He's No Ansel Adams But...

Many parents have had this experience; you upload the pictures from the camera and there are 300 blurry photos of someone's belly, knee, the dog, etc. Recently I looked at the pictures on our camera and found several interesting ones of Libby. When I asked the kids about the photos Dane informed me this was an artistic series he titled "Libby's Five Senses." I thought his idea was pretty clever.

The Cat With 9.5 Lives

Twelve years ago we were living in a tiny basement apartment in Jersey City, New Jersey.  I found this huge, hungry, black and white cat on the street and took him in. We named him Goliath because he was the biggest bad-ass cat either of us had ever seen.  He moved into our hearts (corny, I know), our condo, then a few years later to our home in Utah. 

We lived in our new house in Pleasant Grove for all of three weeks when "the incident" took place.  Our neighbor's dog jumped on their trampoline then over the fence into our backyard and attacked Goliath.  Brad chased the dog away but Goliath took off through a small hole in the back fence.  We couldn't find him.  I put up flyers and 24 hours later a neighbor on the next block called.  Goliath was found under one of their bushes in pretty bad shape.  I rushed him to the vet and long story made short...we ended up with a three-legged cat. 

Pre-amputation, trying to save the leg. Goliath also had a wound on his hindquarter large enough to stick your fist in. Gross, I know.

Leg amputated, still using a feeding tube.

Goliath mobile on three legs, eating on his own, and wearing a buster collar



Does his meow sound louder while wearing the collar?

 

Tripod

Cat nap



Goliath in 2004--Even on three legs he climbs to his favorite spot on top of the fridge

 As you can see from the pictures, Goliath got along just fine on three legs.  As the oldest "kid" in our family, each time we brought home a new baby he snuggled on the soft blankets and clothes.  When we adopted a dog, he tolerated the licking and chasing from an eager puppy. 

A few years ago Goliath mysteriously lost the use of one of his back legs.  I was devastated when I drove him to the vet, knowing it was one thing for a cat to get by on three legs, pretty sure two legs was...well you can formulate a picture in your mind...impossible.  The vet gave him a steroid shot and sure enough he recovered. 

As Goliath got older he preferred life undisturbed by kids, sunning himself on the deck.  He snored.  He purred loudly on a friendly lap.  He also went deaf.  I could run the vacuum all around him and he wouldn't even look up or move, but he would startle if you picked him up without first making eye-contact.  He lost most of his teeth and scattered cat food everywhere.  Through it all Goliath was sweet and loving.  He was also a local attraction.  Guests and friends always marvelled at his tenacity.

A few months ago we noticed Goliath wasn't his usual happy self.  The vet informed us he was having kidney trouble, but on a new diet he improved and perked up.  Last week I gave him his bath (he quit grooming himself a long time ago) and he didn't seem to mind, which if you understand anything about cats and water, was unusual.  I just knew in my gut that he wouldn't live much longer.  We tried a few things to help him feel better but it became clear his kidneys were failing.

I've never had to decide to put an animal to sleep before.  When I was younger my parents chose for me.  It went something like this: we moved to Florida and Dad was supposed to bring my dog, Nakita, when he came a few months later.  Except Dad showed up without Nakita and instead a lousy explanation, "Sorry, she just didn't like riding in the car so I took her to the pound."  We had several other pets that died of natural causes, including a dog that got shot by a neighbor because it was eating the neighbor's chickens, and several cats that found themselves on the wrong side of a car.   

We tried a few things to help Goliath get better, but it became clear he was fading.  I made the decision on Saturday morning that it was probably time to let Goliath go.  I wished for more obvious confirmation of my choice.  Could he live for another week, another month?  Should I just wait and see?  Seriously, who wonders if it's time to euthanize a deaf, toothless, 14-year-old-three-legged cat in kidney failure?  I do, that's who.

