A Brush with Blue

I almost died today.

Okay, that's not completely true. It would be more accurate to say I thought I was dying.

It started with my awakening around 5:00 in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I decided to head on to school and get some work done. I prefer arriving at work before the kids. I get far more accomplished in the morning than in the afternoon.

Anyway, I arrived at school around 6:00. I went about my regular school business: writing lesson plans, grading papers, and creating flipcharts and presentations. During the midst of all my activity, I began to feel a tightness in my chest. I ignored it, figuring it was simply heartburn or a remnant of my illness last week (I had a virus).

All morning long, the tightness in my chest persisted. By 10:00, it was an intense, throbbing pain that washed over me in waves. It felt like my chest was being squeezed by a boa constrictor. I continued to ignore what was happening; I didn't want to take another sick day since I missed a couple days last week due to the virus. I reasoned it was simply heartburn and continued with my business.

Lunchtime arrived and I walked my students to the cafeteria. I could no longer ignore what was happening. The pain was increasing, I was having difficulty breathing, and my limbs were tingling. Knowing these symptoms herald a possible heart attack, I tracked down the school nurse. She took my vital signs and told me I needed to get to the hospital fast.

The school secretary immediately called my husband, Justin. He left work at once and drove to Draper to pick me up. It was faster for him to get me than to call an ambulance, since his school is about a five minute drive to Draper. Anyway, they got me in the car and off we sped to the hospital.

As we drove, I realized that my situation might indeed be life-threatening. I had the terrible suspicion that I would never see Gryffiin again. I told Justin I needed to say goodbye to my son. He tried to reassure me that nothing was going to happen, but deep inside I feared the worst.

I don't remember much of what happened next. I know that Justin helped me into the emergency room and urgently told the nurse he thought I was having a heart attack. I remember the nurses laying me on the bed, stripping me of my shirt and attaching dozens of electrodes to my upper body. They hooked me up to several different machines to monitor my heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation levels.

For the next few hours, they closely monitored my condition. The pain eased and I began to feel lucid and normal once again. By the time the saline drip finished with my IV, I was feeling fine.
Apparently, the crises had passed.

According to the doctor, I did not have a heart attack. All the tests came back perfectly normal. The doctor explained that most likely I had a panic attack brought on by stress and anxiety. That diagnosis certainly fit the bill; the pain, the feeling of dying, all of those are symptoms of a panic attack. Whatever it was, I never want to experience it again.

On the way home, Justin told me what occurred right after I was admitted. I was drifting in and out of consciousness and mumbling things under my breath. At one point, I said, "I see the blue. It's so beautiful." I also smiled at something and muttered, "I'm so glad to see you! I've missed you for so long." I then told Justin, "Amadeus (my cat who died last year) is here." Justin admitted he was terrified by my statements and demeanor. For my own part, I really don't remember saying those things, and I have no idea what "I see the blue" means.

The doctor told me I needed to rest and ordered me to take the next two days off from work. He diagnosed me as suffering from acute exhaustion, brought upon by insomnia, stress, and anxiety. I'm also supposed to follow up with my family physician and try to avoid stress (and how, do I ask, is that supposed to happen??!!!). So I'm vacationing for the next couple of days.

If there's one thing I've learned from today's experience, it is this: every moment we have with our loved ones is to be treasured above all things. When I thought the end was near, I realized that the most important thing in my life is my son, Gryffin. It's amazing how such an experience can change your perception and open your eyes to the beauty that exists in your life.

The Bible says to "give thanks in all things." I thank God for my brush with blue, because now I remember the joy of living.

What sound does a Gryffin make?

This weekend my husband and brother-in-law went camping. Personally, I thought this was an insane idea since it rained on them non-stop, but boys will be boys. Which brings me to the point of this blog (how's that for a segue?).

Friday evening I read Gryffin one of his favorite books. The book contains pictures of various animals, and Gryffin loves to imitate the sounds of the animals. Our conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: "Look at that bear. What sound does a bear make?"

Gryffin: "Grrrrr!"

Me: "Great job! Look, there's a duck. What sound does a duck make?"

Gryffin: "Quack quack!"

Okay, so you get the point. Anyway, this is a favorite pasttime of Gryffin's, and he was enjoying himself immensely. However, after the seventh time through the book I needed a break, so I began asking him about sounds from animals and things not in the book. For example, I asked what sound a telephone makes, car makes, etc. To his credit, Gryffin managed to imitate most of the objects.

I then asked what sound Dada makes.

Now I'm sure it was just a coincidence. I'm positive. Without a doubt.

Anyway, when I asked Gryffin what sound Dada makes, he paused for a moment, bent over, farted loudly, AND belched.

What could I say? He got it dead to rights.

