Tag Archives: The Rabbit Chronicles

Oct 10 2011

“A Mint Is NOT A Gift” And Other Birthday Wisdom

As I mentioned briefly last night, Rabbit’s birthday party was a great success…at least it was to her.

I woke up yesterday at 6:30 a.m., mostly because a new alarm clock app I had downloaded for my phone had a glitch that made it play louder and louder and I couldn’t turn it off, and the cat was on my back yowling in my ear because of the electronic noise.

Fumbling in the dark for my glasses, I had to disable the app and by the time I did, I was wide awake.  Mission accomplished, alarm clock.  Well played.

With everyone else asleep in the gloomy pre-dawn dark, I made a pot of coffee and got started baking Rabbit’s birthday cake and cupcakes.  One eight inch round layer for blowing out candles, and the rest of the batter went to make cupcakes.  In ice cream cone cups.

I had made this type of cupcake before and they turned out nicely.  When they came out of the oven this time, they were great, if a little overfilled and top-heavy.  Balancing the cupcake tin carefully, I put them on the counter to cool off.  Meanwhile, I iced Rabbit’s cake and added a border of piped icing shells, with little flowers on top to hold the candles.  The white icing from a can was tinted a lurid pink with strawberry kool-aid powder.

Then I piped white icing onto the tops of the cupcakes.  The frosting was a little runny and I worried that it would drip off in the warm kitchen before the guests arrived.  So I carefully carried the pan over to the fridge and…….yep. You guessed it.

Every @*$&#(%  one of those cupcakes tipped in a different direction and I watched as if in slow motion as they tumbled out of the pan and onto a shelf of the fridge, the inside of the door, the floor in front of the fridge and my bare foot.  Every one of them, of course, frosting side down.

PC and Rabbit were nice to me about it.  I was so upset and angry and tearful; partly because of the cupcakes, but mostly because that meant I had to make new ones and would be almost out of time when the guests got here.  PC ran to the store for another cake mix (lesson learned: always get a spare) and more frosting.  This time, I just made regular cupcakes.

We were still rushing to get the house picked up when the first kid got to the house FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLY.  Rabbit completely geeked out and the screaming didn’t stop for three hours.  Kid after kid showed up and the cats hid in the basement.  I contemplated using my freshly refilled xanax prescription as hors d’oevres for myself, but decided to only take one.

We started with the painting of pumpkins, which the girls LOVED.  30 minutes into the party, the sixth invited girl finally showed up and instantly, the mood of the party changed.  She’s apparently THE big girl on campus for Rabbit’s grade, a child in a social stratus above the rest of the girls.  One of the other girls suddenly lost interest in being with the group, slinking off to the swing set.  Rabbit’s friend from preschool, who doesn’t go to the same school, quietly watched the other girls fawn over the new arrival, and looked even more lost.  ”Jane,” the last to arrive, had altered the chemistry of the gathering and even my husband noticed.

I went inside to get a glass of lemonade and PC was in the basement.  The back door opened and Rabbit led the charge into the house with a trail of little girls behind her, each of them with an arm full of dried autumn leaves and sticks.  Without a millisecond of thought, I bellowed out “NO WAY!  NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”  Mid-step, Rabbit pivoted on her heel and flew back out of the house, leaves trailing behind her.  The rest of the girls stood in shocked silence and then ran screaming and laughing back into the yard.

PC came into the kitchen and gave me a reproving glance and I held up my hand.  ”Don’t give me that look.  You weren’t here.”

We decided it was time for some supervised activities, so the girls did apple-bobbing and had a blast.

Each girl took her turn trying to be dainty about it, but they all ended up wet except Caitie.  Of course, PC had handed half of them my new white hand towels for drying off after the apple bobbing.  *sigh*

Then they played on the swings and chased each other.  Finally, they asked if they could do presents.  They straggled into the house, wet hair like seaweeds, towels dumped unceremoniously by the back door.

The kitchen smelled like a pack of wet dogs, what with seven girls sweating and drying their hair around the table.  They snacked on popcorn while Rabbit opened gifts.  Jane and Beth paired off together and Beth gave CC the stinkeye while CC was jabbering about something.  ”CC,” said Beth, in a patient tone, ‘Will you please stop talking with food in your mouth?”  PC and I stared at each other with wide eyes and started laughing.  CC just kept talking.

