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.

The Song About Alice

I enjoy imparting songs from decades past to my children, but today my children have stared at me as I have sung this song. Oh, yes, I will be the complete embarrassment of them when they are teens if I'm already getting the "She's crazy" looks from a four year old and a three year old. And would you believe me, after reading the lyrics that the melody and harmony are quite lovely?

This is the story of Alice
Told without any malice
Alice is loved by Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Alice is very beautiful
Is beautiful, is beautiful, is beautiful
Except for one little thing

Her nose, it glows
It's red and it's graphic
It lights up in traffic
But Alice is loved by Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Alice is very beautiful
Is beautiful, is beautiful, is beautiful
Except for one little thing

Her hair despair
You've heard of a crewcut
She's got nothing to cut
But Alice is loved by Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Alice is very beautiful
Is beautiful, is beautiful, is beautiful
Except for one little thing

Her tooth for sooth
Now what could be droller
A smile with one molar
But Alice is loved by Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Alice is very beautiful
Is beautiful, is beautiful, is beautiful
Except for one little thing
Trala trala trala trala trala trala

You've heard of the story Alice
Told without any malice
Alice is fond of Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Algy is quite a handsome lad
A handsome lad, a handsome lad
Except for one little thing

His skin, chagrin
It's veined and spotted and speckled and dotted
But Alice is fond of Algernon
And there's no wondering
For Algy is quite a handsome lad
A handsome lad, a handsome lad
Except for one little thing

His voice, rejoice
It's cackled and chronic and stereophonic
His beard, it's weird
It's terribly horrid and grows from his forehead

His eyes, surprise!

One final word about Alice
Told without any malice
Alice broke off with Algernon
And there's no wondering
Now Algy is just a memory
A memory, a memory, a memory
Except for one litle thing.
Tra la la la lal la la, tra la la la la la la
Tra la la, tra la la
Tra la la la la la (last line sung as a lullaby)

Christmas 2010

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All is Calm, All is Bright

    Another long day of work for my husband, a typical 14.5 hour day. Another day that ends with his drive home and a long phone call to me. Another day where he seems undervalued and our future teeters on the promise of security. But the skeptic in me says what security? I must have been young and blissfully ignorant of the need for a definite security only a few years ago. As newlyweds we hopped around from one address to another, content and excited about the unknown. We finally settled down in 2005 and I was thrilled when we had reached, then surpassed the three year mark in our home. We had been settled for longer than we had roamed.
    I still have moments where I want another adventure, but for the sake of 'newness' and not for a lack of contentment or joy in my current circumstances. I will go anywhere my husband needs to be, but after five years, the roots are much deeper than previously. It's easy to pick up and go after thirteen months or six weeks. After five years, my eyes and heart burn at the thought of any potential move. And to clarify, there is not the potential of anything right now. We are staying put for as long as we can. I do know that for my husband to feel fulfilled in his job and the longs hours he works to be worth it, a move might be necessary.
    So after tonight's conversations, I hit a low. I've been in the dumps for two weeks now. Bah Humbug strangely becoming my mantra and negativity reigning in my mind. I am the positive thinker in our relationship. I should not be the one as affected, but I am. My heart's between a rock and a hard place. I don't want to consider possibilities. I don't want my husband coming home after a negative day at work. He absolutely loves what he does, which is why he stays. It's certain people that make it difficult. Isn't that per the usual? We sacrifice much as a family and he gives an incredible chunk of time to do what he loves. So why can't the right people recognize that? WHY?
    It's eleven o'clock at night. My emotions are unhinged, righteous indignation towards those who would make things difficult for him, stress over any potential changes in our future, and tears over what those changes could bring. I know that I would embrace any change that could come, that's my nature. But the negative thoughts can't be quelled. Then stupid Jango.com's Christmas station breaks into my cynical thoughts. Josh Groban's version of Silent Night. I hear "... All is calm, all is bright..." and my immediate reaction is 'Yeah, right. There is nothing calm and bright about this.' Then I remember that this song is not about me and my earthly situations. All is calm and all is bright because of Jesus.
    All my worries, no matter how necessary they seem to be or a future that seems to be wavering, have not been put in proper perspective. They have not been placed before the One who can hold my burdens and can smooth the negative ripples in my soul or the hurt that has heavily placed itself upon me. That's why he was born. I can 'sleep in heavenly peace' now.

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

Holy Infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!

Shepherds quake at the sight

Glories stream from heaven afar

Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!

Christ, the Saviour is born

Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night

Son of God, love's pure light

Radiant beams from Thy holy face

With the dawn of redeeming grace

Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth "

Christmas Croak

Oh, rest you, merry gentlemen!

Let nothing you dismay;

But be prepared to meet the woes

That come with Christmas Day

Look out! Look out! You winter clothes,

To face the season's ills;

And muster cash and fortitude

To meet your Christmas bills.

And 'tis tidings of comfort and joy.

 ~Robert B. Brough, 1852

    Boxes, bows, tinsel, ornaments, unplaced Christmas cheer litter every available surface and spill onto the floor. A puddle of child-caused gooiness begs for a mop's attention. Of eleven strings of lights, only four work. Gifts sit idly waiting for the moment they are bedecked in jolly green, gold and red paper. Packages need shipping, cards sit in piles waiting for stamps and addresses. Christmas photos have yet to be taken. The girls have made their own mountain out of the laundry for skiing. The culprit from all the disorganization is the disgusting sickness that our household has endured in this first week of December. The Spirit of Christmas is lost in this mess and only Perry Como can induce any kind of joy for what is generally my favorite season, but even that is short-lived.
    Christmas music has been known to play in my home as early as October (okay, maybe even September). The tree has always been up by the end of Thanksgiving weekend. Lights should be glistening in the dark around our front door by now. The autumn wreath is still hanging on the front door. The Christmas wreath uncertain why it still remains in the attic. The Christmas village is still boxed. Of the two gifts I had figured to be a surprise for Keith, he has figured out. One was my fault for leaving the stupid window open on the computer. The other is his fault. For those of you reading this, it is to your benefit not to try to buy something you want for yourself mere weeks before Christmas. Your spouse may try to hint that you are already getting it and if you don't take the hint, they might not be so happy to tell you that they have gotten it. Said husband also left a door open that has been ardently monitored for a week, and Caelan found her 'big' gift.  So not many surprises (which are my favorite part) this year. Well, at least Evelynn should have a surprise or two.
    Desperately wishing I could get into the spirit of things, I watch Evelynn wanting to enjoy every second she can of all things Christmas. "I want to help decorate, can you make snowman cookies, jingle bell-jingle bell-jingle bell rock, I am Santa's Helper- see my hat? Where are the presents that are supposed to go under the tree? There are no toys in the stocking either. I looked. Oh, it sparkles and it's beautiful. Can we watch Rudolf? Can we watch Grinch? Can we listen to Polar Express? Can we listen to Christmas music?  Hearing her sing: I'm wishing on a star and trying to believe, That even though it's far, He'll find me Christmas Eve--- The best time of the year, when everyone comes home, With all this Christmas cheer, it's hard to be alone, Putting up the Christmas tree with friends who come around, It's so much fun when Christmas comes to town." Merry Christmas, Mom. Merry Christmas, Caelan. Merry Christmas, McKenna. Merry Christmas, Dad.
I figure I have four things going for me at this point:  1) The tree is up and decorated 2) I have most of the shopping done. 3) I'm not headed to Dixie's sunny shore this year. 4) Evelynn has enough Christmas Spirit for the whole family.