Love you, Justin:)

Gryffin's Trick or Treating Extravaganza

I know this is a little late, but I'm just now getting around to writing about Gryffin's first experience with trick-or-treating. It was such a monumental event that I wanted to take the time to do the story justice. Now it's almost two weeks later, I'm swamped with work (I've got a yearbook deadline, SACS review, School Improvement Team meetings, Washington DC trip week after next, rough draft of book due before Christmas, Science Fair before Christmas, CHRISTMAS, I could go on but its just going to depress me so I'll stop there). So I decided I better write this entry before I completely forget what happened.

Since Gryffin is only 2.4 years old, this is his first year trick-or-treating. I did make him a costume for his first Halloween; it was a smiley face pull-over that took me six yards of fabric and four hours to make. I am not kidding. Kinda makes me wish I'd been able to take home ec in high school.....but, as usual, I digress. Anyway, this year Gryffin got to wear the dinosaur costume we purchased when he was a newborn and stored just for this happy occasion. He was very excited about being a dinosaur, and when we put the costume on him he "roared" around the house and attacked anything silly enough to be still for a moment. So he was very excited about dressing up, but he didn't understand about trick-or-treating.

We took him to my in-laws, who live in a country club and have access to lots of houses in easy walking distance. We didn't plan on doing a lot of trick-or-treating; after all, does a 2.4 yr old really need sugar? So we planned on visiting two or three houses near my in-laws.

We set out rather late, as it was already growing dark. I designated myself the official photographer and took pictures as Justin and Gryffin walked hand-in-hand down the side of the road. Gryffin seemed a little unsure of the dark, but when reminded that he was a dinosaur, he confidently roared his way to the first house. I stayed back to snap photographs while Justin and Gryffin mounted the steps and rang the door bell.

The young girl who answered the door smiled at Gryffin, mentioned how cute he was, and then held out a tray with two pieces of candy for him to take. Gryffin, knowing a good thing when he sees one, immediately grabbed the candy and said "tank oo." The girl wished them good night, shut the door, and my boys rejoined me on the sidewalk.

Justin and I were curious to see what Gryffin's response would be. He kept staring at the house, repeating, "trick-or-treat candy?" and looking at the two pieces of candy in his basket. By this time, it was very dark and we could hear screams coming from the houses further down (I believe they were doing something to scare the trick-or-treaters, so we decided the one stop was plenty). We turned and began walking back towards our car.

Gryffin apparently decided he liked the concept of trick-or-treating. All the way back to the car, he shouted, "trick-or-treating love oo!" I'd say that's a rave review if ever I've heard one.

I SURVIVED THE DAY FROM HELL or the reason we'll never take Gryffin out in public again

Today was one of those days. Gloriously beautiful; crisp autumn air, a magical landscape of colorful trees, the sights and sounds of fall. One of those days were its a crime to stay indoors. One of those days that make you thankful to be alive.

One of those days that will live in infamy.

My husband and I decided it was time to make our monthly pilgrimage to nearby Greensboro to do some serious shopping. Since the weather was wonderful, we decided to bring along our GPS unit and do some geocaching in between shopping stops. We looked up coordinates, logged in way points, gathered up Gryffin, and set out on our day of fun.

How ironic that all seems now.

We hadn't made it to our first navigational coordinates before we realized our GPS unit was on the fritz. Thinking perhaps the batteries needed changing, we did a quick series of U-turns and headed back to the house. Justin grabbed some fresh batteries and we hit the road. About five minutes later we were back at our first spot, hunting through the underbrush on the side of a hill. Luckily no one was about or we would have been arrested for looking like terrorists. However, about ten minutes into our hunt the GPS once again goes belly-up. Realizing that something more irksome than dead batteries must be the cause for the power failure, we decided to ditch the geocaching and head on to Greensboro for lunch and shopping.

We stopped at the Four Seasons Mall and did our quick shopping (which got us nowhere; they did not have what we were looking for). By the time we left the mall it was around 1:00 and we were ready for lunch.

As is the way with most married couples, Justin and I argued over where to eat. Actually, we argued over who would make the decision about where to eat; each of us insisting that "I don't care, you pick" over and over and over. Eventually, it was decided that Hibachi Japanese would be a good choice. In order to get to the restaurant, we had to once again navigate a series of U-turns, sudden stops, and accelerated lane changes.

Now, if you've ever suffered from car sickness, then you know that U-turns, sudden stops, and accelerated lane changes is the quickest way to go from feeling fine to being sicker than a dog. Anyway, as we're negotiating these motion-sickness inducing maneuvers, Gryffin begins to gag in the backseat.

Concerned, I looked over my shoulder to ask if he was okay. I timed it perfectly; he projectile vomited all over the car right when I looked back.

