I had felt love before but never complete and total trust and partnership. Not until I met Ely McGee. He was about 9lbs at the time. He had red hair, an interest in all things trash, and four legs. I had this beautiful boy for nearly 15 years. We overcame so much together. Virtual self-inflicted homelessness, my father's death, his own cancer (twice), near loss of his front leg, marriage, and finally two children.
It brings me joy to know that he made such a great impact on my two-legged babies. Despite having only been in their lives for 2.5 and 4 years, they remember him as well as anyone can for that age. My son had a particular attachment to Ely. The day we asked the vet to assist us in helping him move on because he had torn his heartvalve and breathing was no longer a simple task, I worried most about my 2.5 year old son. Nevermind that my biggest fear for the past decade and a half was coming to fruition, I could find a way to rationalize emotionally what was happening but my son, he didn't have those coping mechanisms yet.
Thanks to our warm and wonderful vet and his kind and caring staff, we were well cared for and in every aspect they made sure to gently guide us through making those moments as painless and peaceful as could be asked for.
We left our Schmoop there so we could make arrangements to bury on a piece of my husband's family's property 3 hours away that we refer to as "The Farm". When we returned to get our boy we shielded the kids from knowing he was wrapped up and tucked away in our makeshift, animal proof "casket".
The following days my husband found himself unable to sleep without letting Ely out, turning off the lights and the two of them setting the alarm and walking up the stairs together. He began scouring PetFinder and other sites for a German Short Haired Pointer or Doberman mix. Our boy Ely had been a love child between two purebreds and he made such a wonderful member of the family. I guess my husband thought perhaps he could recreate Schmoop's intelligence, independence, and loyalty if he picked the same breeds.
A few days after his passing I determined I needed several months to cope with my growing grief. I needed a break to heal. I didn't want to deal with potty training a puppy or all the training that goes into caring for a young dog. Ely was one of the most intelligent animals I had ever met. He knew more words than I could track and he fit into the rhythm of our life. He never did outgrow the trash eating part though.
Hardly seven days had passed when my husband called me and asked me to look at an email he sent me. There was a 15month old German Shorthaired puppy named Rambo for adoption at our local Humane Society. I stalled a day or two hoping the dog would be adopted or my husband would forget about the small black haired, sad eyed boy with the white speckled chest like our Schmoop. But he didn't forget. And he still couldn't sleep. I realized my husband had been with Ely for only about 9 months less than I had. He needed to be able to grieve in his way too.
So the next day I took the kids to meet Rambo. As we sat in the puppy visiting room I was struck by what a happy, friendly little creature he was and I laughed. This very thing, his lack of intimidation, must have been exactly why "Rambo" was given back to the Humane Society a second time. So on September 28, 2010 we adopted him.
I asked my kids for help in naming our new doggy. My son adamantly insisted that his dog was still at the vet's office and he wanted to go back. So poor Rambo's name was almost changed to "This isn't my dog". My daughter was sure they had meant to name him Rainbow instead. But finally after a little debate between Luigi and some other cartoon like names they decided upon Levi Cash (after the man in black).
Levi's paperwork was pretty standard, however, I noticed some missing months in his history and then an oddly descriptive reason for return from his previous owners. It seems as if our boy had been adopted as a small pup, given back at 7 months, adopted again 2 months later only to be returned within 3 months. By the time we had gotten him at 15 months old he was quite unsocialized and had spent most of his life confined in some way or another. His second owners had admitted to returning him because, among other reasons (like he barked at the vacuum and wasn't great on a leash - still isn't awesome on either of those accounts) he was left in a powder room daily and damaged the door frame. Hmm, wonder why? So our totally goofy pup wasn't sure what to do with his new found freedom.
This led to a few rather expensive problems. Puppenstein managed to get happy tail hitting the tip of his tail on the door frame everytime he pushed through to get out. The sore couldn't be fixed after several months of trying and now instead of the long tail he once had, there is a little nub. I felt like I had broken the poor animal.
No sooner than the idiot healed from that surgery then he tried to climb the fence for a squirrel and wrecked his ACL/MCL and had to have surgery yet again. Six months and $4,000 later if I was unsure of this dog before I knew we were in it for the long haul now. I am not sure anyone else would've had the patience with this little dynamo.
