Plastic and Stuffing and Love

Misfortune struck our home this morning. If you are fond of Sydney let me warn you: This is a sad story. You’ll need to grab a box of tissues and sit back. 

If you’ve followed our Facebook page long at all you will know who Riley is and probably even remember Liberty from stories long ago. But just in case you need the background: Sydney has had a doll since she was toddler. Her name is Liberty, named after one of Sydney’s friends from preschool. Liberty has been pulled for miles in wagons, ridden on the back of bikes, swung for hours on a tire swing, pushed in strollers up and down the driveway, and gone on many family road trips. She has been carried, dragged, hugged and loved a lot over the years. I have washed her, repaired her, Febreezed her, and detangled her hair many times. Liberty has become quite unsightly, a raggedy mess in fact. But looks do not matter to Sydney. Others recoil at Liberty’s appearance but Sydney still loves her. I had many times tried to get Sydney to transfer her affection to a newer or more attractive doll. Sydney has several nicer dolls but none meant nearly as much to her as Liberty…. until she met Riley. A year ago in March Sydney and I were shopping. Sydney had some money to spend. She usually spends her money on farm toys like tractors and plastic animals. But this day Sydney saw a 20” baby doll she just knew she could not live without. Riley was named before she was even removed from the packaging. It was love. And for the past ten months Riley and Sydney have been nearly inseparable. (Liberty is still loved too but she mostly hangs out at home these days.) The only place Sydney goes without Riley is to school but if it was allowed then Riley would be sitting right beside Sydney every day at a desk of her own there too. Riley has not just become a part of our family, our friends have grown fond of her. Riley almost never misses a worship service and Sydney often asks one of the ladies from our congregation to hold Riley and tend to her while Sydney goes to Bible class. The ladies have played along so often and talked with Sydney about her doll on so many occasions they notice if Riley is not in attendance. Sydney loves the attention the ladies give her through Riley and the ladies love to give Sydney that. 

Liberty, after years of being loved

Sydney with Riley out to dinner

A road trip with Sydney and Riley

Riley rarely misses a church service

Birthday gifts!

Now, for the real story: Got those tissues? Yesterday was Sydney’s birthday. After school Sydney and Riley jumped on the trampoline, swung for a while, and then took the stroller for a walk. Shawn got home from work and Sydney ran to greet him, leaving Riley unsupervised. A few minutes later, Sydney’s older sister drove in. Sydney’s excitement was intense. It was time to start our birthday celebration! And in all the excitement of our family birthday dinner, cake, candles, phone calls from siblings who live in other states, opening gifts, and putting together a couple of new little toys, Riley was forgotten. Even at bedtime she was not missed and Sydney had a sort of campout in her sister’s room. This morning Sydney could not find Riley. I helped her look. Her brothers helped her look. Sydney told me more than once, “This is making me nervous.” and I reassured her that Riley was fine, just under a blanket somewhere or behind something. We looked in the car. Twice. 

I asked Sydney if she could have left Riley outside, thinking back to the last time I remembered seeing Riley the afternoon before. And I started feeling slightly ill as I began to imagine the worst. I asked Shawn to go outside to look around the yard. I could hear Sydney upstairs calling Riley’s name, looking again. I looked out the front window as Shawn bent over to pick something up. He was way out at the edge of the yard and I could not quite see what he had. Then he bent over to pick something else up. And although I could not see clearly, I knew. I knew our two puppies had found Riley. I knew how badly Sydney was going to feel and I knew there was nothing I could do to shield her little heart from the hurt it was about to experience. As Shawn got closer to the house I could see he held pieces of the doll. There would be no washing, repairs or patching I could do. I frantically tried to think of something I could do or something I could say that would protect Sydney from the truth. And then Sydney came down the stairs telling me Riley had not yet been found. I stepped between Sydney and the window. Sydney looked at my face. I saw fear in her eyes. I told her there was bad news and Riley was not okay. And then my little girl, who almost never cries, even when in pain, began to sob and choke out, “But I love her” over and over. I picked Sydney up and went to the rocking chair where we bawled and rocked together for a long while. This fifty-two year old, rational, somewhat cynical, experienced mother cried like a baby. I kept telling myself I was being silly, crying over a ruined toy. But I was not really crying over a ruined toy. I was crying over my little girl’s anguish. I could not take it away from her. So I shared in it.

I know. I know. A doll is just plastic and stuffing and this is ridiculous, blown way out of proportion. But if you can think back to your childhood and the most prized possession you owned all those years ago, then you might get an inkling of how important Riley has been to Sydney. 

