Yesterday I took Thorp to his last training class before we take the therapy dog and canine good citizen certification this Sunday. (Please cross your paws for us)
At the training place is also a rescue that I know rather well and have helped at once in awhile. They have done so much work with taking in puppy mill survivors and I couldn’t be more proud to be affiliated with them or a friend of the director.
While we were there, they were bringing in more dogs and puppies that they took in from various places such as Milwaukee Animal Control and puppy mills in WI.
As we practiced our skills for the test – dogs and puppies were passing us by.
Two dogs, in particular, pulled at my heart. They were poodle type mixes and as they were carried the one had her “arms” around the other as though she was hugging her.
I melted. One was this little black, scrawny thing. When she opened her mouth I could see that her teeth were in horrible shape. She was a stray found in Milwaukee – about 8 years old. I fell in love immediately.
Now normally the story would be that I adopted her on the spot. But, I didn’t – I can’t. Four dogs is the limit at our house…Five means divorce.
The other dog who was hugging “mine” was about two years old and also found as stray but not with the black one. This poor dog only had one eye. The other was either sewn shut or she was born that way. The two looked like they were from the same litter. And, both were so pathetic and so adorable it was nearly impossible for me to walk away.
Certain dogs just touch your soul and become unforgettable… These were those for me.
As those two were checked in, more came. And this time they were puppies all taken from a puppy mill. Each of them those fancy designer breeds that everyone wants and that took over the puppy mill market until it has become so saturated that there are no more stores who want these dogs…
And this is where I want to make my point… so many people patronize the pet stores looking for some kind of designer breed – paying thousands of dollars to get one…
And, sadly, they never even consider looking to a rescue or a shelter and giving an unwanted dog a home.
Well, I hope this will start to change people’s minds. Those dogs that people have been paying thousands for are now in rescue. They are the SAME cute little, fluffy puppies who would have ended up in petstores sick and unaltered – and now they are in rescues and shelters because the pet stores don’t want them anymore and the mills have no use for them.
These same dogs are up for adoption with costs about $300.00
$300 versus $1000 – and these dogs are all vetted, spayed or neutered and come with their first set of vaccinations.
I promise that these are the same puppies that are sitting in cages at Petland and Puppyworld and every other pet shop that sells puppies across the nation.
NO, petstores do not get their dogs from good breeders because good breeders would NEVER sell their dogs to pet stores. If you don’t believe me – research a good breeder and ask them.
The point is simple – do not buy from a pet store… look for a reputable rescue… Right now, especially in WI, where the legislation to regulate mills was passed last fall – puppy mills are closing up shop and have thousands of dogs and puppies to place.
Rescues across WI are full of wonderful dogs who have endured being bred in mass breeding facilities AND hundreds of “pure bred and designer breed” puppies up for adoption.
There is absolutely no need to walk into a pet store.
I know that not everyone’s heart would melt for the fuzzy, old poodle mix I met yesterday – But I do know, after being really involved in rescue, that there are a lot of people out there who have been wanting a shaggy little puppy to call their own…
Those puppies are filling up rescues in WI and are all hoping that someone like you will come and take them home.
To find out more about that cute, little black poodley dog or the many other shaggy designer pups go to: www.bichonrescues.com (they have a lot more than Bichons)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Truths: DARE to Make a Difference
Tuesday I attended my daughter’s DARE graduation. For those that might not know about DARE it is a drug awareness course that teaches kids about drugs, alcohol, smoking, etc…and gives them the tools to say no when the time comes.
A wonderful police officer trained in DARE teaches the course for 9 weeks (once a week) to all of the 5th grade students.
I know that Abby loved the class and talked about it all of the time.
In particular, she would bring it up as my husband and I were having a few beers – or when we would take her to a bar and grille for dinner and she would choose to count how many beer signs were on the wall.
While I appreciate the idea behind DARE it made me look like an alcoholic!
During the graduation, one of my friends leaned over and said, “Do you really think this makes a difference?”
I said, “No.”
I know that is horrible – but I also still remember what it was like to be in high school and college.
And sadly, for Abby she is the product of me and her dad, Keith and well… I guess we must not have learned to say no…
During the graduation, we learned that they have been doing the program in our school district for 20 years… That is phenomenal but I am curious to know what the drinking and drug use statistics are like now in our high school. I have a feeling that they are still just as high (pardon the phrase).
Don’t get me wrong – I think the DARE program is outstanding and it certainly can’t hurt – but I also don’t think it is 100% effective.
And, I certainly hope that other parents agree with me…
Keeping our kids drug free takes a lot more than 9 classes on the risks of doing drugs and drinking alcohol in 5th grade.
It takes family and friends, too. Sure my daughter sees us and our friends and family drink but the important thing is that she also sees we don’t do it all of the time and that when we do we are responsible.
There are NO drugs in our house and that, too, is something she sees.
At dinner we talk about drugs and alcohol (as we drink our beers) and explain what they can do to her.
She is 11 years old… 11…and while I realize that drugs can be introduced in Jr. High – it is High School that I am worried about. And the fact, that by then, what she learned in DARE will be far from her mind.
I think many of us who had colorful pasts – worry about being hypocrites to our children as we talk about drinking in High School or taking drugs…People ponder if they should be honest about what they did and then explain how it was a bad decision or if they should swallow their honesty and just say they never participated as an example to their children.
I am still unsure of what I will do when Abby asks me what high school was like for me…
All I know is that we didn’t have a DARE program while I was in school…and yet, even if we did, I am not sure its lessons would have stuck with me once I got to high school and was surrounded by peers all persuading me to do one thing or another.
They say it takes a village to raise a child and I guess that is my point… Sure DARE is an excellent start at teaching kids about the risks of drugs and alcohol but it is only a start.
As parents, not only of our kids but of our kids’ friends, we must stay open to communication and treat our children as adults when we talk about drugs and alcohol.
We must not judge or assume when they come to us with questions…Because as Abby and her friends get older – decisions are going to get tougher and that cute little lion they got to hold during DARE class isn’t going to be as cute…
It will be up to us to continue the DARE message. (and I wouldn’t use a stuffed animal to do it!)
A wonderful police officer trained in DARE teaches the course for 9 weeks (once a week) to all of the 5th grade students.
I know that Abby loved the class and talked about it all of the time.
In particular, she would bring it up as my husband and I were having a few beers – or when we would take her to a bar and grille for dinner and she would choose to count how many beer signs were on the wall.
While I appreciate the idea behind DARE it made me look like an alcoholic!
During the graduation, one of my friends leaned over and said, “Do you really think this makes a difference?”
I said, “No.”
I know that is horrible – but I also still remember what it was like to be in high school and college.
And sadly, for Abby she is the product of me and her dad, Keith and well… I guess we must not have learned to say no…
During the graduation, we learned that they have been doing the program in our school district for 20 years… That is phenomenal but I am curious to know what the drinking and drug use statistics are like now in our high school. I have a feeling that they are still just as high (pardon the phrase).
Don’t get me wrong – I think the DARE program is outstanding and it certainly can’t hurt – but I also don’t think it is 100% effective.
And, I certainly hope that other parents agree with me…
Keeping our kids drug free takes a lot more than 9 classes on the risks of doing drugs and drinking alcohol in 5th grade.
It takes family and friends, too. Sure my daughter sees us and our friends and family drink but the important thing is that she also sees we don’t do it all of the time and that when we do we are responsible.
There are NO drugs in our house and that, too, is something she sees.
At dinner we talk about drugs and alcohol (as we drink our beers) and explain what they can do to her.
She is 11 years old… 11…and while I realize that drugs can be introduced in Jr. High – it is High School that I am worried about. And the fact, that by then, what she learned in DARE will be far from her mind.
I think many of us who had colorful pasts – worry about being hypocrites to our children as we talk about drinking in High School or taking drugs…People ponder if they should be honest about what they did and then explain how it was a bad decision or if they should swallow their honesty and just say they never participated as an example to their children.
I am still unsure of what I will do when Abby asks me what high school was like for me…
All I know is that we didn’t have a DARE program while I was in school…and yet, even if we did, I am not sure its lessons would have stuck with me once I got to high school and was surrounded by peers all persuading me to do one thing or another.
They say it takes a village to raise a child and I guess that is my point… Sure DARE is an excellent start at teaching kids about the risks of drugs and alcohol but it is only a start.
As parents, not only of our kids but of our kids’ friends, we must stay open to communication and treat our children as adults when we talk about drugs and alcohol.
