I rode in an ambulance with the sirens on, our destination was the emergency department at Rady Children’s Hospital.

We just can’t quit you, Rady’s!

Roux had an episode where he was struggling for breath, and it was severe enough that his dad and I both thought it necessary to call 911. I’ve never made a call like that in my life, and I never hope to do so again.

First of all, I am certain that Huckleberry of mine is the bravest five year old on the planet. He was so calm, and he didn’t panic at all when he rode in the back of the ambulance, strapped to a gurney, without either of his parents, surrounded by strangers who were caring for him. I rode in the front seat with the driver. I just sat there, listening to the sounds of my tiny guy laboring for each and every breath he took.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, it had been just under an hour since the whole thing began. Roux had been asleep, and I was sort of half asleep next to him, having dozed off as I was putting him to bed, when he suddenly began to choke. I sat up immediately and sat him up on my lap. His dad heard the commotion and came into the room and scooped Roux into his arms. Roux still wasn’t quite awake yet, and he had yet to catch a full breath. His mouth was full of saliva and mucus, his body was limp, and his eyes were not open. This is when I made the phone call.

While we waited for a room at the hospital, I realized it had been several hours since I’d heard Roux speak. By now, he was fully awake, and he’d received two different doses of steroids in the ambulance – one given as a shot and one as a breathing treatment. He also had an IV ready to go on his right arm, which was secured to a board and wrapped with gauze from his wrist to his bicep. His eyes were open, but he was kind of in a daze. I had yet to hear his voice, though I’d been holding his hand since the moment we left the ambulance.

Finally, I bent down to his ear and told him that I had never ever ridden in an ambulance before, and without even pausing he said, “Me too!” What a guy.

We were discharged a few hours later, after a final dose of steroids and an uneventful period of observation. We’d nearly made it two full years without any sort of medical catastrophe involving one Roux Huckleberry Baker, which is a lifetime record. I’m grateful his prognosis is excellent and we have nothing serious over which to be worried. He’s on a few homeopathic remedies and we’ll follow up with his doctor next week for further evaluation.

While we were in the hospital, I promised Roux that I would take him to the zoo as soon as he was feeling better. He’d never been to the zoo, and kept asking whether the animals would be real or statues. He was very matter-of-fact about it. His favorite game to play at school is “Cheetahs” which is where they run around and be a family of cheetahs, a very elaborate and adorable charade, and Roux was adamant that we see the cheetahs.

Today, that is precisely what we did. We became members of the zoo and made our way to the cheetah habitat to find one proudly lounging with his best friend, a yellow lab. It was super special. As was the teeny tiny baby baboon being cradled by his mother and guarded by his father. It reminded me a lot of when Roux was brand new, and I wore him all day, every day.

We’ve lived in San Diego nearly seven years (minus our stint in Asheville, but really, did we ever leave?) and we had yet to visit the zoo. Nevermind that we literally walk by it multiple times a week due our frequent visits to Balboa Park for dance classes. Now that Jade is committing to even more lessons per week, it seemed like a great opportunity to take advantage of one of this city’s biggest attractions. I’ve been anti-zoo for a long, long time, and for the most part this is valid, but the San Diego Zoo is one of the very, very best and today confirmed for me that it has earned it’s formidable reputation.

The sun is out today, and for the first time, it’s really starting to feel like the weather is shifting. The school year is beginning to end; we teachers are already making our summer renewal plans, preparations for both May Faire and the Gala are underway, and the Eurythmy concert is just a little over two weeks away. All of these things point to first Spring, and then Summer, and it makes me very, very happy.

I’ve been very dedicated to the gym and to the Whole 30, and I have so many more thoughts to share, but for now I will say that making my own health and fitness a priority is never a bad idea.

I’m still working on making writing a priority, clearly. Progress, not perfection. Repeat it with me.

I’m totally distracted by Roux and his dad coming up with different rhymes and numbers for “Hickory Dickory Dock” in the other room. Our apartment is tiny, and I’m over here quietly laughing at the sweetness that is getting to overhear this little interaction.

Childhood is funny like that, the things you want to hold onto and remember. One of my children has definitely firmly left his childhood behind as he now stands very proudly in his adolescence. It’s a remarkable transition to behold, gradual and then sudden in its progression, and it magnifies the rapidity with which we have all grown and changed over the years. Little voices do not last forever!

I totally forgot that today was the first part of a two-day training for all the faculty at our school, and, as such, I found myself ill-prepared and under nourished as I finally succumbed to my hunger with a plateful of guacamole and half a baguette. Alas, there are still thirty more days left in March and therefore just enough time for me to complete the Whole 30 on time.

Besides, not only did I join the gym today, I actually worked out at said gym and broke a sweat doing so. This is good, very good.

Again, I am reminded of the idea of progress over perfection and it is helpful in both recognizing the ways I am successful and also reducing the need to get caught up on the instances where I fall short of my desired objective. I slipped a little in my quest to dramatically alter my eating habits, but I did exercise at an actual health club facility. It all balances out, and I am just fine with that.

Tomorrow there is more training, but I’ve got an alarm clock set early enough for me to prepare and pack myself plenty of snacks. Then afterward, I’ll drive over to the gym for the second day in a row.

At least, that is the goal.

So, I blacked out on New Year’s Eve.

It was meant to be a quiet evening spent at home – alcohol, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary. We’d purchased a nice bottle of champagne to toast the new year, and planned to make a few rounds of margaritas while we enjoyed high quality family time playing games and listening to music.

That’s pretty much exactly what happened, except I can’t remember much past 9:30 PM, which is saying a lot because there is video evidence of me being (barely) awake past midnight.

Have I mentioned nothing like this has happened to me before?

And it’s not like I’m a heavy drinker, or am overly intoxicated on a regular basis. Which made the whole thing all the more strange.

I’ll spare you – and myself – the details, but the point is that it was the kind of experience that makes me consider why I drink alcohol in the first place.

To be honest, I don’t really have a good answer other than I like it and I think it tastes good. Especially high alcohol kombucha and good champagne. Or prosecco, or cava, let’s be honest. Still, it was not difficult for me to realize two things: that there are far better things I could be drinking, and that I probably don’t need to drink alcohol as much or as often as is my habit to do.

A little over a month ago, I decided to take a break from drinking alcohol. I definitely sleep better. I am more productive. I think I’m more present in general, but I can’t tell if that is because of the not drinking, or because of this writing practice. (True story!)

I like where this challenge has taken me. This morning, I hiked up a mountain and it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Also, I didn’t actually intend to hike up the mountain this morning, but that story is for another time.

It has been ages since I truly felt anywhere close to my best, and I used to feel great all of the time. There have been many reasons, many opportunities, many excuses for me to ignore my own well being. In this manner, I have become stagnant. My acupuncturist back in Asheville used that term all the time, and I’m finally understanding what he meant.

Tomorrow, a new month begins. And in a way, another kind of a new year. I’m celebrating with a nice, long reset. A very good friend swears by the Whole30 program, so that’s what I’m gonna try.

Here is my logic: if this is how I feel after only giving up alcohol, I’m very curious as to how I will feel after giving up literally everything else. I’ve never done a cleanse like this before, and there is a good possibility I will develop a new set of habits as a result. I mean, there is a lot of forethought required in the kind of eating that does not include any dairy, sugar, grains, legumes, or alcohol. If nothing else, I will get good at packing my own lunch for school, something which I fail to do on an almost daily basis.

All of this to say, it’s been an odd time. I’m hoping to shake things up by radically shifting what and how I eat. Let’s see where this goes.