Then Rabbit got her gift from Clara, her best friend in the world.  Clara had handed Rabbit an envelope as she walked into the house earlier, along with a wrapped peppermint candy.  Someone shouted “Is that all she gave you?  An envelope?”  Then Rabbit, who was serenely opening the envelope, said “No, she gave me a mint when she got here.  Wasn’t that nice?”  CC, with food still in her mouth, stated in a matter-of-fact tone: “A mint is NOT a gift.”  Rabbit ignored her as she opened the envelope, which held a gift certificate to Rocket Fizz, a local store that carries nothing but hundreds of varieties of sodas and candies.

The cupcakes and banana splits were doled out after the girls screamed out the Happy Birthday song (CC insisted on singing the monkey version: “..Happy Birthday to you, you live in a zoo…you act like a monkey, and you smell like one, too.”)  Half the girls wanted just ice cream, thank you.  Rabbit, who had been looking forward to a banana split, noticed that Jane and Beth only wanted ice cream and so she pushed away her banana split and demanded plain ice cream.  They started making root beer floats and eating just the frosting from their cupcakes.  Caitie announced that she didn’t like sugary foods and did we maybe have something healthy, like raisins or applesauce?  Nicki just plowed into her banana split and then asked for seconds.  PC and I retired to the living room to save our sanity.

Then the girls started shouting and screaming, especially Caitie.  I came into the kitchen and Caitie was dancing around shrieking “My tongue is numb!” while laughing maniacally.  The other girls were pouring outside or past me to get to Rabbit’s bedroom.  Caitie kept shrieking in a high-pitched sound that could break glass.

“HEY!” I yelled, holding onto her hands. “STOP. Right now.  Stop. STOP!”  She stopped and stared at me.  ”You will NOT scream like that in our house. You’re scaring the cats and I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be mean, but Caitie, I’m not having it. I’m not.  You need to be quiet right now.”  She opened her mouth and started another scream and I stared her down.  She stopped and slumped past me to Rabbit’s bedroom.

After that, there was clique-ish separation because of Jane.  Rabbit and Clara and Nicki and Caitie and CC went outside.  Jane and Beth were at the table whispering to each other that they should have gone to Michaela’s party instead (scheduled for that same afternoon). I heard them and my blood ran cold.  Jane saw me and asked if they could play Go Fish and could they have some orange soda.  I shrugged and got them each a can of soda, handed them a deck of cards and went outside with the other girls.  To hell with them, I thought to myself.

The other girls played Zombie attack (hide in a pile of leaves and then jump out and chase your friends with your arms outstretched) and then they buried me in the leaves. I grabbed each of them, all of us screaming and laughing.

After that was egg races and climbing the maple tree, and then the parents started to show up to get their kids.  Jane and Beth mumbled thanks to me at their moms’ prodding, and I mentally made a note to leave them off the guest list for next year.  Rabbit hugged each friend as they left, and PC and I hugged each other when the last girl was gone.

My house looks like a tornado whipped through it.  I’m stiff and sore from wrestling with third-graders in the leaves and there is a film of sugary stickiness on half the surfaces in the kitchen.  But Rabbit had a great time and has a boatload of new toys, markers, stickers and games.

But I will tell you what:  my pride at producing the party for under $75 is diluted.  Because I know now that $75 would have been a small price to pay to have that party somewhere else, with someone else doing the prep and cleanup, and come home to a clean house without a twisted ankle or leaves in my bra.  I know, however, that Rabbit would choose yesterday’s party over something at a pizza place or beauty salon, any day of the week.

And that’s what matters.


Aug 10 2011

Undeserved Mercy

This morning, I screamed at my daughter in the car because she would not hurry up to get in the car for me to get her to day camp in time for breakfast.  They start eating at 8:00 sharp, and for some reason this summer, Rabbit has decided that she doesn’t want breakfast at home, that she would rather eat at day camp.

Thusly, every day, we are in a rush getting ready in the morning so I can get her out the door and into the car so she gets to day camp on time.  It’s so not how summer day camp is supposed to be, when we should be relaxing a little and trying to unwind from the school year, when we have to be at school by….8:00.

