Okay.  We all know the basics.  Don't let your baby chew on the handle of a shopping cart.  Pull your toddler's binky away before it goes back in their mouth after falling on the public bathroom floor...beside the toilet...and now I will officially add...wash your child down before they eat cotton candy at the State Fair.  Any fair for that matter.
​     Our State Fair is happening right now and it's just about the most fun you could have spending seven thousand dollars in any one setting.  We try to visit every year and not only do we love seeing how much joy the kids have in running around playing games and riding rides, but we too, find ourselves grinning at the nostalgia of it all.  The food - sending wafts of glorious scents of popcorn and funnel cakes while you pass by the sounds and lights all around...dare I say it?  The germs. 
​     Of course you know they're there.  I've just never been one to let the worry of E.coli keep us from a good old fashioned day of fun.  That was, until this year.
​     We happened upon a tent set up with sinks and hand washing stations.  A man welcomed us in as we walked by, so I figured a random hand washing couldn't be that bad.  What's the worst that could happen?
​     He pulled us into a blackened tent after squirting what I thought was hand sanitizer into each of our hands.  "Rub 'em real good", he said.
​     This is about the time I shot my husband an awkward look, wondering what we'd just signed up for.
​     "Okay, kids." He smiled. "I'm gonna turn a magic light on and show you what pretend germs you have aaaaall over your hands."  Farmer Dan was starting to freak me out, and I questioned how hard it might be to knock him out while getting the kids away from there.
​    At that moment, a black light came on and all six of us were surprised as we looked down to see our hands, glowing in the dark.  The man seemed to revel in this discovery, then proceeded to push us out of the tent to the sink stations, instructing us to wash our hands.
​    I was beginning to see the value in our lab rat fair experiment, and elbowed my husband, saying it would actually be good to show the kids how important it was to wash their hands longer than the 1.3 nanoseconds they regularly do.
​    Sure enough, Farmer Dan reappeared and tunneled us back into an exit tent.  "Okay.  Ready kids?  I'm gonna turn the magic light on and see how well ya did.  If you washed yer hands good enough, all the glow germs will be gone."
    "Three, two, one..."
​     WHAT THE?!!!  I'm quite sure a small crowd outside our tent stepped back at the scream I let out.  Our kids were covered in magic germ juice.  COVERED.  Their hands had barely changed at all, still all glowy bright as fireflies, but now they had glow in the dark slime on their clothes, arms, skin...even their FACES.  HOW in THREE SECONDS, did they POSSIBLY manage to get their FACES?!
​     I had the incredible urge to push Dan out of the way, this time, going back into the wash stations to scrub all four kids down.  I never realized in all these years how even when I thought my kids were washing their hands, they were literally doing so very little, let alone smearing germ juice on their cheeks.
​     So, to our State Fair, I say thank you.  Thank you for totally FREAKING me out with the fact that my kids are walking cesspools, swimming in a sea of petri dishes in this thing called life.
​     We walked away a little wiser, a little glowy-er, and yes...after a little while later and another hand washing at the next opportunity...a little happier as we shared our annual bag of cotton candy, which I'm quite sure still glowed in the dark going down.     

    Before I had kids, one of my friends had two little boys.  I'll never forget, as they were wrestling on the floor, she turned to me raising her eyes, "I always try to remember, as crazy as they are...I'm not here to raise boys...my job is to raise men".
​    That struck me as odd while the older brother smacked the younger with a small yellow dump truck, but fast forward a few years, and I get it.
​    It was impossible to see at first.  Holding those newborn little bundles of sweetness wouldn't allow me to fathom the thought of them becoming men...but now?  Now, it's charging straight towards me like a freight train. 
​     What kind of men do I pray they'll become?  What characteristics do I hope to instill in this wild thing called, parenting?  The answers are simple and few, but far more valuable than gold.
     Loyalty.
​     To see how they interact and treat each other and their friends, is an indicator of how they'll be when they are grown.  To have hearts of loyalty, not turning their backs on friends no matter what, is a sign not only at this young age, but in life.  It teaches them how to treat others, as well as to find those few true friends, unwavering and who will last a lifetime. 
​     Protection.
​     To protect the ones you love, to no end.  Even in the midst of a WWF knock down drag out fight, making sure the other is okay, when things get a little too rough. 
​     To gather around their little sister, protecting her as she sits in fear before getting her ears pierced, comforting her and trying to get her to laugh through her tears.          

