Put it in the Dryer

    It has been fairly cold here in the northeast for several weeks, and Caelan has bouts of being cold throughout the day. Obviously staying bundled up does not exactly work out for her elevated activity levels. And since she has a certain proclivity for streaking, she frequently complains of 'ffffffffreezing.' I don't think she is a child of the winter, despite her December birthday.
    Always one to find her own way, she has come up with a way to stay warm without sitting still under a blanket and still streak. Ah, my innovative three year old. There were several times today I noticed that she would be missing some clothes. I figured out her plan when I took a load of sheets out of the dryer and the pants she had been wearing were lying on top. She has taken to removing her clothing until she gets cold. Then she puts her clothes in the dryer and turns it on, thus heating her clothes for a warm-up later. Smart cookie, that one.

The Good, Scary Dream

At 2:41 am, Evelynn came into our room. "I had a dream." I asked her if it was a bad dream. "No, it was a good dream, but it was really scary." And this is the narrative of her dream:

I had a dream about a mouse. The farther away I was the louder it would hiss at me. Really loud. I couldn't get away from it. It was the mouse that was in our kitchen. I wanted to sneak up and catch him and throw him outside like you did. Are you scared of the mouse, Mom? I was. He wouldn't be quiet. See my socks? I woke up and put these on so I could catch the mouse. The socks make my feet not sticky on the floor, so they don't make noise. I got back on the bed, but I couldn't catch him. I looked around my room and he's not there either. It was a scary dream because of the mouse. It was good because when I waked up I couldn't find him. I want to go back to sleep to dream about something else. I want to dream about getting hot chocolate with Daddy. It was so good. I loved it. That would be a really good dream, right?

When she woke up this morning she told me she had her dream about drinking hot chocolate. My mouse episode, however, has made quite the impression to give her bad dreams. But what child has a bad dream and then gets up to look for the monster in her bedroom before coming to Mom and Daddy?

Bees Buzzing

    After a rough couple of days for little Caelan, she's now on an antibiotic and finally lost in a deep sleep. Sickness of this kind is a rarity for us, and when her temperature spiked to 102.6 on Thursday and then randomly kept returning over the next 24 hours, I was a little more than concerned. I frequently asked her if anything hurt, but she always said nothing hurt. By turns she was pale, light gray circles beneath her eyes and then bright pink cheeks and eyes that looked feverish, the whites of her eyes tinged pink as well.
    By 3:45 yesterday afternoon, however, it all changed quite rapidly. Her temperature was back up and then she told me her 'neck' hurt and her 'eyes' hurt. She was laying very still, but was crying, too, so I knew it was pretty bad. By 7:30 she was at the clinic. Diagnosis: Sinus congestion, bulging ear drums, sore throat, swollen glands and although they didn't swab for strep, she is being treated for it.
    I kept replaying the 24 hours that led up to 3:45 yesterday, trying to find where I had gone wrong in thinking she only had a fever. Then I remembered her telling me once on Thursday that her ear hurt, but after I kissed it, she never mentioned it again. I figured that having slept on the side the ear hurt for at least two hours (a very sound sleep where she never once moved), that was more than likely the reason it hurt. She had no runny nose, no cough, no complaints of throat pain, so I was not thinking there could be a sinus problem or drainage. She also never lost her appetite and had no problems keeping up with her liquids.
    I also remembered one other incident that should have clued me in, but it was said without her complaining of pain and then she had even laughed thinking it was funny. She told me that she had bugs in her ears. She laughed and then leaned forward, putting her ear next to mine. "Can you hear the buzzing, Mama?" she asked. "I have bees in my ears!" And then she laughed, turning to Evelynn so that Evelynn could 'hear' the bees. We all thought it was funny, but now I'm wondering if it was the pressure on her ear drum. Maybe it was ringing or if noises were causing a hyperawareness of vibrations in her ear? But lessons learned: it appears she might have a fairly high tolerance of pain and even when she's sick thinks it's humorous to have bees buzzing in her ears.

