Erynn - pet story

How far would you go to keep your child from experiencing pain? Kien shared a story of his childhood involving stew and a pet....which made me think of pets and DEAD pets....which made me think of my daughter, Erynn, and her pet hamster named Baby.
Well, Baby had lived two years, which is a long time for a hamster. Baby had been a very smart hamster - so smart that she was an escape artist...which wasn't a problem since all you had to do was knock on a wall and she would come to you! Each night I'd knock on her cage and up the tube she would come.
So one night knock I did...and no Baby. "Hmmm...maybe she's still sleeping," I thought. Twenty minutes later, still no Baby. This time I knocked a bit longer, and heard her stirring, and saw her walking towards her tube. But not really walking....more like waivering...a bit like a drunken sailor.
"Mommy!" cried Erynn, "Somethings wrong with Baby! Fix her, fix her!"
So I scooped her up in my hands. Her eyes were almost closed, and she just shook in my hands. I promised Erynn that I would make Baby better....and convinced her to go to sleep.
Alas, Baby died in my arms. I cried, because I'm a softie, but then I thought, "Oh Lordy, what am I gonna tell Erynn in the morning?"
Take #1: "Good Morning sweetie, your hamster's dead. Get ready for school"
Take #2: "Good Morning Erynn, Baby died....do you want cereal or eggs?"
No, neither of those "takes" would do..... I could not give Erynn terrible tragic news about her beloved pet and then cruelly send her to school. I had to protect her from the pain, even if it were only for a little while. How could I do it? I had to switch into Mommy-mode, and quick. I wrapped Baby in T.P. (soft burial shroud), and placed her in a coffee can.....then I put the can in the refrigerator. That way she wouldn't start to smell...or worse.
Morning arrived and it was easy to distract Erynn from Baby. The day went as it normally would, with me picking her up from school and heading home.
"Mommy, do you think Baby will be okay?"
"Oh honey, you know...Baby lived for a long time. She didn't look too good last night" and thinking to myself, "true, no one looks good wrapped in T.P"
"Mommy, I'm gonna hold her and make her better."
"Sweetie, she was so sick. I just want you to be prepared...she might not be okay."
"I know, Mommy."
So we arrive home, Erynn leaping out of the car and rushing for the door.
"Hold up sweetie-darling!" frantically I tried to think of some suitable delay. "Would you please go get the mail?"
"Mommy, I gotta check on Baby."
"Oh sweetie, I'll go check on Baby. You go get the mail"
As Erynn stomped to the mailbox, I rushed through the door, tore around the corner to the kitchen, threw open the fridge door, grabbed the coffee can, unrolled Baby from her burial shroud and plopped her in her cage. At that exact moment, Erynn came through the door.
"Mommy! How's Baby?"
Quickly catching my breath, composing my face into an appropriate mourning demeanor, I replied, "Oh sweetie, I think she's dead."
Tears welled in her eyes as she approached the cage. " Oh, mommy, she's so still....can I hold her?"
I carefully picked up Baby and placed her in Erynn's hands.
"Oh Mommy....she's so cold."
(Yes, I know....I should have thought quicker, longer, something. But honestly, after everything that had just transpired, it was the best I could come up with.)
"Yes, sweetie, I know. Ah...that's what happens when you die."

Erynn did not know the true story of the demise of Baby until she was in high school....she then proceeded to write a story about her horrible mother keeping her dead hamster in the fridge! Yes, she has a wicked sense of humor...no idea where it came from. :)
So, how far will a mother go to ensure her daughter doesn't have a bad day? Pretty damn far: Dead loved ones kept in the fridge....

erynn and easter

It never ceases to amaze me how, in hindsight, I can find humor in the strangest places. Dead hamsters in freezers, bones jutting out of legs, parents who make you cry, allergic reactions to drug combina—oh? What’s that you say? I haven’t told you that one? Oh, well—
Easter was quickly advancing. It was the “family holiday” that was held at my house, since I had the vastness of space required for egg hunts. (Now ex)-husband’s family was of the Immaculate-Housekeeping religion, so I spent weeks tidying up the ranchette. And, as luck would have it, I got sick a week before D-day – oops, I mean Easter. Finally, I dragged my hacking body to the outpatient clinic on Good Friday, which turned out to be one of those oxymorons. The wise doctor (also oxymoron) gave me a prescription for Seldane (antihistamine/decongestant) and Erythromycin…..
Saturday morning broke with a frenzy – only 24 hours before the horde – oops guests – arrived. Frantically I scoured the bathroom floor. As I stood, I realized that my ankles were stiff, and so were my hands. “Hmm,” I thought, “Interesting….Ve-rrrrry Interesting.” But time was a-wasting! Carry on McDuff! To the other Loo!
It was while scrubbing the toilet that I realized I was having difficulty swallowing. As I stood and looked in the mirror, I noticed that my eyes were puffy….I tried to take a step closer….and realized that the soles of my feet felt like they were on fire.
“Honey? Something’s wrong. Can you bring me the phone?”
“Aw, can’t ya’ get it yourself? I’m on the computer.”
(yes, ex-husband was charmingly sweet)
I realized that I was having an allergic reaction, so I called the clinic.
“I think I’m having an allergic reaction. My hands and feet are tingly and swollen. My eyes are puffy and my throat feels like it’s closing shut.”
“Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Duh! I have bronchitis! Of course I’m having trouble! What should I do?”
“Well, ahhh, the doctors have left. Take some Benedryl and if you’re still having difficulty breathing you should go to the Emergency Room.”
As I hate hospitals…..I chugged Benedryl. Body effects seemed to halt their growth, but weren’t reversing. So, in an effort to help hasten my recovery, I went to sleep on the couch…..”
“Mommy”
“Yes Sweetie-darling”
“Mommy”
As I groggily open my eyes, I am greeted by the anxious sad face of Erynn (approx 4-5yrs), with tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yes baby, what is it?””Oh Mommy, the Easter Bunny didn’t come….I guess I was bad, huh?”
A big fat tear plinked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Bad Mommy, Bad Mommy,” I scolded internally. “Think fast, think fast—“
“Oh baby – I’m sure the Easter Bunny was here. Maybe he hid your basket. Why don’t you go check up on the road by the mailbox?”
Her eyes brightened, and she lit out the door. “Gotta hurry! Bad Mommy! What were you thinking—“ I berated myself.
Leaping off the couch, I found the soles of my feet still felt like they had daggers in them. But it didn’t matter – my baby needed her basket. With a combination of hobbling, screaming and crying, I made my way to the kitchen, threw her basket together (all items were ready to go, just had not had time to assemble), and frantically tried to think where I could hide said basket. Looking out the front window, I saw that Erynn had scoured the road, and, finding no basket, had begun her journey back to the house.
Eureka! I thought of the perfect place in the backyard, and again, with the combination of hobbling, screaming and crying made my way to it, hid the basket and hurried back in.
Just in the nick of time! Erynn came through the door with a dejected, “No, Mommy…it wasn’t there.”
“Baby, remember that family of rabbits we saw hopping around last week? Maybe the Easter Bunny came to visit them. Where did you and your Dad see them go?”
“The wood pile!” she screeched and rushed out the back door.
Yes, there in the woodpile, next to the Rabbit famly den, was the basket, left by the Easter Bunny.
For the next 4 years, the Easter Bunny got up early on Easter morning to hide Erynn’s basket….next to the Rabbit family den…..in the wood pile.