We must not judge or assume when they come to us with questions…Because as Abby and her friends get older – decisions are going to get tougher and that cute little lion they got to hold during DARE class isn’t going to be as cute…
It will be up to us to continue the DARE message. (and I wouldn’t use a stuffed animal to do it!)
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Truths: Clearing the Chaos by Cleaning
In the last week my life has turned into complete chaos. I cannot go into the details but it is safe to say that what was a beautiful, tranquil vacation a few weeks ago has been replaced by a lot of things that are not nearly as pretty or peaceful.
The irony of all if it – is that my house reflects the state of my life right now. Nearly every room is a disaster and just reminds me of the struggles I am enduring right now.
I have found myself with no time for me or for maintaining a calm and clutter free household.
Things are piling up and my anxiety is growing.
I was supposed to be in court today dealing with my brother’s estate but luckily, the hearing was postponed and I find myself with a whole day – a whole unplanned day!
So, I am going to clean my daughter’s room and I mean really clean it. See, she has this very cool bed coming on Friday – it is a loft with a desk underneath that my parents bought her for Christmas. (I think it is for 2010 Christmas…but I also think that was just a ploy to feel okay about buying it for her.)
Anyway, we ordered the bed almost 2 months ago, and when we did we decided she could re-decorate her whole room. While her room is adorable – it is, perhaps, a little childlike and she is going to 6th grade – so childlike doesn’t cut it anymore.
Besides, there is nothing more (except saving dogs and writing) that I enjoy more than decorating!
The day we ordered the bed we filled our cart at Target with new bedding, new window treatments, new pillows, new all kinds of stuff…we stopped at Menards and picked out vibrant blue and green paint chips… and the following day I filled a cart from Home Goods with accessories! (I really do love interior design!)
And all along – it was our goal to have the whole room cleaned out and painted before the bed ever arrived.
Well, that just isn’t going to happen. We started last weekend to go through everything and while we loaded up three bags of garbage and 5 bags of things to donate – the floor is unsightly and the room still filled with stuff.
That whole idea of painting… is nothing but a sick joke right now!
At any rate, with the bed coming Friday and the fact that today is a pleasant surprise of nothing else to do – I am cleaning the room.
I am excited about cleaning the room because I know it will give me back some sense of control over my life. Some sense of peace…and while it will be a pain in the ass today and I will be frustrated with all of the crap that she keeps and the disorganized way that she does it – when I am done…it will feel as though I saw a therapist and my whole life made sense again.
I don’t know if cleaning does that for everyone. I know my friend, Delreen, finds cleaning a rewarding chore because it allows her to feel in control while creating a beautiful home.
I hate cleaning..I really do – but the feeling of accomplishment when I am done is par none. And that is my desire for today.
I also have this unrealistic hope for the new bed – that it, alone, will bring a sense of organization and a reason for my daughter to keep her room clean.
I know it is an unfounded dream to believe that a bed can change a life – but my fingers are crossed that it will happen.
I mean, regardless of the bed, Abby is going into 6th grade and because of that we filled 5 bags of toys and crafts and junk to donate because she just doesn’t need it anymore and doesn’t want it anymore.
Things like ipods, laptops, iphones, TV and sports are what make up her life now. All the dolls and the pretend vet kits are over.
As we went through all of that stuff – I didn’t even have time to reflect on the sadness of it – I just wanted it gone – so I could see the floor again – but I guess with a moment of quiet reflection it is a bit sad… My only baby is growing up so fast – next thing I know boys will be calling, her door will be closed and her friends will become closer to her than her family..
Amidst the chaos brimming in my life – I don’t have time to really think about that stuff – instead I am trying to tread water and just focus on the little things to keep me grounded – like cleaning up my daughter’s room – just in the knick of time before the bed comes
THE bed that I (unrealistically) hope will take away at least ½ of my troubles!
The irony of all if it – is that my house reflects the state of my life right now. Nearly every room is a disaster and just reminds me of the struggles I am enduring right now.
I have found myself with no time for me or for maintaining a calm and clutter free household.
Things are piling up and my anxiety is growing.
I was supposed to be in court today dealing with my brother’s estate but luckily, the hearing was postponed and I find myself with a whole day – a whole unplanned day!
So, I am going to clean my daughter’s room and I mean really clean it. See, she has this very cool bed coming on Friday – it is a loft with a desk underneath that my parents bought her for Christmas. (I think it is for 2010 Christmas…but I also think that was just a ploy to feel okay about buying it for her.)
Anyway, we ordered the bed almost 2 months ago, and when we did we decided she could re-decorate her whole room. While her room is adorable – it is, perhaps, a little childlike and she is going to 6th grade – so childlike doesn’t cut it anymore.
Besides, there is nothing more (except saving dogs and writing) that I enjoy more than decorating!
The day we ordered the bed we filled our cart at Target with new bedding, new window treatments, new pillows, new all kinds of stuff…we stopped at Menards and picked out vibrant blue and green paint chips… and the following day I filled a cart from Home Goods with accessories! (I really do love interior design!)
And all along – it was our goal to have the whole room cleaned out and painted before the bed ever arrived.
Well, that just isn’t going to happen. We started last weekend to go through everything and while we loaded up three bags of garbage and 5 bags of things to donate – the floor is unsightly and the room still filled with stuff.
That whole idea of painting… is nothing but a sick joke right now!
At any rate, with the bed coming Friday and the fact that today is a pleasant surprise of nothing else to do – I am cleaning the room.
I am excited about cleaning the room because I know it will give me back some sense of control over my life. Some sense of peace…and while it will be a pain in the ass today and I will be frustrated with all of the crap that she keeps and the disorganized way that she does it – when I am done…it will feel as though I saw a therapist and my whole life made sense again.
I don’t know if cleaning does that for everyone. I know my friend, Delreen, finds cleaning a rewarding chore because it allows her to feel in control while creating a beautiful home.
I hate cleaning..I really do – but the feeling of accomplishment when I am done is par none. And that is my desire for today.
I also have this unrealistic hope for the new bed – that it, alone, will bring a sense of organization and a reason for my daughter to keep her room clean.
I know it is an unfounded dream to believe that a bed can change a life – but my fingers are crossed that it will happen.
I mean, regardless of the bed, Abby is going into 6th grade and because of that we filled 5 bags of toys and crafts and junk to donate because she just doesn’t need it anymore and doesn’t want it anymore.
Things like ipods, laptops, iphones, TV and sports are what make up her life now. All the dolls and the pretend vet kits are over.
As we went through all of that stuff – I didn’t even have time to reflect on the sadness of it – I just wanted it gone – so I could see the floor again – but I guess with a moment of quiet reflection it is a bit sad… My only baby is growing up so fast – next thing I know boys will be calling, her door will be closed and her friends will become closer to her than her family..
Amidst the chaos brimming in my life – I don’t have time to really think about that stuff – instead I am trying to tread water and just focus on the little things to keep me grounded – like cleaning up my daughter’s room – just in the knick of time before the bed comes
THE bed that I (unrealistically) hope will take away at least ½ of my troubles!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Tails: When it is good, it is good
Two things happened on Wednesday that made me smile. The animal welfare world is so often filled with tears and pain that it is important to revel in the joy that comes along once in awhile.
At the training facility where Thorp and I went Wednesday, there is also a rescue called Bichons and Little Buddies. I have helped out there a few times and they do a great job of taking in all kinds of small dogs and finding them new homes. Patti, the Executive Director, is a friend of mine and she has saved so many puppy mill breeding dogs and given them second chances and loving homes.
I admire her work and the unending passion she has for it.
After our class, which Thorp did rather well in… if only he would lie down when he is supposed to. I guess that when a dog is very submissive and has been through the agony he has – lying down is a very vulnerable behavior – which makes him less likely to do.
We have to practice this week…
Anyway, Susan and I went back to see all the dogs up for adoption… OH GOSH… they have a bunch of pups which were born there… All of them would have born in a mill – if Patti had not rescued the mothers… Instead, these pups are in a cozy environment getting all of the love and attention they need.
If I didn’t have four dogs…. Gosh, I would want them!!!. If you want to check them out go to: http://www.bichonrescues.com/
Okay, back on track… So, as we were about to leave – a young couple came in to see Crave – an absolute doll – completely a mutt. Just this white, fuzzy little guy who came from a hoarding situation after he had already traveled from the deep south.
This little guy was as happy as they come. I couldn’t help but ponder what he has been through in the few short 6 months of his life. The miles he has traveled as a pup and the neglect he has endured.
