So, I had the pleasure of caring for my 15 month old granddaughter the last few days. I mean that in the most honest and sincere way. However, unlike a good percentage of “grandmas” I also have a 12 year old daughter at home and well, that changes things.
I know, I can hear you saying it, “Big deal – lots of people have 12 year olds and 15 month olds in their home.” And while you are right – it begs the question, “Why?”
To me it just confirms that sex feels good and that it makes us do things we wouldn’t otherwise do had we had our wits about us. Why would you succomb to the mere mention of adding to your family when your youngest is 12?
This is how the last few days have been in my house…
Josee just pooped and I am changing her diaper which is a “bad” one and Abby yells from upstairs, “Mom! Mom?”
“Yes,” I answer as I wipe poop off my hands…
“Mom! Are you making my lunch yet?”
“No dear- I am not making your lunch – I am cleaning up your niece’s dinner.”
Later that evening as I am making Josee’s bottle and getting her PJ’s on…
“Mom! Mom?”
“Yes, Abby,” I say.
“Mom! My flashdrive isn’t working – you need to take me to Dad’s NOW!”
To myself I am thinking in superlatives… But I say, “Really, you think I can take you to dad’s right NOW? Really?”
To which she reacts as though our home is being invaded by aliens, “OH MY GOSH… this is due TOMORROW – what am I supposed to do????”
Thankfully, my husband takes her because, really, – “what am I supposed to do???”
And, it was at that moment I couldn’t help but wonder what the Hell people do do? A baby is crying for their bottle, its passed their bedtime and your snot nosed 12 year old decides to have a crisis.
Now, I preface my own crisis with the fact that my daughter is basically an only child in our household. Yes, we have two older daughters (the ones who made her an aunt) but no other “child” lives with us and that obviously, rears its ugly head when we have times when life is not all about HER.
Having your granddaughter stay with you is certainly one of those times you realize such a thing.
There were other times…
As I held Josee on my hip – let the dogs in and fed them with my other hand and Abby screams from the top of the steps, “Mom! Mom? What time is it?”
“Don’t you have a clock up there?” I say… which was really meant to be a lot more than a question – more like a “are you fricking kidding me? I am doing three things at once and you can’t even read the clock in your room…”
“The clock up here doesn’t say the same thing as the one down there.” She huffs down at me.
And, really, what do you say to that?
I said nothing and instead chose to listen to Josee as she woofed like a dog and looked out the slider to point out to me that I had forgotten one of the five dogs in the yard.
It became painfully obvious that the most silent one in the crowd was definitely getting her point across the best.
There was the time when Abby came home from soccer and I was getting Josee ready for a bath and for the first time in 12 years Abby decided she WANTED to take a shower. Of course she does, why on Earth didn’t I expect that – I don’t know maybe its that for the last 12 years I have begged and fought and screamed and cried trying to get my daughter to see the importance of showering and now, like some unprecedented miracle, tonight as my 15 month old granddaughter splashes playfully in the tub, Abby decides SHE should be clean.
She also decided this week that everything would be SO MUCH BETTER if I drove her to school. This week? The one week that I am waking up to a baby, changing a diaper and feeding her breakfast all before 7 – this is the week I should drive her?
Yes, at 12, Abby can be an enormous help with Josee. Offering to feed her and play with her and dress her but those time flit and flap like the wind and when I find myself in a crunch – mashing up noodles, cleaning up a spill and stirring spaghetti sauce as I sing, “The wheels on the bus go round and round…” Hearing my affectionate name, “MOM!” belted from the top of the house only sends chills up my spine and makes my hair stand up.
I couldn’t do it. I guess had my life been different – I could have. But, the demands of a 12 year old meshed with the demands of a 15 month old – are enough to put anyone over the edge.
Josee went home yesterday and I already miss her. She is adorable and makes me laugh. And, now, to Abby’s liking – life can be all about HER again.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Truths: Expect the Unexpected
Last night as my daughter and I laid on the couch and watched the Bachelorette – I had this overwhelming feeling that everything was at peace. There was a contentment in my heart and a wholeness in my soul. (none of this had anything to do with the Bachelorette… who is as annoying as Hell)
The day had started like many others have in the last few months… running a couple miles, endlessly counting sit ups and wincing with each push up – all in an attempt to get in shape for the wedding of my step-daughter.
But around 10:30 as I embarked – things took a turn.
It was Monday which meant that Abby would be with us – but she was with her dad at his lakehouse and they weren’t coming home for the week… Sure, they offered to drive her home but I had no problem going to get her – just an hour away…
So, I packed a bag for the day – swimsuit, towel, etc and headed to my ex-husband’s lakehouse to enjoy some boating and swimming with his wife and their children – and of course the daughter we have together.
The thing is – this is NOT a big deal for us…
I don’t think of Keith and Carol as ex-anythings – we think of them as friends – really good friends.
