That's what Danny calls it. An unexpected gift of some cash for no particular reason. It is just one more reason why I love this guy so freakin much.
I don't know if it has to do with the less than millionairesque way that Danny was raised, but giving to his kids (and me) has always been such a priority for him. The kids were not spoiled by any means, but they never needed for anything. And were so often surprised with a trip for ice cream, a toy, a movie. Now that they are older, the surprises have changed to concert tickets and cosigned loans. But walkin around money is something completely different.
It is a little bit of cash handed off just slightly covertly. It is completely unexpected but always appreciated. It is money from an off duty job that I never knew existed. It is money that Danny could use for anything he would like and he uses it to surprise, no, delight us.
When we all went to Kansas City this last week, there was some walkin around money for the girls and I. Danny and Jacob were going to see Kool and the Gang and Van Halen. The girls and I just came along for the ride and were going to go to the Plaza for some fancy pants window shopping. None of us had any discretionary dollars so window shopping was going to be good enough for us.
But Danny had other ideas. As we left the hotel for our stroll to the Plaza we were instructed to line up youngest to oldest. With a peck on the cheek and a slip of his hand, Danny sent us on our way with love and a little walkin around money. There was a little extra for dinner as well.
It was fun explaining to Hayley that this was hers. It was not gas money or lunch money. It could not be used for school. It was walkin around money and by definition had to be spent with joy on something that was not going to be otherwise purchased! Ashlyn, years older and wiser, was well aware of her legal and moral obligations by accepting the walkin around money. She found a pair of Sperry's that fit her feet like the glass slipper of old.
Hayley found a dress and belt that looks quite spectacular on her.
Me, well, I found a pair of shoes in orange.
Best part though was watching Danny ooh and aah at our purchases as he and Jacob went on and on about how cool the Gang and Kool were!
Watch for it, that girl with a little extra swing in her step. The guy who swaggers just a little bit more than average. They probably have a little walkin around money and are lookin to spend!
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Another Jacob Blog
I am sure that I could come up with a pretty interesting Jaocb blog.
There is the new sunglasses and the frequency in which he puts them on. After he puts them on there is the which eye is open quiz. He looks pretty sweet in his aviators.
There is the grocery list incident. We needed sugar. I told Jacob to put it on the grocery list. Now the average person would just write "sugar" on the grocery list and call it a day. Not Jacob though. He gets himself a Sharpie and a little wirebound notebook. With every item he put on the list, he would lick the tip of the sharpie. The list consisted of sugar, kool aid, tequila. It ended with cocaine. Jacob had black dots on his tongue. I will write my own list for the store.
But here is the story taht I want to share about Jacob. Jacob is the voice of God. Not like the voice that Moses heard in The Ten Commandments, but he seems to say what I need to here. I just don't listen. Tonight someone related a story that they had heard at a talk by famous people. In the story, someone is angry at a child, is frustrated and is ready to yell, rant, rave. But instead they listen to an inner voice they hear that tells them to just hug thier child. So they hug their child and all is well. This person felt like that inner voice was the voice of God.
So often, I will be in the middle of something. It is rarely something important, but I have deemed it as important. I will be frustrated or irritated or some other 'ated and Jacob will come over and give me a hug. I usually get more 'ated and rarely appreciate the hug. But tonight it finally occured to me that Jacob's hugs are what I need when I am 'ated.
He is doing what he has done his entire lifee, loving me. So I am not going to get frustrated with him when he muscles in on me while I am folding clothes or paying bills. I am gonna take that hug like it is the gift from God that it is.
There is the new sunglasses and the frequency in which he puts them on. After he puts them on there is the which eye is open quiz. He looks pretty sweet in his aviators.
There is the grocery list incident. We needed sugar. I told Jacob to put it on the grocery list. Now the average person would just write "sugar" on the grocery list and call it a day. Not Jacob though. He gets himself a Sharpie and a little wirebound notebook. With every item he put on the list, he would lick the tip of the sharpie. The list consisted of sugar, kool aid, tequila. It ended with cocaine. Jacob had black dots on his tongue. I will write my own list for the store.