But, this wonderful young couple, looking for their first dog was completely taken from the moment they saw him. My heart melted seeing it all transpire.
Susan and I helped get the dog out to them and sat and watched them play with him.
Crave ran from the woman to the man – bouncing and wagging his tail as though, he, too, knew they loved him… and he wanted to show that he would be grateful to be a part of their family.
While we didn’t stay for the whole adoption – I know in my heart, Crave went home with them and for the first time in his life – he would have a home and a family who would love him and care for him unconditionally.
In this “business” with so much heartache – all it takes is ONE day like that and I know it is worth it. Worth all the pain and the anger towards irresponsible people and abusive owners – worth all the protesting and the lobbying… just plain worth it all to see the system work.
To see a dog no one wanted find love and a second chance.
Ironically, also on that day, my husband came home and said we had something to celebrate…”Nothing huge,” he said, “But, it might be huge to you.”
We went out for a quick dinner (I don’t cook) and as we got our drinks he said, “I saved a dog today!”
Now, its not that my husband wouldn’t save a dog, it is that I don’t think he has ever been in a situation where it would be up to him to do it.
Apparently, on his way to work a little Pug ran out into the street. He swerved when he saw the dog and since there was on-coming traffic he parked the car sideways in the street. He saw a little girl running after the dog and a dad in the background screaming.
He knelt down to the ground and called the little Pug… (I know he learned what voice to use, a quiet, happy one, after all of the special needs dogs we have taken in) and the dog happily came right to him.
He picked up the “little guy” (as he called him) and brought him to the arms of the little girl – who had tears streaming down her face.
It was a happy ending and the best part was that my husband was so proud he could help…
I told him, “Now you will be hooked!”
Because once you actually save a dog from a terrible fate – you always want to rescue them and give them a second chance.
It is the very potion that keeps us all coming back.
At the training facility where Thorp and I went Wednesday, there is also a rescue called Bichons and Little Buddies. I have helped out there a few times and they do a great job of taking in all kinds of small dogs and finding them new homes. Patti, the Executive Director, is a friend of mine and she has saved so many puppy mill breeding dogs and given them second chances and loving homes.
I admire her work and the unending passion she has for it.
After our class, which Thorp did rather well in… if only he would lie down when he is supposed to. I guess that when a dog is very submissive and has been through the agony he has – lying down is a very vulnerable behavior – which makes him less likely to do.
We have to practice this week…
Anyway, Susan and I went back to see all the dogs up for adoption… OH GOSH… they have a bunch of pups which were born there… All of them would have born in a mill – if Patti had not rescued the mothers… Instead, these pups are in a cozy environment getting all of the love and attention they need.
If I didn’t have four dogs…. Gosh, I would want them!!!. If you want to check them out go to: http://www.bichonrescues.com/
Okay, back on track… So, as we were about to leave – a young couple came in to see Crave – an absolute doll – completely a mutt. Just this white, fuzzy little guy who came from a hoarding situation after he had already traveled from the deep south.
This little guy was as happy as they come. I couldn’t help but ponder what he has been through in the few short 6 months of his life. The miles he has traveled as a pup and the neglect he has endured.
But, this wonderful young couple, looking for their first dog was completely taken from the moment they saw him. My heart melted seeing it all transpire.
Susan and I helped get the dog out to them and sat and watched them play with him.
Crave ran from the woman to the man – bouncing and wagging his tail as though, he, too, knew they loved him… and he wanted to show that he would be grateful to be a part of their family.
While we didn’t stay for the whole adoption – I know in my heart, Crave went home with them and for the first time in his life – he would have a home and a family who would love him and care for him unconditionally.
In this “business” with so much heartache – all it takes is ONE day like that and I know it is worth it. Worth all the pain and the anger towards irresponsible people and abusive owners – worth all the protesting and the lobbying… just plain worth it all to see the system work.
To see a dog no one wanted find love and a second chance.
Ironically, also on that day, my husband came home and said we had something to celebrate…”Nothing huge,” he said, “But, it might be huge to you.”
We went out for a quick dinner (I don’t cook) and as we got our drinks he said, “I saved a dog today!”
Now, its not that my husband wouldn’t save a dog, it is that I don’t think he has ever been in a situation where it would be up to him to do it.
Apparently, on his way to work a little Pug ran out into the street. He swerved when he saw the dog and since there was on-coming traffic he parked the car sideways in the street. He saw a little girl running after the dog and a dad in the background screaming.
He knelt down to the ground and called the little Pug… (I know he learned what voice to use, a quiet, happy one, after all of the special needs dogs we have taken in) and the dog happily came right to him.
He picked up the “little guy” (as he called him) and brought him to the arms of the little girl – who had tears streaming down her face.
It was a happy ending and the best part was that my husband was so proud he could help…
I told him, “Now you will be hooked!”
Because once you actually save a dog from a terrible fate – you always want to rescue them and give them a second chance.
It is the very potion that keeps us all coming back.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Truths: When Do We Step Away?
Friday is the “Invention Convention” at my daughter’s school. Of course, it is all voluntary but it seems like every kid participates – I am not sure I even saw the word voluntary on any of the paperwork.
We started this project a few months back with brainstorming an idea. It has to be something that was never invented but something a 5th grader could not only think of but replicate. Easy enough??
After hours of agony - me suggesting things and Abby rolling her eyes like I am a total idiot. We came up with the idea of a dog collar that when the dog leaves the yard , the owner pushes a remote control and it lights up and flashes LOST… so people passing by would know that the dog is missing.
(I wonder what made us think of this – its not like our dogs ever runaway…)
So, for the first month – little work took place… Abby had to submit her idea and a brief plan…and then it all sat.
Until this week…because it is due tomorrow!
We were working on it Tuesday – hardcore… Writing the hypothesis – drawing conclusions – finishing up the actual collar. Abby was doing the work and I was helping.
Until it came down to writing out the project – explaining it all step by step and laying it out on a display board. That is when I felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool – unable to find the strength to walk away.
“Say it like this,” I would tell her, “No, that doesn’t make sense – write it this way.”
Until I started writing the sentences and she happily copied them.
Yes, I felt that pit in my stomach that screamed, “This is HER project not yours.”
But, I wanted it to be good…
After a push and pull of documenting the project – me always TRYING to bite my tongue. We printed everything out and Abby started designing the display board with “our” stuff.
As she began to glue – I freaked out. Again I found myself saying, “No, that doesn’t look right – do it like this.”
I would take the stuff and demonstrated how I would do it and eventually, she just looked at me and said, “Mom, why don’t you just glue it all on?”
For a minute I felt like I won and gained complete creative control…and then I realized what I just did.
Not only did I make her feel bad – but I just took on the 5th grade “Invention Convention” project.
Ironically, on the comedy show, “The Middle” last night – it was the same premise. The son gets involved in all of these activities and responsibilities and the mother is the one who actually gets them all done so she can be proud of his accomplishments.
I don’t think her or I want the credit – we just want our kids to be the best – to have their work shine and be proud of it. What we fail to realize is that our kids are already proud of their work they way they intended it to be.
Sure that sentence could have been re-written and that paper glued a little straighter but it is their work, their accomplishment: not ours.
It is so hard to know when to help and when to observe – even when it means watching our kids fail.
We can’t protect them all of the time and much of the time it can only be up to them to learn the lessons of life.
Making their project perfect isn’t doing anyone a favor – it is only promoting them assuming we will always be there to catch them from falling and in reality, that is not the truth.
One day they will be at college or at work and they will have a project and it will be up to them to make it a success. Sure they might remember some of our suggestions on to make something better – but they will not have us there doing it for them and that is what they need to learn now.
Which means that my tongue will have holes in it, my stomach will ache and Abby might not always get an A. But, she will learn her own strengths and weaknesses and ultimately learn what it takes for her to do her best work – on her own.
But, before we take the project to school tomorrow – I think I will look at it one more time… You know, just to make sure it looks…okay.
We started this project a few months back with brainstorming an idea. It has to be something that was never invented but something a 5th grader could not only think of but replicate. Easy enough??
After hours of agony - me suggesting things and Abby rolling her eyes like I am a total idiot. We came up with the idea of a dog collar that when the dog leaves the yard , the owner pushes a remote control and it lights up and flashes LOST… so people passing by would know that the dog is missing.
(I wonder what made us think of this – its not like our dogs ever runaway…)
So, for the first month – little work took place… Abby had to submit her idea and a brief plan…and then it all sat.
Until this week…because it is due tomorrow!