We had lunch and got on the pontoon boat and anchored in the bay where Carol’s sister-in-law and nephew came to join us…and we floated in the water and played with the kids – and not one of us thought anything about it.
Well, I guess I do – but only because those moments I find myself catching my breath – taking in the amazing thing we created. Finding appreciation in what many consider completely insane.
No, it didn’t happen overnight but it did happen – and that is both unexpected and beautiful.
The kids went tubing and we stopped by Carol’s sister-in-law’s house and talked and eventually made it back to the house when Carol’s mom and more nieces and nephews came. And it wasn’t just “their” family – it was like an extension of our family. We know them all – see them at other family gatherings we hug and smile and laugh… and its good. It is healthy.
Abby and I could have stayed for lunch – heck – we were welcome to stay the night – but we needed to get home so we said our goodbyes…
The car ride was quiet – we were both tired…and as I looked at Abby I could only think – how little she understands. To her, a relationship like this is normal – seeing her parents and her step parents hang out isn’t odd. And, I guess that means we did a good job at accomplishing the extraordinary.
I think as I laid on the couch last night – I felt whole because our lives are whole. What was once perhaps considered broken and fragmented – is now seamlessly one. And it gives meaning to, “expect the unexpected.”
The day had started like many others have in the last few months… running a couple miles, endlessly counting sit ups and wincing with each push up – all in an attempt to get in shape for the wedding of my step-daughter.
But around 10:30 as I embarked – things took a turn.
It was Monday which meant that Abby would be with us – but she was with her dad at his lakehouse and they weren’t coming home for the week… Sure, they offered to drive her home but I had no problem going to get her – just an hour away…
So, I packed a bag for the day – swimsuit, towel, etc and headed to my ex-husband’s lakehouse to enjoy some boating and swimming with his wife and their children – and of course the daughter we have together.
The thing is – this is NOT a big deal for us…
I don’t think of Keith and Carol as ex-anythings – we think of them as friends – really good friends.
We had lunch and got on the pontoon boat and anchored in the bay where Carol’s sister-in-law and nephew came to join us…and we floated in the water and played with the kids – and not one of us thought anything about it.
Well, I guess I do – but only because those moments I find myself catching my breath – taking in the amazing thing we created. Finding appreciation in what many consider completely insane.
No, it didn’t happen overnight but it did happen – and that is both unexpected and beautiful.
The kids went tubing and we stopped by Carol’s sister-in-law’s house and talked and eventually made it back to the house when Carol’s mom and more nieces and nephews came. And it wasn’t just “their” family – it was like an extension of our family. We know them all – see them at other family gatherings we hug and smile and laugh… and its good. It is healthy.
Abby and I could have stayed for lunch – heck – we were welcome to stay the night – but we needed to get home so we said our goodbyes…
The car ride was quiet – we were both tired…and as I looked at Abby I could only think – how little she understands. To her, a relationship like this is normal – seeing her parents and her step parents hang out isn’t odd. And, I guess that means we did a good job at accomplishing the extraordinary.
I think as I laid on the couch last night – I felt whole because our lives are whole. What was once perhaps considered broken and fragmented – is now seamlessly one. And it gives meaning to, “expect the unexpected.”
Monday, July 11, 2011
Truths: A cabin up north
This past weekend we were up at our cabin. We are fortunate enough to both have a cabin up north in WI and to drive 2 ½ hours each way to get there. Five hours every weekend are spent in the car – time that would otherwise be used for maybe more productive things – or even just relaxing. But, it just seems that relaxing is never the same as it is at the cabin – up north.
I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.
Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.
What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?
Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)
There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.
I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?
Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?
If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.
I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)
But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.
I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.
One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.
None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.
We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.
Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?
I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.
Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.
What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?
Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)
There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.
I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?
Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?
If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.
I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)
But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.
I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.
One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.
None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.
We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.
Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Truths: The Bermuda Triangle
So, in the last few days I have found myself in what I believe I should call, “the Bermuda triangle of age.”
Too old for one thing – too young for another.
Last weekend my step-daughter and grandson came to visit. It was going to be the bachelorette party and the bridal shower – so Lindsey came into town and we got to watch Oliver. We were very excited.
I guess it all started Friday night when we took Oliver to dinner… Lindsey was already gone. I was walking Oliver around the restaurant when one of the waitresses said, “Oh, mom’s got you now, huh?”
It continued the next morning when Abby and I took Oliver to the farmer’s market and three people proceeded to tell me what a beautiful son I had… When I said he was my grandson – their faces said the rest. Even a lady I am in Garden Club with fumbled for the words when she saw us, “Becky, I didn’t know you had another child?”
Its refreshing of course to hear that you are too young to have a grandchild – to constantly be mistaken as the mom and not the grandma…especially when you are 40 and age seems to be a factor in all that you do…
And just when I was boasting about being young… Saturday night hit – to make me start to question where I stood on the timeline of life.
It was the bachelorette party… The moms were all invited for a champagne toast and to go to dinner with the “girls.”