So yes.  Every day, I’m gritting my teeth while Rabbit whistles and stands in front of the closet staring at clothes and scratching her butt, talking to the cat and NOT HURRYING.  I try to drag myself out of bed earlier and earlier every day, but she persists in taking her time.

Yes, I understand that she could/should get her clothes out the night before, that she maybe is old enough to try setting an alarm to get herself ready.  But so far this summer, those things and others have not come to pass.  Sporadically, she’ll get ready in time.  My only other option (which will be THE option next summer) would have been to tell her that three mornings a week we would be at day camp in time for breakfast and that two other mornings, Mommy would get up later, that Rabbit would damn well have breakfast at home, and that’s that.

Yes, the ideal scenario.  That’s not what played out this morning.

I was tired, I was cranky, I was…okay back up.  Cranky?  That’s like saying a tornado is a “spot of inclement weather.”  I was ferociously irate, most likely a result of hot flashes during the night, lack of sleep and just being myself.

So I was already in a terrible mood and Rabbit leisurely got ready and when she strolled out the door (I was waiting in the car) at 7:57 a.m. I came unglued.  I yelled at her as she buckled her seat belt.  I yelled as I backed out of the driveway.  She started to say something and I screamed at her to be quiet and not say another word for the rest of the drive.

She was silent.  I drove to day camp, and pulled into the parent parking spot.  Rabbit started undoing her seat belt and I slumped and reached back for her leg.  ”Oh honey,” I said, bursting into tears.  ”I am so sorry I yelled at you.  That was terrible and I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“No it’s not,” I said.  I pulled her to me and held her tight.  ”Nobody should ever yell at you like that or say those things to you, and I won’t ever do it again.”  By now I was sobbing and Rabbit was rubbing my shoulder.

I let her go and sat back in my seat, wiping my eyes with a tissue.  ”Let’s go inside,” I said, finally.

And my daughter, who is so much better than I deserve, said kindly “Do you want to wait til your eyes are dry, Mommy?”

All I can think is that I must have taken leave of my senses to have gone postal on her just for taking her time in the morning.  That ferocity has been cropping up more and more lately, which is why I’m going to visit with my doctor about hormones and meds and whether we need to make some adjustments.

Because I’ve said a lot of wrong things in my life, but this morning I was right: my daughter does not deserve to be yelled at like that.

Jul 26 2011

Sneaky Salsa

Today I went into the office for about four hours and then came home for the afternoon.  PC had the day off and Rabbit was home sick – that end-of-illness sort of malaise that involves feeling good enough to do just about anything but not wanting to display too much energy for fear of being deemed well enough to go back to school the next day.

Eventually most kids learn the nuances of this tricky balancing act, but Rabbit hasn’t figured it out yet.  She drooped around the house when she saw me come home, but later I caught her in her bedroom, sitting on the bed eating chips and salsa she’d sneaked in there from the kitchen.  ”Hey!” I said from the hallway, “You eat that at the table!”

She trudged past me with her shoulders slumped, mumbling, and finished her illicit snack in the kitchen.  After that, she played games on the computer and then had to clean her room.  I’d hazard a guess that next time she’ll lock her bedroom door.

Jul 25 2011

Karmic Fever

I need to remember to go back through my blog and re-read the posts about Rabbit being sick.  Because in almost every instance, she led up to the illness by displaying horrible misbehavior and attitude.

I know a lot of her naughtiness at the sleepover was just showing off.  But late yesterday afternoon, Rabbit began sniffling and coughing, and after she went to bed, I checked on her and she was burning up with fever.

This morning, I checked on her when I got up, and she was bathed in sweat but fast asleep.  I figured she was exhausted and let her stay in bed.  I called the day camp office and told them Rabbit needed to stay home today since she was feeling punk.

The child slept until 10:00 a.m. and when she got out of bed, she was groggy and shaky.  Remember, she has the metabolism of a hummingbird, so I knew she was probably starving.  First, though, I stripped her down and put her in the shower and put her sweaty sheets in the wash.  She just stood in the shower with her eyes half-closed, swaying.

After I got her washed and dressed in fresh clothes, she sat down to breakfast: two scrambled eggs with cheese, a slice of buttered toast and two glasses of orange juice.  By the time she finished, she was exhausted again.