Three minutes later, Gryffin's feeling better (maybe because he threw up EVERYTHING he'd ever consumed in his life) but Justin and I were feeling decidedly nauseated. However, Gryffin was now starting to cry, "Eat! Eat!" and we knew we couldn't wait the hour and a half it would take to return home. We had to find a restaurant, and fast.

Well, before we could find a restaurant we had to make a stop at the local Babies 'R Us to buy a fresh change of clothing (stupidly I didn't bring any extra clothes on the trip). Justin stripped Gryffin down and hauled him into the bathroom for a quick washing while I went to the sales rack and selected two outfits. By the time I finished paying, Justin and a semi-nude Gryffin (he only had on a diaper) joined me at the front of the store. I held up both outfits and asked which one Gryffin preferred to wear. He excitedly chose the shirt with the slogan "Little Monster."

Apparently, Babies 'R Us should attach a sticker to that particular garment. Warning: wearing this outfit practically guarantees demonic possession.

We cleaned the car as best as we could using paper towels liberated from the Babies 'R Us bathroom. Gryffin's vomit-covered clothing went into a plastic bag and we headed to the Hibachi Restaurant.

Now, Gryffin's been to a Hibachi restaurant before. Normally he enjoys the show immensely. Note that I said 'normally." Today, however, Gryffin simply wasn't in the mood for manners.

We sat down at the table and the waiter brought us soup. Gryffin promptly upended his bowl, spilling hot liquid all over the table. When we took the spoon and bowl from him, he began to scream. By this time, people all over the restaurant were giving us "The Look": that patronizing sneer that practically screams, "You must be terrible parents. Why can't you control your kid?" If not for the fact that we'd already placed our order, we might have left at that point and just gone to McDonalds. In hindsight, that would have been the wise choice.

Our chef arrived and started the show with an impressive firing of the grill. The flames shot up ten feet into the air, causing all at the table to "Oooo" in awe. Gryffin was also enjoying the fire display. In fact, he enjoyed it so much he decided it would be a great idea to climb out of the high chair and go play on the grill. Only with great difficulty were Justin and I able to restrain him in his high chair. Thwarted in his plans for pyrotechnics, Gryffin proceeded to scream. Very loudly. He only screamed two little words, but they were enough to garner the attention of everyone in the restaurant. At the top of his voice he shouted over and over, "Help me! Help me!"

At this point I would dearly have loved for an earthquake to open the earth before me so I could disappear from sight. With no such seismic savior coming, Justin and I did our best to calm down our red-faced, screaming, demon-possessed son. He was making so much noise and causing such a scene, our chef actually made a couple of mistakes in his show. I didn't know what was worse; listening to Gryffin scream or seeing the horrified look on other people's faces. Nothing Justin or I did would calm him down.

We tried to feed him rice, which he normally loves. He responded by throwing the rice across the room. We tried to feed him vegetables. He retaliated by knocking the plate off the table. We tried to give him water. He promptly squeezed the cup until the beverage ruptured out of the top. By this time I was near tears, Justin was red-faced with anger, and our entire table of fellow diners were silently doing their best to ignore the scene coming from our side of the table.

Eventually, the chef gave us the steak and chicken part of the dinner. At last, Gryffin settled down and began to eat. Unfortunately, he decided to eat in his favorite manner. We call it the "wood chipper." He shoves food in his mouth at a continuous rate of speed, chewing all the while. It's amazing to watch, actually.

Only this time the 'ole chipper didn't work up to speed. He was shoving huge pieces of steak and chicken in his mouth before he had finished chewing the first piece. Pretty soon his cheeks bulged like a chipmunks, his mouth refused to close around the gob of food, and drool was liberally running down his neck and (formerly clean) shirt. Justin and I both tried to get him to discreetly spit out some of the mess, but he refused, screaming through his half-way shut mouth all the while. The screaming attracted the attention of our fellow diners, who glanced his way just in time to see Gryffin open his mouth and rid himself of the surplus, half-masticated meat. I do believe the gentlemen next to me gagged on his meal. I know I did.

As soon as possible, we got our check and left. I'm pretty sure I heard the restaurant applaud as we hurried out the door.

By now it was around 4:00 and we decided to walk through the Guildford Courthouse Battlegrounds in Greensboro. For those of you not versed in Revolutionary history, one of the war's deciding battles was fought at the Guilford County Courthouse. Although small in comparison to Gettysburg or Chickamagua, the park is beautifully landscaped and even boasts a small ranger station where you can view priceless Revolutionary War artifacts. Needing a bathroom break, we pulled into the station and headed in to the gift shop. I took charge of Gryffin while Justin headed to the bathroom.

