Did Micah turn blue because he was upset with rage or because he was choking on a peanut M&M? Either way, the incident scared (and scarred) dad.

On Wednesday, I was frantic while talking on my cell phone to Jill. I had just had the mother of all scares with Micah, when he threw a fit over an M&M and began to appear to be not breathing.

Since Halloween, Micah had developed an addiction for sugary snacks, taking in and wholly ingesting Tootsie Rolls, Dots, Kit Kat–one of his favorites–and, of course, M&Ms. But also since Halloween, dad and mom get really upset because he likes keep the candy in his hands for long periods of time. And believe me that M&Ms do, in fact, melt in your hands, leaving an prominent blue dye, which will get on clothes and cupboard doors.

So on that fateful night, I pulled out some peanut M&Ms–to satisfy my own craving, but Micah was soon at my feet (with Cid) begging for some.

Instead of letting him carry it around, I put it directly into his mouth. He seems to chew it pretty good before asking for another. I decide that I will give him two of the amount that was in the fun-sized bag of M&Ms. I stick the next one, again, directly into his mouth. But he actually spat it out into his hand. As I mentioned before, he likes to hold it in his hand for a certain period of time.

I took it and put it back into his mouth. He cried a little, spat it onto the floor and bent over to pick it up. At which point, I took it and threw it away. I look directly at Micah and extolled him on the virtues of not getting candy all over oneself.

Now, Micah has had, in the past, seemed to stop breathing a few times when he’s thrown a fit. But, when he became hysterical, upon seeing the M&M thrown away, I really couldn’t tell if he was actually choking, or just throwing a fit. Or, what seemed to be the case, he started throwing a fit and got a peanut lodged in his throat–although I doubted it afterwards.

At first, I thought it was him throwing a fit, but then I saw bits of candy in his mouth. Then it seemed like he was choking. I picked him up. But he transformed into something that more resembled a sack full of potatoes than my son. I was panicked, he wasn’t breathing in any case. I could not find my cell phone.

A million thoughts gushed through my mind, preventing me from thinking coherently. I looked all over the place, for where I could have placed my cell phone. I grabbed my work bag, and threw it on the ground when I didn’t find it. I thought about running outside to see if it was in the car. But, I just couldn’t leave Micah.

I thought, How long has it been since his last breath? Twenty seconds? Thirty? I couldn’t be sure. Desperately, held him up by his chest and pounded his back. I yelled, a command for Micah to breath. I hear a few gasps release, a few precious cries from Micah. I think that maybe he is breathing again. But that’s all I got out of him. He seemed to have stopped breathing again.

I hold him up, readying him for another round of blows to the back. He starts crying before I get the chance to hit him again. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. I hold him closer than I ever have. While he’s crying (again, the M&M or choking?), I feel like crying too.

I phoned Jill after a bitter session of phone-hunting and self-chastisement.

“We are getting a land-line,” is the first thing I said to Jill.

First, a look at what our house looked like for Halloween this year.

Dawn – Halloween Hillbillies

My wife, Jill, and I were scurrying around the house before heading out to the nearest corn maze, 30 minutes away. We wanted to get there before our son, Micah, gets too hungry or tired to enjoy the trip. After we got there and bought our tickets, it wasn’t too long before we began to question whether we were having in fun wondering around in the maze.

“What’s the point,” Jill says. “I think there’s something, but there wasn’t anyone there to explain to us, like the cashier said.”

As we get deeper into the maze, we figured out that we’re suppose to go to several stations, to get our cards punch. At the end of the maze, we should get a $5 off our next purchase at Best Buy. When find out about the stations, we actually had fun. Although. we never got our best buy coupon.

After the maze, Micah and I went hill-billy and climbed into a barrel that had wheels fixed to it and painted to look like a jersey cow, it was attached to a small tractor. Micah cried and grabbed onto the sides when the ride ended, making it difficult for me to get out of the already cramped barrel/trailer. Then we looked at and petted various farm animals, such as pigs and goats.

It turned out that Micah didn’t want to leave. We were having too much fun with the animals and rides. Jill, on the other hand, was hungry and tired.

Dusk – The Masquerade

Later, my friend Ryan comes over. Jill applied home made blood, a mixture of cocoa powder and red dye, to Micah in his Goodwill clothes we’d bought weeks before. Jill and I followed suit, but we applied make up from the Halloween stores that pop up about this time of year. We had planned on putting the same makeup on Micah, but I had protested once I read that some of the dyes in that makeup has radioactive material or something as toxic.