But here is the story taht I want to share about Jacob. Jacob is the voice of God. Not like the voice that Moses heard in The Ten Commandments, but he seems to say what I need to here. I just don't listen. Tonight someone related a story that they had heard at a talk by famous people. In the story, someone is angry at a child, is frustrated and is ready to yell, rant, rave. But instead they listen to an inner voice they hear that tells them to just hug thier child. So they hug their child and all is well. This person felt like that inner voice was the voice of God.
So often, I will be in the middle of something. It is rarely something important, but I have deemed it as important. I will be frustrated or irritated or some other 'ated and Jacob will come over and give me a hug. I usually get more 'ated and rarely appreciate the hug. But tonight it finally occured to me that Jacob's hugs are what I need when I am 'ated.
He is doing what he has done his entire lifee, loving me. So I am not going to get frustrated with him when he muscles in on me while I am folding clothes or paying bills. I am gonna take that hug like it is the gift from God that it is.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
24 Years Ago
It was a Friday and I had graduation rehearsal at Regis. I clearly remember having a conversation with my friend, Stacy, about the guy I had met the night before. I clearly remember having a feeling about this guy, you know, like he was something special.
I met Danny on May 19th, 1988. I have already written about that fateful night. The phone call that never came. The baby pigs never seen. The twenty seven inch waist I followed up the stairs. The Bud Light bottle.
It is the approximately eight thousand, seven hundred sixty days that followed that I would like to talk about now. I have to say approximately because with leap years and time zones and world travel, I don't think a definate count is possible. Anyway...
We dated for nine months and then became engaged. We were engaged for a year. During our dating and even our engagement, things could get ugly. Because we were so young, there was an awful lot of growing up for us to do. Petty fights, empty threats, jealous rants. But under all of that was a true love. I remember my sister, Sheila saying "the stupidest thing you will ever do is break up with Danny." She would have been right!
The Lord knows that we have had a fair share of crazy in this marriage. But it almost never felt like more than we could handle. When it did feel like more, it was because we working against each other and not as that ever powerful undefeatable force of us.
Back to my point. Twenty four years ago today, I would never have believed that I would be here today. Gone are my writer's dreams. Gone is the apartment in Chicago or Europe. Gone are the cigarettes. Funny to think that a twenty seven inch waist was all it took to save me from a life of rejection slips, high rent and lung cancer.
I never would have imagined any of this. Twenty four years ago tomorrow I was a high school graduate. I was going to attend college and then go out on my own...funny how plans change.
I met Danny on May 19th, 1988. I have already written about that fateful night. The phone call that never came. The baby pigs never seen. The twenty seven inch waist I followed up the stairs. The Bud Light bottle.
It is the approximately eight thousand, seven hundred sixty days that followed that I would like to talk about now. I have to say approximately because with leap years and time zones and world travel, I don't think a definate count is possible. Anyway...
We dated for nine months and then became engaged. We were engaged for a year. During our dating and even our engagement, things could get ugly. Because we were so young, there was an awful lot of growing up for us to do. Petty fights, empty threats, jealous rants. But under all of that was a true love. I remember my sister, Sheila saying "the stupidest thing you will ever do is break up with Danny." She would have been right!
The Lord knows that we have had a fair share of crazy in this marriage. But it almost never felt like more than we could handle. When it did feel like more, it was because we working against each other and not as that ever powerful undefeatable force of us.
Back to my point. Twenty four years ago today, I would never have believed that I would be here today. Gone are my writer's dreams. Gone is the apartment in Chicago or Europe. Gone are the cigarettes. Funny to think that a twenty seven inch waist was all it took to save me from a life of rejection slips, high rent and lung cancer.
I never would have imagined any of this. Twenty four years ago tomorrow I was a high school graduate. I was going to attend college and then go out on my own...funny how plans change.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thank You
I came across an article from a long recycled magazine. I had torn the article out and stuck it in a drawer. The same drawer that has my how to pray the rosary book, a journal I never write in and my notebook full of high school writing assignments.
The article was written by a man that spent one year writing thank you notes to anyone and everyone that he wanted to thank. It was a powerful story of bridges built, guilt released and relationships reborn. He wrote thank you notes to his deceased parents. He wrote thank you notes to high school teachers. He wrote thank you notes to the service station attendant that honestly repaired his vehicle, to the barber who made him look good week after week, to the building super who kept the light bulbs changed and the flowers growing.
This article inspired me to do the same thing. Taking the time to thank people in writing would drive home how fortunate I am. It would also make me stop me busyness and focus on something positive. I set this out to be one of my new year's resolutions. I wrote one letter. I suck at new year's resolutions.
