The Worst Auntee in the World

On Sunday I was given the privilege of taking care of my 4 year old niece.  For me, these are the best days in the world.  I get to spend some one on one time with Allie.  Now I spend every Sunday with my little family: my mom, my sister, my niece, and me.  We have dubbed them ‘family days’.  I generally go over to my mom’s at about 11am, have breakfast or we go out, and wait to Allie to come home from her dad’s.  We spend the day together and then do family dinner, The BF even shows up for this most weeks.  It’s my favorite day of the week.  I honestly enjoy spending time with my loved ones.  We have fun together.  I live for my Allie time on Sundays.  My sister tells people that Allie is auntee’s girl (auntee is a combo of aunt and mollee).  I am, for whatever reason, her favorite person.  Not that I mind.  I love that we are so close.  And on Sundays she will follow me everywhere.  But usually it’s the whole family going places.  It’s rare that Allie and I spend an extended amount of time together alone.  So when we do get that time, I cherish it.  Hence my excitement about spending the day with her on Sunday. 

My mom and sister went to pick up furniture at my grandparent’s house In Wisconsin, 2 ½ hours away.  I had made plans to get together my ‘my girls’ for lunch so I wasn’t able to go.  So my sister went and left Allie with me.  Allie found this out when she got home from daddy’s and was so excited.  She started planning our day immediately.   After lunch she wanted to go to Nickelodeon Theme Park and go on rides (this is at the Mall of America), and she wanted to go to fishy world (aka Underwater World), and she wanted to go to build a bear, and…  She was very excited about meeting my friends for lunch.  She has met one of them before and the other for the first time.  She was pretty good.  They are not used to little kids, but everyone got along well.  She was pretty content to color while we talked.  After lunch, we did indeed go to Nickelodeon to go on rides.  Her auntee hasn’t learned how to deny her too many things yet.  She grabbed a map and proceeded to show me where ‘her’ rides were.  There was a fiasco about her not being able to go on the jumper thing without socks, so we had to go hunt a pair down ($6!).  We even went on a few together.  We were having a great time playing.  The BF called and asked if we wanted to go for a bike ride when we were done at the Mall.  Allie put on her negotiating cap and decided she would go on one more ride, and then we had to ride the swings together and then we could go on a bike ride.  The deal was made and off we went.  After the swings Allie said her legs were tired and asked if we could go get a drink and rest for a while.  This is the only thing that got me out of fishy world, that and a promise of build a bear next week.  Which she was ok with, after all she owns almost all the animals there anyway.  We ventured into “the library” (Barnes and Noble) and all she wanted was a bottle of water and to sit down.  She was so cute about it.  I asked her if she wanted a cookie or a frozen juice drink, “no just some water”.  The ride back to my house was filled with a recap of how cool “the library” was and what a close call we had with Sharky.  (Sharky is the mascot for Underwater World.  He walks around The Mall talking to kids and handing out stickers.  Allie is TERRIFIED of him.  We have melt downs when we see him.  We avoid Sharky at all costs).  All was wonderful as we got out the bikes (she has her own bike at my house too) and helmets and set out to the park with the neighbor kid Gavin, 3 ½. 