To me it was merely 8 years ago when my friends and I were sitting in the same place in Lake Geneva celebrating our friend’s bachelorette party – boating in the afternoon, partying in the bars… 8 years ago is a hardly enough to make you feel like you don’t belong right there again.
I happily took my beer from Lindsey and pondered the situation.
We walked our way to dinner where we enjoyed a great meal, more drinks and I got to know Kristin’s friends a little more. Sure they are younger than me by 10 years – but we laughed and told stories of their youth and how they party… and one of their friends was already pretty drunk so she acted as such and we giggled at her expense.
All through the night I couldn’t help but keep weighing what my next step would be… do I leave and act like a responsible adult – the stepmom of the bride, whom I am supposed to be? Or do I just act on my natural instinct and party until 2am with girls I can actually see myself hanging out with.
Sigh…
I guess Oliver was the determining factor. I knew that I would be the one waking up with him the next morning and coming home at 3am – probably wouldn’t cut it. And so, Judy, the groom’s mom, and I graciously said our goodbyes and the whole drive home I second guessed my actions.
Sunday hit and that was the bridal shower. Abby and I arrived late – because I am not used to getting a baby ready and myself… and when we got there the tables were full-up and it appeared the only opening was with some older ladies – which would have been okay and I am sure we would have found something to talk about but when I caught a glimpse of some seats with Kristin’s friends I think I sprinted to the table.
I wanted to re-capture what they had… I wanted to remember what it was like to be hungover at your friend’s bridal shower – I wanted to hear what I missed out on the night before – even if the truth was they didn’t remember much of it.
And then just when I was in the midst of questioning where the Hell I belonged – yesterday came…
Reality basically hit me upside the head as I was standing outside the dressing rooms at Hollister. If you have never been there – first you are lucky – but let me describe what you are missing…
On the outside of the store – there is no name – instead you walk onto a porch that looks like it should be in Key West, you pass surfboards and California photographs until you find yourself standing in the dark, adjusting your eyes and wishing they would turn down the damn music.
Just when your eyes adjust, your pre-teen daughter demands that you follow her around – even though anytime you offer your opinion she rolls her eyes and walks away… That is until she screams your name from a dark corner and expects you to offer another opinion which she will immediately ignore.
Once in a great while she actually says, “Oh, you think so – you like it – I guess I could try it on.”
And that is when you make your way to the small space they call a dressing room identified by the CA signs that read, “Clothing optional beyond this point.” How cute.
You can only take 5 items into the dressing room probably because the lights are so dim – it would be easy to shoplift a few. And since the rooms are too small for more than one person to be in – I get to stand outside under the clothing optional sign waiting.
There are no seats to relax in – the music still blaring and my eyes still hazy from being in the dark…No I just stand and wait.
And then it happens – another mom and her preteen daughter enter into the zone and she finds herself in my same position… holding the unallowed 6th and 7th items, standing and waiting.
We both stood there and many times I was about to say something like, “What is wrong with this place? Don’t they know that its us parents who are buying the clothes – can’t they afford better lighting – don’t they think the music is too loud for anyone to think?”
But, I couldn’t say it – I just couldn’t allow myself to actually speak the words – because as I played them in my head all I really heard was, “You are old, you are old, you are old.”
Forget the many cherished moments of the weekend where I was reminded I still have “it.” It doesn’t matter that I could still have my own 10 month old son…
No, the reality is that I am the real 40… The irritated mother of a preteen girl, the middle aged woman who needs both light and quiet to think about what I want to buy and who could really use a chair to sit in as she waits for her emotionally unbalanced daughter to walk out of the dressing room rolling her eyes at my mere existence.
It’s a Bermuda triangle I say… a place where time exists only in the words and actions which surround you… One minute too young to be old and the other too old to be young.
And like the tales of the triangle – once you go in – you never come out.
Too old for one thing – too young for another.
Last weekend my step-daughter and grandson came to visit. It was going to be the bachelorette party and the bridal shower – so Lindsey came into town and we got to watch Oliver. We were very excited.
I guess it all started Friday night when we took Oliver to dinner… Lindsey was already gone. I was walking Oliver around the restaurant when one of the waitresses said, “Oh, mom’s got you now, huh?”
It continued the next morning when Abby and I took Oliver to the farmer’s market and three people proceeded to tell me what a beautiful son I had… When I said he was my grandson – their faces said the rest. Even a lady I am in Garden Club with fumbled for the words when she saw us, “Becky, I didn’t know you had another child?”
Its refreshing of course to hear that you are too young to have a grandchild – to constantly be mistaken as the mom and not the grandma…especially when you are 40 and age seems to be a factor in all that you do…
And just when I was boasting about being young… Saturday night hit – to make me start to question where I stood on the timeline of life.
It was the bachelorette party… The moms were all invited for a champagne toast and to go to dinner with the “girls.”
To me it was merely 8 years ago when my friends and I were sitting in the same place in Lake Geneva celebrating our friend’s bachelorette party – boating in the afternoon, partying in the bars… 8 years ago is a hardly enough to make you feel like you don’t belong right there again.