As the tears subsided this morning I asked Sydney if she would like to go shopping to try to find another doll. I remembered the store where we’d found Riley and knew it was likely we could find an exact match there. I knew I might also have luck online. It took a while for Sydney to warm up to the idea of a replacement. I suggested we could even pretend the second doll was the same doll and this day had never happened. Sydney did not think that would be possible. But as the day progressed I could see the pain lessen. 

We did go shopping. And we were able to find a doll that is an exact match. And although Sydney insisted we choose a different name (because this was NOT Riley) before our day was through we had all accidently referred to the new doll as “Riley,” several times, Sydney included. The new doll was named Kennedy initially but now we are told she is actually Kennedy Riley and will be going by Riley mostly.

I am reminded of the Disney movie Inside Out as I look back at the day we just had. Ironically the character in that movie was also named Riley. The movie’s message was: We cannot always protect the ones we love from sadness. Sadness is an important part of life and we all need to experience it to grow. Without sadness would we really even know what true happiness feels like?

Steve and Murphy

Tate sent out a text message today to spread the news about Riley. I thought nothing about our tragic morning was worthy of a smile until I read Tate’s words. And before you ask: No. There will not be a funeral, flowers, Cheetos, or Pretzels. 

This was not our first tragedy. We've had broken hearts before. Breaking Bad News

Breaking Bad News, Tate Style

My thirteen-year-old son Tate has autism. Autism frustrates me. However, Tate does not. I adore my son and I am very patient with him. But, sometimes I want to shake my fist at autism. Autism keeps Tate from understanding so much about the world we live in. Autism keeps Tate from being able to verbally communicate well and converse. Lately we have found that Tate expresses himself better in text messages than he does verbally. I believe that it is partly because he can take his time. For Tate to converse with someone in person the other person’s very presence seems to intimidate him slightly. He is easily distracted and loses his train of thought no matter how patiently we wait on him to process our language and respond. Texting has helped Tate to be able to get his thoughts and feelings across to us. Tate often texts his adult siblings. They enjoy his communications very much.

Daisy and a box turtle she found

Recently, my dad, Tate’s grandpa, lost his beloved German Shepherd in a tragic accident. My dad lives right next door to us. His dog Daisy spent most of her time lying on a rug in front of my dad’s recliner. But occasionally Daisy liked to play outside in his yard and in ours. We live out in the country where there is little traffic and our houses are well off the road so we were surprised when Daisy ran right out into the path of an oncoming car and was killed.

Tate, because of sensory issues, has never liked animals. He especially avoids dogs. They scare him a little I think. Tate knew Daisy’s name but he did not call her by her name. He called her, “The neighbor’s dog.” I asked Tate on several occasions why he did not refer to Daisy by her name or even call her “Grandpa’s dog?” Each time he told me the same thing, “She IS the neighbor’s dog.” Technically he was correct. He had me there. He does not refer to my parents as “the neighbors” but calls them “Grandpa” and “Grandma.” However, the dog was “the neighbor’s dog.” I think it may have been one more way of keeping the dog at arm’s length for him.

Tate does not often show empathy or sympathy for others but I have seen it on occasion. Tate was worried about his grandpa being sad. He asked me about it more than once.

Left to Right: Tate, Titus, Emily, Regan,
Levi, Sydney, Bailey and Isaac. Dec. 2014

Tate broke the news of Daisy’s demise to his brothers and sisters in a text message. I believe this is the first group message he has ever sent. Always before he has messaged them individually even if he said the same thing to each of them. Following are the screen shots of those texts back and forth. My older kids are so good with Tate. They know him well and can often understand what he is trying to say even when he does not say things clearly. Notice how he tries to correct the spelling of “aye” and how he picks up on the way they voted with “aye” and then wants to take a vote with “not” too. 

Note: We live in Kansas. Three of the kids were together in Arkansas when Tate was texting them. Levi, aged 17, was at Bible camp as a camper. Bailey, age 20, and Isaac, age 22, work at the same camp in Arkansas. Tate wanted to make sure they ALL got the message. Titus is married to Emily and they live in Connecticut. Regan was in Kansas but not with us at the time. She was in blue in the text as she was the one who forwarded the text to me. I sure love my kids. They all six are so good to answer Tate's texts and communicate with him anytime he needs them. I am so proud of them all. 