I made up a bed on the living room floor, using a big fluffy comforter folded in fourths, and she stretched out with her stuffed Piggy and covered up with a fleece blanket, shivering.  Her fever was back.  I set her up with a water bottle and the remote control and she watched TV while I cleaned the bathroom and worked on laundry.

The poor little sprout barely moved all day.  She dozed on and off, and late in the afternoon, she ate a plum and had a popsicle and then had a few crackers.  Mostly, she just rested.

By dinner, she was able to eat a little bit of chicken and some potatoes and corn, but now she’s back on her little bed in the living room, watching old “Little House on the Prairie” reruns on the Hallmark channel.  Flower, her cat, is curled up next to her and purring loudly.  Her sheets are fresh off the line and her regular bed will be waiting tonight.

I feel kind of bad for being so mad at her on Saturday, but also?  I kind of feel like her day today is a sort of karmic balance for the weekend.

Hopefully tomorrow she’ll be well enough to go to day camp, but we’ll have to see. Poor Rabbit.

Jul 24 2011

Sleepover From Hell

Last night was Rabbit’s first time hosting a sleepover at our house.  She’s been to two sleepovers: the first was a birthday party with five girls. The second was with a friend from school whose single mother apparently had her boyfriend stay over, then dropped Rabbit and her friend off at the non-custodial father’s house so she could go to a funeral and Rabbit didn’t get home until 9:00 the following day instead of at lunchtime as we’d planned.

Needless to say, we’ve decided to host the sleepovers from here on out.  There are not words for how incredibly pissed off PC and I were after that last sleepover.

So anyway, BFF spent the night with Rabbit, arriving yesterday while I was at Trader Joe’s.  When I got home from the store, both girls were in Rabbit’s room, shrieking hysterically. Then there was silence, and then more shrieking.  Turns out, they were having a farting competition.  I wish I were kidding.

They played and then I made pizza for dinner.  I asked the girls to come into the kitchen to see if they wanted to help make the pizza dough or shred the cheese.  (I know…cutting the cheese is more like it).  Rabbit came in watched for a minute and tossed her head, shrugged and said “Nah, we don’t feel like helping. But can we have some of that cheese to eat while we wait for you to make our pizza?”

Can I get a WHAT THE CRAP?

So I gave her the glare and she pretended not to see it.  She stood there waiting for me to give her some cheese to eat.  BFF stood there watching us.  I said “Rabbit, you need to turn around right now and go back to whatever you girls were doing because you’re being very rude right now.”

Then it was an incremental slow march: she went two steps and then would say “But I want some ch–” and I would cut her off with a “Oh, you had better stop talking right now–” and then she’d take two more steps and say “–cheese, you said we could have some ch–” and veins exploded in my neck and I said “No, and you need to STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW” and she moved two more steps, by now almost out of the kitchen.

Did she walk away?  No, she stopped and said “–cheese.  We want some cheese.”  And then, dear friends, I turned into an eight-headed beast from hell and gritted my teeth, glared at her and (I’m not proud of this) I whispered ferociously:  ”Get. Your. ASS. OUT. OF. THIS. KITCHEN….RIGHT NOW.”

She got. The little smirk and toss of her head showed that she had gotten exactly what she wanted out of the exchange.

So the girls went back to whatever they had been doing, and PC walked into the house to see his darling wife furiously kneading pizza dough, muttering “…got to be such a little a$$hole all the $*%(& time..” and “…smirk at ME, I could just…” and “…I’ll put that cheese right in your mouth you little…”

After cooking, I was sufficiently calmed and decided to just let it go and we could start all over.  At dinner, both girls attacked the pizza and ate six slices apiece.  Rabbit asked if they could have a tent in the living room. PC and I said they could, and outlined how we would help:  a folding table, a large canvas drop cloth, a soft blanket on the rug for them to put their sleeping bags on.  He also announced that he was going to the store and buying a copy of “Tangled” for them to watch.

After he left and I finished washing the dishes, I walked into the living room to find that Rabbit and BFF had tied a blanket to a chair with a jumprope and had tucked it under the sofa cushions, making a tent that not even the cats would consider using for shelter.  I told the girls I would be moving their blanket because they couldn’t both fit under it.  I should have just left it alone.  BFF helped me move the blanket, but Rabbit threw a fit and sat on the sofa, pouting.