Later, we ate hot dogs and chili in the church parking lot, getting some strange looks from various people. Most Mormons seem to dress up as non-threatening things, like doctors, nurses and farmers, or mythical figures like Harry Potter, or centaurs; also there were angels and story-book characters like the Man in Yellow, from Curious George. In walked the three of us, a family of zombies, our shredded clothes and pale-while faces covered in blood. Regardless, we enjoyed it. And people, almost at once, rolled with it and were friendly.

Fin

Micah went to the doctor for his 18-month check-up on October 2nd. I know, it’s a bit late to write about it, but I either haven’t had the time or the energy to do it before now. Luckily Micah didn’t have to have any shots this time, although he did have to get a TB test done. In order to do this test they inject a needle into his forearm and insert a little liquid into his arm. We then had to check it two days later for any type of reaction. It was very sad to watch him get this test. I had to participate by holding his other arm while the nurse inserted the needle. I didn’t blame him a bit for crying. After the test he was happy for the most part…that is until he would look at his arm and the memories came rushing back.

Micah being happy...

Micah Remembering...

I had to work that Friday so I met Jaylee at the grocery store after his appointment to hand him off. It was sad to not be with him the whole day after this experience, but he survived. These pictures were taken in the backseat of the car right before handing him off.

His stats:
Weight: 23 lbs 6 oz
Height: 33 inches
Head Circumference: 19.5 inches
Micah is coming out in the 25th percentile for weight, and is still in the 75th percentile for height.

In other news: We just got back from Utah where Micah had a blast hanging out with cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmas and grandpa. It was a really fun trip, even though Micah did get sick towards the end of it.

Ever bought a crappy washing machine off of Crag’s list? We have. Yet, it can be fun (except for Cid, who is scared of it).

Me Sick

Micah takes a luke-warm bath to cool off on October 17. His fever ranges from 99.9 to 101.9. Two days later he gets better, but the doctor puts him on antibiotics for both his ears, which are infected.

In the bright Arizonan, autumnal morning, Jill and I take a walk while it’s cool. Micah’s in his stroller, and Cid is running along side of us. En route, we stop to look at a rummage sale that is selling the exact same freezer Jill and I were flirting with buying for the last few months. Finances, as they are, wouldn’t allow us to buy a new one; this one, however, looked promising to us. We talked the seller down to $45 in front of the well-trimed and well-kept front yard. We also buy some end tables from her. I go to get my car, but it won’t fit. The seller has her husband take it to our house for us.

This man tells us his name is Mark as he squeezes in some passive-aggressive jokes–he was none too pleased about how low his wife went with the freezer–as we load it onto his truck. When we get home, we shoot the breeze for a while.

A slender man in his 40s, Mark tells us about the neighborhood and the old man who died in our house. Mark’s mustache makes him look a little like Tom Selleck, and he works as an airline steward. He’s wearing a hat with the American flag, but it had green instead of red. He tells us all about our neighbors. You see, Mark is the kind of guy who is very active in the neighborhood. He puts together block parties, he knows everyone and everyone knows him. When you’re driving through the area, you can sometimes see him working in other people’s yards with the owner of the yard.

I break the conversation to tell him about an experience my wife and I had a week before. It was unnerving experience that occurred late at night. It was the kind of thing that makes you wish you owned a gun. Because we were already on edge after watching a unnerving thriller about home invasion that night, we were freaked out when a man knocked loudly on our door at 3:45 a.m. It was too dark to see the man when I got to the door, but I heard him yell something as I grogily worked my way to the door. I grabbed a Maglite, in case I had to do business with the stranger pounding at our door.

Mark interrupts the story before I could finish. This street has a lot of college kids who party at night, Mark says.

“I call the police all the time,” Mark, who lets a house down the street from here, says. “I knock on their door and, I say, shut it down. I call the police.”

The part of the story Mark didn’t hear though was the next morning when I Jill and I came home from church. I noticed something red on the door handle. I know it wasn’t there the day before. I tell my wife I think it’s blood. What else could it be? It was chilling to be sure.

I enter in the house and wash my hands. I then grab some bleach wipes and commence to wipe clean the handle, which becomes clean on the first stroke of the door handle. But I scrub it, just for good measure.

Mark’s advice was sound though: I should have called the police. When I got to the door, I heard a silhouette curse from my driveway. But moments before someone had probably knocked on our door for help, but who knows. I wasn’t going to call the police unless I knew that someone was still there. I open the flap that leads out to our back yard, the dog door. I call for Cid, who obediently arrives. But when I gesture towards the flap, Cid’s instincts kick in. It’s no use: he goes back into his kennel. He’s no dummy.