I happily took my beer from Lindsey and pondered the situation.
We walked our way to dinner where we enjoyed a great meal, more drinks and I got to know Kristin’s friends a little more. Sure they are younger than me by 10 years – but we laughed and told stories of their youth and how they party… and one of their friends was already pretty drunk so she acted as such and we giggled at her expense.
All through the night I couldn’t help but keep weighing what my next step would be… do I leave and act like a responsible adult – the stepmom of the bride, whom I am supposed to be? Or do I just act on my natural instinct and party until 2am with girls I can actually see myself hanging out with.
Sigh…
I guess Oliver was the determining factor. I knew that I would be the one waking up with him the next morning and coming home at 3am – probably wouldn’t cut it. And so, Judy, the groom’s mom, and I graciously said our goodbyes and the whole drive home I second guessed my actions.
Sunday hit and that was the bridal shower. Abby and I arrived late – because I am not used to getting a baby ready and myself… and when we got there the tables were full-up and it appeared the only opening was with some older ladies – which would have been okay and I am sure we would have found something to talk about but when I caught a glimpse of some seats with Kristin’s friends I think I sprinted to the table.
I wanted to re-capture what they had… I wanted to remember what it was like to be hungover at your friend’s bridal shower – I wanted to hear what I missed out on the night before – even if the truth was they didn’t remember much of it.
And then just when I was in the midst of questioning where the Hell I belonged – yesterday came…
Reality basically hit me upside the head as I was standing outside the dressing rooms at Hollister. If you have never been there – first you are lucky – but let me describe what you are missing…
On the outside of the store – there is no name – instead you walk onto a porch that looks like it should be in Key West, you pass surfboards and California photographs until you find yourself standing in the dark, adjusting your eyes and wishing they would turn down the damn music.
Just when your eyes adjust, your pre-teen daughter demands that you follow her around – even though anytime you offer your opinion she rolls her eyes and walks away… That is until she screams your name from a dark corner and expects you to offer another opinion which she will immediately ignore.
Once in a great while she actually says, “Oh, you think so – you like it – I guess I could try it on.”
And that is when you make your way to the small space they call a dressing room identified by the CA signs that read, “Clothing optional beyond this point.” How cute.
You can only take 5 items into the dressing room probably because the lights are so dim – it would be easy to shoplift a few. And since the rooms are too small for more than one person to be in – I get to stand outside under the clothing optional sign waiting.
There are no seats to relax in – the music still blaring and my eyes still hazy from being in the dark…No I just stand and wait.
And then it happens – another mom and her preteen daughter enter into the zone and she finds herself in my same position… holding the unallowed 6th and 7th items, standing and waiting.
We both stood there and many times I was about to say something like, “What is wrong with this place? Don’t they know that its us parents who are buying the clothes – can’t they afford better lighting – don’t they think the music is too loud for anyone to think?”
But, I couldn’t say it – I just couldn’t allow myself to actually speak the words – because as I played them in my head all I really heard was, “You are old, you are old, you are old.”
Forget the many cherished moments of the weekend where I was reminded I still have “it.” It doesn’t matter that I could still have my own 10 month old son…
No, the reality is that I am the real 40… The irritated mother of a preteen girl, the middle aged woman who needs both light and quiet to think about what I want to buy and who could really use a chair to sit in as she waits for her emotionally unbalanced daughter to walk out of the dressing room rolling her eyes at my mere existence.
It’s a Bermuda triangle I say… a place where time exists only in the words and actions which surround you… One minute too young to be old and the other too old to be young.
And like the tales of the triangle – once you go in – you never come out.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tails: The sad truth behind the wag
Last week, as I was bringing in Sadie for what would be a very telling surgery – a young couple was sitting in the parking lot. I could see that the woman was in the backseat with a dog and I could easily see that she was crying.
I knew what was about to happen.
Sadie and I made our way to the lobby – I felt the couple needed to time without Sadie and I overlooking…
As we sat down – the couple came in with their dog, a mixed breed of something like a husky and a shepherd. The dog didn’t make it in the front door and started peeing all over the floor. It was obvious that he had lost control of his bladder.
The young woman was crying and I could hold back no more…I started crying.
Two of our 4 dogs are getting older… in the 9-12 year old range and seeing that couple only brought to the surface what is ahead for us in the near future.
In fact, it might be nearer than I even thought.
See Sadie was going in for surgery to have a larger mass removed from her mammary gland. The truth be told – I had found something a few months back…But thought it was just an infection. It turned out to be a very suspicious mass… and I found out yesterday that she has mammary cancer.
I rescued Sadie 6 years ago. I saw a 1” picture of her on Petfinder.com and who knows why but I had to have her. I drove 8 hours one way based on a 3 sentence description and picture I needed a magnifying glass to even see.
