Patches Saves The Day

On Saturday night I got a call from my mom's burglar alarm company. They called to say her alarm was going off and they couldn't get in touch with her so they'd dispatched the police. I asked if I needed to do anything, and they said no. I tried to call my mom but couldn't get her. I immediately called my friend Heather, whose Husband, Marvin was the 2012 Sheriff Deputy of the Year.  I asked Marvin, 2012 Deputy of the Year,  if he had access to the PD scanner to see if anything was going on, but he didn't. Apparently the Sheriff's Department and PD have separate scanners. Marvin, 2012 Deputy of the Year, called me right back and said he'd called the dispatch and told them to step on it. Friends in high places.

The alarm company called back and said the police were requesting a key holder come out to the house. Uh oh. She couldn't give me anymore information. The Husband and I loaded The Boy in the car and headed the 30 minutes to her house. Every opening scene of CSI that I'd ever seen went through my head. What if there was an intruder? What if my mom wasn't okay? I tried to talk myself out of panicking. The alarm company called back and said the back door was "unsecured," which was why they were requesting us to come.

Marvin, 2012 Deputy of the Year, called back and asked if we'd heard anything. I told him the back door was unsecured and we were requested to come. He said that might mean someone had gotten in, and that's why they needed us. Gasp. It was raining, and I was flying down the road to my childhood home, unsure what I would find when I got there. This road brought me home for holidays during college, and took me to the mall when I was in high school. The wipers sang out shish swish, shish swish. The Husband was in the seat beside me, asking if I wanted him to drive. I didn't. The Boy was in the back seat saying "Ha ha ha! Happy How-ween!" over and over again.  We're a little mixed up on the holidays. I told him we were going to check on his Pammie, which he pronounces "Mammie."  He sat in his seat, smiled, and said "Mammie. Mammie. Mammie. Ha ha ha. Happy How-ween."

It occurred to me that my mom might be at her sunday school Christmas party. That was a good sign, because if there was an intruder she wouldn't be hurt. I had The Husband call Heather because her mom is in the same class. "Ha ha ha. Happy how-ween." The cell connection was spotty, but she called back to say she couldn't get in touch with her mom either. I had The Husband check facebook to see if anyone had posted about going to that party. "Ha ha ha. Happy how-ween. Mammie? Mammie?" Yes, we're going to see Pammie.

I flew down my mom's road like I had so many times as a teenager, only this time the urgency was about a possible danger and not a curfew. "Happy how-ween." I saw the police car in the cul-de-sac and pulled up beside it. It was empty so I parked and headed up the driveway. I heard a voice say "you could've parked up here so you didn't have to get the baby out in the rain." Always suspicious, I said "how did you know I have a baby?!" He replied "because I just heard you say 'get the baby' when you got out of the car." Oh. Good one. My mom's car wasn't home. I could hear her dog, Patches, barking inside.

Patches is useless. He is afraid of everything. He's afraid to go outside to pee. He's afraid of bugs. He's afraid of cellphones vibrating.  He doesn't like people. He doesn't get along with other dogs. He can tolerate about 3 minutes of being petted and then he'll jet upstairs to have some alone time. If you leave him outside he'll jump the fence and run away. He gets nervous and chews on his skin, creating hot spots. Between his Prozac and Benedryl he gets 8 pills a day. He spends his days standing in my mom's shower stall. Not kidding.

The officer explained that when he arrived the back door was locked, but ajar. When he went to open it to investigate, Patches jumped up against the door and slammed it shut! The officer couldn't get back in, which is why he called us. He didn't feel like anyone was in the house but wanted to make sure. Not knowing the officer was a good guy, Patches saved the house from a potential burglar! We unlocked the door and looked around the house and didn't see any signs of any intruders. Whew! All was safe and sound. The Boy was excited to be at his Pammie's house, and he pointed to her Christmas tree and said "Mick Mick?", meaning he wanted to see the Mick Mick ornament.  Mick Mick was one of my mom's favorite first grade students in the 70s and she still has an ornament with his picture on it that she gets out every year. 

The Boy was excited about all the action. He ran in circles around Pammie's house. He looked at the officer and said "Mammie?" Obviously the officer didn't know how to respond to my child calling out a slave's name. I said "Yes, we're at Pammie's house." I emphasized the P in Pammie so that he wouldn't think we got our kid to call his grandmother Mammie. Then The Boy said to the officer "Mick Mick?" I'm not sure why the officer wouldn't know the nickname (mickname?) of my mom's first grade student from 40 years ago, or know that an ornament with his picture hangs on her tree, or understand that The Boy wanted him to take him to it. He said "Yeah" in that dismissive way we talk to kids when we don't know what they're saying, and then showed us pictures of his little boy.  We determined that the house was safe, that Patches is a good guard dog, and that we could all go home. We petted Patches and told him good job protecting the place, and we headed out. I'm sure he headed to his shower stall. 