The park is 2 blocks from the house.  A nice, easy ride with the kids.  We parked our bikes and the kids ran to play.  Gavin and The BF hit the swings and Allie hit the slides and I sat on a bench exhausted.  Lots of happiness was had.  The BF put Allie on this inertia spinning thing when we first got to the park.  It was fun but like all kids, her attention span lasted all of a minute on it.  I sat on it and The BF was pushing me.  Now like all things that run on inertia, the more you spin around, the faster you go.  The faster you go, the more the G-force kicks in.  It was hard to hang on to when it really got going.  So when Allie came over and wanted to ride on it again because The BF and Gavin were on the swings, I was carefully ‘pushing’ her.  Pushing consisted of me throwing her legs over the focus point so it would go on its own.  I would let her go around a few times and then stop her and ‘push’ her again.  I was trying to keep it from going too fast.  This is where the perfect ‘Auntee and Allie’ day ended.  I swear she was not going that fast.  She had only gone around a few times.  But she started to slip, and before I could stop her, she flew off.  I was horrified.  I checked all the angles, everything landed ok.  But the screams of pain said otherwise.  I admit the visual check was only a second or two, but no blood, no weird angles…I couldn’t leave her lying there screaming in pain.  I scooped her up and carried her to the bench.  She was crying “I want to go home, I don’t want to be here anymore.”  I had brought along my camelback (hydration backpack) and had filled the bladder with ice to keep the water cool.  I opened up where the bladder was and she put her arm in ok.  She even pulled it back out and put it back in.  I figured she had hit it hard, but everything was fairly ok, but wanted to get her back to the house and call her mommy.  I rode back to the house and got the car (and some frozen peas as my ice packs seem to have disappeared) and went back to get her.  I got put her in the front seat and slowly drove the 2 blocks home.  Once we got there, she would not get out.  She didn’t want to move her arm either.  First big clue that something was not right.  We called her mom and told her what happened.  She said they were still a half hour out and to just let her sit there and rest for a little while.  She was tired, and if nothing else, had really jammed her elbow hard when she landed.  We had to get her into her car seat in the back to be able to get her anywhere.  She was so not liking that idea.  We tried to explain to her that if she wanted to go see her mother, we had to get her into her car seat.   That even if her mother were to come and get her she would have to move.  That if she didn’t want to move, or us to move her, that we were going to have to call an ambulance.  After many tears and moans of pain, The BF reached into the car and picked her up before she could really process what was happening.  She actually didn’t scream once she realized it was happening.  We got her back to her mom.  It didn’t help.  We thought that if she had just jammed it, that maybe seeing mom would make it ‘better’, but she wouldn’t let her mom touch her at all.  Not good.  She didn’t want to go to the hospital at all.  She said she felt ok, but had tears running down her cheeks.  You could see in her eyes that she was in agony.  She was afraid the doctors were going to take her arm off if it was broke.  It was heartbreaking.  We all piled into my little Pontiac Sunfire and headed to the hospital.  I was feeling awful long before this point, but this made it so much worse.  I had hurt the sweetest thing in the world.  I was powerless to do anything. 

After 3 ½ hours in the ER, and 3 excruciating x-rays, it was revealed that she had indeed fractured her elbow.  (She has a fracture in her lateral and medial epicondyle.)  Very evident fractures.  She had broke her elbow and had had no pain medication for 5 hours and really hadn’t freaked out.  She is a trooper.  We all took turns sitting in the room with her and her mom.  I had to explain to the doctor what happened.  She looked at me and said “you pushed me too fast auntee”.  I almost cried.  But in her completely trusting 4 year old mind, I was still her auntee, and she knew it was an accident.  It’s amazing the amount of responsibility that trust comes with, and how hard it is to break.  She asked me to stay at her house that night.  She wanted me to be near her even in all her pain.  There was no way I was going to say no.  I called my boss and left him a message that I would be in at noon.  At about 11, she received a shot of morphine so she would be in less pain, and hopefully a little out of it when Dr. Mitch (he told her to call him by his first name) came to soft cast it.  She became quite loopy instead of tired.  She was hilarious.  In all the awful, here she was entertaining us like she always does.  It wasn’t comfortable as they were putting the soft cast on, but she certainly wasn’t in as much pain.  She really wanted to go home.  The ER was extremely busy that night and it took the discharge nurse until 12am to get back to her.  She fell asleep on the way home.  She was carried into bed, her arm was propped up, and she complained.  She did make sure we were all there though.  We all had to come in and stand next to the bed so she could see that none of us had left her.  We still had to get the furniture in the house, return the van, stop and get my pj’s, and pick up her meds.  I think I finally crawled into bed at 2:30am.  None of us slept well.  Allie woke up at 4:30 crying.  The morphine had worn off finally.  After more meds she went back to sleep.  She was up for good at 8:30.  She was more than happy to accompany me to McD’s to get breakfast.  And she made me get out some of her toys so we could play.  We had a good time that morning.  It was like she was trying to make up for all the fun we had missed out on the night before.  When I finally had to leave for work, she walked me to the door and waved goodbye, with her pouty face on of course.  I didn’t want to leave her.  I would have given anything to stay and play the day away with her.  To do anything to take away the night before’s experiences.  I felt like the worst aunt in the world.  She had broken her elbow on my watch.  I was ultimately responsible.  But I don’t find myself playing the 'what if' game.  ‘What if we had decided to go back to her house and not ride bikes’.  ‘What if I had stopped her before she slipped off’.  She’s a kid and injuries are a part of growing up.  My sister is not upset.  Allie’s father is not upset.  Sure they feel badly, we all do.  I shed many tears that night.  There were lots of kisses and apologies. 