Sadie turned out to be a biter – I guess more of a nipper – but with sharp teeth. There has rarely been a time when one of us wasn’t holding her by the collar when a guest entered our home.
It is also true that Sadie was saved by the rescue I adopted her from. Her papers from the Missouri Animal Control said she was a biter and knowing what I know after working in Animal Control she would have been euthanized if a rescue didn’t come and take her.
For 6 years, Sadie has been a great dog, minus the biting. She is loving and sweet and has never had an accident (a real feat in our house).
And now, tomorrow, after more tests are done, we will know how much the cancer has spread and ultimately, how much longer we will be able to have Sadie in our family.
It certainly makes you stop and think.
We have 4 dogs and 3 cats – and there is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t say, “Oh what I would give to have ONE dog.”
And yet, now that the circumstances deal me the possibility of lessening my herd… it breaks my heart. Each of the 7 adds a dimension to our home. Obviously, we have the biter, then the neurotic, then the happy, the wimpy… those are the dogs… For the cats, we have the psychotic, the fat and the one who wants to be a dog. Taking any one of them away changes everything.
We had thought that it would be Buddy who went first.. He is the oldest and is senile and getting grumpier by the day… But to find that Sadie is the sick one. We thought her feisty little self would last forever.
When Sadie went to the vet two weeks ago, we also found that she suffers from severe osteoarthritis and probably has the beginnings of Cushings disease an illness that ultimately paralyzes the dog with its symptoms. Sadie is not well… and it is so hard to grasp.
She is on meds right now – for practically everything – pain, infection and arthritis… and they are making her a frisky dog again – despite the huge incision that lines her belly.
Maybe it will be a year before we walk into that vet clinic like that young couple or maybe it will be just a few months… Every pet owner dreads that day no matter when it comes no matter if it is planned or sudden…
And yet, those days never even come to mind when you see a dog on petfinder that captures your heart. For you know that that dog will add something to your life that you never knew existed and you will be a better person because of it.
As pet owners we become more tolerant, more loving, more compassionate. We take an extra moment to breathe by walking with our dogs, throwing a ball or just lying beside them watching football. They are there for us when no one else is and every time we walk in the house they greet us like we were gone for a year.
They never judge us or demand anything from us. The love us unconditionally even after we yell or fail to share our dinner with them. They are just grateful for anything we give them.
It is no wonder that when their time comes to a close – we find ourselves heartbroken and empty – as though we betrayed them and failed to live up to their expectations.
But they never had any expectations for us… They only asked that we be kind, a warm place to sleep, a full bowl and fresh water to drink. And if we could ask them – they would also add – they don’t ever want us to see them suffer… but that is the hardest thing of all to give them because it means they are no longer with us and as humans we can be selfish…
Sadie’s day could come before I am ever ready, if ready is even possible, and for each day until then – I will make sure to give her an extra hug, a bigger treat and say the words, “I love you.” But none of that will ever make up for all that she has given me.
I knew what was about to happen.
Sadie and I made our way to the lobby – I felt the couple needed to time without Sadie and I overlooking…
As we sat down – the couple came in with their dog, a mixed breed of something like a husky and a shepherd. The dog didn’t make it in the front door and started peeing all over the floor. It was obvious that he had lost control of his bladder.
The young woman was crying and I could hold back no more…I started crying.
Two of our 4 dogs are getting older… in the 9-12 year old range and seeing that couple only brought to the surface what is ahead for us in the near future.
In fact, it might be nearer than I even thought.
See Sadie was going in for surgery to have a larger mass removed from her mammary gland. The truth be told – I had found something a few months back…But thought it was just an infection. It turned out to be a very suspicious mass… and I found out yesterday that she has mammary cancer.
I rescued Sadie 6 years ago. I saw a 1” picture of her on Petfinder.com and who knows why but I had to have her. I drove 8 hours one way based on a 3 sentence description and picture I needed a magnifying glass to even see.
Sadie turned out to be a biter – I guess more of a nipper – but with sharp teeth. There has rarely been a time when one of us wasn’t holding her by the collar when a guest entered our home.
It is also true that Sadie was saved by the rescue I adopted her from. Her papers from the Missouri Animal Control said she was a biter and knowing what I know after working in Animal Control she would have been euthanized if a rescue didn’t come and take her.
For 6 years, Sadie has been a great dog, minus the biting. She is loving and sweet and has never had an accident (a real feat in our house).
And now, tomorrow, after more tests are done, we will know how much the cancer has spread and ultimately, how much longer we will be able to have Sadie in our family.
It certainly makes you stop and think.
We have 4 dogs and 3 cats – and there is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t say, “Oh what I would give to have ONE dog.”
And yet, now that the circumstances deal me the possibility of lessening my herd… it breaks my heart. Each of the 7 adds a dimension to our home. Obviously, we have the biter, then the neurotic, then the happy, the wimpy… those are the dogs… For the cats, we have the psychotic, the fat and the one who wants to be a dog. Taking any one of them away changes everything.