      Love.
​      To love in life.  With their whole heart...everything from family to snow days.  Especially snow days.  To live life with the love of adventure and compassion.  To see things bigger than themselves and be aware of their place in this world and how love can affect that. 
​      Faith.
​      To have a faith, undeterred.  To know they are given the love, loyalty and protection of a Father above, and to live each day for Him, being thankful for the life He's provided. 
​       It's still hard to imagine our boys as men, especially when I wonder how Adam and I will ever teach them how to iron a shirt, tie a tie or for the love of Moses, drive a car.  It'll all come in time though. 
​      For now, everyday brings new opportunities to create these future men, husbands and fathers with loyalty, protection, love and faith, I hope one day, they will in turn, provide.      

    It's been a little over a month with my new job and so many changes have come about.  Decorating my room for October gave me time to think about the transition.
    It's always hard to make the decision to shift careers or make a move from what you've known for so long.  In this case, I left the medical world of speech therapy with patients who've had strokes or trauma, to work in the schools, making it feel more like a whole different world rather than a job change.
      In the time I've gotten to know the staff and students, I can honestly say, it's been the best decision I ever could've made.  Everyday brings something new and the kids who range from kindergarten through fifth graders, bring laughter and fun to each and every hour. 
      Patient's charts and medical records have turned into high fives with nine year olds getting a sound they've struggled with for years.  Kids with fluency, hearing loss and frustration have become the center of my thoughts as I drive home, wondering how I can work things through even more the next day.
      I look forward to the months ahead and hope to change and develop their hearts and minds as much as they already have mine.  
      Now I know, as difficult as it can be to take that jump or leap in faith to make a change in your life, sometimes it can be a really good thing. 
      In this case, I'm thankful the opportunity came my way, and I wasn't afraid to leap, no matter how hard it was to try to learn a whole new way to fly.

     We've all heard the saying, "Out of the mouths of babes", but when your seven year old daughter runs around cheering that she finally got alcohol and went to the bars, that saying takes on a whole new meaning.
​     It all started when she and my mom were watching a "how-to" video from some girl in Sweden.  It was a cute take on how to make your own tie-dye shirts by using permanent markers to draw a design, then simply spraying the fabric with rubbing alcohol to make the colors bleed.  Adorbs.  
​     The Swedish girl referred to the rubbing alcohol throughout the video, simply as 'alcohol' and by the end, Lauren Elizabeth was running around the house searching for it.  "I need alcohol!  Where do we have alcohol?!"
​     This in and of itself was funny to me (not my husband) but things only got worse, when mom took her to the store to get some. By the time they came back, our daughter burst through the front door screaming, "GRAMMIE GOT ME ALCOHOL!" 
​     If you know my mom, the irony of this is not lost on you.  My mom wouldn't take a drink to save her life, so much so, I often wonder if she actually came off the Mayflower as a Pilgrim.
​     By now I'm falling over as my husband is near coronary status and Mom's chasing after her calling, "Rubbing alcohol!  It's RUBBING alcohol, Dear!"
​     The only thing better?  In gymnastics she got to go to her favorite...the parallel bars.
​     Falling asleep last night, her tired eyes smiled as she mumbled, "I'm so happy I got alcohol and finally got to go to the bars.  I can't wait to tell my friends at school." 
​     I'll be waiting for the call from her teacher.  XO     

    We've recently had friends and family go through impossibly difficult times.
​    "Why?" Is the first question that runs through my mind and the second, although I hate to admit it, is - "How does God allow such bad things to happen to good people?"
​    It's an age old question that's pretty much an overwhelming concept, but is there an answer? 
​     A friend from work has a brother who is the minister of a beautiful old church in Charlotte, North Carolina.  Her brother has known his calling for many years and before their mother passed from cancer two decades ago, she gave him her Bible to keep and use to spread love in this world.  He's held onto that Bible along with his own, cherishing them both, everyday since. 
​     That same church recently caught on fire.  Flames engulfed the massive walls, eventually burning it to the ground.  The congregation gathered, but couldn't stop it.  They knew God wasn't in the structure or the building, but why?  Why did it have to happen? 
​     Through heartache, sweat and tears, they began clearing the remains with the spirit of regrowth and rebirth. 
​     In the midst of all the destruction, piles and piles of burnt, charred debris, what do you suppose they found?  Two bibles, one his and one their Mother's that he's held dear his entire life.  My friend Sarah showed me a picture of the two and I couldn't believe my eyes.  In all of that damage, the entire building destroyed through the intensity of heat and flames, how was it possible that two books made of paper remained, perfectly untouched? 
​     Did God allow the destruction?  Did He allow the despair caused to so many who have gathered in that place for generations?  Why wouldn't He stop it from happening?
​     I don't know. 
​     What I do know, is that God was still there. 
​     In the middle of the darkest times, the worst times of our lives when it seems everything is literally falling and burning down around us, He's there.  Reminding us to trust in Him no matter what the reason, even if we can't possibly begin to understand.
​    He is there with us with a love that's impossible to destroy.      

