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!

Toddler vs. Technology

Picture it: A lazy summer weekend, too hot to play outside, and not enough things to keep busy inside. By Sunday afternoon we are looking for just about anything to keep this little tyke occupied. So I'm in the kitchen trying to come up with something nutritious and yet still tempting for Brent to eat (it's much harder than it sounds...) and in he strolls with my Mom's cell phone in hand. He's always coveted our phones, and no matter how life-like his toy ones are, he can always tell the difference. So either he found it laying somewhere or Mom gave it to him - either scenario is plausible by this late in the weekend.

I listened with a half-smile as he "babbled" to the person on the other end - no doubt complaining about the lack of new Wiggles material, or maybe the fact that it had been days since his last Oreo. I really hardly know what he's saying anymore. I think he's verbally backsliding into some sort of toddler jibberish language. Or maybe I can only understand him when it's in context. For instance, "tee-tee" can mean "blanket", when accompanied by pointing to the crib. It can also function as "monkey", "tree" or other similar words. Without something to build on, you're really just shooting in the dark these days.

Unfortunately, my Mom's cell phone is like something out of a bad science fiction movie. It has a built in "driving mode" that recognizes verbal commands. Only it NEVER gets them right, and is extremely dangerous to use. So we avoid it at all costs (which is always, unless it just turns on by itself, which it has been known to do).

Here is a rundown of the conversation:

Cell Phone: "Please say a command"
Brent: "Wheeeeeeee"
Cell Phone: "Command not recognized. Please try again"
Brent: "Ow-sigh?"
(editor's note: I thought it was funny that he was pleading to the cell phone to take him "outside" since most of his requests were denied this weekend due to the thunderstorms)
Cell Phone: "Thank you. Announcement mode now turned on"

And for hours after that, every time that phone would ring, it would loudly shout "You have a call from - Unknown Caller" over and over in its deafening robotic dull voice. Or it would try to pronounce the name from its spelling on your contact list, which was slightly worse. I did manage to figure out eventually how to get it back into normal mode. But we'll probably be a little more careful next time we let Brent talk with his imaginary friends.

It's Picture Time!

The Ten Dollar Triceratops

I have some new pictures, and I'll post them soon. Maybe even after I finish writing about this weekend.

I'll start by saying the last few weeks have been a little hectic. My mom moved back in with us while they are building her addition, and we've all been busy with moving boxes, cleaning rooms that should have been done long before, and trying to make sure we still spend enough time with Brent. And though we're doing our best, there were still some times he felt he wasn't getting enough attention, I'm sure. Now we're back to (mostly) normal, and so is he.

Wonderful things go along with having Gramma in the house, too! One Saturday morning she got up when Brent did and let me sleep in for a couple more hours. And let me point out that if you don't have kids, you can't fully understand the impact such a gesture can have. Even though I couldn't really sleep, and just rested while listening to them play in the other room. And crazy as it sounds, I felt a tiny bit of guilt and jealousy all at once. I guess the grass is always a little greener...

We took him out to Walmart on Saturday morning, and as usual since we don't get down that way often, it turned out to be a Walmart/Lowe's/Grocery store adventure. It was also one that started a bit later than I would have liked, and ran well into nap time. When the man at Lowe's tried to tell me it was going to be a few more mintues before he could get our item from the top shelf with the forklift (you know...that item that I asked him to retrieve 30 minutes ago so that it would be there when we were done with our other shopping at that store), I almost threw a fit along with Brent, who was already getting cranky. I guess they don't understand what a narrow string holds my sanity in place on these shopping adventures, and how any small shift in the momentum has dire consequences. Because the cart isn't allowed to stop for very long, didn't you know? That is rule #1 of "Shopping With Brent" - that wacky game show where the only contestant is your truly, and the odds are stacked against me at approximately 1,237,362 to 1 (on a good day). Even the cool race-car carts that are almost impossible to navigate, but do manage to extend my window shopping a few precious minutes here and there. I hate to be that kind of customer that snits passive-aggressively "yes, I'll wait a few more minutes". And part of me wants to just let Brent start his tantrum so they can see what they caused. But I chose to try to entertain him some other way, digging through my purse for some treasure, letting him play with my cell phone - anything to pass the time peacefully.

So I buy some time, but we decide to pass up Walmart and head right to the grocery store. Mom and I try to focus on getting food for the week, but neither one of us can think clearly with Brent starting to get more and more fussy. I hand something unbreakable out of the cart, and he'll roll it over in his hands a few times before figuring out that it a) isn't a fun toy, and b) isn't dangerous or breakable. So he throws it over the side. And no matter that I know it's going to happen, I still never catch it in time.

So fast-forward about 20 minutes, and we get to the checkouts to find that, on a busy saturday morning, that there are only two lines open. And each of them is about 4 or 5 deep with full-cart shoppers. Wonderful! I buy a little time by taking him out to the car with me to get my checkbook, and I get back to find that Mom has let someone in front of her! Has she forgotten what is at stake here? But the lady was older and only had a few things. I tried to dig down in my heart, currently crusted over with anti-tantrum selfishness, and decided that I could live with it. But how do you think that lady thanked us? She watched Brent for a few minutes as I held him (by this point he was easily 50 - 75 lbs, I'm sure of it). And in a gesture that I'm sure she meant in a good way, she pointed to a large stuffed dinosaur on top of the candy shelves. The dinosaur was facing the other direction, as I had been silently thankful for mere moments earlier, so that Brent couldn't really see it. So the lady now TURNS IT AROUND and shows it to Brent. And here comes the waterworks now. Nothing in the world matters to him besides getting that stuffed dinosaur. My brain registered all the components of the situation - we were 1/2 hour past nap time - we still had at least 15 minutes left in this checkout line - you shouldn't give in to tantrums - he doesn't need any more stuffed animals. And before I even finished my thoughts, my hand had already reached up and handed him the dinosaur. Becaused I aced "Horrible Parenting Decisions 101", and also because I can't think straight when he's screaming in public.

His tears dried up as he hugged his new friend. He smiled weakly, with glassy tired eyes. "Da-da", he kept saying through his tiny smiles. Yes, it did look like a doggie, I suppose. I didn't correct him. It didn't matter what it was, so long as he was happy. And though I had already caught sight of the $9.99 price tag, I smiled at them both. Even the lady who SHOULD have paid for half of it, technically.

And all weekend, I tried to get my money's worth. I forced that $10 stuffed animal on him every chance I got. It WILL be your favorite toy, I demanded! I laid it beside him in the crib - this dinosaur that took up half the crib. I put it beside him when he watched the Wiggles. I tackled him with it when we were wrestling. And at the end of the day, it was no more loved than his other toys, but I still felt a little better.

6/26/2006 Post-comment note:
Several weeks later I found myself in that same grocery store which now has a bin of EXTREMELY large stuffed animals that were a steal at $29.99. Literally, they were about 5 feet long. And I must have a price tag on my love for Brent, because no tantrum in the world would have gotten one of those in the car. (I did secretly want one for myself though!). Luckily I diverted it by making sure my cart didn't get within two hundred feet of them. Seriously, what are these stores thinking??? It's enough to get them out of the store without succumbing to the candy aisles, and now this??