Although I always feel guilty when we use it, Justin and I have purchased one of those "kiddy harnesses." It's a backpack that straps across the child's chest and stomach, with a long nylon handle attached to a clip on the top of the back. In other words, its a leash. I know it looks terrible for us to walk around with our son straining at the end of a rope like an over-eager beagle, but it helps us keep track of him and not let him run into traffic (which I think he would dearly love to do). Leash in hand, Gryffin and I began to walk through the store. Or, more accurately, Gryffin began to pull me through the store while I did my best to try and reign him in.

We eventually made our way to the kiddie section of the gift shop. I was specifically looking for a book on ghosts of Guilford Courthouse, and silently perused the book shelves while Gryffin poured over the toys in the corner. Since most of these toys were sturdy, wooden replicas of Revolutionary era weapons, I didn't think he could do much harm. Boy was I wrong. Somewhere along the way he managed to grab a pricey little "Junior Ranger" hat. Normally this would be no big deal, as I would just take it from him and place it back on the shelf. However, His Royal Highness decided to make sure this hat was his. He marked his territory by taking a bite out of the hat.

Well, since the hat was decidedly crumbled and wet-looking on one side, I knew I had to purchase the thing. I took it and a grumbling Gryffin (who was diligently trying to reach an even more expensive hat) to the counter to pay. By the time the cashier rang up our purchase and I had paid, Gryffin had decided that the cute little cannon display was his. He claimed this item by screaming loudly, "MINE!"

When you're inside a little store, whispers echo. Imagine a toddler's full-strength scream. I do believe if the acoustics had been a little better he would have shattered glass.

Finally Justin emerged from the restroom and I got my turn. As I pushed open the door and escaped into the quiet sanctuary, I heard Gryffin screaming "Mommy! Help! I stuck!" Apparently he had managed to climb INSIDE the display cannon and lodged himself in the barrel of the gun. Luckily he wasn't really stuck, but he sure did get a lot of attention.

We extricated our son and decided to call it a day. I must say I've learned my lesson. Next time Justin and I decide to do some shopping, we're going to let the little monster stay with his grandparents.

And speaking of monsters, I'm looking into a class-action lawsuit against Babies 'R Us. They really should have warning labels on their clothing.

Gryffin Always Rings Twice...

Gryffin's First Ring: (happened September 2007)



Well, I've learned another important lesson concerning toddlers. Just thought I'd pass it along. So here it is.



Never leave a cell phone unattended near a 14 month year old.



You see, my son is addicted to technology. Anything electronic fascinates him. (like vcrs). Once I took him with me to the post office and he went nuts over the electric scanner. He actually tried to crawl over the counter to get the hand-held scanner. Caused quite a scene, but that's another story. Anyway, a few weeks ago Gryffin got his hands on my cell phone. I left it on a table that I didn't think he could reach.



Apparently, I was wrong.



Now this isn't the first time Gryffin's gotten his hands on my cell phone. He likes to flip it open and push the buttons to hear the sounds they make. I went and bought him a toy cell phone that would make noises when he pushes the buttons, but he prefers the real thing. Well, to continue with the story. On this first occasion he managed to get my phone and started flipping buttons. I was in the middle of grading papers and it took a moment for me to realize what was happening. By that time, he had managed to hit the send button and had placed a call.



To Peru.



At least that's where we think he called. It might have been Bolivia. Where ever it was, they didn't speak English. Luckily, this occurred after 7:00 when all long distance calls are free.



Gryffin's Second Ring (happened Monday, October 27)

When we arrived home this afternoon, Gryffin had a Halloween card waiting for him in the mailbox. The card was from my parents in Tennessee. He excitedly ripped the envelope open and pulled out the card. He then proceeded to carry it all around the house, showing it to everyone and everything ("look cat! I got card!") Obviously, Gryffin enjoyed the card and was eager to discuss his feelings concerning the matter. So I thought it would be nice to call my parents and let him thank them for the card.

I pulled out my trusty cell phone, dialed my parents, and then gave the phone to Gryffin. He had a nice little chat with my Mom; I distinctly heard the words, "Thank you" and "card" at several points. Eventually he tired of the conversation, said "Bye-bye," and tossed the phone to me.

I told my mother goodbye and then began to do some chores around the house. Justin was busy working on the computer and Gryffin was playing in the living room. It was a nice, peaceful scene.

Eventually, I decided it was time for my nightly bedtime ritual. About an hour before bedtime, I lay down in the bed and read a book. This helps me relax from the day, calm myself for sleep, and regain inner control. If I don't get my before-bedtime-reading, I simply don't sleep well.

Anyway, Gryffin remained in the living room and Justin continued working on the computer. I heard Gryffin talking, but thought nothing unusual about this, since he talks to everything. I then heard the phone ring. Justin answered it.

Next thing I know, Justin is in the bedroom, holding the phone out to me with tears in his eyes. Concerned, I took the phone and managed a shaky, "hello." I must admit, I feared someone in the family had been hurt or was gravely ill. Luckily, that was not the case.