The kids were at Grandma's for a sleepover and I wanted to give them a chance to say goodbye.  Given the vet's office hours this meant that Goliath needed to stick it out until Monday morning.  So I found myself giving the cat sub-cutaneous fluids (yes, I know how to give a cat sub-cutaneous fluids) and living in a strange cat version of Weekend at Bernie's.  On Monday morning I explained to the kids that it was time to say goodbye to our kitty.  We had the circle-of-life talk (cue Lion King theme music) and told them, "We have given him so much love and he had a great life.  This is better than letting him suffer."  It was cliche but I suppose the right thing to say.  Interestingly, they reacted exactly as their personalities would dictate.  Dane, with sarcasm and humor, "You're putting him the carrier!?  You're going to make him spend the last hour of his life in a CAGE?!"  Camile with optimism, "Well, good thing we have two cats!  And we can always pick up another stray."  Libby with tears and lip trembling, "He's going to die?  Is he sad?  I'm very sad."

Brad had to go with me and Goliath to the vet or else I would lose my nerve.  I was sick to my stomach.  In the animal hospital lobby the vet keeps a little picture book I made which chronicles Goliath's dog attack and recovery.  I assembled the book soon after Goliath's amputation to show other pet owners that cats can do very well on three legs.  According to the staff, this book has become one of the most popular items in their office.  We flipped through the pictures while waiting for our turn and it made us both cry.  Neither of us could stop the waterworks after that.  As expected it was a peaceful goodbye.

We brought Goliath home and buried him in the spot we picked out under the forsythia bush.  It's a sunny corner, I think he'll like it.

Lies Child Experts Sold Me...

I've read them all. Every parenting advice book from Dr. Sears to Dr. Dobson. These two authors and all the ones in between are Ph.D.'s with years of experience in counseling and research. In addition to formal research they also cite mounds of anecdotal evidence from parents who swear by their prescribed methods. Yesterday I had a mommy moment that required me to implement the parenting strategies I've read about which I just knew would come in handy someday.
"I just don't want to do anything anymore!" said Dane with exasperation.
I moved in quickly with strategy number one, which comes from How to Talk so Kids Will Listen and Listen so Kids Will Talk by Faber and Mazlish. I just knew I could help Dane recognize the good things in his life by steering the conversation in a positive direction.
"Sounds like you are having a bad day. What do you mean you don't want to do anything?"
"I don't want to do Scouts anymore. It's boring and I'm not any good at it."
"I thought you liked building the bird house, and it turned out nice."
"It was dumb. But I was the one who figured out how to put the houses together."
"Sounds like you were helpful."
"I don't care! I'm quitting everything."
"Everything? Even school? I thought you enjoyed school."
"Yes, school, too. I'm going to become a caveman!"
What happened? I thought we were approaching a positive conclusion! Instead our chat was taking a dive, but there was still time to recover. I went for strategy number two, which I learned from Love and Logic by Cline and Fay.
"Okay. When do you plan on becoming a caveman?"
"Tomorrow."
"Where are you going to find a cave?"
"I'll just wander around until I find one or I will dig one myself."
"Alright. We'd better go to the store tomorrow and get you some supplies. A good shovel at least. We should also go to the bookstore and buy you a book on edible plants. You don't want to eat any poisonous berries."
"I don't need a dumb book!"
"You're not worried about becoming a proper hunter-gatherer? Poisonous plants can kill you."
"Quit talking about my demise!!"
Yes, he actually used the word "demise." Forget dive, we were in a tailspin. Time for strategy number three, from Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child by Gottman, Declaire, and Goleman.
"Well, I would really miss you while you're out there being a caveman. I like having you around. I'll worry about you. I hope you change your mind and decide to stay." I said sweetly.
"I don't even care and I'm going to bed!" Then Dane stomped off to his room and slammed the door.
I've studied all these books and thought I had a few scripts to follow. The problem was my son didn't follow the script. The conversation was supposed to end in laughs and hugs. I got tears and tantrums instead. If I make it through this motherhood business I'm going to write a book that tells the truth: sometimes you can't find the right things to say and it all goes badly.