We were working on it Tuesday – hardcore… Writing the hypothesis – drawing conclusions – finishing up the actual collar. Abby was doing the work and I was helping.
Until it came down to writing out the project – explaining it all step by step and laying it out on a display board. That is when I felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool – unable to find the strength to walk away.
“Say it like this,” I would tell her, “No, that doesn’t make sense – write it this way.”
Until I started writing the sentences and she happily copied them.
Yes, I felt that pit in my stomach that screamed, “This is HER project not yours.”
But, I wanted it to be good…
After a push and pull of documenting the project – me always TRYING to bite my tongue. We printed everything out and Abby started designing the display board with “our” stuff.
As she began to glue – I freaked out. Again I found myself saying, “No, that doesn’t look right – do it like this.”
I would take the stuff and demonstrated how I would do it and eventually, she just looked at me and said, “Mom, why don’t you just glue it all on?”
For a minute I felt like I won and gained complete creative control…and then I realized what I just did.
Not only did I make her feel bad – but I just took on the 5th grade “Invention Convention” project.
Ironically, on the comedy show, “The Middle” last night – it was the same premise. The son gets involved in all of these activities and responsibilities and the mother is the one who actually gets them all done so she can be proud of his accomplishments.
I don’t think her or I want the credit – we just want our kids to be the best – to have their work shine and be proud of it. What we fail to realize is that our kids are already proud of their work they way they intended it to be.
Sure that sentence could have been re-written and that paper glued a little straighter but it is their work, their accomplishment: not ours.
It is so hard to know when to help and when to observe – even when it means watching our kids fail.
We can’t protect them all of the time and much of the time it can only be up to them to learn the lessons of life.
Making their project perfect isn’t doing anyone a favor – it is only promoting them assuming we will always be there to catch them from falling and in reality, that is not the truth.
One day they will be at college or at work and they will have a project and it will be up to them to make it a success. Sure they might remember some of our suggestions on to make something better – but they will not have us there doing it for them and that is what they need to learn now.
Which means that my tongue will have holes in it, my stomach will ache and Abby might not always get an A. But, she will learn her own strengths and weaknesses and ultimately learn what it takes for her to do her best work – on her own.
But, before we take the project to school tomorrow – I think I will look at it one more time… You know, just to make sure it looks…okay.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tails: The Making of a Dream
Today is a pivotal day for me and for my dog, Thorp. Nearly two years ago I walked into a Hell I never knew truly existed: puppy mills and puppy auctions.
I walked in practically on accident: I had only been there to protest. But at the advice of one of the experienced protestors – I went in to see what was going on.
Some of you know the story…When I walked into this dismal, cold barn and saw wire cages upon wire cages filled with scared and sickly dogs – my heart sunk to a place I cannot even describe.
Tears filled my eyes and I felt like I would never breathe again.
The dogs were only numbers. There were no toys or blankets – no food and no water. Only dogs whose eyes pierced through my soul because they were so lifeless and so empty.
What many people don’t know is that it is the Amish and the Mennonites who are running many of the mills… Those kind and gentle people do not treat animals like pets… I am not sure they even treat them at all.
As I walked from cage to cage, holding back my tears – I came to #171. He was a Chinese Crested Powder Puff (I had no idea what that was) and he was shaking.
He was the oldest dog there and looking at him broke my heart into a million pieces. There was no sign of life in his eyes – he had given up.
Even though it is against the rules – I opened the cage door and reached my hand to him. He moved so slowly to the front and licked my fingers in the most gentle of ways.
I moved closer and patted him on his side. His fur was so matted – I could feel that it was solid as a rock. The poor dog had to be in awful pain.
With no intention of even walking into that barn and certainly NO intention of buying a dog – I decided right there and then that #171 was going to be mine.
The auction took place and my stomach turned. It was horrific in any sense of the word.
As #171 came to the auction table, my heart raced and my hands shook – but I bought #171 for $65.00.
That day became one of the most important days of my life because it started me down the path to end puppy mills and to get involved with so many other rescuers who were desperate to end this horror.
And, it was the day that #171 came home with me.
Thorp, as I now call him – named after the town where the auction took place - is a dog who is unexplainable.
Yes, his spirit was damaged and yes, he has a lot of behavioral issues – but he is the most kind, the most gentle and the most loving dog you will ever meet.
I started that next morning writing everything about my experience and wrote nearly every day as I fought the battle to end puppy mills and to bring some sense of justice to Thorp.
Those writings have become the making of a 125 page book, so far. And as the months went on – it became my hope that the ending would include two things: a law in WI regulating the breeding of dogs and a therapy dog certification for Thorp.
Last fall the state of WI passed the puppy mill bill! It was a day of complete elation!
And, today, Thorp begins his training to be a therapy dog!
It has all been two years in the making but every step, every tear, every hurt has been worth getting to this point. To coming full circle and seeing a tragedy become a hope and horror becoming glory.
In my heart, I know that Thorp’s past has led him to this role – his survival in such bleak conditions filled his soul with a yearning to love and to give himself without anything in return.
He is going to be a therapy dog who will show unconditional love to everyone he meets.
I have known all along that it was my responsibility to give him a second chance and the opportunity for him to share the gift that was created out of such misery.
Two years ago I walked into something I will never forget – unknowingly, I bought a dog completely based on the intuition of my heart and soul… and I know that what seemed like a crazy compulsive decision was actually a moment of total clarity and purpose.
Today, we live out that dream.
I walked in practically on accident: I had only been there to protest. But at the advice of one of the experienced protestors – I went in to see what was going on.
Some of you know the story…When I walked into this dismal, cold barn and saw wire cages upon wire cages filled with scared and sickly dogs – my heart sunk to a place I cannot even describe.
Tears filled my eyes and I felt like I would never breathe again.
The dogs were only numbers. There were no toys or blankets – no food and no water. Only dogs whose eyes pierced through my soul because they were so lifeless and so empty.
What many people don’t know is that it is the Amish and the Mennonites who are running many of the mills… Those kind and gentle people do not treat animals like pets… I am not sure they even treat them at all.
As I walked from cage to cage, holding back my tears – I came to #171. He was a Chinese Crested Powder Puff (I had no idea what that was) and he was shaking.
He was the oldest dog there and looking at him broke my heart into a million pieces. There was no sign of life in his eyes – he had given up.
Even though it is against the rules – I opened the cage door and reached my hand to him. He moved so slowly to the front and licked my fingers in the most gentle of ways.
I moved closer and patted him on his side. His fur was so matted – I could feel that it was solid as a rock. The poor dog had to be in awful pain.
With no intention of even walking into that barn and certainly NO intention of buying a dog – I decided right there and then that #171 was going to be mine.
The auction took place and my stomach turned. It was horrific in any sense of the word.
As #171 came to the auction table, my heart raced and my hands shook – but I bought #171 for $65.00.
That day became one of the most important days of my life because it started me down the path to end puppy mills and to get involved with so many other rescuers who were desperate to end this horror.
And, it was the day that #171 came home with me.
Thorp, as I now call him – named after the town where the auction took place - is a dog who is unexplainable.
Yes, his spirit was damaged and yes, he has a lot of behavioral issues – but he is the most kind, the most gentle and the most loving dog you will ever meet.
I started that next morning writing everything about my experience and wrote nearly every day as I fought the battle to end puppy mills and to bring some sense of justice to Thorp.
Those writings have become the making of a 125 page book, so far. And as the months went on – it became my hope that the ending would include two things: a law in WI regulating the breeding of dogs and a therapy dog certification for Thorp.
Last fall the state of WI passed the puppy mill bill! It was a day of complete elation!
And, today, Thorp begins his training to be a therapy dog!
It has all been two years in the making but every step, every tear, every hurt has been worth getting to this point. To coming full circle and seeing a tragedy become a hope and horror becoming glory.
In my heart, I know that Thorp’s past has led him to this role – his survival in such bleak conditions filled his soul with a yearning to love and to give himself without anything in return.
He is going to be a therapy dog who will show unconditional love to everyone he meets.
I have known all along that it was my responsibility to give him a second chance and the opportunity for him to share the gift that was created out of such misery.
Two years ago I walked into something I will never forget – unknowingly, I bought a dog completely based on the intuition of my heart and soul… and I know that what seemed like a crazy compulsive decision was actually a moment of total clarity and purpose.
Today, we live out that dream.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Truths: A World Away - Disconnected
I checked my email messages yesterday morning: 175. Of course, some were junk…but for the most part they had meaning. Although, none of them were going to change my life. Okay, maybe one of them: the ultrasound of my soon to be grandbaby.
