Beware, Baby on Benadryl

I didn't realize how drugged up he looked until I downloaded these pictures. They almost look like a bad drunk-driving advertisement. But at least he wasn't scratching his poor rash.

And I get Scarlet Fever....

Scarlet Fever...it sounds so ominous! It is also my favorite Kenny Rogers song, even if it is about a seductive dancer. I just like the tune.

So that is what Brent was diagnosed with on Friday. And I instantly panicked in my mind. Isn't that life threatening? Well, as it turns out, it is simply strep throat accompanied by a body rash and temporary fever spikes. But as of yet, he's had no fever. So I'm dubbing this little incident, Scarlet Rash. And I'm not sure it even needs a name, because it hasn't slowed him down one little bit. He's been absolutely fine. In a good mood, even! Occasionally he'll try to scratch at his legs in the bad spots, but he's been a dream. I love that he's so tough and able to handle things in stride. Even the strep throat doesn't seem to bother him. Hopefully the rash will subside here in the next day or two, and he will be feeling even better.

In other news, we got him a little three wheeled bike, or more like a big-wheel contraption, to ride around the house. He loves it! He can't reach the pedals, but he does as good with his feet on the floor. I have dubbed it the Flinstone Bike, since he moves his little feet so fast making it go. I will have to remember to keep it out of sight though in the mornings, so I don't have a repeat of today's performance. It wasn't pretty...I will leave it at that. I have some pictures of him on it that I will try to remember to post tomorrow. They were taken while his Benadryl was kicking in, though, so he kinda looks spacey. But they're cute anyhow.

Lazy days...

Brent is forever asking me to go outside in the evenings. You know, when you're tired from a long day, and it's still almost 90 degrees out, and you have to fix everyone something to eat. And now he's even resourceful enough to open the french doors that lead out onto the porch. So now, unless we remember to lock them, he has his own access to things. What usually happens, though, is that he opens the door, smells the wonderful breezes of freedom, takes two steps, and then is hauled back inside by his cruel and unusual mother. And hell hath no fury like a toddler scorned. Andy and I put our hands over our ears and brace ourselves. Well, at least I do, he usually just goes into another room and leaves me to handle things. And I really can't blame him, there.

So I try, before bedtime, but late enough that the sun's angry stares have dissipated somewhat,

to take him out and let him run around for a few minutes. The only place he wants to go, for some reason, is this little area out by the woodshed. I guess it's because the ground is sandy there and he can draw in it with sticks. But to me it just represents the area where the mosquitos and horseflies wait in silence to strike, and where the wood looks at any moment to come crashing down on some innocent boy walking by. I'm sure it isn't, but I still don't let him near it. And then he sits and plays in the dirt, and Andy and I stand and watch for as long as we can stand, fighting away all the vicious insects. I usually love going outside with Brent, but when he's over there, he retreats into his own little world. And he leaves me at the gate, in a sense. I watch in awe as he puts the world aside and just plays in the moment, without a care in the world. It certainly wouldn't hurt any of us to do that for a few minutes each day, and it certainly seems to recharge him.

Every day, I'm still amazed at the lessons I'm taught, and so many of the bigger ones come from such a small little guy.

The Mighty Mouse

I know this is Brent's blog, but I have another story to share today. When we got home from our trip to Pittsburgh, it was about 1:00 pm. And it was H-O-T. And it was sticky and sweaty, and we were all exhausted. But there was still lots to be done. We had to unload the car that we towed back, we had to bring the luggage inside, Brent was due for a nap, etc. And I was grumpy, to say the least.

So I'm waiting for the truck to back up so we can unload the car, and I'm looking around, not paying attention to the things that I'm supposed to, as always. But then I look at the ground a little closer, and there's a small grey furry thing just laying in the grass. It was a tiny baby mouse, with his eyes still shut, and new fur all over him. He was just the most precious thing. I felt so bad, he was obviously abandoned, and with the heat he wouldn't last long. So I did what I hope anyone would do, and I scooped him up and took him inside. What I was going to do with him, I didn't know. But I couldn't just leave him there. And what bad timing, with all that we had to do. So I rigged him up a little house out of a can and some cut up cloth. He seemed to like it, and nestled down in to keep warm.