We had thought that it would be Buddy who went first.. He is the oldest and is senile and getting grumpier by the day… But to find that Sadie is the sick one. We thought her feisty little self would last forever.
When Sadie went to the vet two weeks ago, we also found that she suffers from severe osteoarthritis and probably has the beginnings of Cushings disease an illness that ultimately paralyzes the dog with its symptoms. Sadie is not well… and it is so hard to grasp.
She is on meds right now – for practically everything – pain, infection and arthritis… and they are making her a frisky dog again – despite the huge incision that lines her belly.
Maybe it will be a year before we walk into that vet clinic like that young couple or maybe it will be just a few months… Every pet owner dreads that day no matter when it comes no matter if it is planned or sudden…
And yet, those days never even come to mind when you see a dog on petfinder that captures your heart. For you know that that dog will add something to your life that you never knew existed and you will be a better person because of it.
As pet owners we become more tolerant, more loving, more compassionate. We take an extra moment to breathe by walking with our dogs, throwing a ball or just lying beside them watching football. They are there for us when no one else is and every time we walk in the house they greet us like we were gone for a year.
They never judge us or demand anything from us. The love us unconditionally even after we yell or fail to share our dinner with them. They are just grateful for anything we give them.
It is no wonder that when their time comes to a close – we find ourselves heartbroken and empty – as though we betrayed them and failed to live up to their expectations.
But they never had any expectations for us… They only asked that we be kind, a warm place to sleep, a full bowl and fresh water to drink. And if we could ask them – they would also add – they don’t ever want us to see them suffer… but that is the hardest thing of all to give them because it means they are no longer with us and as humans we can be selfish…
Sadie’s day could come before I am ever ready, if ready is even possible, and for each day until then – I will make sure to give her an extra hug, a bigger treat and say the words, “I love you.” But none of that will ever make up for all that she has given me.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Truths: I’m there…
Twenty years ago I would have put on my tightest jeans and my hottest top, spent over an hour getting ready and met my girlfriends at a bar – where we would have downed bottles of beer, barely touched our food and then, went to a club to dance the night away – even if it were the middle of the week. (and yes, we would have been hungover in the morning thrown our hair in a pony tail and made a dash for work)
Last night as I dressed in a nice sweater and the best jeans I have – which happen to be about 5 years old and touched up my hair after a day of cleaning the house and planting flowers in the rain…I left at 4:30 to meet two of my close college friends at The Cheesecake Factory.
Two of us managed to get in a little shopping before dinner and showed up with bags from stores like Coldwater Creek, Lord and Taylor and I had a huge bag filled with clothes from Baby Gap – I am a grandma!)
I ordered a pop and a water (because I can’t drink during the week due to a bet I have with another friend) and my two friends did order mojitos… but only one – after that, they went to Michelob Ultra (they didn’t have MGD 64) all because they were watching their calories. (and basically, saving them for cheesecake)
We each ordered a meal – which we easily ate at least ½ of and didn’t dash off to a club but sat there for 4+ hours talking. (The server did mention at 11pm that they were closing and she subtly thanked us for taking up her whole shift…)
Yep, 4 hours talking…and its important to say what we talked about. We spent a lot of time talking about our marriages, some about our kids, some about the sad fact that we actually do like a few of the clothes at Coldwater Creek…and we talked about the PTO, our hostility towards schools dictating what we can pack in our kids lunches, banning books…
Don’t get me wrong – looking back I think I enjoyed last night more than any night in a club – or at least this is what I enjoy at “my age.”
Last Sunday, as I was looking over my legs and Bill was putting together a mailbox – I found an unsightly truth – I have a few spider veins!
Tuesday, Abby and I were at Claires and I caught a glimpse of myself in a full length mirror and gasped. I was wearing a decent shirt, some denim shorts and sandals – thinking I looked okay – but when I saw me in the mirror – all I saw was the mom of a preteen… She looked all cute and put together and I, well, looked 40.
Its also come to the point where no matter what I do or what I wear my daughter has something to say about it and rarely is it ever kind. My earrings are hideous (they are just silver hoops), I, to her horror, wore the same shorts two days in a row, and it is appaulling that I actually have a few shirts from Aero. Not to mention her comment one day when I told her that Taylor’s mom bought the same Aero sweatshirt as I did and she said, “Well, Nancy will look good in it.”
I spent Wednesday night at the salon – 3+ hours basically foiling my hair so the grey doesn’t show and I have spent enough time on the treadmill, doing yoga and thousands of sit ups that I should look like… well, something I don’t.
Yep, I am there… that place of middle age. The place of realization. And, it kinda sucks.
You look in the mirror thinking you see yourself 20 years ago – and then, you are caught off guard at the mall with a glimpse of a person you don’t recognize.
Yeah, of course there are good things about this age... what are they?
Really, I am ok. I knew going into this year when I turned 40 right out of the gate…that things were headed down a different road. That clubbing it and shopping in the Jr. department were no longer in the cards for me.