(Which, by the way, I will be a grandma twice over this year. My other step-daughter, Lindsey, just found out that she is pregnant - 6 weeks after her sister!)
So, yes, the ultrasound was a very important email.
But, the rest… not so much.
And yet, the minute we flew into the Bahamas and I knew that I would not be able to check my email or google the intenet – I felt whoosey. I felt disconnected from my world. I felt lost. I felt loss.
Add to it, that I wouldn’t be able to make many calls since at $1.99/min – talking seemed a luxury I could live without (or should live without).
I was thousands of miles away and besides being with my husband – I was alone. Very alone.
When the plane flew into the islands, I would stare down at my iphone and yearn. Yearn to so see who texted me, who emailed me… What was I missing – because it sure felt like I was missing A LOT!
Yeah, as the plane landed and the blue sky, aqua water and blowing palm trees showed up in the window – I was distracted – but…I admit – still wanting to know who emailed me!
I confessed to Bill that it was driving me nuts – that I wasn’t sure I could do it.
He said that it would be easy for him the first few days and then he would get antsy. For me, it was just the opposite.
I swear I had withdrawals those first few days. Each time something wonderful or funny would happen – I wanted to text, to email a friend and let them know.
It certainly got me thinking about what life was like without cell phones, without email, even without answering machines. Yes, I am old enough to remember all of that.
We are so connected to everything these days that it is near impossible to disconnect. Or, to unplug from what we believe to be our whole world.
It was almost as if I didn’t know what to do if I couldn’t connect.
As the hours and soon days passed, my withdrawal faded. We went for long walks, searched for shells, enjoyed the beauty of where we were (and yes, drank heavily). And, my need to connect lessened.
My anxiety disappeared and I can admit that I really did not miss it. We read books and breathed deeply, napping at times in the sun. (okay, maybe passing out in the sun)
I didn’t have to keep up with responding to email – figuring out things that weren’t working or deleting spam.
And, I was still alive. I was probably more alive.
Ironically, as the week came to a close my husband led me to a resort computer where you could check email and surf the net.
I panicked. “No,” I screamed – “We are NOT checking our email!”
“We are NOT checking it only to become stressed at how much there is or that something is wrong,” I said, “Absolutely NOT!”
My husband, of course, ignored my plea – but couldn’t successfully log in!
“Yes!” (God is female!)
We spent the rest of our days – without technology. And, neither one of us died.
I am still in disbelief.
But, I am a changed person.
I have become so programmed to check my email through out the day and to feel as if I have to react immediately. I don’t – none of us do.
And, it feels good to let it all go sometimes – to re-prioritize what is really important and to let technology take a back seat to really living.
Sure, the jokes about the Walmart people are funny, and the ease of making plans with friends is amazing, and the solving problems with people across the country is beyond efficient and successful – but taking in the day and appreciating the simplicity of life is even more rewarding.
Oh, I won’t lie – the minute we landed in Miami – I turned on my phone and started texting everyone I could think of. Letting them all know I was home and eager to hear what went on while I was away. My reaction was immediate without one single thought.
I did wait until yesterday morning to check my email – it was hard not to hit the email button on my phone – but after 10 days of restrain – I did learn some self-control.
And sure enough, one of the first emails I had was “More pictures of Walmart people.”
(Which, by the way, I will be a grandma twice over this year. My other step-daughter, Lindsey, just found out that she is pregnant - 6 weeks after her sister!)
So, yes, the ultrasound was a very important email.
But, the rest… not so much.
And yet, the minute we flew into the Bahamas and I knew that I would not be able to check my email or google the intenet – I felt whoosey. I felt disconnected from my world. I felt lost. I felt loss.
Add to it, that I wouldn’t be able to make many calls since at $1.99/min – talking seemed a luxury I could live without (or should live without).
I was thousands of miles away and besides being with my husband – I was alone. Very alone.
When the plane flew into the islands, I would stare down at my iphone and yearn. Yearn to so see who texted me, who emailed me… What was I missing – because it sure felt like I was missing A LOT!
Yeah, as the plane landed and the blue sky, aqua water and blowing palm trees showed up in the window – I was distracted – but…I admit – still wanting to know who emailed me!
I confessed to Bill that it was driving me nuts – that I wasn’t sure I could do it.
He said that it would be easy for him the first few days and then he would get antsy. For me, it was just the opposite.
I swear I had withdrawals those first few days. Each time something wonderful or funny would happen – I wanted to text, to email a friend and let them know.
It certainly got me thinking about what life was like without cell phones, without email, even without answering machines. Yes, I am old enough to remember all of that.
We are so connected to everything these days that it is near impossible to disconnect. Or, to unplug from what we believe to be our whole world.
It was almost as if I didn’t know what to do if I couldn’t connect.
As the hours and soon days passed, my withdrawal faded. We went for long walks, searched for shells, enjoyed the beauty of where we were (and yes, drank heavily). And, my need to connect lessened.
My anxiety disappeared and I can admit that I really did not miss it. We read books and breathed deeply, napping at times in the sun. (okay, maybe passing out in the sun)
I didn’t have to keep up with responding to email – figuring out things that weren’t working or deleting spam.
And, I was still alive. I was probably more alive.
Ironically, as the week came to a close my husband led me to a resort computer where you could check email and surf the net.
I panicked. “No,” I screamed – “We are NOT checking our email!”
“We are NOT checking it only to become stressed at how much there is or that something is wrong,” I said, “Absolutely NOT!”
My husband, of course, ignored my plea – but couldn’t successfully log in!
“Yes!” (God is female!)
We spent the rest of our days – without technology. And, neither one of us died.
I am still in disbelief.
But, I am a changed person.
I have become so programmed to check my email through out the day and to feel as if I have to react immediately. I don’t – none of us do.
And, it feels good to let it all go sometimes – to re-prioritize what is really important and to let technology take a back seat to really living.
Sure, the jokes about the Walmart people are funny, and the ease of making plans with friends is amazing, and the solving problems with people across the country is beyond efficient and successful – but taking in the day and appreciating the simplicity of life is even more rewarding.
Oh, I won’t lie – the minute we landed in Miami – I turned on my phone and started texting everyone I could think of. Letting them all know I was home and eager to hear what went on while I was away. My reaction was immediate without one single thought.
I did wait until yesterday morning to check my email – it was hard not to hit the email button on my phone – but after 10 days of restrain – I did learn some self-control.
And sure enough, one of the first emails I had was “More pictures of Walmart people.”
Monday, February 15, 2010
Truths: Chocolate Milk
Aaah…. We are back – back from sunny skies, white velvet beaches and fruity drinks. Yep, reality has set in and I am staring at the 6 inches of snow hardened to my driveway and the pile of mail that takes up all of the kitchen island. Ugh.
Our trip was amazing – every detail perfect and weather that was right out of a postcard. We really could not complain… but…
Oh – the service. The Sandals JUST opened the week we were there. We found out that we were their first guests! We knew, going into it, that the resort would be new – we just didn’t know it would be that new.
Still, the staff was extremely gracious…and they tried so hard but….
Things were awkward. My best example is ordering chocolate milk.
Every morning I drink a large glass of heavily cocoa powdered milk. I don’t do coffee or tea – this is my morning beverage.
Ordering this in the Bahamas is obviously as odd as telling them I am from space… maybe stranger.
For 9 mornings straight I ordered my chocolate milk and for 9 mornings straight it came different and it never came easy or quick. And, every time I ordered it – I got that look as though I just stepped out of a spaceship.
That is how pretty much everything was - . Everyone meant well – they just didn’t know what we meant.
Ordering meals was a very lengthy process and always a shot in the dark.
We ordered pizza a few times and each time – no matter what topping we asked for – we would get something else. It was always good but it was never what we wanted.
Yesterday, our last morning breakfast, we sat in the beautiful open air dining room – plopped on cushy sofas, surrounded by posh tropical print pillows – looking out to a mesmerizing landscape and we waited and waited and waited…for chocolate milk, for coffee, for anyone to take our order and we pondered how it was moments like these that actually made us feel good about going home.
I guess we take for granted all the customs and habits we live with everyday. Even on a bad day – customer service is nowhere as “relaxed” as it is on the islands. When you order chocolate milk no one stares at you with a blank face.
There are comforts of home that somehow manage to beat out 80 degree weather, palm trees and aqua blue water. Hard to believe but so true.