    It's easy to take comfort in familiarity.  When you've done something for so long, it's common to not want to shake things up a bit.
     I have just shaken.
​     For years now, I've been a speech therapist in clinical settings.  I've worked with patients following strokes, traumatic brain injuries or Alzheimer's...all areas I'm comfortable and eager to work with.  The field I haven't been in for years?...Schools.  
​     The thought of working in a school system is daunting to say the least.  It was time for a change though, so I packed away my scrubs and went for it.
​      Beginning last week, I ventured for the first time to see the school where I was hired.  I was given the kindergarten through fifth grades to take on alone, then given a set of keys which made for a nervously long walk to my room. 
      It's not uncommon for speech therapists to work out of a small space.  I mean like, a half a closet in the basement where alligators and spiders live.  I knew this before taking the job, but getting closer to the room number they assigned made my stomach go to my throat.  I'd already accepted the job.  What if I hated the space I'd be trapped in for a solid school year?       Turning off the main hall, there it was.  Tucked away at the end, I approached the solid wooden door, right by the bathroom. 
​      Broom closet for sure.          

    Slowly putting the key in the lock, I turned to hear it click, then shut my eyes as I pushed the heavy door forward.
​     It smelled okay.  No moldy greeting.  I kept my eyes tightly shut until I was brave enough to squint one open, then the other.  What I was met with, left me speechless.  (No pun intended.)

     Letting the door quickly shut behind me, I was glad no one would witness me jumping around the room like Christmas morning.  It was adorable.  Brightly colored with so many games and activities to work on with the kids.  There was a computer lab on one side and desks on another. 

     After spending time going through charts and learning about the students, I had my first lunch and worked on decorating the door to welcome them. 

     It was hard to believe how amazing the space was and the opportunity I had to work there.  I only wish now, I'd considered it sooner.
​     The students have their first day of school tomorrow so I'm nervously excited for them to arrive.  I've planned and prepared, and I hope I serve them well. 
​     It's going to be a good year, even though it feels completely different and new. 
​     Yes, sometimes in life it's nice to shake things up a bit.  Here's to hoping it all falls into place.    

   We're used to raising boys.  Having three boys, we evidently took for granted the indifference that surrounded our back to school shopping.  Our boys don't care if their accessories match their clothes or if their wide ruled notebook cover is "cute with kittens".
​    Enter...our second grade daughter.
​    Lauren Elizabeth has begged all summer for a new backpack for school.  She's had the same one since pre-school, because number one - it's a perfectly good backpack and number two, (see the above) we're used to boys who could care less about getting new backpacks.
​    If we got all four of them backpacks every year, by the time we hit high school, we could fill a closet, not to mention feed a country. 
    Needless to say, she's had the same one since she was four.
​    This Sunday was the night before her first day of school and she begged one last time for a new backpack.  What she didn't realize, was that we found one on clearance and decided to surprise her with it.  We kept it a secret and had her pack her things in her old backpack (because we're mean and horrible parents).  Little did she know, her new one was hidden in our closet waiting for her to go to bed so we could switch it. 
​    "Please, can't I get one?  The backpack I have is for babies and I'm all grown up."  She begged.
​     "Maybe later, sweetie, but not now."
​     She was crushed.  Her tired eyes pleaded a little longer until she finally went to bed...heartbroken.
      If only she'd realized, it was right in front of her - and this made me think - so often we know what we want.  We're sure of the exact thing we're desperate for and quite often, it can be years in the making.  We beg God.  Plead.  Cry and whine until we question why He won't give us what we know is precisely what we need. 
​     What we don't realize, is His plan, His knowledge of our needs is far greater than what we can comprehend.  He knows what's right for us and sometimes it's just around the corner even though we have absolutely no idea. 
​      Yesterday morning was the first day of school.  Lauren Elizabeth got ready with her brothers, brushed her teeth and came down the stairs. 
​      Suddenly, she realized what was waiting for her as her eyes lit up and she screamed throughout the house that it was the "Best Day Ever".
​    It was a good reminder that if there's something we're struggling with or desperate for, we can rest assured, we're not alone.  So many times people question why, when or how, but if we just have faith...quite often, God has our very own backpack right there, even sometimes right in front of us.  Our job is to gain trust and understanding that His timing is far greater than ours... and He wants us to have the Best Days Ever, too.       