My mom was on the other end of the line. She was laughing so hard it was difficult to understand what she was saying. Eventually, she managed to ask me if I knew where my cell phone was.

Now, I always put my cell phone back in my purse after using it. If you've read the story of Gryffin's Peruvian phone call, you will understand the need for this habit. However, I apparently did not return my phone to its pouch because Gryffin had it. He was sitting in the recliner, holding the phone to his ear, and excitedly jabbering away.

While Justin retrieved my phone, Mom explained what happened. Apparently she was in the process of cooking dinner when the phone rang. She picked up the phone just in time to hear the "click" of a disconnected line. Seconds later, the phone rang again. Once again, she answered just in time to hear the phone hang up. Confused, she checked the Caller ID display and discovered the calls were originating from my cell phone. Immediately she grew nervous, fearing that some accident had befallen me and I was unable to maintain the phone connection. She was just about to dial my number when the phone rang again. This time when she answered she heard a small, happy little voice chirp, "Hi!"

It was, as I'm sure you've guessed, Gryffin.

Realizing that he must have hit the redial button on my phone, my Mom told him to take the phone to mommy or dada. This command did not sit well with my son, who told her "No! Mine!" He then promptly hung up.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Mom answered, and once again heard the diminutive "Hi!" Again she tried to tell Gryffin to take the phone to one of his parents. Again, he shouted "No!" and hung up the phone.

It was at this point that Mom used her cell phone to call the house and inform us that our son had hijacked my cell phone.

We checked the placed calls display. Luckily, he only called my parents. No cross-country dispatches this time.

Since this incident, Justina and I have decided we need to work on Gryffin's behavior. It is not gong well.

The Wolfe-Smith Psychological Profile Test

The Wolfe-Smith Psychological Profile

Directions: Please read each question carefully and type in your answer. Do NOT scroll down the list before answering the questions because this will invalidate your results. You must be completely honest with your answers. If you have difficulty answering a question, go with your first impulse. Good luck!

1. If you had to pick an animal most like yourself, what animal would it be? ____________

2. What color represents you the best?_____________________________________

3. If you could have a "theme" song, what song would it be?_______________________

4. If you were stranded on a deserted island with only three possessions with you, what would you take? __________________________________________________________

5. If you could change your name, what would it be?___________________________

6. What is your favorite season?___________________________________________

7. Describe yourself using only five words. __________________________________

8. If you could travel through time, what historic event or time period would you visit first? _______________________________________________________________

9. If you were to win the Lottery, what is the first purchase you would make?________

10. What party best represents you, democrat or republican?____________________

Now scroll down to determine your profile.

Individualized Wolfe-Smith Psychological Profile
From the offices of T. Wolfe % J. Smith
1719 Morgan Drive Summersville, NC 27939 (421) 777-3918

Profile
1. If you picked a carnivore, this indicates a tendency towards aggression. Picking an herbivore, indicates a tendency towards submission. You need psychological counseling. Call and schedule an appointment.

2. If you picked one of the three primary colors (red, yellow, and blue) then you have no imagination. If you picked a secondary color (purple, green, orange, brown, or black) then you should be under the care of a psychiatrist. If you picked plaid, you should ask a responsible adult to drive you to our center immediately.

3. If you have a theme song, then you have an ego problem. Call and schedule an appointment.

4. If you did not take a cell phone, you may have a head injury or learning disability. Call and make an appointment.

5. If you changed your name, it indicates you might have a problem with self-identity or a potential for criminal enterprise. Professional counseling is necessary to determine if you are a threat to society or not.

6. Spring: you are a wimp. Summer: you are a sadist. Fall: you are melancholy. Winter: you need counseling. Call us.

7. If you can describe yourself with only five words, then you have a problem with self-understanding. Therapy is your only hope.

8. Time travel is pure theory. If you answered this question, you may be delusional. We need to see you to profile you further.

9. If you entered the lottery, then you have an addiction to gambling. Our offices offer the best treatment for addiction available in NC. Just visit our success stories at any gas station scratch-off counter for references.

10. If you picked democrat or republican, then you are naive and do not have a firm grasp of reality. You need therapy. Immediately.

Thank you for taking the Wolfe-Smith Psychological Profile. Please email and share with all your friends. Then pick up the phone and give us a call....time is crucial and you need immediate help!

By the way, if you answered all ten questions, you have WAY too much time on your hands.

Poison Control is on Speed Dial

Stupid stupid stupid. Feel free to call me that because the name definitely fits. Yesterday when I came home from school, I began to clean. Since everyone in my classroom has been hacking and sneezing and leaking mucous from every conceivable orifice, I decided it would be a good idea to "Lysol" my house. So that's exactly what I did. I sprayed that can over EVERYTHING, including the furniture, Gryffin's toys, the curtains, the floor, etc. I even sprayed some on the cat's litter box.