I said “Rabbit, aren’t you embarrassed to be acting so naughty in front of BFF?”

“Nope,” she said, crossing her arms.

PC came home and we set up the girls’ tent.  They got into the spirit of it once we started, and agreed that it was wonderful.  When it was all done, we stood back to admire it and Rabbit and BFF thanked us profusely.  I got them a big bowl of popcorn, they put on their pajamas, and PC produced the DVD of “Tangled.”

We left them to have their fun without the embarrassment of hovering parents.  An hour later when I checked on them, they were watching one of Rabbit’s other movies, “Tangled” still in the case.  Well, there’s $24 we could have saved.  Instead of fussing at them, I turned the reins over to PC.  I was not feeling so well, and got a book.  I was in bed and asleep by 11:00.

By 11:30, PC was in bed as well.  The girls had turned off the TV, he told me (they never did watch “Tangled”) and were reading with flashlights in their tent.

Just as he and I drifted off, there was a burst of laughter from the living room.  *sigh*  At midnight, they were still at it, so PC got up to tell them to quiet down.

The farting and laughing continued.  At 12:30, he went back and told them that if they didn’t stop and go to sleep, he would separate them.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both in the bathroom, running water, then running up and down the hallway, and then laughing hysterically in the tent.

Daddy was done.

Next thing I knew, Rabbit was bawling in her bedroom and PC was flopping back into the bed, cursing under his breath.  I got up and went to Rabbit’s room.

“Daddy separated us!  BFF gets to sleep in the tent and I don’t!” She would not lay down, she had thrown all her blankets on the floor.

I went into the living room, where not a noise came from the tent.  ”BFF?” I said, kneeling down at the entry.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay sleeping in here by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.  Good night.”

“Good night.”

I stopped back in Rabbit’s room and put her night light on.  She was grumbling and sobbing and flailing on her mattress.  ”I want you to sleep in here with me, Mommy!”

“No, that’s not going to happen, honey.”

“Can I sleep in the tent tomorrow night?” she wailed.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

We all were asleep by 2:00 a.m.  Of course, the girls were awake and running through the house by 7:30 a.m.  Even though I still felt a little sick from the night before, I got up and made them scrambled eggs for breakfast while PC slept in.  By 10:00, I was sicker than a dog, throwing up and simultaneously suffering the indignities of lower intestinal distress (PC calls it “butt flu”).

PC got up and supervised the girls, who were much subdued and better behaved.  They sat in the tent and watched “Ella Enchanted” and sang along. PC stayed nearby to get me club soda and saltines, and to supervise the girls.  I finally fell asleep.

PC got the girls a quick lunch, after which BFF’s aunt came to get her and things quieted down here at the house.

Rabbit was her old sunny self all afternoon, bringing me a get well note, and later helped me put clothes on the line when I was feeling better.  She complimented my cooking, cleared the supper table, and jauntily marched off to her shower with the promise from Daddy that he would build a tent in her bedroom for tonight.  I should have known she had just been doing some post-naughtiness sucking up.

She came out of the shower and walked into the kitchen with still-greasy hair and when I asked if she’d used shampoo, she said “Yes.”  PC stood there and I asked her again and she said “No.”  Back to the shower we sent her, and PC told her there would be no tent tonight as a consequence for lying.

Next time there’s a sleepover here (if it happens ever again) we are going to have to put down strict guidelines and expectations.  But dangit, I did not think my daughter would be such a show-off that she would push all our limits in front of her best friend.

And to think…she’s only eight.  God help us in the years to come.

Jul 11 2011

BEST SWIM INSTRUCTOR EVER

So my child loves the water but doesn’t really know how to swim.

There, I’ve confessed.

She can flail around until she gets to the side of the pool, but the last swimming lesson she had was at the local YMCA with about ten other children, so Rabbit spent most of the 30 minutes on the toddler dock, bouncing in chest-high water, having a pretend tea party with a little plastic watering can while waiting for her 20 seconds with the instructor.

