My boy weezy

I got a call yesterday at work by the middle school principal.

"Hello" I said in a chipper voice, it does better to be nice if your kid is in trouble.

"Hello, this is Mr. B, Before I say anything I want you to know that Wes is all right."

Life never is good when people tell you THAT before the details. I thought maybe he got into a fight and was hurt or jumped off the school roof after a ball.
These two things he has done before and I guess he never been caught.

"Oh, dear, what happened" My heart took a dip and I tried not to get choked up.

Mr Burgoyne proceeded to tell me that while Wes was playing at recess. He was breathing in and blowing out while having a zip whistle in his mouth. Wes was was walking around by the fence doing this over and over. One breath in too hard caused the whistle to get lodged in his throat.   But he was ok by the time I was called. I laughed a little- It is funny, but I got sick too.

Wes told me later that He could breath a bit but whistled each time. He panicked and started coughing and threw up a bit. I worried that he could breathed it back in because the force of the throw up being blocked by the whistle.  A little friend ran to get a teacher and that teacher on duty sent out a mayday to various places for help.  Many teachers ran back to help him.  He thought it only took 2 minutes, but I bet it took longer. They helped him to the office - it was still stuck. His classroom teacher was hitting him on the back and  he coughed over and over; it finally flew out.

The office  had him lie down for a while and he was given water and candy for his throat.   After a bit, he then decided to go back to class.  IMr. Raben said they tried to give him the Heimlich but he wheezed every time they pushed on his stomach.  He said only later did they laugh at the sound. I think his new name is wheezy.

What would you do in her shoes

From time to time I read Stephanie Nielson's blog. Sometimes I think she is full of herself-like we all are, sometimes I think it is for show-like we all are but every time I stare along time at her pictures, both before and after. I try to imagine what is is like to be her, to have lived through the ugly and the pain, why she sued my town for her accident, what the back story to this was and how she sees herself now.
I think I do this because I struggle with the way I look. Sad to say, there are times when I am doing my day, but in the back of my mind I an worrying about the thoughts of others and if my failings my looks are distracting others causing them to judge me rather than listen and learn from me. These thoughts run like a low hum through all I do all day every day. They control some, much of what I will and wont do.
I wonder how she travels on with her looks, how they affect her day, her family , her life. I don't understand why she does some of the things she does, I don't agree either, but I do understand if she is trying to find the beauty and acceptance in her new face, body, and life. No matter what decisions she makes. I keep coming back to watch how and try not to judge. It is hard to be yourself no matter what self it is.

Need to print and hang above my night stand