The Little Pack

Tick Checks. Back when I was a camp counselor in northern New York, we were strongly encouraged to do daily tick checks. They went so far as to recommend finding a buddy to help you look in hard to see places. This of course sparked the ultimate pick up line of the summer: “Hey baby, need a tick check?” Years later I delighted in Brad Paisley’s song, Ticks, as it brought back memories of an idyllic summer spent holding onto my youth just a little longer. Back when I rolled my eyes at the suggestion of a tick check and refused to be scared into submission by the threat of these mini vampires. I admit it, I thought of them as these mythical pests that everyone liked to complain about about but didn’t exist nearly on the scale that “grown ups” liked to warn us about. Oh I heard about them in vague terms but saw maybe one my whole life. Until. This summer. When they officially became the bane of my existence. Suddenly they were, quite literally, everywhere. We found them on the dogs everyday, I found them in the house, had them crawl on us, and even found one in our bed. I barely let the dogs outside to pee, it was so horrific. We applied Frontline Plus, we combed the dogs every single time they came inside,we sprayed the yard as best as we could and yet there was no escape. I have learned more about ticks, their life cycle and mating habits then I ever wanted to know. I assume that this is just karma for my ignorance. I keep reading how tick season lasts all summer and into the fall but the vets tell me it should end soon. Then flea season begins. Of course I have also always regarded fleas the same as ticks: you know, someone else’s problem. Heaven help us now.

The other day as I was checking Jack over for ticks–don’t get me started on ticks! They are the bane of my existence!–I came across a hard lump on the inside of his knee. It felt like bone. Actually, it felt very much like the lump I found on IO’s foot last year that turned out to be bone cancer. I could feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks before I could even begin to try to be rational about the whole situation. For a week every time I was in the car, I found myself sobbing and bargaining with God to let me have him here just a little while longer.

The vet took x-rays and found that the lump we are feeling is simply arthritis from an old injury and ACL surgery. What an absolute relief. Jackson is almost 10 so a little arthritis is not unexpected. For now his discomfort is mild and intermittent so no real intervention is needed yet other than some supplements and the occasional Rimadyl.

I can’t help feeling as though one of these days my luck will run out and we will receive The Diagnosis and it will be time to say good-bye. But for the time being, I will hug him close and throw his toy and breathe the biggest sigh of relief.

I am sitting here stunned, still in disbelief about the sequence of events that just occurred. First, Baby Boy had a diaper blow-out. Not so unusual. Slightly stressful as I had to deal with it myself and these days it takes 2 to change a diaper. One to keep him in position and keep limbs contained and the other to do the dirty work. So there was rolling in it and little hands in places they shouldn’t be but somehow I wrangled him into a diaper and put him in the pack and play while I could wash my hands and rinse his jammies. Which I did in the kitchen sink. With the sprayer. While he was crying in his pack and play. Suddenly it felt as though my hand slipped and then water was in my face and everywhere. The hose took on a life of its own as it began whirling around, and in the back of my mind as I was desperately trying to catch the hose and turn off the water, I couldn’t help but think, does this really happen in real life? I turned off the water and surveyed my surroundings trying to ascertain what had just happened. Somehow the sprayer nozzle had come off the hose and water was everywhere. I mean everywhere–all over the window, the counters, the island, the kitchen table, the floor. Me. Obviously. By now Baby Boy had lost it, and started screaming bloody murder. I can’t say I stayed exactly calm. Neither of my tactics to soothe him were successful. One was, “Hey, hey, hey, you have to get it together,” and then other was some sort of hysterical (not as in funny, as in maniacal) version of 10 little Indians where I substituted Baby Boy’s name for “Indian.” Meanwhile the dogs were hiding, I was panicing and repeating this is funny, this is funny, this is funny… over and over  to myself.

So now most of the water has been cleaned up, Baby Boy has been comforted and I am wearing a dry shirt. None of us are worse for the wear. Time for a few deep breaths and a laugh. Oh, and to look for the sprayer nozzle which still hasn’t been found.

While Cheyenne has been competing with the baby and conflicted about his arrival, Jackson has completely defied all expectation. Jack’s reaction to the baby was a bit of a wild card. Some kids he has really loved, most he has been indifferent to, and there have been 2 children he has shown his teeth to. To say I was nervous is an understatement. But instead Jack has completely embraced the baby. When we come home, he and Cheyenne both check the baby to make sure he is has come back with me. Jack will always give the baby a quick lick on the cheek. This has become more and more enthusiastic over the past months. And now when Baby Boy puts his hand out to Jack, Jack licks it wholeheartedly. Yesterday Baby Boy immediately noticed Jackson upon waking up and put his little hand out. Jack graciously kissed it. Baby Boy smiled so big. And in response, Jack took this as an invitation and enthusiastically licked his face, much to Baby Boy’s delight. And then. Today, Jack kissed Baby Boy’s hand and Baby Boy giggled. Giggled with those sparkling eyes and adorable dimples and I thought I would just melt.