Once upon a time I was a full-time boots-on-the-ground Mom. My firstborn, Cody, taught me how to be a mom. Then Holly came along and taught me how to be a really busy mom. For several years I wrote weekly letters to their grandparents, Lester and Enola Orgeron, who lived in New Orleans and liked to know what their desert-dwelling grandchildren were up to. From time-to-time these letters are posted in The UpStory.
Deathly ill, suddenly better … and rabbit at risk
Jan. 23, 1998
Well, let’s see. Not much sleep last night. Holly-Bug Oh-ron, as she calls herself, was up crying her heart out at about 3:30. She was really croupy and had a temp of 99.
We activated the vaporizer, gave her some fever reducer stuff, and Glenn rocked her to sleep. Cody got up and moved to our room (quieter, better pillows) so it got kinda crowded. At 5 a.m. Holly was up again. Same scenario only temp was 104. So, I actually did the thing where you take a sick child outside into the cold night air so they can get better.
Within about 30 minutes she had made a full recovery. Miracle Child. All better now, Mommy. Let’s play. By now it’s almost 6 a.m. She’s pulling out all the toys, in the kitchen setting up the train that Janey gave Cody and lining up her dolls to do stuff with.
By 7 a.m. she’s decided to get dressed. So, she goes to her room and puts on her black velvet shoes and red plaid, black-velvet-trimmed dress. I figure, OK, why not? I mean it’s Casual Friday, but Holly hasn’t gone corporate yet so she doesn’t know that. And besides she’ll wear that dress, what? Five more months? So, what’s one morning matter.
I do her hair up with the matching hairbow that came with the dress, put on her white tights and by the time Aurora shows up, Holly is looking like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and buzzing around in the very best of health.
Meanwhile I’m wearing jeans (see Casual Friday above) and looking like a 44-year-old woman who didn’t get enough sleep last night.
And the bunny lived to see another day!
Yesterday, Holly took herself downstairs to the den and freed Percy, our elderly bunny, from his overnight accommodations. She had him on her lap when I found her. All of this would have been fine, but the German Shepherd and the Faux Pit Bull were loose and they have a deep and abiding interest in the rabbits.
And it’s not the kind of interest that is in the rabbits’ best interest.
There is Sydney and there is Buffett crowded as close to Holly as possible without actually sitting on her. Their heads are dropped down to where their noses are hovering a whisker above Percy’s hapless little head. Percy has no clue as to the danger he is in. He’s been handled all his life and is very relaxed.
I managed not to shriek or make quick jerky moves, but did rescue Clueless Percy.
Tarzan-Dad puts on a dinner show
March 13, 1998
Glenn is trying to sell the Sovereign XJ6 which had a problem, something about the bearings burning up. So, we now have an all-time record for a one-time car repair. He also is, like George Washington, in the process of chopping down the cherry tree, or in Glenn’s case, the gigantic cottonwood tree in our backyard.
He got some estimates from the local yokels and they all said, “Yep, ‘bout four hunnert dollars” and you know how my favorite financial wizard hates to part with the coin. So, he’s now at the stage where he’s using a small chain saw and climbing around in the bigger branches.
Last night he was doing this after dark. He had the entire tree illuminated with these big shop lights and he was being Monkey-Boy, much to the children’s delight.
They even refused to eat at the dinner table. They insisted on eating on their little picnic table by the sliding glass door so they could “watch Daddy.” Dinner and a show. I was watching Daddy, too, ready to dial 911 at any moment.
Breakfast of champions (for freaky eaters)
Oct. 16, 1998
I’ve been wrangling with No. 1 Son over food consumption. I am the last person in the world to be leading nutritional discussions or setting an example for good eating habits. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Code-ster inherited my freaky-eater gene.
Anyway, on Monday he had chocolate doughnut holes with chocolate sprinkles and milk for breakfast and wouldn’t eat the fruit or the sausage links.
Tuesday, he was overcome with grief that there were no chocolate doughnut holes with chocolate sprinkles and could not eat any breakfast at all.
Wednesday he was shocked and grief stricken (again) to find out there were still no doughnut holes. I managed to coax him into eating the alternative breakfast (muffins, bacon, fruit) by promising him doughnuts on Thursday.
Today, he bypassed cinnamon buns, cantaloupe, and sausage link, and went to the pantry and got out a box of croutons and pulled out a container of parmesan ranch dressing.
I don’t think juice or milk goes with that breakfast combo and he’s too young for a malt beverage. But I need one.
The Upstory 