After Lysoling everything in sight, I sat down in the recliner to watch Gryffin play with his toys. After a couple of minutes, I noticed he was having problems letting go of his drum sticks. He was getting quite agitated, so I went to help him out.

At least that was my intention.

However, instead of rising smoothly to my feet, I noticed a definite suction on my posterior region. I was stuck to the chair! I managed to lunge myself forward hard enough to break the bond. I then tried to walk to Gryffin, only to notice that my shoes were sticking to the floor. I grabbed Gryffin, who still had his drum sticks firmly attatched to his hands, and then ran to get my bottle of Lysol.

Imagine my surprise when I realized my Lysol was in fact Elmer's Super-Strong Spray Adhesive.

One frantic phone call to Poison Control later and Gryffin was in the bathtub, happily splashing away. Fortunately, the Spray Adhesive wiped up fairly easily on the smooth surfaces and I guess just dried on the drapes and furniture.

So that's Monday night's saga. No telling what will happen tonight. But this time when I call Poison Control I'm going to use an alias. I was thinking of calling myself Michelle Robinson or Misty Slade...... And yes I have that number programmed now on to speed dial.

The Caddywampus Returns

As I mentioned in a previous blog, I grew up hearing terrifying tales of a gruesome creature known as the Caddywampus. My most vivid memory of this monster involved the captivating tale my father told and the subsequent nightmare that surfaced after he pretended to see it. However, that story is not my only tale involving the Caddywampus. My father saw fit to mention this horror more than once; interestingly enough, each story involved a slightly different version of the fearful monster. In the typical story, the Caddywampus was akin more to a slightly frightening version of Oscar the Grouch; it lived in a hole in the ground and was known to pull unsuspecting victims into its lair if they committed the unforgivable sin of not smiling. In that case, the Caddywampus was more Boogeyman than anything; a story told to inspire good behavior in children.

Well, in case you haven't noticed, I enjoy nothing more than a good, scary yarn. I am fascinated by mere mention of ghosts, goblins, and the like. In this I'm rather a contradiction in terms; I do not claim to have ever seen a ghost, nor do I believe that the average "ghost" tale involves the supernatural. In fact, I take great delight in debunking these stories, since the majority of scary tales involve perfectly explainable phenomena. But I digress. I'll save the haunting lecture for another post. Back to my story.

I was teaching first grade at Smokey Mountain Elementary School when the Halloween season rolled around. I decided that my students needed to hear a good, scary story. And of course, what better subject than the legendary Caddywampus?

I prefaced my story with a serious discussion. I explained, quite matter-of-factly, that the Caddywampus resided in any hole more than a few inches deep. There the unsavory creature lurked, biding its time until an unsuspecting victim happened to wander past. Then, with lightning quick speed, the monster would snatch the hapless passerby by the ankles and drag him or her to an untimely demise below ground. I ended the story by cautioning my students to avoid holes at all costs.

Now, my classroom had a wonderful, wall-to-wall picture window that offered a tremendous view of the beautiful surrounding mountainside. Everyday we would exit the classroom via a door in the wall window and head out to the playground. Coincidentally enough, there happened to be a fairly good-sized hole right outside the window, running along the base of the wall. I'm not sure what caused the hole, although I suspect it most likely involved either a settling foundation or enterprising skunk (the school was located in the mountains and often visited by various wildlife, including bobcats, snakes, and bears). My students had been fascinated by this hole, and always tried to see if they could step in it without getting caught. I tried to discourage this behavior, fearing a student might accidentally fall and get hurt. While telling my latest version of the Caddywampus story, I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to give my students a little incentive to keep out of the hole. Can you see where this is going?

In the roundabout way teachers have, I brought the discussion back to the topic of the hole in question. I mentioned it was the perfect size for the devious Caddywampus and urged the students to be extra careful when walking past. This did not comfort them. Scared, they began to pester me with questions, asking if I had ever seen the monster coming from that hole. I glanced around the room and saw exactly what I had aimed for: a roomful of twenty-four wide-eyed six year olds nervously contemplating the inherent danger involved in going to recess. It was now time to drive my point home.

In a quiet voice, I explained that I would find out if the hole did indeed harbor the Caddywampus. I cautioned the students to remain in the classroom while I went out, alone, to inspect the hole. I even assigned one student the job of fetching help from a nearby teacher should the unthinkable occur and I disappear from sight. Each student solemnly promised to stay in the room while I ventured forth. My designated rescuer took up his post near the classroom door, ready to run for help should the need arise. Satisfied, I stepped outside of the classroom and proceeded to walk sloooowwwwwlllllly past the window.

Nearing the hole, I peeked through the window at my students. Twenty-three terrified faces peered back at me. I gave them an encouraging smile and took another step towards the hole.

