"L'il Bit's Hug Song"

 It's been forever since I've posted here.

Our grand-nephew is having his fourth birthday. Well, actually, he had it almost a month ago. Everyone was set to visit Sis-in-Law's place in the middle of the back of beyond (no problem with that, she likes her space), and have a good time. It's not the first celebration, or even the first birthday we've held for the lad in this remote location. But, winter being what it is, and in spite of it being an excessively mild winter, chose that very weekend to throw us a slushy winter storm. And considering the travel requirements, it was thought best to reschedule. 

It's been rescheduled (yay). The snow has melted, the roads are open spring is springing (almost) and it's St Paddy's Day, for the love of Mike.

For his birthday, I dug out something I'd written some time back that was hiding in my steno pad notes. I settled on steno pads as being the best thing for carrying around to write notes in, not too big, but big enough that I wasn't forever flipping pages on my shirt-pocket notepad to get what I had in mind written down. No wonder stenographers used them.

Yes, I know, everyone nowadays has a phone with voice activation to take notes with, but old habits die hard; I'd established this habit in the early nineties, and I've only had a fan-dang fancy phone for the last five or so years. 

True fact, the newest iteration of a so-called 'smart' phone I made sure it had a stylus for writing things, and two of the apps I added were sketchpad and floorplan apps. Great! 

The one problem is, the registration of where the stylus taps and what appears on the screen is an infuriating couple of millimeters off from each other. And not even Motorola lists a way to tighten up that gap. 

Life is.

BUT, that's all just stuff and nonsense. The story's the thing, after all. 

I wrote this "Hug Song" while having a breakfast at McDonalds a few years ago. I decided it was time to transfer it to the computer, and was (finally!) able to find the steno pad it was written in. I cleaned it up a bit, then tried to enlist my own bear-cub to team-read the story (she was unavailable). I read it aloud myself, and recorded it as a nighttime story for grand-nephew, and burned a CD (actually a DVD) of it and a few other things.

And finally I'll get to deliver it.

I thought you'd like to read it, so here it is.

                L'il Bit's Hug Song

The scene: LizaBeth (“Li’l Bit”) Behr’s bedroom. Cub-sized bed with a toy chest at its foot, pine cones carved into the tops of the bedposts. Li’l Bit is tucked in, holding her favorite stuffed toy, a bunny holding a carrot. The coverlet is a patch-work quilt, well-used and well-loved. The only light comes from the bedside table lamp, the ceramic base in the shapes of the three monkeys, ‘Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil’. The room is cozy despite the wind making the pine trees shiver and sprinkling the window with snow. A bit of moonlight is sneaking in through the window, past the snowflake lace curtains.

Beside the bed, in a straight-backed chair, sits George Bear, story book open but forgotten on his lap.

“Papa?”

“What is it, cub?”

“I don’t want a story tonight. Can I sing a song instead?”

George smiled, “I suppose, Li’l Bit. Is it a song you learned in school?”

“No Papa. I made it up myself.”

“Those are the best kind. Go ahead.”

Li’l Bit’s Hug Song (with asides)

     (The rhythm is a slow waltz time) 

I have a family that’s nice, so nice. 

They’re warm and fuzzy not cold like ice.

And do you know what else is right?

We all hug each other all day and all night.      (“We do?”)

                                (“Yes. Now hush, Papa. This my song!”)

                                          (“Oh. Sorry.”)

Mama hugs Papa, He Hugs her right back.

Ma hugs J.R. And he makes a big fuss.               (“That doesn’t rhyme, hon.”)

                                (“It doesn’t hafta rhyme, Papa!”)

                                          (“Okay.)

But when she’s not lookin’ he’s smiling so big.

But when she’s not lookin’ he’s smiling so big.

My Mama Hugs me, an’ I feel so safe.

Nobody can hurt me when she’s right there.

Papa is big, an’ he growls a lot,         (“I do?”)  

                                (giggling “Yeah, you do.”)

But I know he loves me, ‘cause he hugs a lot, too.    (“Awww.)

 

I hug J.R. when he’s not looking.

He growls at me an’ says, “Hey Cub, what’s cookin’?”

He’s not meaning supper, that’s just his way

Of askin’, “What’s up, Cub? How is your day?”       (“Hey! That rhymed!”)

                                (“Papa!)

                                          (“Oh, sorry.”)

                                (“J.R. sometimes gives me noogies.”)

                                          (“Is that bad?”)

                                (“No, that’s Good; s’long as he doesn’t do 'em too hard.”)

Sometimes I wake up and I’m scared at night.

I hug my stuffed bunny an’ say “It’s all right,

“Listen,” I tell her, “That’s Papa’s Big Snore,            (“I snore?)

                                       (“Yes, Papa. You sound like a big tree breaking. Shh.”)

“And Mama’s snore, too. And what’s more,”

                              

“There’s that funny sound that J.R. makes … ("I’ve heard him, you’re right, it is funny.")