I have all week to catch you up on our amazing vacation…and it will take as long as –ordering chocolate milk in the Bahamas…
Okay, better go tackle that pile of mail or should I just say that pile of bills and the junk that lies between them.
Our trip was amazing – every detail perfect and weather that was right out of a postcard. We really could not complain… but…
Oh – the service. The Sandals JUST opened the week we were there. We found out that we were their first guests! We knew, going into it, that the resort would be new – we just didn’t know it would be that new.
Still, the staff was extremely gracious…and they tried so hard but….
Things were awkward. My best example is ordering chocolate milk.
Every morning I drink a large glass of heavily cocoa powdered milk. I don’t do coffee or tea – this is my morning beverage.
Ordering this in the Bahamas is obviously as odd as telling them I am from space… maybe stranger.
For 9 mornings straight I ordered my chocolate milk and for 9 mornings straight it came different and it never came easy or quick. And, every time I ordered it – I got that look as though I just stepped out of a spaceship.
That is how pretty much everything was - . Everyone meant well – they just didn’t know what we meant.
Ordering meals was a very lengthy process and always a shot in the dark.
We ordered pizza a few times and each time – no matter what topping we asked for – we would get something else. It was always good but it was never what we wanted.
Yesterday, our last morning breakfast, we sat in the beautiful open air dining room – plopped on cushy sofas, surrounded by posh tropical print pillows – looking out to a mesmerizing landscape and we waited and waited and waited…for chocolate milk, for coffee, for anyone to take our order and we pondered how it was moments like these that actually made us feel good about going home.
I guess we take for granted all the customs and habits we live with everyday. Even on a bad day – customer service is nowhere as “relaxed” as it is on the islands. When you order chocolate milk no one stares at you with a blank face.
There are comforts of home that somehow manage to beat out 80 degree weather, palm trees and aqua blue water. Hard to believe but so true.
I have all week to catch you up on our amazing vacation…and it will take as long as –ordering chocolate milk in the Bahamas…
Okay, better go tackle that pile of mail or should I just say that pile of bills and the junk that lies between them.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Truths: Bon Voyage
I just wanted to let my readers know I am leaving right now for 10 days in the Bahamas. Yeah, maybe I say it to rub it in, but mostly I just want you to know you will have to live without my posts. (I hope you can survive!)
I could have brought my laptop to write and keep myself connected but... I decided that this is a vacation and I should do nothing! No email, no phone,... No blog!
Sure I will miss my creative outlet but I am desperately looking forward to the simple- nontech version of life for a few days.
Maybe, since there won't be my blog (and what else could you be doing on the Internet if you aren't reading my blog?) it would be a great time to challenge everyone to limit your time logged on, connected to devices, worrying about facebook... And just use the extra time to breathe, to smell the flowers, relax!!!
I wish I could share my umbrella drinks with you or put a beach towel down to hold a chair by the pool for you, but I can't. But that doesn't mean you can't use this next week as a virtual vacation and do whatever it is that makes you happy!
Good luck with the challenge... I look forward to sharing my adventures with you when I get back!
Cheers!
I could have brought my laptop to write and keep myself connected but... I decided that this is a vacation and I should do nothing! No email, no phone,... No blog!
Sure I will miss my creative outlet but I am desperately looking forward to the simple- nontech version of life for a few days.
Maybe, since there won't be my blog (and what else could you be doing on the Internet if you aren't reading my blog?) it would be a great time to challenge everyone to limit your time logged on, connected to devices, worrying about facebook... And just use the extra time to breathe, to smell the flowers, relax!!!
I wish I could share my umbrella drinks with you or put a beach towel down to hold a chair by the pool for you, but I can't. But that doesn't mean you can't use this next week as a virtual vacation and do whatever it is that makes you happy!
Good luck with the challenge... I look forward to sharing my adventures with you when I get back!
Cheers!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Truths: The (Dreaded) Yellow Polka Dot Bikini
In 24 hours I will be on a plane to the Bahamas…my husband and I never went on a honeymoon (or any trip like this together – alone) and we will celebrate our whopping 5 year anniversary.
I say “whopping” because for many others around us they are celebrating 10, 15, 20 years… But, nonetheless we are happy to celebrate 5.
It is amazing what we have been through in just 5 years…we so deserve this vacation.
But, it can be Hell getting ready to leave, can’t it? Canceling the mail, cleaning the house (because God forbid you die in a plane crash and people come in and see that you left your house in shambles!), getting the pets ready for our wonderful petsitter, Ellen, buying all the essential hygiene items, the list goes on and on…
But the absolute worst thing in getting ready to head somewhere south to bask in the sun and drink fruity little umbrella drinks is…… buying a new bathing suit!
That is what I did yesterday and I am fairly certain it is the very task that comes right before suicide!
I have been working out for over 3 months for this vacation… THREE months. Walking/running miles, 400 sit-ups a night, practicing yoga…I have worked fricking hard.
But, when I tried on the first suit yesterday…well – I certainly wasn’t staring at some glowing body.
Now, I am not a large person – I am not a contestant for the Biggest Loser by any stretch of the imagination – but I do have that 10 -15 pounds glued to my body in all the wrong places. And, that is what glared back at me when I looked in the mirror.
We all know the truth about store mirrors and dressing room lighting – they suck. They should really go out of their way to make you look better – wouldn’t you buy more clothes..but instead – your cellulite is highlighted and your face looks washed out.
Okay, maybe it isn’t the lighting…
There was a time in my life when I would have broke down in the dressing room yesterday – when I would have cried like a baby seeing my body in a bathing suit and looking “that” way.
A time when I would have hung the suit back on the hanger and ran out of the room. Completely devastated.
I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I should have. Maybe I didn’t because I am 39 years old and even though I want, more than anything, to see that 20 something body I once had – or even the better early 30 year old body I had – I am not going to.
I don’t eat like a pig and I do work-out but that body I once had, well, it isn’t coming back anytime soon.
I already walk passed the cute little bikinis and am drawn immediately to the tankinis. I guess it is a rite of passage… 20 – 30 year olds buy the bikini’s – 35 + buy the tankinis and well, we all know what 50 + buys… The skirted one pieces – the suits that suck it in, push it up and hide it all.
I admit for one second I looked at one of those suits. Contemplating how it might be the one for me and then I shook my head and walked away. C’mon my body doesn’t need that…yet!
So, as any woman knows, you scavenge every possible suit you even remotely like – you grab a few different sizes (even though you don’t want to) and you walk into the dressing room – nervous as Hell…
I had at least 20 garments in that room. And the marathon began.
Removing everything I had on… and being winter here – that means a lot of clothes!
By the time I am taking the first suit of the hanger, I am already sweating.
The first suit goes on and I think a few things… One, while I might look better than I did a few months ago –is this really as far as I got… and then I contemplated the suit.
I think, “It could be worse – I kinda like it…”
This goes on for probably 45 minutes. Taking suits on – taking suits off. Grappling with putting them back on hangers – struggling to get them over my head and down my body. Fidgeting with tags and sensors (all put in the absolute worst places)
Half way through – my once moist skin is dry and flaking – my chest is red from the tags scraping it each time… My hair is flat and ugly and I look like a freight train hit me – head on.
And that is about the time I realize that to make this work I have to do the unthinkable… I must sacrifice myself and get half dressed to go back out and get a few different suits and a few more sizes.
Every woman knows what a pain in the ass this is.
Putting your clothes back on – wondering if you should take your purse or not… worrying if someone else will take over your dressing room.
It is the absolute dread of the marathon. But, for me, it had to happen or all of this was a waste.
I pulled on my jeans, left the tankini top on and wrapped myself in my sweater and scurried out to the suits. I felt like everyone was looking at me but really there was no one around.
I had to make this run twice…more sweat…more agony.
After fulfilling the nightmare – I ended up with 4 suits – or I should say 4 tops sharing two bottoms. I must admit that it is nice that they finally allow you to mix and match the bottoms.
Not only did I feel battered and beat-up – I did feel unhappy about my body. I like the suits – I just wished they read smaller sizes.
However, when I was a size 2 (and I was) I remember still feeling that way. Still looking in the mirror wishing this was smaller and that was tighter. Still feeling self-conscious.
So, what gives? (and, why do men get to wear big baggy trunks?)
I guess, part of me is mature enough to realize that no matter what I am staring at in the mirror– I have done what I can to get back in shape and I should be proud of that – because it has made a difference.
And regardless, of what size the tag on my suit reads – it is up to me to feel beautiful in it.
I suppose as I move so close to 40, I am beginning to accept who I am and that is why even though yesterday was a bit traumatizing – I just took a deep breath and made the best of it.