A day in the life...

Evelynn: I don't like oranges. They make my chin twist.
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Caelan: All right, get in the clothes basket, Evelynn. Abakadabra! Come out! You're a cow!
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McKenna: Yaaaay! (said about just anything; food, her cup, baby dolls, music, etc.) And then she says 'Thank you."
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Evelynn: I didn't do it.
Caelan: I didn't do it.
(Evelynn really did it).
Caelan: Yay! I didn't do it.
Evelynn: Chaucer did it?
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Caelan: I'm ready to go.
Me: But you're naked.
Caelan, indignant: No, I'm not. I have my boots on.
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Evelynn: She almost ran over me with her bike.
Me: Almost or did? There's a difference.
Evelynn: She did almost do it. Right there. See my booboo?
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Evelynn: But why is Christmas over?
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Caelan: But I like Christmas.
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Evelynn: This is not PBS Kids.
Me: Nope, it's called the news.
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Evelynn: I'm hungry.
Me: You should have eaten your dinner.
Evelynn: But it hurt my tongue.
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Caelan: My bike won't go.
Me: You're not pedaling.
Caelan: Can you do it for me?
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Vomit and Mice

    Catchy title, right? I hate coming up with titles, but this post is obviously (well, I don't know) not about my misuse of titles. I have determined that there are two things the will completely rock my world, causing an elevated heart rate, a general feeling of overall weakness, shakiness, shrill tones proceeding from my vocal chords, and what I hate the most, the complete loss of any control. Vomit and Mice. Having experienced the former less than two weeks ago and the latter only moments ago (which I'm still inwardly writhing over and find the keys on this keyboard typing all sorts of nonsense and find myself frequently using the 'backspace').
    I enjoy my life, even the ups, downs and all manner of topsy-turvy and rarely experience the above physical ramifications. These two are it. It's like a nervous breakdown when those two things happen. I crack. So, vomit. Makes anyone crack. Ha. Sorry. I'm a sympathetic barfer. Hear, smell or see it done and I'm a goner. It reminds me of that Jerry Lewis movie, The Disorderly Orderly, who experiences the patients illness/ symptoms. Anywho. So once I have a houseful of vomiting babies, I may have the same sickness or not, but I will be throwing kids away from the toilet to relieve my sympathetic symptoms. That means I'm at least 3 times more sick than anyone else and it will take 3 days more for me to recover.
    Mice (which spiders could be a close second, but I can appreciate their freakishness without losing my cool. Well, as long as they are not on me or about to be.) are Enemy #1. Every little thing about them creeps me out. Like the heebie jeebies kind of creep out. The physical aversion I undergo with these little terrors would make you think something truly horrid was taking place. The time is generally in winter when it's cold outside, the place is generally my kitchen (for more than one reason), and I'm ALWAYS caught unaware and in nanoseconds have reached the pinnacle of all breakdowns. I will scale furniture, scream, dance (not in a good way) and feel nauseous (which with point #1 about vomiting, this does not bode well).
    In today's breakdown, I was on the phone with a wonderful friend of mine. I was using the handsfree device for my phone and was cleaning up stuff. In the kitchen, I bent over to pick up a card that had fallen off the island and no sooner had my hand touched the floor, a frantic rattling sound came from two feet from my hand and only a little further from my face. You will never see me move that fast. I'm a blur of movement as I scream and climb up the island. It's then I realize that I'm still on the phone. Nice. Good friend, though, for not hanging up and calling 911 before hearing what had happened. I apologise and hang up after a stilted explanation. Okay, so now what. I'm a whole lot better if they are dead. I prefer they be that way. It might sound harsh, but good riddance. They have jokes about rabbit families, but they have no idea about the producing capabilities of mice. This one, however, was not dead. He was hanging by a leg and trying to escape. Jumping and trying to scurry back under the kitchen sink. It was at this point that my middle child walked into the kitchen and said "Mom? What are you doing up there?" Yeah, I was still on the cabinet, watching the dastardly villain. "Um, well, just go out, okay?" She stared at me, clearly thinking that Mom has finally gone insane. The mouse hasn't moved in about 30 seconds, so I determine it's safe enough to get down. I grab the kid and run out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind me.
    Now, what? It's another five hours before my husband gets home from work. I have no access to the sink. I'm freaked out by being in the same room with the beast. Call the husband and he laughs. Nice. So, now what. I told the kids not to go into the kitchen. Then, of course, the "why not?" occurred and we had show and tell. Caelan ready to cuddle the thing, yet again bouncing in it's trap, and Evelynn experiencing the same disgust I have. We leave the kitchen. But over the next 15 or so minutes, I start hearing it desperately trying to get out of the trap. #1: It's bad there's a mouse in the trap. #2: It's even worse that it's trying to get off the trap. #3: It would be absolutely horrid for the thing to come loose and scurry away to die somewhere in my house from it's wounds. (It's leg more than obviously broken).
    I have to do something. Be creative. How to get the monstrosity out of my kitchen and outside without getting near it. Huh. I pulled out a brown paper bag and unfolded it, laying it on the floor a few feet away. I got the broom and then climbed back onto the counter. Using the broom, I positioned the bag near the mouse, flinching and shuddering every single time he moved to get away from the bag. I start trying to herd him into the bag from my position on the counter, both of us squealing in turn. He knows it's about over so he makes a mad dash for the oven. OH NO, SIR. I move to the other end of the counter and use the broom to reposition the bag. I swish the mouse in and flip the bag up. UGH. Another shiver of repulsion. Now to get the mouse out of the house. I don't care that it's 22 degrees outside and that he will freeze. I quickly jump off the counter and take the bag outside. I turn around and realize that every single action of the last ten minutes has been observed and my children are in awe of my spectacle. Nice. I still have random shudders and words of disgust periodically escape my mouth as I visualize that monster. You know, I will never be able to stand on the small rug in front of my sink until it has been washed. I don't care if I'm wearing combat boots. He was SITTING there. IN THAT AREA. Which brings to mind the horrifying, eccentric creature known as the scorpion. I would never step on the same place I had found a scorpion in Texas. Thank you, Lord, you saw fit to move me away from common scorpion habitats. Now I just have vomit and mice to contend with.