                                  (“Papa, HUSH!”)

                                            (“Sorry”)

“There’s that funny sound that J.R. makes,

“An’ the sound the house makes when it is asleep,

“It’s hugging us, too, to have an’ to keep.”

So I hug my bunny an’ snuggle back safe.

And smile to my bunny an’ smile to myself.

I go back to sleep with a smile on my face …

I go back to sleep with a smile on my face.

                                            (“Are you finished?”)

                                  (“Not quite, Papa.”)

                                            (“Okay.”)

There’s soooo many smiles, an’ there’s soooo many hugs.

Sooo many ways to know I am loved.

Sooo many smiles and soooo many dreams.

So many everythings are making good dreams,

So many everythings are making good dreams.

 

                                            (“… Now are you done?”)

                                    ( yawn “I think so, Papa.”)

                                            (“That’s a good song. Thank you.)

                                            (Love hugs for you, Li’l Bit. Honey Dreams.”)    

And that's that. I couldn't get my drawing eye to work (it's out of practice), so no picture to go with like "Forever Family." Such is life. I'm practicing, so maybe I'll add an illustration later. 

I'm gathering these stories to publish, hopefully sooner rather than later. Wish me luck!

IN ANY CASE, I hope you had a Happy St. Patrick's Day, and may the wind be ever at your back!

And until we meet (or meet again), may the Good Lord hold you in the palm of His Hand!

Begorra!

Priority One

What could keep a dedicated computer nut away from his favorite keyboard, and not adding to his favorite blog for almost a month?

His favorite little girl.

Not to mention trying to keep the household afloat.

June was busy, but July was busier, with trips to the big city, rushing our little one to Children's Hospital a total of three times (not counting scheduled appointments).

I only just discovered the hospital library has Internet access the last time we were down there, but limited to 1/2 hour sessions.

Such is life.

Not to worry, though. The bigger picture is looking good, our little girl is doing better. Life is slowly approaching its more-or-less nominal status again. All with a layer of known uncertainty on top of the unknown uncertainty.

What do I mean?

The Unknown Uncertainty is stuff like:

• getting hit by a car
• getting hit by a meteor

• getting struck by lightning

You know, the stuff you know could happen but isn't likely to. Like getting childhood cancer.

Thankfully, our little girl doesn't have cancer.

But, she has had seizures.

If the first time, one-and-a-half years ago, was the last time, then we wouldn't be so nervous. But it hasn't been. Especially these past two months she's had several days of nothing but seizures.

On the other hand, most of the time she is seizure-free.

However, we are watching extra closely, just in case.

That's what I mean by Known Uncertainty.

We have to be careful to not second-guess ourselves and our child; to not over-protect her, to let her be a kid and not a fragile hot-house flower, untested by normal weather.

It gets a tad nerve-wracking.

On the other hand, we have had mountains of support, prayer, even an offer of a Sioux cleansing ritual, by way of helping her get better. You can't buy such love and giving, and I am wonderfully grateful to all involved.

Thank You.

You folks collectively and individually have helped in ways you don't know. I don't know the full extent of your concern, either. All I know, is that our child is still our happy child, still spreading sunshine, giving hugs wherever she goes.

Thank you for helping her spread her love throughout her corner of the world.

Just in case you thought you don't make a difference.

Yes, You Do.

P.S. Just so you know, all of her tests have come back clear: no known organic cause. That means the docs are still scratching their heads. But no injury, no tumor, no visible flaw in brain development. All signs that she will eventually 'grow out' of this. Our trips to Children's Hospital have reminded us, as bad as it is, it could be much worse.

Have a great day!

Yes, You Can

Balance

This is something of a follow up on my "Good Enough" essay (see below), and is to remind all of us that, whatever our work, whatever our passion, whatever our mission, we must find a balance.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Trite, but true.

In my younger days, I liked to listen to the late Harry Chapin's music. All of us who heard Taxi for the first time knew that here was a story teller. When I got a cd collection of his greatest hits, one of my daughter's favorites was Cat's in the Cradle.

It took me some time to realize what she was trying to tell me.

She didn't realize that she was trying to tell me anything, of course. And by the time I got the message it was pretty much too late. But by picking that as one of her favorite songs she was saying "Pay attention to me!" Much of our heartache then, and problems now, might have been avoided had I done so. But like the Dad in the song, I was wrapped up in business, and had pretty much checked out of the family life.

As much as we would like them, we don't get "Do-Overs" in the game of life. We may get another chance to do better. That's one thing I'm working on now.

There's a poem that I'm learning the truth of, slowly:

"There was a man,
They called him mad:
The more he gave,
The more he had."

Balance is what makes us whole. Even more, it's what makes the people around us whole. We need to share ourselves with each other. When we give of ourselves, we get back more in return. But don't give expecting to get back. What you get will not come in the fashion you expect in any case.

But it will come.

Find the balance.

Yes, you can!