We put pajamas on The Boy and loaded him in the car. We sighed huffs of relief and turned the car toward home, knowing he would fall asleep in a matter of minutes. On the ride home The Boy was apparently too excited to sleep. He recapped our adventure. "Mammie!" Yes we went to Pammie's house. "'Atches?" Yes, Patches saved the day. Next was "Mick Mick!" Yes, we saw Mick Mick. From time to time he'd throw in a "mama" or a "dada" for good measure. He'd been quiet for some time and we thought he'd finally gone to sleep.  Just as we were convinced he was out we heard "Ha ha ha. Happy how-ween!" Happy How-ween indeed. 

The Plague

The Boy has been coughing and snotting for a week, and it got worse over the weekend. Yesterday when he woke up his eyes were so gunky his brilliant eyelashes were stuck out in a beautiful surprise like my drag queen friend Portia (who has better legs than me, by the way). He mostly wanted to sit still and watch tv in the morning, which is a good indicator that something was up, so I took him to see our ped.

My view most of the day

The ped surmised that since he's gotten worse instead of better we should try a dose of antibiotics. She said it looked as though the infection was moving up into his sinuses and coming out of his eyes. Gross.  So I went to CVS to drop off his prescription. I was talking to the lady in the drive thru and she was verifying his birthday and whatnot, and she said it would be an hour to get it filled. As we were pulling away The Boy piqued up in the backseat and said "Bock bock?". That is what he says for chicken. I didn't see a chicken anywhere, and it occurred to me that my child thought we were at a fast food drive thru window. He thought we were ordering chicken nuggets at CVS. I would've said we try to buy a lot of organic, locally grown healthy food. But apparently also a lot of drive thru chicken nuggets.

We came home to have a sick day, and mostly laid around watching "Elbow" all day. The Boy made such a mess at dinner he had to go straight to the bath. I was cleaning up dinner while The Husband did bath time and I overheard "Ahh! Where did it go? Did you pinch it back in like a good boy or is it floating around somewhere?" Then, "Okay, bathtime's over."

Later he was hanging out in the living room/office area when I heard a huge crash. Like something or someone definitely got hurt crash. I didn't see The Boy anywhere but followed the sounds of his screaming. A bag filled with dishes for my mother in law had been on the buffet and somehow it had fallen off. Onto The Boy's head. He was tucked between the buffet and the wall, with a bag of heavy dishes on his head. He couldn't even lift them off, so he just sat there and screamed. He only weighs 21 pounds himself, and I bet the dishes weighed eight. Six dessert plates and a corningware dish fell on top of him. And then sat there. Can you imagine? That would be like a small house falling off a regular house onto your head. Obviously he was fine after the initial shock wore off, and we were lucky that nothing pierced through the bag and gouged him.

This morning The Husband woke up with itchy hives all over his body. He was miserable, and he couldn't stop scratching. While I was drying my hair apparently The Boy poured out the contents of a bottle of baby oil all over the hardwood floor and then proceeded to skate in it. The Husband was trying to clean it up while keeping The Boy out of the mess. When I came out with freshly blow dried hair The Husband was angry that I'd left the baby oil out within baby's reach. When I told him I didn't appreciate his tone, he responded "I'm sorry! I'm just so itchy!!"

When he left The Boy acted like he was itchy too but I largely ignored that in hopes that it would go away (it did). Instead I took him to a puppet show. I thought he deserved that after a wild 24 hours of being sick literally up to his eyeballs, a trip to the doctor, a drive thru with no chicken, plates falling on his head, an itchy dad and parents arguing this morning. He was more impressed with the inflatable Santa in the lobby than the whole puppet show, so we should've just gone to Home Depot. Or to CVS for some bock bock.

Puppet meet and greet after the show, the only part he enjoyed

Picture (Im)perfect Christmas

When I get an idea in my head I want it to happen immediately. So when I decided I wanted to get some cute Christmas card pictures of The Boy I had to execute it that minute, without waiting for the right light or the right mood. A few weekends ago I put The Boy in 2 different holiday outfits (which The Husband hates, BTW) and took him out in the back yard to try to get some good shots for this year's Christmas card. I just let him play and tried to catch him in action doing something completely toddler and cute. It didn't go over too well. Here's what I ended up with:

Giant baby with regular sized wagon:

which looked kind of like....

The scarecrow:

Little baby calisthenics:

Baby cockatoo: 

I actually really liked that one but the grill was in the background and I felt like it looked a little......

I don't know why but something about this shot reminded me of Biff from Back to the Future. Maybe it's his hair:

Think, McFly, Think!

Boy eating a stick:

Jail break Christmas:

And a bunch more that I deleted before I thought to share them with you. Although I'm sure it's a fire hazard, I ended up using these three of him playing in the lights. Shutterfly was kind enough to let me share our finished product with you:

Patterned Pretty Holiday Card

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