Love Which Is Beyond Christmas

This is just a quick thought, something I've been mulling over in my mind. I just finished my Christmas cards for this year and felt twinges of pain as I have left off names of friends and family that are no longer earth-bound or for couples that are no longer together. I've had some friends and family that have lost loved ones in recent weeks or have separated/divorced, and I have found myself more grieved than if the loss of life or the end of relationships were in May or June. I understand that Christmas truly is a special time of year, but why is it that many feel their loss in a greater sense because the loss happened in close proximity to the holiday of Christmas? Why can't we feel our friends' and families' grief as acutely six months from now when there is no holiday of such familial importance? I'm not saying that these losses are any less now than they are any other time of year, it just seems that we (commonly speaking) are touched in a greater way because of the holidays. We hear of someone's passing or of broken families and we instantly remark "And so close to Christmas, too." And then we want more than anything to be with those who are left with the grief and to somehow make the holidays somewhat brighter. We are kinder, more ready to reach out to those who are mourning in a season of joy. But why only during the holidays can we be like this? Why can't we be touched by a loss and respond to the families like we would if it were near Christmas? It is an incredibly sad thing to experience loss any other time and the support or emotional feelings (Christmas Spirit induced sympathy) should not be limited to the holiday season.

"I have always thought of Christmas time as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely."

~Charles Dickens

"Somehow, not only for Christmas

But all the long year through,

The joy that you give to others

Is the joy that comes back to you.

And the more you spend in blessing

The poor and lonely and sad,

The more of your heart's possessing

Returns to you glad."