I didn't have anything else to feed him, so I decided to try feeding him watered down milk until I could get something better. I got one of my mom's nursing syringes (without the needle) and cut off a 1/4" piece of tubing from a WD-40 can, which I washed really well (wouldn't Jeff Foxworthy love that one), and made him a little "bottle". He wouldn't really drink from it, but at least I could get some liquids in him. I would try a drop on his nose, and he would wash it away with his paws and lick it off. So...it wasn't a great system...but it worked. I got up a couple times in the night to feed him, and each time he seemed to be doing good. And now came the hard part. I had to go to work the next day. And I knew he couldn't go without food for that long. So I got a little tupperware container and drilled some holes in the top. And...I took him to work.

My boss was kind enough to let me keep him in my desk, as long as I didn't take the lid off. And a couple times per day I would sneak him out to my car and feed him. I also went to the pet store and got some kitten formula and little bottles for him, but they were much too big still. I had searched the internet for similar cases, and supposedly the kitten formula was a good way to go. He was doing good. He was eating a little, he was going to the bathroom (I think he really loved peeing on me, for some reason). I just knew he was going to make it.

Brent would cuddle up to me while I was feeding him. "Mou? Mou?" he'd ask. "Yes, it's a baby mouse!" I told him. He wanted so bad to touch it, but it was just too tiny. One time I let him try, and he did okay, but I didn't want to chance it too often.

Unfortunately, my little Mighty Mouse (that was his name) wasn't destined to stay with us, and he passed away Friday night, after four days. But I tell this story, because it taught me a lot about life and about the little things. I stumbled on him by chance, but many people may have looked the other way and just left him there. I was told I was crazy for even trying to help him. What did I know about mice, anyways? Well, I didn't know anything on Tuesday, but by Friday I knew a lot. And even though he didn't make it, he left an impression on quite a few people. There's a lot of beings out there that need our help every day. Some are people, some are animals, and maybe some don't fit in any category. But if we pay attention to the little things around us, we can make a difference, one small step at a time.

Rest in peace, little Mighty One....

Our Mini-Vacation

Well, Brent got to visit his grandparents in Pennsylvania last weekend for 4th of July. He actually did better on the travelling part of it than I thought he would. We left on Saturday morning around 6, and got in around 12:15. He didn't take a nap, but he wasn't fussy, so I was happy! We ate cookies and looked at the trees and cars...and more cars. Sometimes he would get on a roll, and start pointing - "Car! (pause) Car! (pause) Car! (pause) Truck!" until you thought your head might explode. But...we arrived safely, without any explosions. That was one of my main goals! Success!

It took him a few minutes to remember everyone, but soon he was right at home. They got him a little wading pool and some toys that he liked playing in (when it wasn't raining, which wasn't often). We got to see aunts and great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers. It was a busy but great visit.

And I'm intentionally going to leave out the part where the transmission on our truck decided to take it's own vacation...from working right anyways. But we made it home safe and sound, and that's all the matters. Brent was a bit fussier on the way back, but nothing horrible.

We even found time to go out with some of our friends a couple nights and hang out. That was pretty exciting! I can't remember the last time we actually got to leave the house after dark to have fun. Of course, I felt tremendously guilty, and talked about Brent most of the time anyways. But it was still fun.

Oh! And the best part of that night was me and my big mouth (not that I regret it). We were all hanging out in the back of a little club/bar downtown, and I went up to grab a beer, and there was a small baby that some guy was carrying around showing everyone. She couldn't have been more than 3 months old. And it was so smokey in there that even I was having troubles with it. It was horrible. And when I got back to our table, I loudly asked if anyone could believe someone let their baby come into a bar. Of course, the baby's mother was sitting across from me, and I had been talking to her half the night. She mumbled something about how she works there and only brings her in for a few minutes, but I later found out that it wasn't uncommon at all to see her in there. I just find that absolutely insane. I don't like to judge people...but c'mon!

But at least I didn't feel as guilty about going out anymore :) I felt like mother of the year!