We have worked with personal trainers for his separation anxiety and he still lacks manners severly, but he has become an important part of all of our lives. He loves us all beyond measure and his joy is infectious. My husband said it perfectly, "I'm not sure if he was the perfect dog for us but I am sure we were the right family for him". Happy 5th birthday Levi.
Ideas, ideologies & idiosyncratic behavior from this side of motherhood.
21 July 2014
07 July 2014
Baby On Board
I don't tend to like pictures of myself. At all. It's been this way a third of my life. I wish I had a greater reason than vanity to cite but I truly don't. So while I was pregnant, needless to say, I didn't like having pictures taken of me. Yes, the usual egotism was a culprit then too but there were several other reasons I didn't jump on the pregnancy photo shoot bandwagon.
Firstly, allow me to point out that I am definitely not a Millenial. I am way too old, by 10 years, not to mention Millennials are defined as having traits of confidence and tolerance, but also a sense of entitlement and narcissism. Personality surveys of GenerationMe have shown increasing narcissism among Millennials compared to preceding generations, when they were teens and in their twenties. So it makes way more sense that women in that age range would want to have photographic documentation of every step of their unique and awe-filled journey.
I, however, usually choose words as my way of expressing myself, most typically the written word. No surprise I chose to journal my experiences in letters to my children and personal notes to my husband and myself. The closer I came to my due date the more I just wanted to stay in with my husband and prepare ourselves, our microcosm, for the impending terminal changes that were headed our way. It wasn't because I was anti-social necessarily, although at the time I thought that was exactly why. It was more because this experience was happening to me and my husband and no one else. Sure, billions of babies have been born making there billions of mommies and daddies out there. But we had never done this and we only had one another to go through this experience with. It became sacred to me, intimate, special beyond description. I didn't want to share it with anyone else.
I felt the same way for the first year of my daughter's life. I didn't want the outside world to burst through our little bubble. She fit in so very perfectly with the two of us that it seemed as if it had always been the three of us. This was so true that I wept for her when I found out near her first birthday that she would have to share us at just 19 months old. Happily I had the same experience of feeling my second pregnancy was a miracle and a wonder and my anticipation to meet my son was just as great as it had been with my daughter. And our cocoon grew big enough to accommodate all four of us. But I still didn't want to share it with anyone else. I wanted to keep it as simple and intimate as I could for as long as I could.
When the day came for my daughter to start preschool, I struggled with the milestone. I still struggle on the first day of anything that removes them that much further from the little Utopia we had when they were babies and toddlers and we spent all of our time together in our own world. I never begrudge them stepping out into the world and asserting their independence, it is hard after all to make a great impact if you spend your life in a vacuum. Silently though, I am a little crushed each time because I know they are one step closer to first failures, disappointments, and heartbreaks. I also know that are that much closer to first major achievements, successes, and love which makes them one step closer to being an adult. Unlike when they were little and I could scoop them up and make everything all better, they start down a path where I cannot protect them from all in life.
At the end of the day I may not have a ton of pictures of my belly when I was pregnant (or any) but I I do remember every detail of both of my kids from the second I knew they were coming into the world and there is something pretty fantastic about selfishly hoarding those memories all to myself.
Firstly, allow me to point out that I am definitely not a Millenial. I am way too old, by 10 years, not to mention Millennials are defined as having traits of confidence and tolerance, but also a sense of entitlement and narcissism. Personality surveys of GenerationMe have shown increasing narcissism among Millennials compared to preceding generations, when they were teens and in their twenties. So it makes way more sense that women in that age range would want to have photographic documentation of every step of their unique and awe-filled journey.
I, however, usually choose words as my way of expressing myself, most typically the written word. No surprise I chose to journal my experiences in letters to my children and personal notes to my husband and myself. The closer I came to my due date the more I just wanted to stay in with my husband and prepare ourselves, our microcosm, for the impending terminal changes that were headed our way. It wasn't because I was anti-social necessarily, although at the time I thought that was exactly why. It was more because this experience was happening to me and my husband and no one else. Sure, billions of babies have been born making there billions of mommies and daddies out there. But we had never done this and we only had one another to go through this experience with. It became sacred to me, intimate, special beyond description. I didn't want to share it with anyone else.