I haven’t started going to dinner for the early bird special, so far I can’t get the Sr. discount, and I don’t read the obituaries…(sometimes I do).
But, I am aging.
But more importantly, beyond the spider veins and the embarrassment I cause my daughter – is 20 years of friendships. Last night as we tucked our shopping bags under the table – we were 20 again. Sure our life issues stem beyond what the cool bars are and who we “mashed with” over the weekend… But when it comes right down to it – “being here” is just as good as “being there” because the friendships I have now – mean so much more.
Last night as I dressed in a nice sweater and the best jeans I have – which happen to be about 5 years old and touched up my hair after a day of cleaning the house and planting flowers in the rain…I left at 4:30 to meet two of my close college friends at The Cheesecake Factory.
Two of us managed to get in a little shopping before dinner and showed up with bags from stores like Coldwater Creek, Lord and Taylor and I had a huge bag filled with clothes from Baby Gap – I am a grandma!)
I ordered a pop and a water (because I can’t drink during the week due to a bet I have with another friend) and my two friends did order mojitos… but only one – after that, they went to Michelob Ultra (they didn’t have MGD 64) all because they were watching their calories. (and basically, saving them for cheesecake)
We each ordered a meal – which we easily ate at least ½ of and didn’t dash off to a club but sat there for 4+ hours talking. (The server did mention at 11pm that they were closing and she subtly thanked us for taking up her whole shift…)
Yep, 4 hours talking…and its important to say what we talked about. We spent a lot of time talking about our marriages, some about our kids, some about the sad fact that we actually do like a few of the clothes at Coldwater Creek…and we talked about the PTO, our hostility towards schools dictating what we can pack in our kids lunches, banning books…
Don’t get me wrong – looking back I think I enjoyed last night more than any night in a club – or at least this is what I enjoy at “my age.”
Last Sunday, as I was looking over my legs and Bill was putting together a mailbox – I found an unsightly truth – I have a few spider veins!
Tuesday, Abby and I were at Claires and I caught a glimpse of myself in a full length mirror and gasped. I was wearing a decent shirt, some denim shorts and sandals – thinking I looked okay – but when I saw me in the mirror – all I saw was the mom of a preteen… She looked all cute and put together and I, well, looked 40.
Its also come to the point where no matter what I do or what I wear my daughter has something to say about it and rarely is it ever kind. My earrings are hideous (they are just silver hoops), I, to her horror, wore the same shorts two days in a row, and it is appaulling that I actually have a few shirts from Aero. Not to mention her comment one day when I told her that Taylor’s mom bought the same Aero sweatshirt as I did and she said, “Well, Nancy will look good in it.”
I spent Wednesday night at the salon – 3+ hours basically foiling my hair so the grey doesn’t show and I have spent enough time on the treadmill, doing yoga and thousands of sit ups that I should look like… well, something I don’t.
Yep, I am there… that place of middle age. The place of realization. And, it kinda sucks.
You look in the mirror thinking you see yourself 20 years ago – and then, you are caught off guard at the mall with a glimpse of a person you don’t recognize.
Yeah, of course there are good things about this age... what are they?
Really, I am ok. I knew going into this year when I turned 40 right out of the gate…that things were headed down a different road. That clubbing it and shopping in the Jr. department were no longer in the cards for me.
I haven’t started going to dinner for the early bird special, so far I can’t get the Sr. discount, and I don’t read the obituaries…(sometimes I do).
But, I am aging.
But more importantly, beyond the spider veins and the embarrassment I cause my daughter – is 20 years of friendships. Last night as we tucked our shopping bags under the table – we were 20 again. Sure our life issues stem beyond what the cool bars are and who we “mashed with” over the weekend… But when it comes right down to it – “being here” is just as good as “being there” because the friendships I have now – mean so much more.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Truths: Hungover
So, last night my husband and I went on a date to see a movie: The Hangover, Part 2. During a recent blizzard this winter we had the pleasure of watching the first Hangover and by the middle of the movie we were crying and practically peeing our pants it was so damn funny.
When I heard that a 2nd was coming out – you can only imagine my excitement. And when I saw that it was playing at our local theater – the kind that only costs $6.00 to see a movie and offers free refills on everything – I knew it would be the perfect date.
My husband and I are fortunate enough that we go out to dinner often so its not a big deal in our house – but going to the movies isn’t something we do – so I made sure to shower and dress nice. Heck, it was a date after all.
I think, sometimes, once you are married, dates are overlooked. For years prior to marrying, you spend hours getting ready, picking out the right outfit, shaving your legs and putting on your pretty panties… and then one day you wake up with your wedding band on – a t-shirt, pajama pants that don’t match and the realization you haven’t showered in two days. Date nights make me remember who I used to be.