I was rummaging through this drawer looking for a bookmark. I had borrowed a book so I could not dog ear the pages. I needed a bookmark. It made sense that there would be a book mark in the drawer that I open...never.
Not much to my surprise, there was no bookmark. Just an article that I needed to reread and reimplement. I am going to aim a little lower this time and try for a thank you note a week. Some folks will get them and think I am looney. Others will think, What the Hell?, and then some will be like me when I get a thank you note. When I get a thank you note in the mail, I stop sorting mail and focus on the letter. A thank you note takes time to create and I think it deserves my time to read it. No skimming. No standing by the recycling bin. I savor the thanks, appreciating the time it took for them to construct the note.
I might just read that article one more time and follow the author's lead again.
The article was written by a man that spent one year writing thank you notes to anyone and everyone that he wanted to thank. It was a powerful story of bridges built, guilt released and relationships reborn. He wrote thank you notes to his deceased parents. He wrote thank you notes to high school teachers. He wrote thank you notes to the service station attendant that honestly repaired his vehicle, to the barber who made him look good week after week, to the building super who kept the light bulbs changed and the flowers growing.
This article inspired me to do the same thing. Taking the time to thank people in writing would drive home how fortunate I am. It would also make me stop me busyness and focus on something positive. I set this out to be one of my new year's resolutions. I wrote one letter. I suck at new year's resolutions.
I was rummaging through this drawer looking for a bookmark. I had borrowed a book so I could not dog ear the pages. I needed a bookmark. It made sense that there would be a book mark in the drawer that I open...never.
Not much to my surprise, there was no bookmark. Just an article that I needed to reread and reimplement. I am going to aim a little lower this time and try for a thank you note a week. Some folks will get them and think I am looney. Others will think, What the Hell?, and then some will be like me when I get a thank you note. When I get a thank you note in the mail, I stop sorting mail and focus on the letter. A thank you note takes time to create and I think it deserves my time to read it. No skimming. No standing by the recycling bin. I savor the thanks, appreciating the time it took for them to construct the note.
I might just read that article one more time and follow the author's lead again.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
I Joined a Group
I joined a group. I am not a group joiner. I don't play well with others, I kick sand, I run with scissors. I may even eat paste. No, I don't eat paste. I don't join groups. I don't participate.
I joined a group. I love it! I was on the fence about this group for weeks. Not because of who was in the group or even the type of group, I just didn't know if it was the place for me. That is my self esteem talking, or rather, my occasional lack of self esteem. I didn't really know if the group wanted me. I needed some convincing.
My first indication that I belonged in this group was when I thought about bringing treats back from London for them. If I associate chocolaty goodness with something, then it is probably a
'meant to be'. But really, is chocolaty treats the right reason to devote oneself to every Monday night for the next four months?
I was still just not sure. But chocolaty treats were hauled across the Atlantic so I was going to stick this out.
I cannot go into a lot of the details of this group. It is not like we are the Masons, or anything super creepy like that. The History Channel will not be producing a conspiracy show based on our rituals or our symbols hidden in the dollar bill or government monuments (though it would be a fascinating show). But it is the kind of group that isn't really understood unless you've been there, ya know what I mean. But needless to say, it is pretty sweet!
What strikes me most about these women is their incredibly generosity with their patience, their understanding, their compassion. I feel like I am safe there. Maybe because they haven't always known me, my drama is new and interesting. I don't know what it is exactly, but when the evening draws to a close, I am sorry.
If you believe in the Lord, then this next part will make sense. If you don't believe in the Lord, then this next part will sound a little hokey. I have been provided for with these women. I am guaranteed a weekly gathering of hugs, and treats, and learning and a new kind of unconditional love. Throughout life, some kind of outside element has provided me with friends, the neighborhood, the school, the military, the kids, the job. This is the first time that I walked alone into a room without anything in common with them except faith. Though I know that the Lord has provided me with every one of my friends, this is the first time that I have sought a friendship because of the Lord.
In two weeks it will be my turn to bring treats. I will bring the covenant chocolates, as I know call them. Because like Noah and the rainbow, these treats are my promise to this group to see us all through. There is an end date to the formal structure of this group, but I pray that there is no end date to the getting together. Prior to this, I could count my good friends without ever taking off my shoes. And now I have tripled that number.