Besides in 24 hours – I am going to be sipping drinks with cute little umbrellas in them and not giving a damn about anything else!
I say “whopping” because for many others around us they are celebrating 10, 15, 20 years… But, nonetheless we are happy to celebrate 5.
It is amazing what we have been through in just 5 years…we so deserve this vacation.
But, it can be Hell getting ready to leave, can’t it? Canceling the mail, cleaning the house (because God forbid you die in a plane crash and people come in and see that you left your house in shambles!), getting the pets ready for our wonderful petsitter, Ellen, buying all the essential hygiene items, the list goes on and on…
But the absolute worst thing in getting ready to head somewhere south to bask in the sun and drink fruity little umbrella drinks is…… buying a new bathing suit!
That is what I did yesterday and I am fairly certain it is the very task that comes right before suicide!
I have been working out for over 3 months for this vacation… THREE months. Walking/running miles, 400 sit-ups a night, practicing yoga…I have worked fricking hard.
But, when I tried on the first suit yesterday…well – I certainly wasn’t staring at some glowing body.
Now, I am not a large person – I am not a contestant for the Biggest Loser by any stretch of the imagination – but I do have that 10 -15 pounds glued to my body in all the wrong places. And, that is what glared back at me when I looked in the mirror.
We all know the truth about store mirrors and dressing room lighting – they suck. They should really go out of their way to make you look better – wouldn’t you buy more clothes..but instead – your cellulite is highlighted and your face looks washed out.
Okay, maybe it isn’t the lighting…
There was a time in my life when I would have broke down in the dressing room yesterday – when I would have cried like a baby seeing my body in a bathing suit and looking “that” way.
A time when I would have hung the suit back on the hanger and ran out of the room. Completely devastated.
I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I should have. Maybe I didn’t because I am 39 years old and even though I want, more than anything, to see that 20 something body I once had – or even the better early 30 year old body I had – I am not going to.
I don’t eat like a pig and I do work-out but that body I once had, well, it isn’t coming back anytime soon.
I already walk passed the cute little bikinis and am drawn immediately to the tankinis. I guess it is a rite of passage… 20 – 30 year olds buy the bikini’s – 35 + buy the tankinis and well, we all know what 50 + buys… The skirted one pieces – the suits that suck it in, push it up and hide it all.
I admit for one second I looked at one of those suits. Contemplating how it might be the one for me and then I shook my head and walked away. C’mon my body doesn’t need that…yet!
So, as any woman knows, you scavenge every possible suit you even remotely like – you grab a few different sizes (even though you don’t want to) and you walk into the dressing room – nervous as Hell…
I had at least 20 garments in that room. And the marathon began.
Removing everything I had on… and being winter here – that means a lot of clothes!
By the time I am taking the first suit of the hanger, I am already sweating.
The first suit goes on and I think a few things… One, while I might look better than I did a few months ago –is this really as far as I got… and then I contemplated the suit.
I think, “It could be worse – I kinda like it…”
This goes on for probably 45 minutes. Taking suits on – taking suits off. Grappling with putting them back on hangers – struggling to get them over my head and down my body. Fidgeting with tags and sensors (all put in the absolute worst places)
Half way through – my once moist skin is dry and flaking – my chest is red from the tags scraping it each time… My hair is flat and ugly and I look like a freight train hit me – head on.
And that is about the time I realize that to make this work I have to do the unthinkable… I must sacrifice myself and get half dressed to go back out and get a few different suits and a few more sizes.
Every woman knows what a pain in the ass this is.
Putting your clothes back on – wondering if you should take your purse or not… worrying if someone else will take over your dressing room.
It is the absolute dread of the marathon. But, for me, it had to happen or all of this was a waste.
I pulled on my jeans, left the tankini top on and wrapped myself in my sweater and scurried out to the suits. I felt like everyone was looking at me but really there was no one around.
I had to make this run twice…more sweat…more agony.
After fulfilling the nightmare – I ended up with 4 suits – or I should say 4 tops sharing two bottoms. I must admit that it is nice that they finally allow you to mix and match the bottoms.
Not only did I feel battered and beat-up – I did feel unhappy about my body. I like the suits – I just wished they read smaller sizes.
However, when I was a size 2 (and I was) I remember still feeling that way. Still looking in the mirror wishing this was smaller and that was tighter. Still feeling self-conscious.
So, what gives? (and, why do men get to wear big baggy trunks?)
I guess, part of me is mature enough to realize that no matter what I am staring at in the mirror– I have done what I can to get back in shape and I should be proud of that – because it has made a difference.
And regardless, of what size the tag on my suit reads – it is up to me to feel beautiful in it.
I suppose as I move so close to 40, I am beginning to accept who I am and that is why even though yesterday was a bit traumatizing – I just took a deep breath and made the best of it.
Besides in 24 hours – I am going to be sipping drinks with cute little umbrellas in them and not giving a damn about anything else!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tales: Crazy Animal People
The conversation I had with the member of Rep. Jack Franks’ staff last night is still circling my mind. And, with the circles have come images that I fear she has envisioned of me: one of those crazy animal people – a member of the highly controversial animal rights organization: PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). Of which, I am not a member.
People, like me, are often thrown into the category of crazy animal people when we speak our opinions and voice our passions for the welfare of animals.
People tend to conjure images of hippies, protests with red paint thrown on fur coats, or individuals stealing laboratory animals to free them.
It is not to say that I would never even think about participating in any of those acts – I might – but I am SO NOT crazy.
I am a well-educated woman with a Bachelor’s from the University of Illinois and a Master’s from National Louis University in Business and Human Resource Management.
I wasn’t born yesterday and I did not grow up in a circus.
There are a lot of things I care about and have been involved in beyond animal welfare. I write for a local paper and I give press to growing businesses, amazing teenagers, creative artists. I am a volunteer at the school and I participate in civic activities to beautify my town.
I have managed a department and have been responsible for a 300 million dollar company’s personnel issues like wages, benefits, hiring practices, etc.
I am not boasting about any of this – I am merely trying to demonstrate that I am not a whack job screaming bloody murder about replacing Punxsutawney Phil with a robot!
I am also not naively preaching about animal welfare or the plight of puppy mill dogs – because I have seen their horror with my own eyes and that, THAT, is what has made me so passionate about the issue.
That, and the two dogs who are staring up at me as I type this who I saved from the HellI found them in – who I nurtured back to “almost” normal. Who were so sick and so battered that they were afraid to be held.
I don’t just believe that there are horrible places like puppy mills – I KNOW that there are.
When I wrote about not voting for Rep. Jack Franks – it came right from my heart. Not because I have it out for him – but because he let me down and caused me to re-think who I was giving my support to.
I have favored Franks for many years, but when it came down to something that is so close to my soul – I could no longer look the other way. And isn’t that why we have elections – to show our politicians what issues mean something to us?
It is a blizzard here today which will undoubtedly keep a portion of the voters away from the polls. But, to those of us who have a passion for something – some snow on the roads will not stop us.
Especially those of us who have seen puppy mill dogs forced to live in wire cages unprotected from the elements – having to shiver for months on end until spring came.
No, the snow outside will not stop me from using my vote to help those who cannot help themselves: puppy mill dogs. So, many people before me have given their life and even their lives so I can vote and make my voice heard. They never specified what issues were important to vote on – they only specified that we never take our vote for granted.
My two dogs, Penelope and Thorp, puppy mill survivors, are counting on my vote to help change the world they were forced to live in. – My vote is something none of us take for granted.
People, like me, are often thrown into the category of crazy animal people when we speak our opinions and voice our passions for the welfare of animals.
People tend to conjure images of hippies, protests with red paint thrown on fur coats, or individuals stealing laboratory animals to free them.
It is not to say that I would never even think about participating in any of those acts – I might – but I am SO NOT crazy.
I am a well-educated woman with a Bachelor’s from the University of Illinois and a Master’s from National Louis University in Business and Human Resource Management.
I wasn’t born yesterday and I did not grow up in a circus.
There are a lot of things I care about and have been involved in beyond animal welfare. I write for a local paper and I give press to growing businesses, amazing teenagers, creative artists. I am a volunteer at the school and I participate in civic activities to beautify my town.
I have managed a department and have been responsible for a 300 million dollar company’s personnel issues like wages, benefits, hiring practices, etc.
I am not boasting about any of this – I am merely trying to demonstrate that I am not a whack job screaming bloody murder about replacing Punxsutawney Phil with a robot!