Epilogue

Dane decided not to become a caveman. Today he woke up, finished his school work, and is currently out playing with friends.

We Are the Proud Owners of a Popcorn Popper...

One of these days I want to plan a project, or even just a meal, that goes off without a hitch. I decided to make caramel popcorn for a treat to share at the Halloween skating party. Making caramel popcorn quickly spiraled into the frantic disaster that typifies a day in my life.

I call the neighbor and ask to borrow her popcorn popper, an appliance I've admired but hardly seems worth purchasing my own when I will only use it once a year she drops it off on the porch for me then we make our supply list which includes a candy thermometer I used to have one but I lost it “How do you lose a candy thermometer?” I really need one because if you cook the caramel too long it gets hard and nobody likes those hard popcorn balls only the soft gooey kind will do Wal-Mart doesn’t have one so we run to Macey's grocery store surely they will have the candy thermometer and they do which is fantastic and I forgot the list but no problem we remember everything so we purchase all the items and dump them on the kitchen counter and this going to be great because I found a highly rated recipe online but then I put too much popcorn in the popper and it is smoking the smoke alarms are going off we open all the doors and windows and wave a broom around to get the alarms to stop blaring the doorbell rings now the dog is barking hysterically at my friend who is almost 80 years old so that’s embarrassing she’s dropping off the book list for book club and by the way I am supposed to lead the book discussion next month “Okay, great, I gotta go!” because now my hair smells like burned popcorn and I have to get these dumb treats made in the next 20 minutes plus get kids into their costumes in the meantime “Camille why is there no music coming from the piano?” because she is supposed to be practicing I double check the time for the party and good news it starts at 1:30 not 11:00 which means the kids can have lunch before we go I don't want to buy them pizza or hot dogs at the skating place because it's too expensive and I’ll end up spending $40 for lunch for three kids how ridiculous I’m still waving the smoke out but "Quick close the back door!" because the new kitty will get out and we can't let that happen since she got out a few days ago and we couldn't find her which made Dane cry for an hour then she came back thank goodness but "Close that door!" cleaning the black crusty burnt popcorn out of the neighbor's popper but now it won’t turn on I guess I broke it so I have to buy her a new popper but what am I going to make for a treat we're going to make stupid soft gooey caramel corn because for hell’s sake I'm on a mission and we are going to get this right everyone in the car run down to Wal-Mart to buy a new popcorn popper and can you believe it they don't even have a single…one...in...stock. Now what? Hey! There are some gift cards which is perfect because I need a birthday gift for my friend whose birthday was three days ago and I'm terrible at remembering birthdays but I will see her at the Halloween party and don't want to show up empty-handed purchase the iTunes gift card everyone loves those now I run to all the check-out lines trying to find a gift card envelope but there aren't any so maybe I can just tie a ribbon on it or something let’s call Macey's because maybe they have a popcorn popper but they don’t so we head to Target please oh please have a damn popper they have a red one so $20 later I’m heading back home with a new popper on the way I see a friend she has on some amazing Halloween make up that must have taken an hour to apply and here I am feeling lucky my teeth are brushed then I take two phone calls one from a friend who wants to know if I have any brown Halloween make up she can use and I have brown “But is it brown or tan?” for crying out loud "Just brown but maybe you can make it tan if you add some foundation" I take it across the street to her the other call is from my brother who just had open-heart surgery and I'm hoping he's okay he's probably lonely and bored and I wish I could be there to keep him company but I sent a package last week and I'm wondering if he got it “The package arrived” and “No the vegan bread was not moldy” which is a good thing because I was worried about it since we all know that nobody wants to get a package of moldy vegan bread "Hey! It's working!" says Dane so now the neighbor's popcorn popper is back on I guess the motor just needed to cool down it’s time to get costumes on while at the same time we make caramel popcorn “Camille, your leotard is in your room you have to put that on before you put on leggings,” and “Libby take off those pants you have to wear shorts under your costume or you’ll get too hot!” then “I don't know where your leotard is if it is not in your room check the bathroom!” just burned my finger on caramel while dumping it on popcorn guess I am having caramel popcorn for lunch because I don't have time to make myself something oh well this Muscle Milk will wash it down “Dane I really wish you would be a scarecrow instead of this creepy killer” and “No you can’t take the bloody knife prop to the skating place” and “Get in the car it's time to go!”