Remember that old song, Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold. That is what I am feeling here today. Blessed beyond measure to have so many women in my life that are a friend to me, in spite of me.
I joined a group. I love it! I was on the fence about this group for weeks. Not because of who was in the group or even the type of group, I just didn't know if it was the place for me. That is my self esteem talking, or rather, my occasional lack of self esteem. I didn't really know if the group wanted me. I needed some convincing.
My first indication that I belonged in this group was when I thought about bringing treats back from London for them. If I associate chocolaty goodness with something, then it is probably a
'meant to be'. But really, is chocolaty treats the right reason to devote oneself to every Monday night for the next four months?
I was still just not sure. But chocolaty treats were hauled across the Atlantic so I was going to stick this out.
I cannot go into a lot of the details of this group. It is not like we are the Masons, or anything super creepy like that. The History Channel will not be producing a conspiracy show based on our rituals or our symbols hidden in the dollar bill or government monuments (though it would be a fascinating show). But it is the kind of group that isn't really understood unless you've been there, ya know what I mean. But needless to say, it is pretty sweet!
What strikes me most about these women is their incredibly generosity with their patience, their understanding, their compassion. I feel like I am safe there. Maybe because they haven't always known me, my drama is new and interesting. I don't know what it is exactly, but when the evening draws to a close, I am sorry.
If you believe in the Lord, then this next part will make sense. If you don't believe in the Lord, then this next part will sound a little hokey. I have been provided for with these women. I am guaranteed a weekly gathering of hugs, and treats, and learning and a new kind of unconditional love. Throughout life, some kind of outside element has provided me with friends, the neighborhood, the school, the military, the kids, the job. This is the first time that I walked alone into a room without anything in common with them except faith. Though I know that the Lord has provided me with every one of my friends, this is the first time that I have sought a friendship because of the Lord.
In two weeks it will be my turn to bring treats. I will bring the covenant chocolates, as I know call them. Because like Noah and the rainbow, these treats are my promise to this group to see us all through. There is an end date to the formal structure of this group, but I pray that there is no end date to the getting together. Prior to this, I could count my good friends without ever taking off my shoes. And now I have tripled that number.
Remember that old song, Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold. That is what I am feeling here today. Blessed beyond measure to have so many women in my life that are a friend to me, in spite of me.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Are You Mom Enough?
Oh, Time Magazine. Brilliant cover, I will give you that. A provocative photo that is meant to open the dialogue about attachment parenting will definitely open the dialogue about a lot of things. But I don't know if any of it will be good.
I have no beef with the mothers photographed for this story. It is not for me to say how long you should breast feed your child. I have no beef with attachment parenting. Mainly because I have no idea what that is. I do have a huge beef with the photographer of this article for choosing a photo that will do nothing more than rile people up. There are millions of meaningful ways to portray breast feeding a child. There are millions of ways to introduce people to different parenting styles. But he choose a photo that will cause a lot of unproductive nonsense.
But what bothers me the most about this entire magazine cover is the title "Are you mom enough?" Am I mom enough to breast feed a three year old? I don't know? The opportunity never came up. I did breast feed all of my children, and happily so. I went into it not knowing how long I would nurse, but as we progressed, I decided that I would let nature take its course and we would both know when the time was right to ween.
Am I mom enough to have a family bed? There were plenty of nights where my bed was everyone's bed. And it was that way not because a doctor wrote a book telling me that it was a good idea, it was that way because I knew it was what we needed as a family at that moment.
So am I mom enough? Well, I am going to go out on a limb today and say "yes".
I am mom enough to choose to take on the roles of mom and dad when Danny deployed. I took care of one, then two, then three babies often on my own and often far from home. I often had one, two, three extra people in my bed. I don't know other parenting style philosophies, but my philosophy was, and is, that snuggling and Rogers and Hammerstein can take care of a lot of things.
I am mom enough to share with my children the difficulties that I have had with my self esteem, with the pain I have inflicted. I have let them know on numerous occasions that I am anything but perfect. And they think I am mom enough to get another chance. And another. And another.
I am mom enough to see my children through their most challenging times.
I am mom enough to raise three amazing kids that will go on to live incredible lives.