                Allie has a bright pink cast on most of her arm, and is doing just fine.  She isn’t in as much pain, and seems to be maneuvering around with one arm quite well.  She even wanted to go out with The BF and me on our weekly dinner with our goddaughter (Allie is also my goddaughter).  So even though I feel like the worst auntee in the whole world, Allie keeps letting me know that she certainly doesn’t think so.  I am still her auntee and she knows that I would never intentionally harm her.  Nor would I let anyone else harm her.  She is still able to play and have fun, which is all she needs to be happy.  She even let me sign her cast.  I know she has forgiven me for any wrong I feel like I have done.  In her eyes, I am still the best auntee in the world.

Fluffy has been Found!

Break out the champagne!..or at least the sparkling cider.  I never would have thought a stuffed animal could elicit such an emotional response. 

That morning when Allie left for school, she was a little despondent.  She had not slept much the night before.  My sister had found and let her take a few substitute animals for nap time.  She had to explain to Allies’ teachers why she was so sad.  Leave it to a preschool teacher to completely understand the devastation.  My sister felt awful.  What kind of mother lets herself get so distracted she loses her daughter’s favorite toy?  Never mind that she was distracted because she was trying to make sure Allie was comfortable after her procedure.  She still left like a bad mother.  She had a rough night too.  She was close to tears when she called me that morning to tell me about Fluffy.  I had to take part of the day off to have my eye examined, so I told her I would be over afterwards to help her look again.  We tore the house apart again.  The more we looked, the bleaker the prospect of Fluffy getting misplaced in the house.  I told my sister to calm down and look under Allie’s bed, again…slowly this time.  You could hear her scream outside.  There he was.  Hiding in the last place Allie had put him.  Well not quite, to be fair.  Allie was playing with Fluffy in the living room and my mom had picked up some of her toys in the haste to find him several hours later and didn’t notice he was in one of them.  But at this point, it was really mote.  He had been found.  I couldn’t wait to see Allie’s face.  I had to stop at Target before I made my way to my sister’s house that morning.  I was wondering around waiting for my prescription, and I bought Allie a new puppy.  He wasn’t to replace Fluffy.  He was to keep her company while we looked.  I was going to tell her that he was Fluffy’s friend and he had come to keep her company because he was worried about Fluffy.  Hey, anything to take away some of the pain.  My sister and I sat in her room crying over the newly recovered duck.  We felt like heroes. 

Now that we had found Fluffy, we couldn’t wait to go and get Allie from school.  Lucky for us, the school is right across the street from my sister’s.  The kids were in naptime, so my sister had to wake her up.  So here is where I should mention that Allie had to go to her dad’s earlier than usually so they could go visit her grampa in the hospital, so we really did had to go and pick her up early.  My sister gently woke her up and was talking to her teacher.  She said Allie had been so sad all day.  I handed my sister Fluffy so she could be the one to give him to Allie.  It took her a few seconds to realize she was really seeing him.  Her eyes lit up and she grabbed him so fast.  She was the happiest little girl.  And I am sure Fluffy was pretty happy too.  She snuggled that duck.  Held him so tight he was hard to see.  What an amazing reunion.  Then she saw the puppy I had brought.  She asked me who he was and I told her he was Fluffy’s friend.  She snatched him out of my hands pretty quick.  She walked out of school that day carrying 4 animals.  She looked like she had hit the little kids’ lottery.  Pretty sure she felt that way too.  Fluffy will be getting an id tag just in case he really does get left behind someday.  So if you ever find a little yellow duck with a collar and an id tag lying around…please let me know.  His name is Fluffy, and he is one lucky duck!