    Two words.  Jesse. Metcalfe. 
​    Not that anyone should need a reason to sit and watch him for any particular time, The Hallmark Channel has graciously provided not only that opportunity, they've created a fantastic original movie premiere for our viewing pleasure as well.
​     "Chesapeake Shores" will become The Hallmark Channel's newest primetime series, welcoming us into the life of a highly successful business woman, Abby O'Brien, who is a mother of twin girls and recently divorced.
​     Taking a break from the pace of her New York City life, she is reminded of her roots as she travels home to Chesapeake Shores. 
      Her fun loving sister, determined father and loving grandmother all play a part in her past, but it's when she comes face to face with her high school sweetheart, Trace, (swoon) she will begin to question her future.
​      The two hour movie pilot of Chesapeake Shores will premiere Sunday, August 14 at 9 pm ET/PT 8 C, and will introduce us into the upcoming fabulous series based on the novels of New York Times bestselling author, Sherryl Woods while starring Jesse Metcalfe, Meghan Ory, Treat Williams, and Diane Ladd. 
​     Nothing says summertime like a good romance.  Enjoy the Hallmark Channel's Original Movie Premiere, "Chesapeake Shores" this weekend and in the upcoming series to follow.  
​      Believe me, you'll be glad you did.  XO 

     'Tis the season.  Backpacks and sharpened number twos reappear, bringing butterflies and excitement along with them.
​     The adorable baby flower girl from our wedding is heading to college this year.  COLLEGE.  And several of our friends have kids beginning their first years of Jr. High and high school. 
     It's going too quickly.
​     In the midst of it all, I've heard stories of nervousness and apprehensions...but I'm here to tell you, it will be alright.
​     How do I know this?  Because even through my own personal nightmare, I lived to tell about it.
​     It was my freshman year of college.  The school was small, around 1,000 students total, so by Christmas break, everyone pretty much knew everyone else.  My brother was a senior, which helped in knowing his friends on campus through the years, too.
​     There happened to be a blood drive that semester and I'd never given blood before.  Even though I knew it was a good thing to do, as a kid, I was deathly afraid of needles.  I mean like, pass out level of fear. 
​     Now that I'm grown and have given birth which involves being stuck a thousand times, I could probably make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while getting a shot, but this was then.
​     I have my dad's blood, which is some rare type.  He's given blood his entire life, so much so that I swear bats follow him around at night.  He's always encouraged me to donate for the importance of helping others, so I decided that this would be the day.  
​     Walking in, the sight of people lying in chairs with their arms hooked up, was enough to make me want to turn back around.  Shutting my eyes, I shook my head to leave when a woman covered in the widest smile approached with a clipboard.  "Hi!  Come right this way."  She welcomed, as though we were walking into a restaurant. 
​     Running through a series of questions, she took my temperature, blood pressure and a series of checkpoints.  With each passing minute, my pulse pounded faster, making me hope it would in someway cause them to turn me away.
​      No such luck.
​     Taking me to a lawn chair, I stretched out, wishing I was on the beach.  Anywhere but here.  I wondered if it was too late to turn back, but missed the chance by the time another woman pushed up my sleeve.  Wrapping a noose around my arm, she popped a red rubber ball in my hand, telling me to squeeze. 
​      Pulling out a needle, it was the size of a straw.  I still think of it when I stab my kid's juice boxes to this day.  She came at me, literally with a juicy juice straw and began to shove it through my arm.
​      "This won't hurt a bit," she smiled through the lie as I squeezed the rubber ball to the point of explosion.
​      Quickly releasing the tourniquet from my arm, I looked down and realized it was done.  The blood was flowing, the needle was secure and she was already pulling her gloves off to go in search of her next victim. 
​     "Hmmm.  This isn't so bad." I stupidly thought to myself and for the first few minutes, it wasn't.  When the room started to lift, however...I questioned otherwise.
​     Coming back to me, the woman with the rubber gloves checked my bag o' blood, then checked on me.  "Oh." She worriedly said, giving me a once over.
     "Oh?" I questioned.
​     "No, no.  It's fine.  You just look a little, pale."
​     "Pale?  What does, pale mean?"  I shifted, feeling the room spin.
​     "No, it's fine, sweetie.  Let's just take this out and get you over to the other side."
