The Tale of Our Easter Bunny

The Saturday before Easter, we had a surprise at our door. No...not a floppy-eared white bunny rabbit with loads of chocolate and other goodies. This was a smelly, happy, big, black, approximately 50lb puppy dog.

I woke up that morning, put on some shoes to take Scout outside to air her, waived to my neighbor Mr. Teague, and he alerted me to the presence of the surprise awaiting us in the front yard. He quickly bounded toward Scout and myself...not in any kind of menacing manner, but I wasn't sure how Scout would handle the rapidly approaching puppy early in the morning. So, I turned around and took Scout back inside.

I told Katy what was happening, and we immediately began to plan about what to do with our guest. We decided that we'd go to breakfast, and if he was still around when we returned, we would take him in for a few hours to figure out what our next step was.

So, of course, we pulled in the driveway, and he was laying on our doorstep. With Amelia safely inside, we set to our first task...naming the wayward pup. We tossed around some contenders - Blacky, Dog, Boone, Buddy, John, NANANANA (Amelia's vote), but we finally landed on Bunny in honor of the weekend events and inspired by the numerous trinkets laying around the house.

We quickly discovered that Bunny knew basic commands like come, sit, go on, and how to be on a leash and collared. From my own view of him, I could tell that he was a little malnourished...nothing sever, but he was definitely underfed. So...we put him on a leash in the backyard, and offered Bunny some water and food, which was quickly gobbled up.

As much as Katy and I would have loved to have kept Bunny as our second dog, we knew that we couldn't keep him. So, we set out to discover the options our new town had to offer. We quickly found out that the options were limited. Several of the foster agencies and their websites were inactive for years, but still turned up on our search. The only option for Bunny was the Watauga Humane Society, but they weren't open for the next 3 days.

We then found out that the mall was hosting an animal adoption/vendor festival that very day. Surely we could find someone or organization to take care of Bunny and find him a good home. Oh...were we mistaken. Clearly, it was not a good time for anyone, which made our decisions that much more difficult. The weather was supposed to get pretty cold that night, and we were worried about Bunny.  We put out some blankets, and were ready for a potentially long night. I took Scout out for the last time that night, but I did not find Bunny. He chewed through the leash, and had done runnoft.

It was hard to believe that those are the services available in a town in the 21st Century. It was hard for us to believe that someone could teach Bunny how to sit, and be a good dog, but not feed him. For me, I've chosen to believe that Bunny is frolicking in the hills with the other bunnies.

The day Amelia almost had a 2nd dog.

As It Could Be

The other day, we went on a walk.  Not an unusual or unexpected activity for us.  We chose the greenway for our adventure and took advantage of the warm weather before winter’s (hopefully) last foray of the year enveloped our whiplashing town.  The wind was a little colder than we had anticipated, but it didn’t deter us and we set off on the trail.  There were intramural games going on in a field; a birthday party was wrapping up at the picnic area and there were many others who shared our idea. 

Scout loves the greenway; sometimes it seems that she saves up certain things in order to do them in abundance in public, on the greenway.  She loves seeing other people, other dogs and scouting things out ahead. 

Amelia also loves our walks.  She loves to see things, to kick her feet around in the stroller as we walk and to babble to herself.  Of course, the babbling and constant movement are not exclusive to time spent in the stroller.

As our walk concluded, Adam and I discussed our next move.  Should we take Amelia to the playground to try out the swings for the first time?  Should we go straight home?  Should we let her play some outside of her stroller before we leave?  Sadly, the playground was eliminated since we had included Scout on our family outing.  We opted to let Amelia play in the grass with Scout before heading home.  Then, we realized. 

Amelia had never played in the grass before.  Ever. 

With what may be construed by some as disproportionate excitement, we inspected patches of grass until one particular area was deemed grassy enough, mostly clear of dirt and completely clear of the big business of dogs.  We sat Amelia down, took a step back and watched.  At first, she did nothing; she simply looked at us.  We sat down opposite her, with Scout in between us, intent on her reaction.  She put her hands out to crawl toward us, and then, she realized that she wasn’t on carpet, or tile or even hardwood floor.  This was different.  She flexed the fingers of both hands, and stretched one out to touch this new, green stuff that she had been forced to confront. 

Her hands began to move faster and almost immediately, both were working in the grass, exploring, pulling, feeling.  She discovered that if she pulled hard enough, she could get a few strands to come up out of the ground.  Unsurprisingly, she made several attempts to get a piece to her mouth that were quickly thwarted.  Soon, she came to the conclusion that this stuff was ok.  It wasn’t going to swallow her up or hurt her or do anything unexpected.  With that realization came the confidence to crawl and flop and act just as she does everywhere else…in other words, to move incessantly.

While this story may seem anticlimactic or even mundane to you (I did leave out the part where Amelia spit up spectacularly onto Scout’s back, which apparently did nothing but cement their friendship), it stood out to me this week. 