work force

The tension is painful. We are all fairly intelligent individuals. We can see the black hole that is our schedule. No money coming in, too much going out. Panic set in days ago. It’s slowly being replaced by rage. Why won’t they say anything? Give us some clue to guide our reaction. But the truth is even more painful: not even management knows what to do. And no one will talk about it. It’s become the bull in the middle of the office. People think of cute and big when they think of elephants; this is not an elephant. It’s a wild, ugly, and angry bull ready for the charge. Big. Unmoving. Dangerous. Laying piles of dung on the floor. In other words, it stinks.
A few months ago when people would ask how our company was holding up in the economic crap shoot, I would say ‘not too badly actually’. Being a small, custom manufacturing plant seemed to be working in our favor. If you want what everyone else said can’t be done (specific heights, combination of units, this not that), you come to us. We don’t stock units and then ship one that meets the requirements. No. We can customize almost anything in way of HVAC, and we will build it to your specifications. That’s our niche in the market. We offer ‘normal’ market units as well. But where we excel is that everything can be tailored to meet specific needs. Which to be honest can be annoying. We always have to be on our toes making sure that everyone is on the same page. Mistakes can happen more frequently and to a greater cost if people don’t pay attention. But we are able to capture part of the market not satisfied with what our competitors (which include some of our own sister companies) have to offer. Business hasn’t been stellar. I don’t mean to imply that we were swimming in it and spending frivolously. But we were making our ends meet as a company. Then the first round of lay offs. Almost 25% of our workforce lost their jobs at the beginning of this year. It was a stark reminder that no one is immune to the mess created by a system without checks and balances. We were weathering the storm though. Until 2 weeks ago. The work dried up. There is nothing coming in. By the end of this month, we will have shipped everything we have in house. There is nothing to build behind it. Everyone knows it. We are all sitting around staring at each other, trying to look busy by shifting paper around our desks. We all know the truth. There is nothing to do. But in our fear, we look busy because if they are going to cut people, then maybe we will be spared because we appeared to be working diligently.
Lives are being put on hold. Like everywhere else, we are reevaluating everything. Groceries are bought sparingly. Only the essentials make it into the carts these days. I think several times before I purchase anything that I don’t need to survive. The first movie we have gone to see in the theatres in weeks was on a weekday night. Half price from the weekends. The library is a free source of books. I have banned myself from buying any new ones, even at half priced stores. We desperately want to buy a house. To start a life that is our own in a place that is our own. I make the lion’s share of the income. If I lose my job, can we afford it? We have added townhomes to our list. I don’t know that he will be happy in a townhome, but we can afford it with unemployment if we have to. Will he be happy sacrificing what he wants for what we will have to take to be on the safe side? We can rent. An option that he will not be happy with. We both feel the strain of living with an addicted person. It’s hard to live under someone else’s roof when that person’s state of mind isn’t always clear. How many times have I come home to the doors unlocked, garage opened, stove left on? Too many. I want to feel secure in where I live, to feel like I have some say, to feel like an adult. Options are being replaced by uncertainty. It isn’t fair.
Then there are all the other expenses. I developed keratitis in my left eye. Painful and expensive. I have seen the eye doctor a total of 3 times in a week plus the medication: $220. I am lucky that I take eye health seriously and went in right way when my eye became irritated. If it had gone untreated, it would have cost substantially more as it would have taken longer to treat. Not to mention it could have caused more serious problem that can result in vision loss. My car is sick. I have spent almost $1000 this year so far to keep it running right. Far less expensive than buying a new one, an option I really don’t want to have to explore. If I lose my job, I have to keep my insurance going. My medications are outrageous on their own. And I can’t just stop taking my cholesterol meds. Grocery prices are rising again, so is gas. How can they jack the prices up when no one has the ability to pay them anymore? What is really painful is that I know that I am not alone. Everyone is experiencing the pain. My sister lost her job. She’s a registered dental assistant. She can’t find a job to save her life. My mom works for an advertising business as a graphics designer. There is very little work coming in. She too is walking on eggshells waiting to hear if they are closing their doors. I have a friend who is a lawyer…a freaking bar approved lawyer…and he can’t find a job. I have it better than a lot of people. I still have a job to lose. I can still collect unemployment for 6 months and pray that the economy turns around. I am not ungrateful. It still hard knows that my fate lies outside of my control. They might have to lay people off. They might shut us down for a week or two. They may reduce our hours. All things I can deal with…if they would just say something…

Eating Their Young

Eating Their Young

 

I was at the grocery store grudgingly doing some much needed grocery shopping.  For the most part I love to cook.  There are few things as relaxing after a hard day then cutting up some veggies and creating something that tastes good.  And no I am not a stress eater.  Though to look at my 5ft, 150 lbs frame it might not seem that way.  I am not very active.  And my metabolism crashed like the markets when I hit 20.  But I don’t really eat that much, or that badly.  I love veggies, but that only gets you so far when one is not biking 3 days a week like one intended to.  But I digress.  At the same time I was at the grocery store, there was a mom and her 6 maybe 8 year old son.  I am a pretty organized shopper and have my list that is pretty well broken down by like items.  Yes I am that anal.   I write down all the produce, refrigerated stuff, frozen, canned, ect.  It makes my shopping easier, faster, and I don’t buy as much extra stuff because I am only going where I need to and don’t have to backtrack too much.  So as I was gathering my bounty for the next few days, this mom and kid seemed to be in the same aisles I was.  The kid was being quite loud and rude so it was hard to miss them.  Normally I just walk right by those kids who are trying to make a scene.  They are not mine and their parents will know far better than I will how to deal with them.  And if a kid is going to melt down there really isn’t a whole lot you can do to stop them.  I have worked with kids long enough to know this.  So I usually keep my eyes to myself in these situations.  I don’t feel it is my business to stop and stare and make the parents feel like they are worthless.  Unless I see physical violence.  That doesn’t fly in my book.  At all.  Ever.  I have actually said things to parents who seem hell bent on hitting their kid upside the head, literally.  A swat on the backside I will glare but usually don’t say anything.  Actual repeated hitting…you bet.  I may even call the police.  I don’t care how much of a pain your kid if being, it is never ok to be violent against them.  There are a lot of people who might be saying ‘wait a minute here, you don’t have any kids so you have no right to talk.  You don’t understand.’  I may not have any kids, but I have worked with them for years.  I understand getting frustrated.  But seriously, violence only begets violence.  There are better ways to communicate.

