Sunday was a regular morning.  Crazy.  Getting 4 mini-me’s and myself ready for church wasn’t easy.  It’s not like I get to “Shoosh” them personally all the way through the service (I play the piano, and rely heavily upon friends, family, and hubby to co-parent them during my performances.)  Around the time the sermon got going, I noticed the most gruesome red, puffy thing on my youngest son’s toe.  He had a spider bite (again) and it was causing his tiny toes to bulge and strain against his delicate skin.  It was red, huge, and gross, and it had me a little worried.

After the service I milled about with the other moms.  A good friend of mine was nearby, and I knew that she never, ever took anything for granted.  She was one of those “just in case” moms who always took her kids to the doctor as a preventative measure for those one-in-a-million medical scenarios you would only read about on Snopes.com.  “Take him to the doctor,” she recommended.  “You don’t want to wait until it gets infected, and that’s why we have doctors.”

I mulled her suggestion over.  After all, it was Sunday, and I really needed to attend a million functions and cook and clean and everything else before the new week started.  It was just a bite.  But I also didn’t want him to lose his toe in the middle of the night.

My mother sensed my hesitation.  “Go ask Rachel,” she coaxed.  “She’s almost finished nursing school.  She’ll know what to do.”  Rachel came over, all smiles and business.  “Does he have a fever?  Is he showing any indication of pain or discomfort?  Has he been crying more than usual?  Have you given him anything?”  I felt like I was in my local outpatient clinic, and the answers to all her questions were a relieving “No.”

“Don’t take him. He’ll be fine.”  She squeezed my hand to seal the deal.  “Just watch for any changes after 24 hours or so.”

After Rachel left, my closer friend returned.  “I’d take him. Just in case.”

I left church that day with a sense of two Mom’s approach on life.  One was more clinical for obvious reasons.  She had a beautiful daughter, a sunny approach on life, and had a peace that carried her through uncertain situations with a look of almost no concern.  My closer friend, on the other hand, was most attentive, always alert, and often too prepared for most situations.  She made me (at times) feel inadequate, but gave advice that came not from textbooks or experts, but from the heart.  I loved having friends to turn to in a scary situation, even if I didn’t fully agree with either of their advice completely.  Being the Mom in the middle was a good thing, and now I was even more certain of my inclination towards taking my own unique approach to life.

Somewhere in the conversations, I got a feel for where I stood on the issue.  I’d worry.  I’d possibly check him for fever or breathing problems several times during the night.  I may even let him sleep with me (just for extra security.)  But I wouldn’t take him to the doctor and risk having them brush me off with a “this crazy mom’s worried about a bug bite” smile. 

At least not until tomorrow.