Posted in motherhood
|
I have really done a disappearing act from my blog lately. I've been caught up in my latest weight loss enterprise and just didn't have any spare brain cells left to write with. All day today I've had the hymn "Resting in the Arms of Jesus" running through my head. Well, maybe not all day; just since the cat bit my baby viciously on the cheek (there's probably not a non-vicious way to bite someone). This inspired the murderous thoughts that eventually led to my mental choice of hymns. I've owned and hated this cat for four years. It was abandoned at a rental house next door to us at our previous domicile and we quickly learned why. But we felt sorry for her, so rather than abandon her a second time, we brought her with us to the house on the hill. And we've lived to regret it. While her name is Honey, it really should have been Lucifer, if you know want I mean. Sure, she's all friendly when you come up on the porch, but if you make one wrong move, or stop petting her when she really wants you to continue, she'll bite. At one time or another, she's bitten all of us. We warn all our guests, but all are still shocked when she bites their little Johnny or Jane. And now she's gone too far. My neighbor the vet says we need to keep her another 10 days to make sure she doesn't keel over from some dread disease that could impact baby. But that cat has all her shots, so I'm not worried about her health. But how does one do the right thing with a pet (execute it summarily at dawn, in this case) without traumatizing your children? My husband thinks we should try the direct approach and explain that she's simply not pet material for anyone and really, there's not another job available for cats. His point being to convince them that sending her on to the next of her 9 lives is the right thing to do. I, on the other hand, am still really, really mad at my mother for putting the family dog down when I was 10, so I think that's a terrible idea. I'm thinking of calling in a hit man who'll just arrange for a sudden, unexplained disappearance. And the kids can just believe she's found a better porch to cover with hair, or a warmer hearth, or maybe even some people that like her. But I'll know she's "Resting in the Arms of Jesus." Or in her case, maybe she'll be off in the other direction... You can see that it might be in my children's best interest not to know exactly how mean I can be when it comes to that monstrous cat. When you and your spouse have had to make these tough decisions about pets, how did you talk about it to your kids? Or did you? HELP! |
Posted in motherhood
|
I know I should get to Part 2 of the Fluoride Mystery before everyone loses interest, but we've been afflicted with the epizootig again and also, spent some time this week actively working against the introduction of fluoride into the local public water. Oldest Son (OS) is not an early bird, but on the day of a recent board meeting of the Utility District, he got himself up at the crack of dawn, showered and dressed and insisted on going with me to join a protest we heard about the day before. I had visions of truancy officers in my future, but couldn't come up with a single rational explanation for why he shouldn't enjoy his right to freedom of speech on a homeschool day! What better civics lesson is there? What better way to learn what democracy is about? What better way to teach him to "Never believe that a few caring people can't change the world. For, indeed, that's all who ever have." [Margaret Mead.] So here are a couple of photos to document that he was there -- lterally ripped from the newspaper headlines. It is hard to believe that there were maybe 10 or 12 other people there total, when OS is pretty much the only one pictured in both the papers. But then again, I've never seen a more enthusiastic sign waver in my life!
It was very gratifying that a couple of other homeschoolers came to contribute to our numbers during the protest, and I received emails after the fact from folks who would have participated if they had known of the event. We didn't succeed in getting the Mayor to reverse his decision, nor did the Utility District board decide they had the courage to fight, but they have delayed the actual release of the chemicals until after the next board meeting. This makes me think they are hopeful there will be something dramatic occur between now and then. OS and I'll help out in that department best we can. | ||
Posted in motherhood
|
For a week or so, I listened to Baby singing a tune like this: "Doo doo doo, do do do, do do doo..." I thought there was a pattern to it, but then I thought , "Nah, the kid is only 19 months old..." Finally, the King says, "Hey, is that baby singing the theme to Star Wars?!" My older children argue that the song Baby has stuck in his head is really "Sith Revenge" or something. Either way, I'm glad I wasn't just nuts! Could Baby have some weird aptitude for music?
|
Posted in motherhood
|
How is it possible that a boy baby of a mere 18 months knows to giggle whenever he breaks wind? |
Posted in motherhood
|
And without too much fanfare, all things considered. My baby Garrison's ultrasound photos are no longer on my refrigerator. I had tried to do it a million times in the last 2+ years and have answered scores of questions about them (you usually don't keep ultrasound pictures on display when you aren't pregnant any longer). I had kept my now-17 mo. old baby Devon's up there also, so it wouldn't seem quite so weird. Garrison's photos gave me pleasure, because they documented the last time I "saw" that precious baby alive. At the same time, they held me hostage and ruined many a day when I'd make a failed attempt to relocate them to the memory box. But this weekend I was having a very small potluck dinner in honor of a special friend with thankfulness as the theme and the scales of grief and thankfulness must have finally reached "equal" status. On Friday, I simply reached up, took off the photos, ran upstairs and put them in my scrapbooking drawer and then ran away. I was instantly happy about it and so strangely proud of my accomplishment. It felt like a weight was lifted. Didn't even cry about it until I was telling Mrs. MonkeyParade about it on Saturday (now yesterday). Note to self: Mrs. MonkeyParade is an extraordinarily good listener. In spite of what people say, I know that, while I can tuck a photo in a drawer, I will never really be able to tuck that grief away, or outgrow it entirely, or have "time heal all wounds." Occasionally, like this morning (in the shower), a memory from those terrible days strikes me and is still as overwhelming and fresh as July 12th, 2005 -- when I got the unbelievable news and had to relay it to the King via telephone because he was so far away. But I think the tapestry of my life is made more elegant by Garrison's very existence, however brief. If he had never happened, I would have been robbed of the joy I experienced in the few months I carried him. And what of the blessing that I received in conceiving Devon just 2 months after a stillbirth -- when I was past 40? Somewhere I read that there's only a 10 percent chance of even getting pregnant at the age I was. In short, I got pregant twice in about 7 months -- at an "advanced age" with two completely perfect baby boys. [Garrison died from a cord accident, which can happen to anyone -- and boy, did I suffer anxiety through the next pregnancy.] I'm a lucky lady indeed. Extremely "blessed" is more like it. So, the photos are now out of sight, but in my heart, I'll carry the love of my precious Garrison forever. And I will try to count my blessings more than I think on my life's tragedies. It's a difficult balance, trying not to forget the good, in the inevitable remembrance of the "bad."
|