 

I come to the cereal/fruit snack aisle and there they are again.  Only this time kid was on melt down over load.  I had heard him whining and complaining almost everything I saw him.  “I want this, I want that.”  Mom would say no.  kid would get mad and start throwing a fit.  Mom would say fine.  The whole time I am thinking, what would I do if this were me and he were my kid, how would I handle this?  I guess I was that bored.  So here this kid is at the cereal aisle and he is in full tantrum mode.  We have move beyond yelling.  We have moved beyond demands.  This kid was screaming at the top of his lungs.  And he wasn’t 4.  He was seriously like 7; at least he had the verbal skills of an older child and not just a tall younger child.  Some of the words that were coming out of this child’s mouth would have made a sailor blush.  He called his mom words I would love…or maybe not…to know where he learned them.  Usually when it’s a kid throwing a temper tantrum, it’s a younger kid.  Like Allie’s age (she’s 4).  Especially when they are tired.  But this kid was older.  And all I could really do was stand there and watch in shock and he open the box of sugar gummy ‘fruit snacks’ and tell his mom she had to buy them now because they were opened.  Holy bonkers batman (to steal a phrase from a friend)!  I expected to find the mom blazing mad (I know I would be) or embarrassed (this would be why I would be blazing mad).  But she was trying to negotiate with him.  ‘Johnny we can get this kind and go back and get some ice cream but we really shouldn’t get those.  They aren’t good for you sweetie.’  I just stared dumb founded at her.  Here was a child, who really should know better, opening boxes of fruit snacks (he was on box number 2), screaming and cursing at her, and she is trying to placate him with a box of chocolate covered granola bars (which I am sure were so much healthier) and ice cream.  This kid is going to grow up to be an actor…or a con artist.  Each time he wanted something he would pitch a fit and after only a few seconds, his mom would give in.  After they left the cereal aisle (with both boxes of gummy sour sugar fruit flavored snacks as well as 2 boxes of the chocolate covered granola bars) they did go to the ice cream aisle.  I saw them walk by me at the check out with a tub of ice cream and the kid had a big, sweet smile.  I wonder who rules that household?  In one of the aisle I swear I heard her call him ‘angel’.  Not likely.  I watch way too much Super Nanny.  I can just hear what Jo would be saying to that mother running through my head as I am paying for my food.  Again I wonder what I would do in that situation?  And I almost started laughing when the phrase ‘this is why some species eat their young’ flashes across my mind.  If I ever become that parent, someone do me a favor…shoot me.

M.I.A.

M.I.A.

 

Fluffy is missing. It’s a life altering tragedy.  Fluffy has weathered many storms.  He’s been many places.  He’s even been missing before.  Quite a lot for his 4 years.  But this time it seems more tragic; the pain more palpable. 

 