And as I write this on Mother's Day, I am naturally drawn to thoughts of all of the moms that I know that are enough. You know who I am talking about. The moms that do the very best they can day in and day out without a magazine cover, without a controversy, without a spot on the Today Show.
I have no beef with the mothers photographed for this story. It is not for me to say how long you should breast feed your child. I have no beef with attachment parenting. Mainly because I have no idea what that is. I do have a huge beef with the photographer of this article for choosing a photo that will do nothing more than rile people up. There are millions of meaningful ways to portray breast feeding a child. There are millions of ways to introduce people to different parenting styles. But he choose a photo that will cause a lot of unproductive nonsense.
But what bothers me the most about this entire magazine cover is the title "Are you mom enough?" Am I mom enough to breast feed a three year old? I don't know? The opportunity never came up. I did breast feed all of my children, and happily so. I went into it not knowing how long I would nurse, but as we progressed, I decided that I would let nature take its course and we would both know when the time was right to ween.
Am I mom enough to have a family bed? There were plenty of nights where my bed was everyone's bed. And it was that way not because a doctor wrote a book telling me that it was a good idea, it was that way because I knew it was what we needed as a family at that moment.
So am I mom enough? Well, I am going to go out on a limb today and say "yes".
I am mom enough to choose to take on the roles of mom and dad when Danny deployed. I took care of one, then two, then three babies often on my own and often far from home. I often had one, two, three extra people in my bed. I don't know other parenting style philosophies, but my philosophy was, and is, that snuggling and Rogers and Hammerstein can take care of a lot of things.
I am mom enough to share with my children the difficulties that I have had with my self esteem, with the pain I have inflicted. I have let them know on numerous occasions that I am anything but perfect. And they think I am mom enough to get another chance. And another. And another.
I am mom enough to see my children through their most challenging times.
I am mom enough to raise three amazing kids that will go on to live incredible lives.
And as I write this on Mother's Day, I am naturally drawn to thoughts of all of the moms that I know that are enough. You know who I am talking about. The moms that do the very best they can day in and day out without a magazine cover, without a controversy, without a spot on the Today Show.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Mallards
Have you ever looked out your kitchen window to see a couple of ducks asses sticking up from the gross and grimy winter water that sits atop the pool cover? I have, several times. And it never fails to make me laugh. In fact, I don't tell Danny right away because I want to enjoy the sight of The Mallards, (Greg and Lana) lollygagging about the pool before he runs out the deck door yelling
"Hey you ducks, get out of my god damn pool!" It is best when he comes from his office with a stomp and a pout before he rushes out to the deck.
Every year it is the same, a nice duck couple flies over and sees the undisturbed water. I am sure they give each other a look and think "why not!" There may be dog(s) in the yard, but they are far from the yard, protected by height and fence. I am sure that the ducks can spend quite a bit of the day bobbing about the icky water before someone spots them and shoos them away. I know for a fact that if it is Ashlyn or I that spot them, we aren't as quick to shoo them, mainly because we think ducks are funny.
A few days ago, there were two geese walking across the street. Luckily, they flew over the wall and not over the house because as much as I enjoy The Mallards, Greg and Lana, the idea of a couple of Canadian Geese stopping buy for a swim doesn't seem as funny.
Granted, having ducks swimming in the top water also means that they are pooping in the top water and when it is time to drain the cover and remove it, all that poop has to be cleaned up. I am happy to say that I missed out on that fun chore this year. But Ashlyn informed me that it was the most disgusting clean up she has ever done.
Ashlyn thinks we ought to get a couple of peacocks. And I think she is spot on with this idea. It seems very natural to me to have a bird sitting atop the fence yelling "help, help, help". Or maybe one strutting about the deck, fanning out his feathers. I can easily see Jacob trying to sneak up on the peacock only to get a face full of feathers.
So until we can convince Danny the peacocks make perfect sense in our yard, I will have to settle for The Mallards. I will quietly laugh at their feathery butts sticking up from the mucky water as I look out my kitchen window. But next year, I will move a little quicker to get them out of the pool because next year, Danny is not going to simply shoo them out, he plans to take them out. Greg and Lana, you have been warned.
"Hey you ducks, get out of my god damn pool!" It is best when he comes from his office with a stomp and a pout before he rushes out to the deck.
