why would I write one about a book I merely enjoyed when I thought I wouldn't) and as I ran up the stairs to help Lydia my largest worry wasn't actually her sickness alone, but knowing that I had to get out of their house with her as fast as possible, and I had no phone to call anyone to come over and help.

After cleaning up after Lydia and helping her downstairs, where she proceeded to cry for the next hour straight, I tried to think of a solution. Finally I decided to try and get on their computer, which I had never managed to turn on, and put out a general plea to my ward via the Internet for help. I couldn't figure out how to turn the monitor on (yes, I know, I have the potential conflict for epic novels), but finally after a lot of prayer found invisible touch buttons hidden on the side, and accessed facebook (and a blog), and left pleas for help via babysitting or a cell phone to find help. I felt like Leia in Star Wars. "Help me, Obi One Kanobi (sp?), you're my only hope," except it was, "Help me Internet and my ward, you're my only hope."

Thankfully I belong to the best church ever, and within an hour someone in my ward had not only seen my plea, but called around and found two different babysitters who could cover for the rest of the day. Then she sent over her husband, who happened to be home from work that day, and he had a cell phone I used to call the parents with, plus he then went to the store for me and got generic pedialyte and crackers and stuff. Meanwhile I went home, where of course I was locked out. After getting two different keys from management (perks of living in an apartment), I got inside and we could finally relax and Lydia could be sick in peace.

For a few hours at least. Because the second babysitter, who I had specifically wanted because she had babysat the kids before, and knew how to take care of Elliot with his feeding tubes and stuff, had already agreed to take a Spanish sister from the ward, Flore, to the eye doctor that afternoon. So I agreed to take her instead, since I would rather take a sick kid around than risk getting Elliot sick. So at two thirty we were off to pick her up, and take her downtown. Not that big of a deal, right? Except Flore only speaks a little English, and my mastery of Spanish extends from one to ten, and that is it. (The second babysitter, Amanda, speaks fluent Spanish). Because doctors are like that, and the medicine she needed took an hour to compound while we sat in the parking lot of Kroger, I didn't get home until 7:15 at night. Fun times. Really, I was glad to help Flore, and she was kindness itself.

But all in all, it was a very, very long Tuesday. Plus after it came Wednesday, when Lydia was still sick with throwing up and a fever, and Elisheva got a a fever too, and I was so sleep deprived and lame that I couldn't force myself to do anything but be catatonic and in bed almost all day, and Avram did everything for everyone, although he had a Greek quiz to study for, which is a big deal since the last Greek class he had was three years ago. Although Elisheva nursed (literally, I kid you not) all night long, whether from teething or sickness we don't know, and Lydia joined our bed in the middle of the night, where she then threw up (luckily into a towel), I'm actually doing much better today than yesterday. And Lydia has only thrown up once today, when I gave her milk, which upon looking up on the trusty Internet is the exact thing you should never give a throwing up kid for days and days after they get better. So maybe she's almost better.

I'm very, very glad the church, in the form of helpful, giving members, came to our rescue this week. I love true religion as James defines it. It reminds me of when I was in England and had Elisheva, and our ward members there helped us so much that several people in Avram's program expressed surprise at how we had managed to find such a giving, helpful church. I told them we just looked them up, because the Church is world wide, and anywhere we go we just look up the local group and go to it. And then people help and help and help us. (Which was why I was glad to take Flore to the doctor. I so very rarely ever get to help anyone back. Mostly I'm the one who is always being helped. What can I say, I'm very needy).