Like all good childhood memories, Fluffy has a story.  Fluffy was ‘adopted’ in March of ’05 by a very sick little girl.  I remember very vivid details of that day for reasons I can’t quite explain. Allie was 3 months old and was having difficulties breathing.  She was coughing very hard, spiked a fever of 100, and was coughing/spitting up clear fluid.  My sister and I had brought her to the Urgent Care.  I mean no offense to any Urgent Care docs, but the guy we saw was an idiot.  He told my sister that her child was regurgitating and that was all that was causing the problems. Never mind that you could hear she was struggling to breathe, or that she had a fever, or that she was coughing, or that formula is white and not clear.  We disagreed completely with him and made an appointment for her to see her regular doctor asap.  There was an hour and a half between appointments and going home with a distraught sister (who was struggling with her own health problems) and a very sick baby to wait for an agonizing hour was not a good option.  I suggested we go to Target to pick up a few things since we were out and about.  We walked in and had to walk through the Easter displays first.  Now a side note: every year my mom gives up chocolate for Lent.  It’s a pretty big deal because like most women, my mom LOVES chocolate (especially m&m’s).  So every year on Easter morning, my sister and I give her a basket full of good chocolate…and a big bag of m&m’s.  With this in mind, I suggested we look for stuff for our Easter baskets since it was only a few weeks away and it was Allie’s first Easter.  You can’t really buy much for a baby in way of toys at Easter time.  It’s not like there is a plethora of bunny shaped rattles and googley eyes Jesuses.  Which you have to admit would be a little scary.  But we found the perfect basket item: a stuffed yellow duck.  He was a floppy duck, he was made to lay flat with his feet out behind him and his wings tucked to his body.  He sported a long orange beak and cute beady eyes.  He even had black eye brows.  And this little tuft of long stringy, fine hair. And boy was he soft.  He was the perfect Easter gift for a baby that can only see a few inches in front of her.  My sister placed him in Allie’s carrier and nuzzled him under her chin.  Allie has always had a fascinating with how things feel.  From only a few days old she would run her fingers through my hair when it fell near her face as I was feeding her at 2am, or rub her hands on her sleepers.  I assume that is a pretty normal thing for small babies who are feeling things for the first time.  When my sister put that duck in Allie’s carrier, she immediately starting petting him.  Her breathing started to fall in rhythm with her petting.  It actually seems to be slowing a little and her breaths were a little deeper.  She seemed to be soothed by the feel of this 16in stuffed toy that we were planning on putting in her Easter basket.  And once her little fingers found that little tuft of hair and started carefully stroking the long ‘strands’, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take him away to even put him in the basket of the cart.  She pet that duck the whole time we were in the store.  When we went to pay for our items, I handed the cashier the round tag that I had pulled off Allie’s new toy.  She looked very confused for a minute until I smiled and pointed to the almost sleeping baby holding a duck that was almost as long as she was.  I remember telling her that I didn’t think I was going to be able to get him back so she could put him in a bag.  She smiled and said it didn’t look like it.  And that was the day Fluffy was adopted.  He was exactly what she needed at that moment.  At the doctor’s office, my sister was told to take Allie to the ER right away. It turns out she had developed RSV, which can be fatal to babies.  This has left her lungs weakened and more susceptible to lung ailments and infections.  Allie has spent quite a bit of time in ER’s in her 4 ½ years.  And Fluffy has been right by her side every time.  We know he has to be in the bag when we go to the hospital or someone has to go home and get him.  She has slept with Fluffy almost every night.  He is her comfort object.  The 2 are inseperable most of the time.  

Yesterday, Allie went to have a simple, quick, but painful procedure done and of course had Fluffy by her side.  My sister said she was surprised he hadn’t lost his head he was squeezed so hard.  Afterwards, Allie and Fluffy were rewarded with some mac and cheese at Allie’s favorite restaurant.  Last night when Allie went to bed, he was nowhere to be found.  The restaurant was called; no duck.  My sister drove back there and looked in the parking lot and dumpster; no duck.  She looked in the car, under Allie’s bed, in the hampers, turned the house upside down; no duck.  Allie wandered around the house last night calling out ‘Fluffy, where are you?’ to her faithful friend.  He didn’t respond.  She is heartbroken.  We might be able to find another yellow duck, but we can never replace Fluffy.

 

I think this is so tragic because I understand.  To this day I sleep with my teddy.  Of course now it’s not so much to keep me safe from monsters as it is I am so used to him.  I have tried pillows. And they work in a pinch.  But they just don’t feel right.  They are not teddy.  I have to admit I would feel pretty bad if he went missing.  But nothing compared to how I would have felt at say age 10.  Teddy represents all that was good about my childhood, and still reminds me of the comfort that was offered when things were not so good.  He was there when my gramma died. He was there when my uncle died.  He was there when I hurt my ankle, when I went on choir tours, went to camp.  He went everywhere with me.  It’s impossible to look at him and not remember all that.  I can’t imagine being 4 years old and losing my comfort.  So I understand where the tears and the restless night came from.  My heart breaks for her.  I understand his value and feel awful that there is nothing I can do to soften the loss of her faithful friend.  Fluffy has been missing before.  Somehow he always comes back.  We are hoping this is the case.  So for now we are calling Fluffy M.I.A.  We hope it’s temporary...but I bought her a new stuffed puppy just in case.