Every year it is the same, a nice duck couple flies over and sees the undisturbed water. I am sure they give each other a look and think "why not!" There may be dog(s) in the yard, but they are far from the yard, protected by height and fence. I am sure that the ducks can spend quite a bit of the day bobbing about the icky water before someone spots them and shoos them away. I know for a fact that if it is Ashlyn or I that spot them, we aren't as quick to shoo them, mainly because we think ducks are funny.
A few days ago, there were two geese walking across the street. Luckily, they flew over the wall and not over the house because as much as I enjoy The Mallards, Greg and Lana, the idea of a couple of Canadian Geese stopping buy for a swim doesn't seem as funny.
Granted, having ducks swimming in the top water also means that they are pooping in the top water and when it is time to drain the cover and remove it, all that poop has to be cleaned up. I am happy to say that I missed out on that fun chore this year. But Ashlyn informed me that it was the most disgusting clean up she has ever done.
Ashlyn thinks we ought to get a couple of peacocks. And I think she is spot on with this idea. It seems very natural to me to have a bird sitting atop the fence yelling "help, help, help". Or maybe one strutting about the deck, fanning out his feathers. I can easily see Jacob trying to sneak up on the peacock only to get a face full of feathers.
So until we can convince Danny the peacocks make perfect sense in our yard, I will have to settle for The Mallards. I will quietly laugh at their feathery butts sticking up from the mucky water as I look out my kitchen window. But next year, I will move a little quicker to get them out of the pool because next year, Danny is not going to simply shoo them out, he plans to take them out. Greg and Lana, you have been warned.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
A Weekly Jacob Blog?
I am beginning to think that I could blog about this boy daily, but may just settle on weekly. He certainly gives me enough material to work with. And though it may seem like I am smiling as I type, I am not. I am shaking my head in the continual disbelief that I am somehow remotely responsible for the ridiculousness that is Jacob.
My phone calls me Turd Longlick. I don't have the slightest idea how to get her to call me Anne again. I admit that Turd Longlick is a pretty damn creative name and I find myself saying 'hi' to SIRI just to hear her say hi to Turd Longlick. In fact, I may just develop an entire backstory for Turd Longlick. Create a Facebook page, friend Jacob. Bother him incessantly with quizzes. Invite him to events. Poke him. I doubt that would have much impact on Jacob or the things he does...to me.
Jacniss. That is what you could call him when he comes up from the basement with plastic suction cup bow and arrow in hand. He stalks his sister in his version of the Hunger Games, the Dumbass Games. This game being played at my house has taken on a little different feel than the movie (Jacob doesn't read books so we have to base all of his actions on the movie). No one is fighting for their life, except Orlando the plant. He got grazed with an arrow tonight. The arrow took a crazy path when it was brushed in the air by the airplane that Ashlyn had shot at Jacob. And by shot, I mean shot. The airplane is pressed onto a spring until it catches on to the trigger release, when Ashlyn pulls the trigger that holds the catch that holds the plane that is pointed at her brother's face, it is shot.
Jacob was hounding me for Mother's Day gift ideas. I kept drawing a blank so Jacob started offering me suggestions.
"I could shank you with a stick and get you band aids for Mother's Day."
"I could punch you in the face and get you make up for Mother's Day. You like make up."
"I could throw dirt on your pants and get you new slacks for Mother's Day."
I am beginning to think that I better come up with an idea or two for gifts or I will be bloodied, bruised and filthy come Sunday.
I am proud to say that I got him to go to bed at 1104 tonight and it is now 1136 and I have not heard a peep from him. It doesn't mean he is asleep and it doesn't mean I am going to go check. It just means that there is a floor of quiet separating us and for all I know, he is in the basement watching Iron Giant with a bomb pop and frozen Girl Scout cookies.
To know Jacob is to love him, perhaps, but it is really to understand why I am called Turd Longlick by my phone.
My phone calls me Turd Longlick. I don't have the slightest idea how to get her to call me Anne again. I admit that Turd Longlick is a pretty damn creative name and I find myself saying 'hi' to SIRI just to hear her say hi to Turd Longlick. In fact, I may just develop an entire backstory for Turd Longlick. Create a Facebook page, friend Jacob. Bother him incessantly with quizzes. Invite him to events. Poke him. I doubt that would have much impact on Jacob or the things he does...to me.