Then I screamed at the top of my lungs and jerked my body below the window.

All I will say is it took almost an hour to calm my students down. For weeks they refused to leave the room through the window-door. Two months later, I found myself explaining to bewildered parents just what a Caddywampus was and why their child refused to go near the slightest indention in the ground.

I didn't get fired (thank God). And, if the truth must be told, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween Therapy

In honor of Halloween, I would like to tell you this TRUE story.

As a child, I loved hearing ghost stories and I would beg my father (who's a natural story teller) to tell scary stories all the time. Usually he obliged with the standard childhood fodder, scary but not terrifying. However, one story has stayed with me for many years and I doubt I will ever forget that terrifying night in the back country. Not even therapy will erase the trauma.

My Dad, my younger brother, Russell, and I had been fishing in the mountains of East Tennesse. It was growing late, so we piled into the pick-up truck and headed back to the house. Inspired by the dark and lonely roads, I began to beg for a ghost story. My Dad agreed, and began to tell the story of the Caddywampus.

According to Dad, the Caddywampus resembled a huge land octopus, complete with grasping beak and long tentacles to grab its prey. Of course, its favorite food was young children. The Caddywampus loved to hunt by ambushing prey on lonely back roads. It would hide near a dark curve, and when a car approached, the monster would leap into the car's path. The unfortunant driver would naturally swerve to avoid the creature, and the car would wind up lodged in a nearby ditch. Once this was accomplished, the Caddywampus could then use its long tentacles to pick the dead bodies out of the carnage at its leisure. Pretty terrifying stuff, especially to young children (I was around 7, my brother around 5 years old).

Dad was telling all of this in a most convincing fashion. My brother and I were hanging on every word, while nervously watching the road for signs of waving tentacles. I admit it, we were scared half to death. And then my loving father drove around a huge curve, slammed on his brakes, and shouted "There it is!" while swerving the car across the road.

Pandemonium.

Dad had to completely stop the car to calm us down. It took quite a while, too. As I remember it, there was a house sitting near the road and its lights came on. I believe the occupants could hear us screaming and were coming to check on our welfare. Even now, upteen years later, I can still remember the fear I felt in the truck that night. Actually, come to think of it, this story explains a lot, don't you think?

Now that my brother and I are both parents, I asked him recently if he would ever tell this story to his daughter, Ashlynn. He got rather upset and in no uncertain terms made it quite clear that Ashlynn would not hear the story from him.

That's okay. I'll just take her with me when I tell the story to my son, Gryffin.

No doubt some people would qualify it as child abuse......

Life Lesson #274

There is a saying that hindsight is 20/20. After this weekend, I know that's true. Consider the following:

Saturday afternoon. I need to buy a couple of things at Wal-Mart. I had Gryffin with me. In hindsight, I should have gotten the buggy and strapped his little mobile self in the seat. However, I chose to carry the baby and put my items in one of the hand-held baskets. That's mistake #1.

While in the "sale" section, I ran into an acquaintance and struck up a brief conversation. The conversation wasn't the mistake. But putting Gryffin down because he was getting heavy, that was mistake #2.

While talking to my friend, I kept a sharp eye on Gryffin to make sure he stayed near me. He did, but occupied himself by examining things on the shelves. In particular, he seemed fascinated with a pair of plastic soccer balls that come apart and resnapped together (like an Easter egg). He became very excited about his find and apparently wanted to share it with me. He began to wave the balls around, screeching for my attention. I tried to ignore him and continue my conversation. That was mistake #3.

There is only so much noise and distraction a person can tolerate before they lose it. I reached my limit about the sixth time he slammed me in the thigh with the balls. Agitated and embarrassed, I turned to Gryffin and said the first thing that popped into my head. That was mistake #4.

Mistake # 5: I said it loudly. My words caught the attention of every person in the near vicinity.

That's right. Half of Wal-Mart's customers heard me shout: "Yes, Gryffin! I see your balls!"

Just so you know, there is absolutely no way to exit Wal-Mart after saying something like that at the top of your lungs and not draw attention to yourself. I'm surprised Social Services wasn't waiting at my car to have a little chat. So the moral of the story is: Leave the baby with your husband when you go shopping!

Gryffin's Guide for Toddlers Part 1

Gryffin's Guide for Toddlers

Here are some important things that all toddlers should remember.

1. Diapers are purely optional. If you prefer to walk around au natural, then it is best to put your diaper in a nice hiding place. I personally recommend under the sofa, in the VCR, or in the recliner.

2. Assume all papers are important official documents that need to be destroyed. Accomplish this by chewing, tearing, wadding, or eating said papers. Your parents will thank you.