We endured two six-week sessions of these “swimming lessons” and gave up.  That was about three years ago.  Since then, her daycare and summer day camp groups have had swim days, and Rabbit is fearless in the water.  She stays in the shallow end and dives under to touch the bottom, looks around while wearing goggles, frog-swims under the water and jumps in gleefully.  I honestly hadn’t felt too much urgency about getting Rabbit into swimming lessons, since she was getting by okay.

However, this past May, a local girl, aged ten, drowned in a nearby lake when she was overcome by waves – she had never learned to swim.  She disappeared just a few yards from her family – on Mother’s Day.  I vowed that day that my daughter was going to learn to swim, and learn to swim well.

After soliciting recommendations from friends on facebook, I got the name of a swim instructor who holds lessons in the pool in her back yard in the summer and rents out an indoor hotel pool during cold months.  She limits each class to four children who have similar ages and skill levels, and each lesson is 30 minutes.  Each lesson is $10, which is a little more than the cost at the Y, but we decided to go for it.

Rabbit had her first lesson today and at the end of 30 minutes, she had already surpasses 12 cumulative weeks of skills that would have been taught at the YMCA.  That’s both an indictment of the Y’s lessons and a praise for her new swim instructor.

She was taught how to exhale when coming up from the water (“Yell ‘PAH!” from your puffy cheeks!” said Miss Jana), how to be safe (“Keep your ears above the water and your back against the side of the pool when it’s not your turn, okay?”)  and more.  I loved the approach this instructor took:  ”Reach for the water and GRAB it, and push it behind you!” and “Okay, now we’re going to float on the barbells and do our Superman arms!”

I watched the end of the lesson before Rabbit’s, with children just slightly more advanced than she was. The kids were already doing the breast stroke, even if it was a little messy and tangled and they sputtered water at the end.

One little girl in Rabbit’s class was extremely nervous in the water, and the little boy in her class had a strong kick but kept swallowing water and stressing out.  Rabbit was in ecstasy, easily diving to the bottom to retrieve a ring, relaxing on her back to float, her eyes closed and her limbs drifting apart until she looked like a starfish.

After the lesson was done, each kid high-fived the teacher and padded over to the patio table to choose a sucker from the giant bin, streaming water and leaving behind little footprints on the hot concrete.  The next group trailed in, and Jana shouted “Hey buddy!  Hey sweetie!  How are you? Hop in!”

Just finding this swim instructor feels like we’ve hit the jackpot – I’m so excited for my Rabbit, for what she’s learning and the fun she’s having in the process.  If you have little kids, I would HIGHLY recommend finding an instructor like ours.

She trained in Wisconsin to be an instructor with Swimtastic Swim School (check out their website to learn about their philosophy and methods).  Then she moved back here and met a family who had lost their son in a drowning accident, which led them to form a water safety program called Josh the Otter, which really inspired her to work with young children.

If you’re local and interested in learning about the swim lessons Rabbit takes so you can enroll your child, email me and I will send you her name and a link to her swim instructor’s website.

Jul 10 2011

Happy 5th Adoption Day!

Tiny and tall, she is finally graduated from toddler size clothing and wearing the smallest available sizes in the little girls’ section:  size 6 extra slim.  She is three months shy of her 9th birthday.

Delicate and sensitive, she cannot watch the commercial on television for abused animals needing shelter because it makes her burst into tears.

Mischievous and silly, she cracks occasional jokes and is still overly amused by the sound of her own breaking wind, and the word “toilet.”

Giving and kind, she enjoys what she has twice as much when she gives half of it away. Whether it be a cookie, a handful of rubber bands, a popsicle or a box of crayons, she will offer to share it with you and  will be well and truly disappointed if you decline, however politely.

Every day when I leave her at day camp or school, she tells me “Bye Mommy!  Have a good day at work! Be safe on the road!”

Every time we hold hands to walk into a store or a building or even to cross the street, she whispers “I love you very much.”

Yes, she scowls and occasionally disobeys, or feigns deafness at our requests to clean her room or pick up her towels or clip her fingernails.

But her heart, to us, appears to be crafted from pure gold and spun sugar.  She is a blessing beyond our wildest imagination, a gift and a joy and and endlessly entertaining wonder.

Five years ago today, we finally were able to legally adopt this enchanting and amazing little girl who had been our foster daughter for the previous two and a half years.  We were able to sit in a courtroom and pledge before a judge, a court reporter, a bailiff, and some friends that we would love, protect, care for and cherish this child forever.  And she was able to officially petition the judge, in her tiny voice in the microphone, “I would like…some lipstick.”