You might also like to read Tate's Texts

Stinkin' Dogs and A Traumatized Rabbit

I’ve said it before. I am so glad we live out in the country. It has its benefits. It does have some drawbacks occasionally too though. The last ten days have been somewhat wild for us. And the word is used literally out here in the country. We’ve been without our Pepper for ten days now and the raccoons, possums, and skunks are becoming braver and braver. Soon they’ll be pulling up chairs when we sit down to dinner. When you live out in the “wild” without a dog, all kinds of critters wander into your yard. We are almost surrounded by trees and my youngsters often call the wooded area “the jungle.” Even with a dog, we often saw a lot of critters. One day we saw a turkey walk through the yard, a deer on the driveway, and a coyote in the pasture in front of the house. Sydney watched all three from the front window and I heard her mumble, “What’s next? A dinosaur?”

So, I have been visiting pet rescue Facebook walls and internet sites and watching Craig’s List, looking for the perfect dog. The perfect dog: a mid to large sized dog, past the puppy stage, well mannered, who will bark at people who drive up but not attack them. My expectations are reasonable, right? I know it has only been a short time but it seems like I have spent eons calling and questioning people who are trying to find a home for their four-legged friends. And always in the background I have Sydney bouncing around and begging me to work some magic and find her a furry companion.

A couple of days ago I answered an ad on Craig’s List about TWO dogs. Two for the price of one… because free times two is still free!! They both sounded good. They are four and five year old Australian Shepherd mixes, used to staying outside, both female, already spayed, with no history of roaming, and they are good with kids! The perfect dogs! And I’d found two! The owner was moving from a rural setting to town and needed to rehome them right away. We went to meet the dogs that same evening and really liked them. We brought them home. The dogs were model passengers and Sydney giggled the whole way home. We were so happy! (for about an hour.) Then the escapade began. We got out of the car and immediately the dogs grabbed a kitten. I will just say Shawn is getting really good at digging holes. We comforted Sydney, buried the kitten and began to doubt our decision. We played out in the yard until it was really late. As we came in to go to bed, the dogs began to bark. I looked outside and saw both dogs jumping against Sydney’s rabbit hutch in a frenzied fit. I went out and calmed them, led them away from the rabbit, and came back inside. Fast forward 15 minutes and the scene repeated. All. Night. Long. I tried tying them up but they got right off the cable! Around 2:00 in the morning when I went out, I was almost knocked over by a horrible stench. Those dogs had been sprayed by a skunk! I had already been calling them “stinkin’ dogs by that time so I was feeling a little prophetic. This time, when I led those dogs away from the rabbit hutch and scolded them I started looking around for the hidden camera. Surely, this was not happening to me! When it was nearly morning, I wised up. I raised our window so I could hear when the dogs got crazed again and I could holler the dogs’ names without going all the way outside to calm them. The raised window had its pros and cons though. That skunk smell? You get used to it after a while. Each time I hollered at those dogs, they obeyed and left that poor rabbit alone…for about 15 minutes at a time. So basically, they are dogs with a short attention span and no impulse control. No wonder I was drawn to them. I was contemplating sharing some of Sydney’s medication with those dogs before the sun came up.

Oh, I almost forgot one of the “best parts” of this story. One of the dogs is named Julie. Julie is my little sister’s name. So, every time I yelled at that dog I thought of my little sister. Yelling at that dog was like stepping back in time about forty years. 

Sydney was up at first light and took over where I had left off, tying to distract the dogs from throwing themselves at the rabbit hutch. Even when they were not barking and trying to eat that rabbit through the wire cage, they were sitting beside the cage, staring and drooling. Finally, late in the afternoon, the two dogs went and sprawled out under my van and took a nap. I used their nap time to call the dogs’ original owner and arrange to take them back. For some reason, that guy was a little hard to get ahold of and pin down to a time to meet. He'd been so eager to meet up the day before. I wonder why? We got 'er done though. We unloaded those dogs in a hurry and sped away.

When we returned home without those stinky dogs, we were able to coax all the cats down out of the trees and Febreeze the car. Does anyone out there know of an animal therapist that can help our poor rabbit? She used to be black but now she’s white and she seems to have developed a nervous tic. And now, once again, we are looking for the perfect dog. Added to our new list of requirements is that the dog must be rabbit tolerant, cat friendly, and not share a name with one of my sisters. We've got a lead on a Golden Retriever but that fell through. Then I was sure we were going to adopt a Doberman but that was not in the cards either. We are still looking. 

If you have not yet read about our recent tragedy and the loss of Pepper, who truly was "the perfect dog," then you might want to click on the link below.

 http://quirks-and-chaos.blogspot.com/2014/06/saying-goodbye-to-pepper.html

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