Jacniss. That is what you could call him when he comes up from the basement with plastic suction cup bow and arrow in hand. He stalks his sister in his version of the Hunger Games, the Dumbass Games. This game being played at my house has taken on a little different feel than the movie (Jacob doesn't read books so we have to base all of his actions on the movie). No one is fighting for their life, except Orlando the plant. He got grazed with an arrow tonight. The arrow took a crazy path when it was brushed in the air by the airplane that Ashlyn had shot at Jacob. And by shot, I mean shot. The airplane is pressed onto a spring until it catches on to the trigger release, when Ashlyn pulls the trigger that holds the catch that holds the plane that is pointed at her brother's face, it is shot.
Jacob was hounding me for Mother's Day gift ideas. I kept drawing a blank so Jacob started offering me suggestions.
"I could shank you with a stick and get you band aids for Mother's Day."
"I could punch you in the face and get you make up for Mother's Day. You like make up."
"I could throw dirt on your pants and get you new slacks for Mother's Day."
I am beginning to think that I better come up with an idea or two for gifts or I will be bloodied, bruised and filthy come Sunday.
I am proud to say that I got him to go to bed at 1104 tonight and it is now 1136 and I have not heard a peep from him. It doesn't mean he is asleep and it doesn't mean I am going to go check. It just means that there is a floor of quiet separating us and for all I know, he is in the basement watching Iron Giant with a bomb pop and frozen Girl Scout cookies.
To know Jacob is to love him, perhaps, but it is really to understand why I am called Turd Longlick by my phone.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Sophie's Sick
$439 dollars later and we still don't know what is wrong. By no fault of the vet, there just may not be an answer. What we do know is that Sophie lost 2 pounds in five months. That is a lot of weight to lose when one starts at 8 pounds. We know that her breathing is very labored and there is something on her X-ray that doesn't belong there. We know that Sophie is twelve years old and has lived the life of a queen.
So now we wait to see if the steroid shot and antibiotics work. If they don't work, then we make a decision. But that is when it gets tricky. Sophie is Hayley's cat. Danny and I pay the bills, buy the food, hound Hayley to clean the litter box. But Sophie is Hayley's cat. Yesterday when I wanted to explain to Hayley what was going on, I could not get a straight answer from her.
Hayley leaves for Canada in three days and I have no idea what I am supposed to do with her cat if her cat is struggling to breathe.
I am not keen on the idea of ending Sophie's life. I don't want to make the decision ever again. I definitely don't want to make that decision while Hayley is in Canada. But if Hayley is not in Canada, then she will probably be somewhere other than home and the decision will be left to Danny and myself.
So until then, we keep this little girl comfortable. We ply her with canned cat food to fatten her up. Ashlyn wrestles her daily to get the medicine down. And we watch her breathe. We wait to see the rapidness decrease, but know that it may increase. It may increase to the point where Sophie cannot catch a breath.
Why do we bother with pets? Why do we open our hearts up so widely for someone that will only be around for a decade or so? It is easy really, there is a love there that is so pure, so easy that one would be crazy to pass that up. I could have bought a car with the money spent at the vet over the past twenty years. But my heart would be less for it.
So now we wait to see if the steroid shot and antibiotics work. If they don't work, then we make a decision. But that is when it gets tricky. Sophie is Hayley's cat. Danny and I pay the bills, buy the food, hound Hayley to clean the litter box. But Sophie is Hayley's cat. Yesterday when I wanted to explain to Hayley what was going on, I could not get a straight answer from her.
Hayley leaves for Canada in three days and I have no idea what I am supposed to do with her cat if her cat is struggling to breathe.
I am not keen on the idea of ending Sophie's life. I don't want to make the decision ever again. I definitely don't want to make that decision while Hayley is in Canada. But if Hayley is not in Canada, then she will probably be somewhere other than home and the decision will be left to Danny and myself.
So until then, we keep this little girl comfortable. We ply her with canned cat food to fatten her up. Ashlyn wrestles her daily to get the medicine down. And we watch her breathe. We wait to see the rapidness decrease, but know that it may increase. It may increase to the point where Sophie cannot catch a breath.
Why do we bother with pets? Why do we open our hearts up so widely for someone that will only be around for a decade or so? It is easy really, there is a love there that is so pure, so easy that one would be crazy to pass that up. I could have bought a car with the money spent at the vet over the past twenty years. But my heart would be less for it.
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