Every once in a while, I find myself overlooking the wonder of babyhood.  In the midst of diapers and feedings and cries, there are smiles and amazement and frank hope.  I keep up with achievements, milestones, wants and of course, needs.  But, how often do I stop and truly understand that everything she sees and touches and experiences is a first for her?  She is literally (and I don’t use that word lightly) seeing the world with brand new eyes.  I’m thankful for the privilege to see that wonder, to foster those experiences.  I’m humbled by the responsibility of being an influence on how she sees.  I’m hopeful that I can be part of a childhood that may help her to kindly and courageously see the world both as it is and as it could be.

"Where there is Goodness, there is Magic"

I am well aware that there are many conflicting opinions out there about fairy tales, especially those infamous princess stories, and their effects on children, especially girls.  I have struggled with the takeaways in these stories, at times, and I can completely understand why more and more people are hesitant to perpetuate these stories. 

As we all are, I am many things.  I am a mother, wife, daughter, sister, granddaughter, cousin, niece, sister-in-law, daughter-in-law, friend, Speech-Language Pathologist, and the list could go on and on.  One of the other things I would claim to be is a feminist.  If you’re uncomfortable with that word, do a little research.  Feminism is simply the belief that everyone, men and women, should have equal rights.

I want my daughter to grow up to be whoever she wants to be and to have a million wonderful characteristics – strong, brave, and independent included.  I want no door to be closed to her.  I want her to know she can be and do anything.  I want her to have unlimited options in her life.  I also want her to be well rounded and be multi-dimensional.  Within this context, I want her to know that she can choose what she likes – this includes things that are perceived as “for girls” and things that are perceived as “for boys.”  This also includes a combination of the two.   My daughter has a mother who has a wide variety of interests and tries her best not to limit herself to the societal perceptions of those interests.

Anyway, back to fairy tales.  My mom and I went to see “Cinderella” recently.  Honestly, I loved it.  It was fun and pretty and I left with a happy ending kind of feeling.  That being said, it was not a perfect movie or a perfect story.  There are things that I would balk at if it were real life.  There are things that warrant red flags when looked at from the perspective of raising a strong woman.  On the other hand, what I want to focus on from here out, are the good things that I took away; the things that I would want to highlight for Amelia if she had been old enough to go with us to see the movie.  By the way, I would have taken her if she were old enough. 

So, without further ado, here are six valuable things that I took away from this version of Cinderella…

1.     Parents

Both Cinderella and the Prince have loving and supportive parents who have healthy relationships with their children and want the best for them.  I liked the fact that these relationships were shown in this version of the story.  While the stepmother’s relationship with Cinderella is obviously not good, it did seem a little more complex than in many versions.

2.     Just because it’s the way things are done, doesn’t mean it’s the way things should be done.

Cinderella has her own opinions.  She values life, of all kinds.  She believes her mother when she says that anyone could understand animals if they took the time to do so.  Cinderella is bullied, but over the course of the movie, she does stand up for herself.  She voices her opinions and allows these opinions to direct her actions.

3.     Cinderella saw the world not as it was, but as it could be.

To me, this is a wonderful compliment for anyone.  To see the potential in everything around you is an amazing and inspiring ability.  This is something that I strive for myself and to instill in Amelia.  Looking for the good in everything paints the world in a light that I want to see.  When we have high expectations for people and situations, more often than not, they live up to them.

4.     It was not exactly love at first sight, but it was love nonetheless.

This story is Cinderella, so of course, it turns into a love story. Cinderella found her person, her family. I want Amelia to believe that there is love out there for her.  If she wants it, I want her to be willing to search for that person and to expect true love.  Regardless, I want her to know that she is loved and that she is surrounded by that love in whatever she chooses for her life.

5.     Cinderella forgave her stepmother.

Forgiveness is incredibly hard and while this story doesn’t delve into Cinderella’s thoughts on the forgiveness, it was still included in the story.  Cinderella remained true to her values and kindness, even in the face of her stepmother’s bullying.  That one line – I forgive you – provided closure for that part of Cinderella’s story.  Not only was her life as a servant over, she was moving on, never to dwell on the injustices she suffered.

6.     Have courage and be kind.

Cinderella’s mother gave her this motto and in so doing, helped her daughter to grow up to be a strong and loving woman.  What a beautiful world we would live in, if we could all be a little more courageous and treat each other with a little more kindness.  The combination of these two characteristics is a powerful one.  It takes courage to be kind in the face of unkindness.  I wish both of these things for my daughter and for myself. 

“Where there is kindness, there is goodness.  And where there is goodness, there is magic.”

            -Ella’s Mother, Cinderella

In the end, Cinderella is a story; a story like the millions of others out there.  A fairy tale, yes, but just a story.  Like every story that I’ve encountered, there are things I like about this one (and even love), there are things that I barely noticed, and there are things I disliked (in this particular case, one of those is the impossibly tiny waistline of Lily James).  To me, there’s no reason to hold out for the stories that are perfect.  They won’t come.  So, I think that part of enjoying stories is to enjoy the parts you like, be aware of the parts you don’t, and when necessary, discuss or confront the parts that say (or seem to say) something you don’t agree with.  As a parent, I feel that that’s my job for Amelia and any subsequent children. I will show her the parts of stories that I don’t like and explain why.  In so doing, I hope that I will be able to teach her to do the same for herself.