​     "What's the other side?  Am I done?  What's the other side?  Is the bag full?"
     "No, it's not full, but we need to get you over there."
​     "If it's not full, will they still use it?"
​     "No, honey.  But it's okay."
​     I couldn't believe I was going through all of that for nothing.  "How much more until it's done?"
​      "Until the bag's full?"
      "Yes."
      "Not much.  You're almost there."
​      "Then do it.  I'm fine, just get it all."
​      With a worried look, she pulled back from my arm and sat beside me while I took deep breaths.
​      I pumped the ball trying to get the blood to rush faster as I watched her focus on the bag.  "You're just about there." She said as she readied herself for the needle. 
​      A few moments more...and it was done.  She quickly pulled the needle from my arm when blood splattered all over me. 
​      "Oh!  I'm sorry!"  She jumped as I looked down to see.  Trying to sit up was the wrong thing to do.  My stomach went to my throat and my head was light and dizzy.
​     For some reason, I caught a glimpse of one of the cutest guys in college walking by.  He was a senior and he'd never spoken to me, but he was staring at me like I was on display at the zoo, making my nerves pound even more. 
​    "Please don't pass out.  Please don't pass out."  The mantra ran through my head as a small group began to gather.  "Can somebody come over here?"  Rubber gloves lady called in the troops.
​    "She looks green.  Has she eaten?" Another rubber gloves questioned.
​    I hadn't.  I hadn't had anything to eat or drink all morning, but I was suddenly glad because as much as I felt like I was going to hurl, I prayed there was nothing in me substantial enough to do it with.
​    "Get her over there, now.  She needs something in her." Snapped the clipboard lady.
​    A table of donuts, cookies, brownies and juice awaited.  On any other day, I would have hopped from plate to plate, giddy with excitement.  Not this day.  It all looked horrible as my shaky legs found a seat while another woman fixed a plate.
​   "You need to eat.  Here, drink this, quickly."
​   Putting a cup of juice in my hand, I tried to take it.  One sip was all there was, until it all came crashing down.
​    Bending over, I begged for the puking to subside, but when the woman grabbed a trash bin and started yelling for help, I knew it was over. 
​    It was like an exorcism.  Vomit filled the room as she scrambled to get the bin under me, but it was too late.  I covered everything.  I puked like I'd never puked before. Crowds of people stumbled to move away, grabbing onto each other for safety. 
​    Mortified and smelly, I finally finished only to look up at the wide stares at my vomit, blood covered self.  With tears in my eyes, I simply got up to leave, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.
​    I'm quite sure the next ten people in line when I passed on my way out, quickly turned and fled, but I didn't care to explain.  I just wanted to go to my room.
​    Years passed and it became more of a funny story rather than a nightmare, until my senior year of college, when it came back to me.
​    I was a cheerleader and it was the Homecoming football game.  Remember that cute senior from freshman puke class 101?  Yep, he was back.  He had still never spoken a word to me, but there he was, handsome as ever, walking with some alum during the game. 
​    Stopping right in front of us, he made eye contact with me, causing my heart to stop. 
​    "It's you," he grinned, as I raised a pom pom waving in return. 
​    "You're the one..." he continued, causing my throat to dry, disallowing me to speak.  He'd never acknowledged me, not even once, but now...
​     Leaning to one of his buddies, he motioned to me, "When she was a freshman, she threw up more than anyone I've ever seen.  It was everywhere.  Puke and blood all over. Beyond awesome."  He smiled as though he'd just revisited one of his favorite college memories, while I...well, I lowered my pom pom and moved backwards, never to see him again.
​     The good news is, I went on to meet the actual guy of my dreams and so far, three of our four kids have literally puked, IN SCHOOL, right in front of their entire class.  That's not actually good news I guess, but at least I was able to hold our children tightly with a story to let them know everything would be alright.
​     SO, on this first day of school quickly approaching, whether it's kindergarten, college or grad school...know this.  Even if there's a bad day, a horribly awful, blood covered, puke in front of the whole school and a cute guy kind of terribly bad day, you're going to get through it.  I promise. 
​     And the best part about it, is every other day after that, won't seem so bad at all.  XO                    

