Adding Another Girl to the Crew

Growing up, I always wanted a pet.  My first choice would have been a golden retriever, but my mom is allergic to (read: dislikes) dogs, and my dad always went along with my mom.  I think deep down, he wanted one, too, but they always backed one another up. Despite the mind-blowing frustration their unwavering solidarity caused me any time I thought I might get just one of them to take my side, it's something that I really admire about their relationship. Anyway, the closest I ever got to a dog was a stuffed golden retriever under the Christmas tree one year.

My childhood friend, Erika, had a bunny named Floppy.  Floppy was white and lived in a hutch in their garage.  I was envious.  I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to convince my parents to get me a rabbit.  They're quiet, small, and live in a contained area. It was a no-go.

Knowing how crushed I was by the "no dog" rule, my mom told me that when I grew up and got my own house, she would buy me my first dog.  She probably thought that this was very clever because there's no way I would remember such a promise.  She was wrong-- it was seared into my memory as if she'd made a G-D blood oath.  Of course, now I am grown up (sort of), and I have no desire to get a dog anytime soon.  With three kids under the age of 5, I don't really have any desire to take on that responsibility.  Plus, I think I might be allergic.  Maybe it runs in the family.

Over the past several years, Joel and the girls and I have had a fish and three hermit crabs.  Our beta fish, Gladys, was a beloved member of our family (for quite awhile, I might add) until his demise.  We didn't realize that Gladys was a male beta fish until shortly before his death.  I've always wondered if it was his identity crisis that did him in.

Then we thought maybe we'd try our hand at hermit crabs, so we bought Gladys (II), Gertrude, and Gus.  Sadly, they are no longer with us.  Gladys was the first to go, and I have a theory that the name may be a bit of a black hammer.  The other crabs, of course, were too heartbroken to go on without her (or him, I can't be sure).

Not long ago, we started tossing the idea of a bunny around.  My fond memories of Floppy resurfaced and I started to think a rabbit may not be such a bad idea.  Let's review: small, quiet, contained.  I began researching breeds, how to care for rabbits, and so on.  I was hoping to adopt from a shelter, but the woman I emailed with was not eager to adopt out to a family with children.  I did, however, find a couple farms in Rhode Island that breed Holland Lops, which was just the kind of bunny I was looking for!  Holland Lops stay small, make great pets, and are totally adorable.

Hippity Hop Rabbits in Exeter had one Holland baby bun left.  On Monday evening, we pulled up to the farm in the cold rain and were greeted by Tracy.  A labor and delivery nurse with a passion for natural birth and rescuing animals, Tracy was a pleasure to be around.  She showed us all her animals, told us their stories, and even let the girls go into the chicken coop and get an egg that had been laid earlier that day.  All of her animals were well-loved and very friendly.  The bunny she showed us was just about 8 weeks old, small, black, and very sweet.  We decided to take her home.

Since Joel had come straight from work, we had separate cars.  Once we were on the road, the girls and I started discussing names.  Aislinn suggested "Eloise," which I LOVED. Raia wasn't a fan until I told her that we could call her "Weezy" for short.  I dialed Joel's cell and told him we'd decided on a name and that it was Eloise.  Silence.  Then he said, "That is beyond creepy.  When I got into my car, that's the name that I thought of and I haven't been able to come up with anything else."  Weird, right?

Eloise is settling in nicely here.  She's still a little nervous when we try to take her out of her cage, but once she's out, she loves playing and exploring.  She seems particularly fond of Aislinn.  We love her very much and hope that she'll be with us for many years to come!

Note: Hippity Hop Rabbits does not breed bunnies for profit.  All sales go to sustaining the farm, which is home to many rescued animals.

You Can't Spell "Easter" Without "ER"

This past weekend, I hit a parenting milestone: our first-ever trip to the ER! (Do you get bonus points if emergency room visit coincides with a major holiday?)  Raia, who I have lovingly dubbed "Klutzy McGee," fell on my aunt and uncle's walkway and sliced her hand open on our way in to Easter Brunch.  She screamed, as any 3-year-old would do, and I did my best to clean it and bandage it, but there was just too much "stuff" under the skin.  We watched it for a couple hours, realized that it was getting red and swollen, and so, myself, my dad, Joel, and my nurse-in-training cousin tried to tag-team the situation, to no avail.

My father strongly suggested we take her to get checked out somewhere, just to be on the safe side. Of course, there were no walk-in clinics open, being Easter Sunday and all, so we headed for Hasbro Children's Hospital.

We were greeted by a friendly woman upon arrival, who took our information and told us to take a seat.  As we sat down, I looked around the waiting room and noticed how cheery and kid-friendly it was.  Bright artwork everywhere, televisions playing cartoons, and some crazy game in which kids do different activities on a screen projected onto the floor.  We waited for an hour or so before we were taken to a room.

We were ushered into room 16, a small room with two-toned blue walls, two chairs, and a gurney.  Our nurse, Oscar, was great.  Friendly, kind, gentle- everything you could want in a pediatric nurse.  He made a little bubble bath and told Raia to soak her hand until the doctor could come in to see her.

As in any ER, we waited for what seemed like forever for the doctor. Dr. Wylie was young, charming, British, and took excellent care of my baby.  To make a long story short(ish), he numbed Raia's hand with a topical anesthetic and then scrubbed it really well.  It was determined that she did not need stitches (phew!). [Funny side note: when Dr. Wylie came back to give us our discharge papers, I was nursing Nola.  He got all flustered and wouldn't make eye contact with me...and then left the room with the papers he was supposed to give us!  You'd think a doctor would be comfortable around a nursing mom.  I digress.]

But, this story isn't really about Raia's hand.  As I sat in that tiny room for three hours, I realized how lucky we were to have made it almost 5 years into our parenting career before needing to visit the hospital.  On top of that, it was something SO minor that I almost felt silly for being there.  Not every family can say the same.  I left Hasbro feeling very thankful for the health of our girls and thinking of those children and parents who are regular patients at the hospital, who are constantly being faced with major medical problems, decisions, and all the emotions that go along with such things.

And so, I'd like to leave you with this: http://rhodybloggersforgood.com/2013/02/21/meet-belle/.  An amazing group of women has put together a sit-a-thon for Belle, a two-year-old girl with leukemia.  If you are able to stop by this weekend, please do.  It is sure to be lots of fun, and you will be supporting a great cause!  For more information, go to http://rhodybloggersforgood.com/.

P.S. Title cred goes to my very witty husband. :)