I felt the same way for the first year of my daughter's life. I didn't want the outside world to burst through our little bubble. She fit in so very perfectly with the two of us that it seemed as if it had always been the three of us. This was so true that I wept for her when I found out near her first birthday that she would have to share us at just 19 months old. Happily I had the same experience of feeling my second pregnancy was a miracle and a wonder and my anticipation to meet my son was just as great as it had been with my daughter. And our cocoon grew big enough to accommodate all four of us. But I still didn't want to share it with anyone else. I wanted to keep it as simple and intimate as I could for as long as I could.
When the day came for my daughter to start preschool, I struggled with the milestone. I still struggle on the first day of anything that removes them that much further from the little Utopia we had when they were babies and toddlers and we spent all of our time together in our own world. I never begrudge them stepping out into the world and asserting their independence, it is hard after all to make a great impact if you spend your life in a vacuum. Silently though, I am a little crushed each time because I know they are one step closer to first failures, disappointments, and heartbreaks. I also know that are that much closer to first major achievements, successes, and love which makes them one step closer to being an adult. Unlike when they were little and I could scoop them up and make everything all better, they start down a path where I cannot protect them from all in life.
At the end of the day I may not have a ton of pictures of my belly when I was pregnant (or any) but I I do remember every detail of both of my kids from the second I knew they were coming into the world and there is something pretty fantastic about selfishly hoarding those memories all to myself.
06 July 2014
Do what you love, even if there is no money to follow- Staying home vs. going back to work (for me)
I don't have a sponsored blog. I don't have a youtube channel demonstrating freshly prepared, organic meals I have created from my garden out back. I don't have pictures hung on the wall, or very organized closets. My house isn't usually as clean as I would like. I am not usually as put together or as thin or as energetic as I would like. I am not particularly great at keeping a budget either these days. There is no craft room in my house. I don't hand sew my kids' clothes or bake homemade bread. And I am a stay-at-home-mom.
I think there is a common misperception that stay-at-home moms have extra time in their day or extra energy. I can assure you, that isn't the case. I know lots of my workforce friends think they would be overly organized, aerobicized, and have it all together if they had the same amount of time that a SAHM does.
This past year I have researched heading back into careerland after an eight year hiatus. I have been weighing the pros and cons of going back. When sharing this with my kids and my niece and nephew (who I no longer have in my care after school or daily during the summers), no one liked the idea. At all. I had a little non-violent coup on my hands. No one was happy and everyone freely offered up exactly why they felt it was such a terrible idea. Even my husband chimed in with his reluctance to support my effort. Of course he brought up the most thought provoking point that made me reconsider what I wanted to do and why. He told me that they would support me 100% if this was something I truly wanted and needed to do for myself.
I contacted my former mentor. I had a few people contact me in relation to future work. And I sat and thought about if I did really want this and if so, why?
The truth is my youngest is going to school full time next month. And for the past year people have started asking me if I was going back to work when that happened. I hadn't really planned to but I kept being asked over and over again so I began considering it. Yet after searching my soul I like what I do now more than I have ever liked any part of anything I have done outside of the home.
I have exquisite children. They are beautiful inside and out. They are creative, happy, talented, funny, smart, interesting. I love being around them. We have our own little world together. I have only about 10 years left with this. If the first 8 years flew by this fast, these next 10 cannot possibly somehow slow down so it is all going to go by in a blink.
At the beginning I mentioned all the things I didn't have or didn't do. But I do have a beautiful house with lots of space inside and out for my kids to roam and play and create. I have two of the healthiest, happiest kids on the planet. They are best friends and constant companions. They never miss a doctor, dentist, or orthodontist appointment. They are both involved in competitive hip hop dance, STEM activities, and sports. They play instruments. I am the Girl Scout Troop leader. We go on lots of adventures taking advantage of all our city has to offer. My children are well traveled. They are thinkers. They consider what consequences their actions have on others. This has begun them thinking locally and globally. My daughter has been on a crusade for the past 3 years to help support the Ronald McDonald House. And my son has been planning a way for the past 6 months to start helping local food banks have the ability to share fresh foods with their recipients (he was 5 when he wrote his first email asking for help).
