Of Mice and Stomachaches

Alison went to school Friday complaining of a stomach ache. It had seemed like a scam to start the weekend early, but when I was cleaning out her backpack that night, I found a note that she’d been to the school nurse. Even though the nurse hadn’t called, I started doubting myself. She wasn’t herself, really, and said she had both a stomachache and head ache, so I kept her home from dance class and we just stayed in all of Saturday. She was finally asleep around 9:30 that night and I thought we were home free.

At about 10:30, she came in, saying she thought she was going to throw up. So I went in with her and snuggled. We put a cold cloth on her head. She was restless and clearly not feeling well, so I agreed to stay with her for a little while.

At 1:26, she woke me up again. No vomit, but not a happy girl. I wondered if I had made a strategic error by being between her and the plastic trash can I had ready for the vomit.

At 3:15, she was awake again. “Mom, I’m not sure, but I think I might have had a heart attack,” she said. I had to put my ear to her chest and assure her that it was beating fine before she snuggled back in.

At 5:26, she was wide awake. I sent her downstairs to snuggle on the couch and watch TV and collapsed back into her bed. Sweet sleep wouldn’t come, though. It sounded like Tom and Jerry (the MGM cartoon pair) were right in the room with me. Alison couldn’t hear me ask her to adjust the volume, so down I went. I was bleary-eyed, to be sure, but when I got to the family room and saw it barricaded, I thought, ‘She’s been faking the whole time!”

Then I remembered that during one of our early morning potential vomit alerts, Jeff had come in and told us that he’d been on an adventure. He’d been Tom, and the Jerry in our house had been dispatched, he proudly reported. He told us that he’d chased down the rodent and taken it outside. I’m sure I mumbled some sort of accolade for his bravery, but I was asleep again within minutes, and I’d forgotten all about it until I got downstairs and found my way to the family room blockaded.

He’d sealed off the room with screens, the interlocking spongy mats we use in lieu of carpet down there and books. He’d moved the furniture. He’d up-ended stuffed animals and sent some of the Littlest Pet Shop animals flying. Alison was sharing part of the couch with a herd of stuffed cat family members and a framed picture of Nomar Garciappara (before his defection from the Red Sox.) She was following orders to get on the couch, but she didn’t want to chance breaking the artwork, so she had snuggled in with the cats on the other end. I could barely find her in all the mess.

I can only imagine how long Jeff spent chasing the little rat and how many times he screamed like a girl in the process. I bet it was long and often. From the looks of the family room, our home invader was more Jerry-like than Jeff had counted on. I have yet to ask him if he really did catch-and-release. I think he must have. I can’t imagine him killing it, and putting it in the trash can alive would have given us both nightmares. Of course, putting it out in sub-zero temperatures probably didn’t do it much good either.

In any case, we may no longer have a mouse in our house. I tend to think they travel in packs, though, so I’m on the look-out.

After I’d put the room back together, Ali was tired of TV and challenged me to a “carnival of games.” We’d play seven board games and the person who won the most games would be the champion. There’s something disturbing about coming out the big loser against a sickly 6-year-old, but that’s what happened. I was sleep-deprived, but I managed to win only at Candyland.

Jeff the Mighty Mouse Trapper didn’t get home as soon as I’d expected this morning, so instead of letting him be victimized by Alison’s board gaming skills, I brought her along with me to a monthly brunch I have with some great girlfriends. She fell asleep in mid-sentence on the way home and hasn’t woken up since. That was two hours ago. I think I’m going to follow suit in just a minute.

Wish me luck that Jerry doesn't find a way back in and bring any of his brethren with him. I need the rest!