We should have crises more often. They can be very encouraging. Folks that have sane, quiet lives may never have the opportunity to be encouraged in the way I have recently. Of course, they may never have the need to be encouraged as I have needed, but still.

The first several weeks of morning sickness were not the most exciting of days, but they were manageable, and I was able to function with relative normalcy. I was beginning to think that the dandelion tincture I had been taking to help clean up my liver before the next pregnancy had worked. Gleeful that I might make it through this season unscathed, I was rather taken aback as I rounded the next corner. Apparently I rounded said corner only to run smack in to a wall.

From my perspective as a couch vegetable these past few days, I have been surprised by some gaps in my parenting (was the four-year old always this good at talking her way out of trouble?), and tickled pink by others (when did my ten year old become so good with the baby?) My dizziness and nausea from being pregnant and my fatigue from nursing while pregnant left me a good excuse no other option but to be the proverbial fly on the couch wall. Sometimes I was able to give instructions, other times I could only be at the mercy of whatever training had previously taken hold.

As I watched the children manage their work and help each other, I realized that this was a definite step above the workings of normal life. This Mom’s-out-of-commission emergency has allowed my children to rise to the occasion and grow to a new level. Their head knowledge is getting some practical, hands-on experience and I can see their individual and collective self respect increase. I am also watching as their level of respect for each other is growing.

Tonight, because all hands were on deck and needed in other areas, our eight year old son (you know, the middle child, who the experts say is supposedly left out and ignored), made dinner. I laid on the couch and read him the instructions, as he made Sue Gregg’s Salmon Quiche alone. When the children asked (as they always do) what was for dinner, I proudly announced that the Dreamer was making it, and they should ask him. When the shock wore off, it became obvious by the children’s expressions and exclamations that this boy had just risen to a higher level in their estimation. Wow, he can make dinner? Yeah. He can.

I think he was as shocked as the rest that he really did it. In the midst of a great need (we were hungry), this guy just added to the list of things he can manage well. With three capable child-cooks older than him, If I hadn’t been sick on the couch, he may have never had the opportunity. I’m not a big fan of feeling this yucky. I’d gladly avoid it if there were a way. But this I can tell you with certainty: If I had to go through this ten times over, I’d do it… just to see the children look at my Dreamer that way.

And to see him so beaming in pride. You did good, Buddy. You did real good.