There are lots of kids of working parents who are out there making a great impact and achieving their goals on every level. But selfishly I want to be there with my kids, watching, helping, facilitating. And I am quite sure we could get done what we get done if I got a job. Heck, I might even be better at time management. When I think about why I have begun considering going back to work it is simply because of societal expectation and not out of desire. So does this make me lack ambition? I don't think so but I believe many others would.
As my kids have gotten older I have learned to do more things for myself. I am training for a half-marathon and completed one this past fall as well. I have been writing a series of children's books which I am in love with doing. I am considering taking some classes in the future while my kids are both in school. But mostly I love the thought of getting to be in the lunchroom volunteering while they are in school. I like getting to go to the classroom parties, every field trip, not have to coordinate anything if someone is sent home sick from school. I like dropping off and picking up from school daily. Because that IS my job. And I really like what I do.
I think there is a common misperception that stay-at-home moms have extra time in their day or extra energy. I can assure you, that isn't the case. I know lots of my workforce friends think they would be overly organized, aerobicized, and have it all together if they had the same amount of time that a SAHM does.
This past year I have researched heading back into careerland after an eight year hiatus. I have been weighing the pros and cons of going back. When sharing this with my kids and my niece and nephew (who I no longer have in my care after school or daily during the summers), no one liked the idea. At all. I had a little non-violent coup on my hands. No one was happy and everyone freely offered up exactly why they felt it was such a terrible idea. Even my husband chimed in with his reluctance to support my effort. Of course he brought up the most thought provoking point that made me reconsider what I wanted to do and why. He told me that they would support me 100% if this was something I truly wanted and needed to do for myself.
I contacted my former mentor. I had a few people contact me in relation to future work. And I sat and thought about if I did really want this and if so, why?
The truth is my youngest is going to school full time next month. And for the past year people have started asking me if I was going back to work when that happened. I hadn't really planned to but I kept being asked over and over again so I began considering it. Yet after searching my soul I like what I do now more than I have ever liked any part of anything I have done outside of the home.
I have exquisite children. They are beautiful inside and out. They are creative, happy, talented, funny, smart, interesting. I love being around them. We have our own little world together. I have only about 10 years left with this. If the first 8 years flew by this fast, these next 10 cannot possibly somehow slow down so it is all going to go by in a blink.
At the beginning I mentioned all the things I didn't have or didn't do. But I do have a beautiful house with lots of space inside and out for my kids to roam and play and create. I have two of the healthiest, happiest kids on the planet. They are best friends and constant companions. They never miss a doctor, dentist, or orthodontist appointment. They are both involved in competitive hip hop dance, STEM activities, and sports. They play instruments. I am the Girl Scout Troop leader. We go on lots of adventures taking advantage of all our city has to offer. My children are well traveled. They are thinkers. They consider what consequences their actions have on others. This has begun them thinking locally and globally. My daughter has been on a crusade for the past 3 years to help support the Ronald McDonald House. And my son has been planning a way for the past 6 months to start helping local food banks have the ability to share fresh foods with their recipients (he was 5 when he wrote his first email asking for help).
There are lots of kids of working parents who are out there making a great impact and achieving their goals on every level. But selfishly I want to be there with my kids, watching, helping, facilitating. And I am quite sure we could get done what we get done if I got a job. Heck, I might even be better at time management. When I think about why I have begun considering going back to work it is simply because of societal expectation and not out of desire. So does this make me lack ambition? I don't think so but I believe many others would.
As my kids have gotten older I have learned to do more things for myself. I am training for a half-marathon and completed one this past fall as well. I have been writing a series of children's books which I am in love with doing. I am considering taking some classes in the future while my kids are both in school. But mostly I love the thought of getting to be in the lunchroom volunteering while they are in school. I like getting to go to the classroom parties, every field trip, not have to coordinate anything if someone is sent home sick from school. I like dropping off and picking up from school daily. Because that IS my job. And I really like what I do.
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