3. Explore all electronic devices daily. If you push the button and something happens, then its a keeper. You should also remember to use these devices as hammers on all nearby furniture. A good whack helps improve the performance.

4. Food is not merely nutrition. It also makes a wonderful decoration. You get the best effect by throwing your food; be sure to aim at anything that looks clean. Also, food makes a great soap and will do wonders for your hair. Be sure to really rub it in.

5. Any animals in the house are fair prey. They really enjoy having their tails yanked. It is necessary to pet them with all your strength or they might not feel it.

6. If you can pick it up, it is edible.

7. The television is a wonderous invention. Your parents probably spend hours staring at the thing. You can help them enjoy their favorite shows by pushing the menu button repeatedly. It's best to wait until near the end of the show, when the dramatic music starts. That's your cue to begin pressing those buttons.

8. Bedtime is purely optional. Negotiations should be conducted during the middle of the night when your parents are asleep. This way they will be drowsy and more prone to letting you have your way.

9. Bath water is not ready to be used until you pee in it.

10. Parents communicate with other people via small devices known as cell phones. If you can get your hands on one of these babies, then you can really have some fun. Push several buttons in a row (nine is a good guesstimate) and then hit the green button. If you do this just right, you'll be treated to someone speaking in a foreign language. When that happens, you should immediately stash the phone in one of your secret hiding places. Whatever you do, don't hang up the phone before hiding it! If you manage to accomplish this, then your parents will be very happy.

11. Hide-and-seek is a terrific game. Only play this game when you are in a store or visiting friends. Your mother will really enjoy playing this with you. You can tell when she starts calling your name.

12. If you hear your full name (i.e., Gryffin Pritchett Conkle), then you should immediately head for the nearest exit. Be sure to put obstacles in your parent's path, such as diapers, food, or toys. Bonus points if you can make them fall! This is all of my suggestions for now. Look for the updated version coming soon!

Stupid Directions

For the past several days I've noticed my three cats scratching. Assuming they might be suffering from fleas, I decided to have them washed with flea-dip (the pesticide, not some new potato chip condiment). I checked with the local veterinarian and the cost of having all three cats "dipped" was a definite budget buster. So, being the enterprising and cheap person that I am, I decided to purchase a bottle of flea shampoo (again, to kill the fleas, not to beautify the little pests) and do the dip myself.

Big mistake.

I picked up the shampoo at Wal-Mart, went home, and locked myself and the cats in the bathroom where none of us could escape. I then filled the tub with water, squirted shamoo into the tub, and grabbed Ransom, my first cat. I dunked him in the water, held his thrashing body still long enough to wet him thoroughly, then proceeded to the shampoo. It was only then that I bothered to read the directions.

Now, I'm not usually such an idiot. And I knew that cats + water = big mess. But I was completely unprepared for what I read on the shampoo bottle. The directions are, verbatim:

"Wet cat thoroughly with warm water. Apply shampoo and lather. LEAVE ON FOR FIVE MINUTES, THEN RINSE."

Five minutes??!! Really? Have you ever tried to hold a thrashing cat in the tub for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES??!!!

Let's just say that by the time all the cats were bathed, so was I. So was the bathroom. In fact, so was the hallway because the water leaked out through the bathroom door! And when I finally let the cats out of the room, I didn't see them again for the rest of the night.

Moral of the story: make your husband wash the cats next time!

And So It Begins....

Let the blogging commence!



In case you can't tell, I've never "blogged" before. In fact, I'm not even positive that I know what a blog is....although I reckon its an online journal. I sincerely doubt my inner musings and anecdotal stories will interest anyone outside my family and friends. So I'll use this blog to keep my fam informed of all the interesting and pertinent events in my life and the life of my husband and son. I also tend to be terrible at keeping things updated, so don't be surprised if months go between postings. I do work for a living, after all.

By the way, several people on my email list have requested more stories concerning work (I teach fifth grade and hoo-boy but I've got some great stories). Due to privacy concerns, I no longer email my little trials and tribulations about school. However, it is certainly possible to see something pop up every once in a while on my blog. Just be aware that all names are changed to keep my butt from getting sued (notice I didn't say anything about protecting the innocent!). No doubt I will have stories about my little category 5 hurricane of a son and his latest disasters. And of course you can always find the latest photos of my family when I get the urge and the time to upload them.

One last thing to mention, and then I'll officially finish my first blog. I can't stand reading political blogs or someone's fanatical religious rantings condemning everyone who believes differently. So you won't normally find such articles on The Conkle Cache. However, I do have an interest in religious philosophy and will often explore my current thinking by way of writing. You may occassionaly see one of these types of musings. That is all they are, musings. And rest assured, if I ridicule one political canidate I'll do my best to ridicule them all.

Okay, I think that's everything. Which is good, because I can't think of anything else to write. Not a great start, to have writer's block on your very first blog!