Zeus and a Lawn Chair

Another mix of humor and horror today.

I stood on my front lawn watching our greyhound Zeus doing 40mph down the street hauling our aluminium pink, green, and purple striped lawn chair behind him. And for a second, I just had to admire the comic beauty of the scene. A greyhound at full speed is something to see. Like watching destiny fulfilled, purpose accomplished, raison d'être in motion. The moment was tainted though, because I felt pretty certain I was never going to see him again.

Our greyhound, adopted from the track at 2 years old, was probably yanked from competition the first race he ran. He just isn't that into chasing things, especially not a fake bunny attached to a rail. But set a relentless, near weightless, swinging, scraping, lawn chair after him and boy, he could have been a winner!

When I had finally wrangled all three kids in the car Zeus was long gone. Eve was hollering because when I scooped her up I had already entered panic mode and the toy she was holding slammed into her face. She got no sympathy from me, though, I was imagining Zeus a mangled mess on the road. Eli was loudly pestering me to open his mini-bag of Doritos before I got him buckled. "Eli," I said, "this is kind of an emergency!" But that just got him going on about calling the firemen and bringing the fire trucks. I shushed him as only a stressed-out Mom can but of course I had to go into a detailed explanation of the kinds of things we can and can not call the firemen for, before he was satisfied. I suppose this may have been an important distraction from my excellent imagination coming up with an assortment of horrific ending to this escapade. Isaac, meanwhile, was a perfect angel. I think he must have been quite entertained, himself.

Well, I don't know if the Jehovah Witnesses can save souls but I do owe them the life of my dog. A car full of missionaries out spreading the Word warned me which way he went and then ended up tracking him down and bringing him in. It turns out, he ran out of gas in somebody's yard only a couple of streets away. He's got the endurance of a lap dog after all.

Needless to say I won't be tying Zeus up to a lawn chair ever again. Or maybe I'll just make it a heavier one...

Notice Zeus, sneaky dog that he is, always manages to get some body part onto the baby's blanket, even if it is just a nose and a toe. It's just so comfy!

Febrile seizure

I don't care how harmless a febrile seizure is, it has to be one of the scariest things for a parent to witness. It's indescribable the terror of seeing your little one phase out of reach mentally, twitch and groan and roll his eyes.

Our two-year-old, Isaac, had a fever-induced, or febrile seizure late Friday night. We prayed aloud desperately, called 911, and did everything we could to bring him back. Dillon had him in the bathtub but I had to leave the room to stand on the lawn waiting for emergency response people, I just couldn't stand seeing Isaac like that and so helpless to do anything. Things played out in slow motion. The firemen came and checked him out, gave us a few tips, and told us not to worry. They were right. After a near sleepless night of us watching over him, he awoke the next morning perfectly normal. He never did have any other symptoms.

For you parent out there, here are a few tips that the firemen gave me for when your child has a high fever and goes into convulsions (2-4% of children):

Motrin works more quickly than Tylenol so use that first and then alternate between Motrin and Tylenol every two hours.

If you start with Tylenol you can double the first dose.

Instead of immersing the kid in water, us a spray bottle and spray them down. It is the evaporation that cools them and immersion in a bathtub prevents that.

After they cool down and are wet, prevent them from shivering because that will cause their body heat to shoot back up again. Get a dry towel and hold them close to your body.

I am not a medical professional, so use these at your own risk and discretion. everybody has to use disclaimers to cover their patooties these days!

I felt like laughing... but mostly I felt like crying.

I prayed for some quiet. Isaac was sleeping, Eve had barely stopped fussing in her crib, I knew I had an hour tops before one or both of them woke up. I set Eli up with some games on pbskids.org, locked the front door and went to lay down in my room. I could hear Eli's chair squeaking on the laminate floor as he shifted in his seat so I turned the fan on and put my head under my pillow. The clock was ticking and I needed a nap.

It was only 35 minutes later that I was rattled awake by Eli banging around in his bedroom, where Isaac should have been sleeping. I drug myself out of bed and trudged into his room to preparing a nice little lecture about waking mommy up. Isaac looked a little bleary eyed himself and picked him up out of bed for a snuggle. But where had Eli gotten off to? He had suddenly disappeared. Out in the living room I immediately noticed the front door wide open. My heart started beating a little faster and I stepped onto the stoop and looked toward the street.

Now here is the moment when my world reworked itself in a matter of minutes. How often can we pinpoint the moments when growing up occurs? How often can we say, in the moment, that what is happening is the beginning of a new era? Most of the time we just stumble along scratching our heads bemoaning how quickly our kids are growing. But this time I saw it happening.

Eli was out in the road, coming around behind an ice cream truck, giving the ice cream man a casual wave with his free hand, his other clutching two firecracker pop sickles. The road is far enough away from my front door that I could barely hear the 300 pound ice cream man in his little three wheeled cart say, "See you later," over his shoulder as he pulled away. I think I literally went into shock. I stood and watched Eli come toward me. I don't remember what I said to him. I know I didn't yell or even get angry. I do remember what Eli said to me. I had sat down on the front step and put my forehead in my hands. It was quiet for minute. "I'm sorry." he said. At least he knew he had done something wrong. Then Eli pointed out that he didn't get hit by a car, that the ice cream man wasn't' a stranger, he was just the ice cream man, and that if someone did take him away, they would bring him back later. "I will always come back, Mama," he said. I could hardly stand it.

Eli told me later that he ran outside when he heard the music from the truck and had told the ice cream man to, "Wait just a minute." He ran back inside and into his room where his little bother was sleeping. He took the plug out of the bottom the the ceramic car bank he and Isaac share and shook, jostled and pounded all the money out onto the floor. That is when I woke up. (And Isaac too) By the time I trudged to the front door, It was all over. I still don't know how much he gave that man. I am pretty sure he was either swindled by an cynical, jaded, fat man with crushed dreams, or granted a screaming deal by a sweet soul who loves children and couldn't say no to the poor little shoeless kid who's parents are nowhere in sight.... "How much money did you give him," I asked. "four", he said The ice cream man gave him a nickle back.

I sat outside with my two boys sharing the pop sickles that had brought such a poignant yet elusive shift to my world. I guess the bottom line is that Eli doesn't need me anymore the way I thought he did. Yes, I will be there to make sure that he doesn't get run over, that he doesn't get snatched by a stranger. But he doesn't need me to explain to him that we have to trade money for ice cream, he doesn't need me to flag down the ice cream man down, or ask him politely to wait a minute while he gets his money. He doesn't need me to help him pick our what he wants or explain to him that he only has enough money for this or that. He doesn't need me to remind him to think about his little brother. He is all ready walking out my door. And you have to know what I mean by that.