John Greenleaf Whittier

Caelan Naomi Brannon

    Three years ago, on December 5th, I checked into the hospital, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my second little bundle. Caelan's pregnancy and birth was so different from Evelynn, I should have known that her character and temperament would be completely different from Evelynn's as well. We decided to induce as early as allowed so that Caelan could be born without the birth injury that Evelynn had when she was born. Truth be told, however, Caelan did not want to be born. It was going to be done on her terms (like many other aspects of her daily life). So, we were sent home to wait yet another week.
    The week rolled by, my Mom had been in town for two weeks waiting for Miss Caelan to arrive. My sister was also due at the same time, but in Arizona and not near Pennsylvania. The evening before my mother left for Arizona, I went back to the hospital for a second try at induction. We were admitted and allowed to stay. We settled into our room, listening to Caelan's heartbeat and general hum of hospital life. I brought a couple of books and read both of them before the break of dawn. All the while listening to the woman next door (we unfortunately shared a linen closet/hall with her room) who I promise believed herself to be in the throes of death. After a few hours of this, I finally asked my nurse if the woman was, in fact dying. That was negative. She was at the beginning of her birthing process as well. Oh, my. Later on I would ask my nurse to please walk next door and slap the lady-- or at least give her an epidural. Unfortunately, again, she'd had one since almost the moment she had arrived. The nurses kindly made sure that both doors separating us were closed.
    For all the horror stories of being induced and the use of pitocin, I was really not bothered for about 10 hours. Nope, I was blissfully engrossed in my books, rarely interrupted (except for the random agony next door). Everything progressed easily and I was told that by 9am (December 11th), we'd be holding this little baby. While this was taking place, a dear friend was driving my mother to Philadelphia to catch a plane to Phoenix. And then this little baby decided she REALLY was not ready to leave the warmth of her mother's womb, or better still, that she was slightly larger than what I could physically handle. By noon, I was beyond exhaustion, Keith was not doing as well either. I had already been wheeled into the OR around 10am. Nothing. No baby. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY did not ever want to go the C-Section route. I have a serious phobia of needles. I'm not kidding. (I had an anxiety attack, couldn't breath, and blacked out when I got my IV in place for McKenna's birth). And there was no way, a needle was going to be stuck in my spine. But like I said, by noon, I was done. Well past any physical endurance/pain I'd ever experienced in my life.
    The doctor came in around 1:30 and suggested a C-Section if nothing commenced in the next hour. I told him 30 minutes if not sooner. I had not had these difficulties with Evelynn, so the growing concern was injury to Caelan. C-Section? Bring it on. I fell asleep while they administered the spinal block and then at 2:40, Caelan Naomi Brannon was among us and not happy with the situation. I would never encourage someone to have a C-Section unless it was absolutely necessary, but I should have gone with the suggestion earlier in the day. In less than 45 minutes, the procedure was done and I was in recovery. Pretty crazy, if you think about it. Every layer of skin and muscle and the womb are opened, a baby is removed and then everything sewn back up. Keith was impressed. Actually more than impressed, he thought it was cool, in a 'science experiment' kind of way. Ummmm, yeah, I cut him off when he began the play-by-play of the procedure. And just an FYI, you will never know just how 'connected' your body is until you've had abdominal surgery. Sneezing, coughing, blowing your nose, brushing your teeth, sitting up straight, rolling over in bed, etc. is all connected at your core. I'm just saying.
    Her birth was just as special (if not how it had been planned) as the baby herself. Our little Caelan, tiny 12/11/07 herself. She is beautiful and quite the force of nature. Personality oozes from every pore in her tiny body. Our petite child who takes life as she wants it. Imaginitive, fearless, and such a joy to be around, not only to see what she will do next but for the sweet way she wraps her arms around your neck and snuggles close.

P.S. My niece was born 17 hours after Caelan was born. My mother barely making it in time and begging us (the two sisters) to never, ever have children that close together again.