There was laughter, and there were tears that day, tears of joy and relief and release.  Hugs and ice cream and disbelief that this had finally, finally happened.

Every July 10, we celebrate our Rabbit’s adoption day – our family’s birthday, the day we cherish as much as her birthday or our wedding anniversary, perhaps even more.

Happy Adoption Day to our magical, precious and irreplaceable A.G.R., aka Rabbit.  The world is a better place for having you, and you have made us better people for being your mom and dad.  We love you!

Jul 1 2011

To Grandmother’s House We Went…

On our recent trip out to western Nebraska, I was worried along the way about how my mom would respond to having company at her apartment.  When there is too much commotion, she gets very agitated and sometimes the aftermath of her having a lot of visitors is loss of memory, extreme anxiety and other symptoms of her early dementia that normally are kept at bay with medication and a lot of structure.

I needn’t have worried – when we arrived, she gathered Rabbit up in a giant hug and was, in Mom Language, “Just tickled pink to see you girls!”  She showed us to her spare bedroom, where she’d already put out sheets and pillows on the futon, and had put fresh towels in the bathroom.  By the time I’d emerged from the bedroom, she’d already pulled Rabbit into her room and was showing her pictures and nicknacks and they were chattering like they’d been together for hours.

I was determined to keep the visit as low-key as possible: no long drives, no epic shopping trips, nothing too much out of her routine.  Mostly, we just visited.

And by visited, I mean Mom talked and we listened, occasionally answering her questions, which she would ask again in a few minutes, but that really was the only indication we had of her changed mental state.  She had changed up her repertoire of conversational topics, tossing out some she’d favored last year and bringing in new ones, adding them to the core four or five conversations that are old standards and not ready to be retired.

We talked a lot about my dad, but Mom didn’t get weepy.  We talked about Rabbit (her age, her grade in school and how far the school was….about twenty times), we talked about my grandparents, we talked about the weather (“Lord Jesus, protect us from hail and damaging winds….”) and we talked about people in town.  Again, by we, I mean Mom.

In the late afternoon, I took Mom to the store for groceries (Progresso soup, bananas, bread and milk) and Rabbit got to spend some of her pocket money on whatever she wanted.  She chose a bag of about 20 tiny chocolate covered donuts.  I just rolled my eyes, but she was thrilled.  At the apartment, she and Grandma Bea each had two.

Saturday evening, we had dinner with Mom in the retirement home dining room, where they served everything “fancy restaurant style” as Mom puts it.  Tablecloths, cloth napkins, heavy cutlery, wine with the meal, your choice of salads and desserts…just the meal plan alone makes me want to live there.

Dinner was prime rib or shrimp – I chose shrimp for Rabbit and me, but she didn’t want any of it.  Rabbit didn’t like prime rib.  She didn’t care for the steamed vegetables.  She had jello for her salad, and ate half a baked potato which she slathered with about 1/4 cup of sour cream.  She drank a tall glass of apple juice and then had lemon cream cake for dessert.

As soon as we got back to Mom’s apartment, Rabbit excused herself to the bathroom and came out in a few minutes looking green.  ”Mommy?  I throwed up.”  She sat in Grandma’s lap and listened to stories about all the times Grandma was sick, and then she asked if we could walk down for ice cream.  Um, no….not when you’ve been sick.

Instead, we sat down and watched “The Sound of Music” on Mom’s DVD player, which she didn’t even remember she had – the movie OR the player.  It’s one of Mom’s favorite movies, and mine and Rabbit’s as well.  They sang along loudly to every song, and Mom and I both got misty eyed when the captain sang “Edelweiss,” and Mom and I agreed that Christopher Plummer was devilishly handsome.

During the scene when the Captain confesses his love for Maria, Mom got all choked up as she usually does.  When the characters kissed, Mom sighed happily and I was able to capture this picture of Rabbit, who does this every time she sees that scene:
After the movie, Rabbit went to bed in the futon (which she thought was the coolest thing ever) and Mom and I stayed up for another hour, talking.  Already I could tell this was a visit that Rabbit would remember for the rest of her life.