So, ironically, as I prepared to go see the Hangover I was reminded by my friend Nancy that we aren’t drinking. We have a bet that neither of us can drink during the week. That would be Mon-Thursday… Eliminating the weekends was never in the cards for us. So, as we left the house early and headed to the bar across from the theater – I watched as Bill gulped down a High Life… and took a picture and texted it to Nancy – stating that I think this bet was the dumbest bet we ever made. But, I held my ground. Only 10 more minutes to the movie.
We got our tickets and loaded up on buttered popcorn and giant cokes (I had save all my calories for this big event) and made our way to the theater and picked our seats.
The movies was hilarious… Goofy monkeys, foul language, crazy Chinese guy, - you name it, it was in it… it was laugh out loud, pee your pants funny.
But it got me wondering, as I wiped the tears from eyes and we left the theater… would everyone laugh at it? If you have never been drunk to the point of oblivion – does the movie even make sense? If you wake up each day remembering all that you did the night before – can you even comprehend what the movie is about?
I am not saying that every day of my life is a blackout… I am not even saying that I have partook in anything (okay almost anything) that they did in either of the two movies…But, I have been known to get inebriated and “forget” what I did.
Sure its irresponsible, immature – I know…But that has never stopped me. I am not necessarily proud of my antics but I have some of the best stories and the funniest memories all of which were re-created the morning after the party.
I think that is why the Hangover is so hilarious. If you have ever drank too much and woken up on the floor with your best friends and spent the morning with a throbbing head trying to figure out what the Hell you did the night before – this movie is for you.
Sometimes it has taken whole days to account for the mere 5 hours the night before. Sometimes it has taken weeks to get the whole picture clear. But, while the nights are never fully played back – the memories and the bonds that take place because of them are priceless. Not to mention that they provide years of payback and opportunities for blackmail. People that party together ALWAYS remain friends.
They didn’t make the marketing statement, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” for nothing.
I, by no means, am encouraging such behavior. It is dangerous and often illegal… I am just merely recalling what I can’t recall and saying how much fun it was.
If you have ever been hungover…go see The Hangover Part 2. And wear Depends because you will pee your pants… kinda like you did in college after you did shots and passed out… (not that I know anything about that)
When I heard that a 2nd was coming out – you can only imagine my excitement. And when I saw that it was playing at our local theater – the kind that only costs $6.00 to see a movie and offers free refills on everything – I knew it would be the perfect date.
My husband and I are fortunate enough that we go out to dinner often so its not a big deal in our house – but going to the movies isn’t something we do – so I made sure to shower and dress nice. Heck, it was a date after all.
I think, sometimes, once you are married, dates are overlooked. For years prior to marrying, you spend hours getting ready, picking out the right outfit, shaving your legs and putting on your pretty panties… and then one day you wake up with your wedding band on – a t-shirt, pajama pants that don’t match and the realization you haven’t showered in two days. Date nights make me remember who I used to be.
So, ironically, as I prepared to go see the Hangover I was reminded by my friend Nancy that we aren’t drinking. We have a bet that neither of us can drink during the week. That would be Mon-Thursday… Eliminating the weekends was never in the cards for us. So, as we left the house early and headed to the bar across from the theater – I watched as Bill gulped down a High Life… and took a picture and texted it to Nancy – stating that I think this bet was the dumbest bet we ever made. But, I held my ground. Only 10 more minutes to the movie.
We got our tickets and loaded up on buttered popcorn and giant cokes (I had save all my calories for this big event) and made our way to the theater and picked our seats.
The movies was hilarious… Goofy monkeys, foul language, crazy Chinese guy, - you name it, it was in it… it was laugh out loud, pee your pants funny.
But it got me wondering, as I wiped the tears from eyes and we left the theater… would everyone laugh at it? If you have never been drunk to the point of oblivion – does the movie even make sense? If you wake up each day remembering all that you did the night before – can you even comprehend what the movie is about?
I am not saying that every day of my life is a blackout… I am not even saying that I have partook in anything (okay almost anything) that they did in either of the two movies…But, I have been known to get inebriated and “forget” what I did.
Sure its irresponsible, immature – I know…But that has never stopped me. I am not necessarily proud of my antics but I have some of the best stories and the funniest memories all of which were re-created the morning after the party.
I think that is why the Hangover is so hilarious. If you have ever drank too much and woken up on the floor with your best friends and spent the morning with a throbbing head trying to figure out what the Hell you did the night before – this movie is for you.
Sometimes it has taken whole days to account for the mere 5 hours the night before. Sometimes it has taken weeks to get the whole picture clear. But, while the nights are never fully played back – the memories and the bonds that take place because of them are priceless. Not to mention that they provide years of payback and opportunities for blackmail. People that party together ALWAYS remain friends.
They didn’t make the marketing statement, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” for nothing.
I, by no means, am encouraging such behavior. It is dangerous and often illegal… I am just merely recalling what I can’t recall and saying how much fun it was.
If you have ever been hungover…go see The Hangover Part 2. And wear Depends because you will pee your pants… kinda like you did in college after you did shots and passed out… (not that I know anything about that)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
