happiness is a fluffy bunny

During the recent poetry unit I did with my second and third graders, one child continually referred to a white, fluffy bunny. As much as I wanted her to explore different metaphors, the fluffy bunny thing was pretty big with her. As she said (again and again), happiness is a fluffy bunny.

I've never really been a bunny person. We tried to have a couple of bunnies when I was a kid and they promptly kicked the bucket. Their sharp teeth and claws freaked me out. I hated their poop. Growing up on an eight lane street with cars going 50 mph is not really the ideal environment for pets.

But Eliana seems to agree with the lil munchkin in my class. Happiness is, indeed, a fluffy bunny.
And this is after an evening spent in the Now Care, her fever at 104, her breathing, sweaty little self listless in my arms, my heart ready to beat out of it's chest with anxiety and worry. I seriously don't know how I'm going to handle it when she gets really, really sick or breaks her first bone or falls off the monkey bars -- I shut down inside, feel paralyzed with fear.

I had put her down at my in-laws and joined my sister and her dancing girls for lunch. Apparently when she woke up, she was burning up and Roseann, an ex ER nurse, threw her in a warm bath to get her temperature down. By the time I made it up there, Eliana was wrapped up in a towel in Roseann's arms, asleep again. She looked so pale and awful. The drive to the hospital was wrought with fear.

She fell asleep again in my arms while we waited in the empty waiting room - me resisting the urge to shout to the ladies behind the desk, what the hell is going on? Why hasn't my baby been seen? Can't you see that she does not resemble the self she was only a few hours ago? Can't you see that I don't have a kid who passes out in my arms, ever?

The big mama nurse bugged me when she said, "Hasn't she ever had a fever before?" Oooh. I could have growled. Don't imply that I'm some naive, nervous nelly mama. Even if I am. Oooh.

Luckily the doctor was lovely and thorough and understanding. She found the ear infection, prescribed the drops and antibiotics, and we were on our way to the pharmacy to get better.

After sleeping through the night for the first time in a few days, she awoke to her fluffy bunny, all wrapped up in yellow tissue, a present from her gran and brought to us by her auntie Hilary. The fluffy bunny is the perfect symbol of her resilient spirit, her desire to be present and happy and light, even when her little body doesn't want to cooperate.

All I can say is that I am so thankful that I don't have to work this week. That I get to read to her all day and pay careful attention to what she's eating and when to administer her medicine. That I get to listen to the bunny sing her whacked out song again and again. I need to be that mama this week. Grounded, focused and thoroughly available for my girl.

Here is a little video of her watching her bunny sing and hop for the gazillionth time over little eggs with toasties this morning.