I am also not naively preaching about animal welfare or the plight of puppy mill dogs – because I have seen their horror with my own eyes and that, THAT, is what has made me so passionate about the issue.
That, and the two dogs who are staring up at me as I type this who I saved from the HellI found them in – who I nurtured back to “almost” normal. Who were so sick and so battered that they were afraid to be held.
I don’t just believe that there are horrible places like puppy mills – I KNOW that there are.
When I wrote about not voting for Rep. Jack Franks – it came right from my heart. Not because I have it out for him – but because he let me down and caused me to re-think who I was giving my support to.
I have favored Franks for many years, but when it came down to something that is so close to my soul – I could no longer look the other way. And isn’t that why we have elections – to show our politicians what issues mean something to us?
It is a blizzard here today which will undoubtedly keep a portion of the voters away from the polls. But, to those of us who have a passion for something – some snow on the roads will not stop us.
Especially those of us who have seen puppy mill dogs forced to live in wire cages unprotected from the elements – having to shiver for months on end until spring came.
No, the snow outside will not stop me from using my vote to help those who cannot help themselves: puppy mill dogs. So, many people before me have given their life and even their lives so I can vote and make my voice heard. They never specified what issues were important to vote on – they only specified that we never take our vote for granted.
My two dogs, Penelope and Thorp, puppy mill survivors, are counting on my vote to help change the world they were forced to live in. – My vote is something none of us take for granted.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Truths: I misrepresented Rep. Jack Franks but not my opinion of him
I just received a call from Rep. Jack Franks' office...(I guess people really do read this blog!) And, I feel as though I owe him a retraction - I still don't owe him a vote. I said that he voted against the puppy mill bill - but what I should have said to be more accurate - is that he removed himself from sponsoring the puppy mill bill. Senator Althoff did not remove herself from the bill and for that I am grateful. She has my support.
The bill never came to a vote so my original comment was inappropriate. I apologize.
But, regardless, the fact remains - ending the suffering of puppy mill dogs is what is important to me and by Rep. Franks actions, the issue was not important to him. And, that is why he lost my vote.
The bill never came to a vote so my original comment was inappropriate. I apologize.
But, regardless, the fact remains - ending the suffering of puppy mill dogs is what is important to me and by Rep. Franks actions, the issue was not important to him. And, that is why he lost my vote.
Truths: Ugly Won't go Away
This weekend I suffered through two huge zits on my chin! I am 39 years old and right now I have the chin of 16 year old girl.
Yes, I tried to pop them – only creating a large blister and a lot of blood. I have tried to dry them up with peroxide. I have washed them – and yes, I keep picking at them.
We had dinner plans with some friends Saturday night and for the first time in at least 10 years I went and bought cover-up! As I applied it to my blemishes, I use that term lightly because they are more like obnoxious scabs, the make-up became all caked on and now, what looked like natural pimples – looked like large, puffy hills on my face.
There was no way to win… And, even at 39, I was self-conscious about my zits all weekend long.
Which symbolically brings me to our election that takes place tomorrow. There has been a lot of turmoil – a lot of negative ads, a lot of slinging crap at the opponents.
IL already has a bad record for employing complete crooks – I believe that we hold the record for governors who have been sent to jail. We are a crooked state…And, like my zits, it seems impossible to rid ourselves of these blemishes and start with a clean slate.
I am at a loss of who to vote for mostly, because I do not trust any politicians. They all say one thing to get elected and then they either do another or they don’t do anything at all.
I realize that the mere opportunity to vote is one that I should hold in high regard as so many other countries fight to the death for this right. It is never anything we should take for granted and it is something we should always exercise whenever we have the chance.
But, I don’t feel like voting. Not because I am lazy but because, deep down, I have serious doubts that it makes any difference.
Sure it makes a difference to who gets in – but no matter who gets in – will leave me disappointed.
I also despise primaries because in IL we are forced to declare ourselves as a party. So, even though I tend to find myself a liberal Republican – tomorrow I have to either be a Democrat or a Republican – or an Independent. But, if I declare Independent there is only one category that has any candidates for me to vote for
It is a crazy system.
I do have one area: animal welfare, which speaks directly to my soul, and right or wrong I use it as my compass. It is something which actually defines the type of person I want to vote for. – Even though, I doubt many politicians give the issue much weight.
This election Jack Franks is running once again for State Representative. He has been in office for quite awhile and is pretty much a Republican dressed in Democrat clothing. He had to be in order to get elected.
I have proudly voted for him many times…but not this time because he voted against the puppy mill bill last year. And, while his correspondence with me was frequent in the beginning, the minute he voted against the puppy mill bill: he never spoke to me again.
So, in turn, I will not be voting for him. Sure, there might be more pressing issues to some – but animal welfare is my issue and when I realize that a politician not only votes against it but then does not have the spine to explain why – they lose my vote.
So, just like the pimples on my face that I want to go away – I want Jack Franks to go away – because his presence has hurt what I believe in.
The rest of the ballot is full of he said, she said crap that I have not patience for. Are there really no human beings who are willing to get up and shout from the rooftops what they do believe in – what the really will accomplish if we elect them to office?
Why have elections become a bloodbath – a give and take of bad mouthing – instead of an opportunity to grandstand beliefs and objectives.
Like the zits on my chin, elections, and, the political arena that they stand for, are only getting worse. No matter how we pick at them or how desperately we want them to go away – they keep holding on – getting uglier each day!
Just as I tried Saturday night – no matter what we use to cover them up – the bad ones keep re-appearing!
Yes, I tried to pop them – only creating a large blister and a lot of blood. I have tried to dry them up with peroxide. I have washed them – and yes, I keep picking at them.
We had dinner plans with some friends Saturday night and for the first time in at least 10 years I went and bought cover-up! As I applied it to my blemishes, I use that term lightly because they are more like obnoxious scabs, the make-up became all caked on and now, what looked like natural pimples – looked like large, puffy hills on my face.
There was no way to win… And, even at 39, I was self-conscious about my zits all weekend long.
Which symbolically brings me to our election that takes place tomorrow. There has been a lot of turmoil – a lot of negative ads, a lot of slinging crap at the opponents.
IL already has a bad record for employing complete crooks – I believe that we hold the record for governors who have been sent to jail. We are a crooked state…And, like my zits, it seems impossible to rid ourselves of these blemishes and start with a clean slate.
I am at a loss of who to vote for mostly, because I do not trust any politicians. They all say one thing to get elected and then they either do another or they don’t do anything at all.
I realize that the mere opportunity to vote is one that I should hold in high regard as so many other countries fight to the death for this right. It is never anything we should take for granted and it is something we should always exercise whenever we have the chance.
But, I don’t feel like voting. Not because I am lazy but because, deep down, I have serious doubts that it makes any difference.
Sure it makes a difference to who gets in – but no matter who gets in – will leave me disappointed.
I also despise primaries because in IL we are forced to declare ourselves as a party. So, even though I tend to find myself a liberal Republican – tomorrow I have to either be a Democrat or a Republican – or an Independent. But, if I declare Independent there is only one category that has any candidates for me to vote for
It is a crazy system.
I do have one area: animal welfare, which speaks directly to my soul, and right or wrong I use it as my compass. It is something which actually defines the type of person I want to vote for. – Even though, I doubt many politicians give the issue much weight.
This election Jack Franks is running once again for State Representative. He has been in office for quite awhile and is pretty much a Republican dressed in Democrat clothing. He had to be in order to get elected.
I have proudly voted for him many times…but not this time because he voted against the puppy mill bill last year. And, while his correspondence with me was frequent in the beginning, the minute he voted against the puppy mill bill: he never spoke to me again.
So, in turn, I will not be voting for him. Sure, there might be more pressing issues to some – but animal welfare is my issue and when I realize that a politician not only votes against it but then does not have the spine to explain why – they lose my vote.
So, just like the pimples on my face that I want to go away – I want Jack Franks to go away – because his presence has hurt what I believe in.
The rest of the ballot is full of he said, she said crap that I have not patience for. Are there really no human beings who are willing to get up and shout from the rooftops what they do believe in – what the really will accomplish if we elect them to office?
Why have elections become a bloodbath – a give and take of bad mouthing – instead of an opportunity to grandstand beliefs and objectives.
Like the zits on my chin, elections, and, the political arena that they stand for, are only getting worse. No matter how we pick at them or how desperately we want them to go away – they keep holding on – getting uglier each day!
Just as I tried Saturday night – no matter what we use to cover them up – the bad ones keep re-appearing!
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