     The strangest thing, recently I was required to be CPR certified for work.  I've taken the CPR course a number of times, but none of them lately and I sure as anything didn't want to take the time to do it again.  I'm too busy.
​     Nonetheless, I spent the hours listening, studying, practicing and implementing the procedures for heart attacks, drownings, choking and several other life threatening occurrences.  Some things were new, but most were tried and true, coming back to me from over the years. 
​     The greatest difference this time around however, was the time we spent on children.  The lessons and instruction had never poured into my bones so much as it had before, and the thought of pulling a child from a pool, my child, any child...was completely haunting. 
​     When the kids were really little, I would worry about choking.  It's been so long since then and we'd never had an incident, but I sighed during class regardless, relieved how those days were over.  
​     Little did I know, how very wrong I was.
​     Adam found the best lot of tomatoes.  Big, red, perfectly round juicy tomatoes.  "Nothing says summertime like these," my husband smiled as we grabbed a few for the weekend. 
     Yesterday morning while making bacon during breakfast, we decided to save some for good use in making BLT's.
​     Our younger two had never heard of bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches which sparked Adam and I to question whether we've failed them as parents. 
​     Later that day, we got to work.  Showing the kids how to put the sandwiches together, Adam worked on the bacon while I sliced the tomatoes over bread and leaves of lettuce.  Handing each sandwich off the assembly line, everyone was excited to try them out.
​     Within minutes, our 11 year old son, Ethan, sounded worried.  "Hey, hey!  Are you okay?  What's wrong, Pret?"  Adam and I turned quickly from the kitchen.
​     At the table, our youngest son, Preston looked panicked.  His eyes were wide and his face strained.  He never looked up, never reached for help, he just leaned forward, staring down at the table with his fingers at his throat. 
​     Running to him, I put my hand in front of his face, but felt nothing coming out.  Absolutely no air left his nose or mouth and he was quickly turning bright red.
​     Automatically, I went behind him, putting my hands on his sides to prepare to move forward in locating the position to pump.  The feel of his little ribs are something I'll never forget.  They were so small and strained, and I felt the panic as his heart pounded and reverberated through his chest.
​     "Preston, we're going to get it out."  I don't know if I said it for his sake, or mine.  His face was deep red at this point and the veins in his neck were bulging.  It's an incredible thing, the fight or flight theory.  You either panic and want to run and scream or dig in and fight like hell.
​    Before I gave the first blow with my fists, I instinctively reached back up.  Even though the latest CPR course says you should never finger sweep in fear of pushing the food down further, every "mom" instinct in me, told me to try at least once, to try and get it out. 
​    Putting my thumb and finger into his clenched jaw, I got him to open enough to pull my fingers together, feeling a piece of bacon in the back of his mouth.  Grabbing it firmly, I gently began pulling forward, praying it would hold together in one piece.  It surprised me at how long the motion took.  Bacon was tightly stuck deep down into his throat as his gagging motion began to aid in its removal. 
​    In one long, chewed up piece about three inches long, I threw it on the table as Preston gasped an enormous breath and began to cry.  It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. 
​    I lifted him from his chair, feeling those same tiny ribs now shaking with sobs while filling his lungs as I held him to me, tightly as I could. 
​     Adam took him next and his brothers and sister gathered round.  It was something we'd never thought possible and hope to never experience again.
​     Even in this busy life, where there's no time to sit through courses or retake CPR certification, you never know when it might become invaluable.  I see AEDs (Automated External Defibrillators) everywhere I go now, where before the class, I hadn't even noticed them. 
​     Nobody plans for an emergency.  There's no warning sign or big flashy lights.  It just happens, but when it does, it always helps to have the greatest tools on your side to work with. 
​     I'm so glad now I was forced to take the time to review and relearn the precious lifesaving lessons.  I never would've known, how valuable they'd become for saving a life most precious to me.