Speaking Pediatrician

We’ve been unbelievably lucky with Amelia in many, many ways.  One of those ways is how healthy she’s been, especially for her first winter in preschool.  I’m thankful every day for our healthy, strong, growing girl.  However, lately, we’ve had several small battles with minor health issues – a sinus infection, ear infections, pink eye, croup, and bronchiolitis.  Again, thankfully, I know that these are all minor issues.  We will most likely encounter these and a wide variety of other challenges over the coming years. 

Sickness is one of those parts of parenthood that isn’t given much thought by parents-to-be as they imagine their life with baby.  It’s also a part of that new life that takes up more time than you expect, brings a new level of grossness to your relationship with that bouncing baby, and introduces more confusion than you could have possibly anticipated.

This past week, I found myself spending two late afternoons/evenings in our pediatrician’s office.  I haven’t met every single provider in the practice, but I feel like I’m getting very close to having the full set.  On both of these occasions, I found myself hesitant about taking Amelia in; wondering whether or not her sickness was worth a doctor’s visit or even if it was truly sickness.  Both times, she needed to be there.  Both times, I left feeling validated and armed with suggestions (and once a new antibiotic) to combat these germs that turn Amelia into a very different baby.

However, parts of this pediatrician process leave me baffled and even a bit insecure.  So, for those of you who aren’t experienced in this area, babies can’t talk.  Unfortunately and to the chagrin of all parents of infants, they can’t tell you when something hurts, when they feel sick or the details of any discomforts.  Obviously, life would be much easier if they could.  This brings a new and somewhat disconcerting level to doctor’s visits.  When I go to the doctor for me, I have answers to the many, many questions that are hurled at me by receptionists, nurses and doctors.  When I take Amelia to the pediatrician, this is not always the case.  Yes, I know my daughter and yes, I can describe how she has been acting.  But, on the other hand, I find it difficult to explain to a doctor how another person is feeling or the intent behind her actions. 

I know that pediatricians understand this and the more I interact with them, the more I liken the profession to that of Sherlock Holmes.  Elementary, my dear parent, this grunt and that look and that particular way of breathing obviously point to this childhood illness that you would have never expected and had no idea how to approach on your own.  It seems to be either that or don’t worry, your child is completely fine; good luck with getting through whatever phase/illness/new skill that has prompted all of your concerns.

This guessing and trial-and-error is something I didn’t put much thought into as an expectant parent.  There’s this misconception out there that sometimes seems to be perpetuated by well-meaning relatives, friends, or more experienced parents, that you’ll just understand your baby because it’s your baby.  I’m adding this to my running list of baby myths.  Nine and a half months in, just as Amelia is still learning to understand and navigate the world, I’m still learning to understand and navigate Amelia. 

Currently, thanks to lots of TLC and some awesome antibiotics, Amelia is speedily recovering from her latest bout with ear infections and bronchiolitis.  As for me, I’m continuing to learn to speak both Amelia and pediatrician, so I can add one more badge to my parenting collection.

Yes, Everyone with Bossypants is Hanging Out Without Me, Please

It’s no shocker to anyone who has met me ever that I love books.  I love all kinds of books.  As long as it has a story (and isn’t too scary), I’m in.  I don’t read as much nonfiction as I do fiction; however, there’s one niche of nonfiction that lately, I absolutely love.  That is the comedy memoir, if that’s what you want to call it.  The books by Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Mindy Kaling have especially caught my attention and made me laugh.  I know it’s boringly typical to point to these by three famous comediennes; but if you haven’t read their books, you should.  I also like the parenting related humor, for obvious reasons, and I’ve read quite a few books written by your average, everyday comedy writers, as well.

            I just recently finished Amy Poehler’s Yes, Please.  To me, it’s as honest as comedy can be and it resounded with me even while I laughed.  Just like when I read Tina Fey’s Bossypants and Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, Adam had to put up with a great deal of paragraphs being read out loud and laughs repeated until he asked what was so funny.

            Other than making me laugh and at times, pointing things out about life, I learned from these books.  My not-so-secret ambition is to be a writer.  So, when I start reading these books, I arrogantly think I could write a book in this genre.  However, each of these glaringly pointed out the fact that I am not funny.  I like to think I am, but sadly, most other people would probably disagree with me.  I make jokes and often quote things I think are funny in daily conversation and most of the time, they are overlooked or misunderstood.  Sad.  All of you are missing out on my wealth of not-so-funny humor.  I think funny things happen to me every single day.  I am always laughing to myself.  Adam and I are still silly together.  We have no trouble accepting this and we make each other laugh constantly.  I love that about our relationship.  But, not book worthy.   Too bad, really.  If I wrote a book like that, I’m sure that I would think it was hilarious.  Who knows?  Maybe someday.

            So, what was the point of all of this rambling, you ask (if you’ve even made it this far)?  The point was three fold (or possibly there were three points)…1) you should read/laugh more, 2) I may not be actually all that funny, but I enjoy thinking I am, and 3) if you have any ideas for a book that I should write, I would love to hear them.  I’m always working on the next not-so-great American novel/memoir/short story/poem.