We’re keeping the new popcorn popper. Guess what treat I’m bringing to Thanksgiving dinner and your Christmas party?

Tour de Wittusen...

Now that school is out I can admit I've been yelling at my kids for two years...

"Get in the car now! It's time for school! You're going to be late! Whoever is not in the car in one minute is going to be left behind! You two are going to have to walk if you don't come right now!"

One day last Spring I finally meant it. I had already asked Camille six times to put shoes on while Dane was making a to-do list of activities he wanted to do after school instead of eating his breakfast. So, I told them I was getting in the car and whoever was with me got a ride to school. If not, then they could walk. A minute later the only kid in the car was Libby! As I was backing out of the garage I yelled to the kids in the house that they "Better start walking!" I picked up the neighbor kid we carpool with, then drove by my house to see if Dane and Camille had left yet. There they were, dejectedly staring out the front window as I drove by; I smiled and waved and kept driving. After carpool duty I wanted to check their progress so I followed the route they would walk. It's a full two miles to school, so this was going to be a long morning. Much to my surprise, they were about half of a mile from home riding their bikes! They even had helmets on! Well, Camille had her bike helmet on; Dane was wearing his ski helmet.

The worrying mom in me took over and I drove ahead of them all the way to the school. I parked the van on the side of the road and waited until I could see them in my rearview mirror then drove a few blocks and waited until I could see them again. I wanted to stay just enough ahead so that neither one of them could decide to quit and ask me to put the bike in the car (two miles can be a long way on heavy, big-tired kid bike with no gearing).

Down at the school I waited for them at the bike rack. They came zooming around the corner all smiles and giggles. Dane was shouting "Woo-hoo!!" and Camille yelled "Mom!! We totally want to do this again tomorrow!"

This was too much fun, my plan had backfired...

That afternoon it was raining. I drove down to the school thinking I would put the bikes in the van and drive them home. Halfway there I realized that riding in the rain was part of the lesson: if you don't get in the car in time for school you have to ride your bike and I'm not going to rescue you.

When I got to the school I discovered the cycling duo (picture them like Cavendish and his lead-out man Mark Renshaw) in the office using the phone. "Mom! We were just calling you!"
"What for?"
"It's raining...so we need you to pick us up."
"Nope. A little water never hurt anyone. Time to saddle up and ride home!"

By the time they took off the rain had turned to drizzle. I stayed ahead of them the whole way and watched as they raced each other, tried to ride with no hands, and talked. At one point I saw Camille cross the white line of the bike lane and into the car lane. Good thing there were no cars! Then I witnessed a miracle...Dane stopped Camille and made her trade places with him so he was riding closer to the cars. I couldn't believe it. Just this morning they were fighting over toothpaste and now he was actually protecting her!

My plan had backfired alright. I wanted them to experience a little more misery to inspire the motivation to be ready on time. I wanted them to suffer through riding in the rain and never want to incur my wrath again. Since this first experience they've ridden together by choice several more times. Camille once crashed and Dane picked her up, brushed her off, and gave her a hug. He helped her cross the street while she cracked jokes and they both laughed. They have waited for each other and stuck together. Instead of suffering they have protected each other, had fun, and grown closer. This wasn't the lesson I intended, but I guess it's a better one.

90 Minutes of My Life I Wish I Could Get Back...

Sometimes when it's dark I flop into bed with my body ready for sleep but my mind blaringly awake. So without warning I start obsessing over things I wouldn't even consider in the daylight. Such was the circumstance last night, where I was tossing and turning for hours begging myself to please fall asleep. Then, like a miracle, I felt the sleep coming. Just when I thought my race-car mind was going to circle the track all night, I noticed it was getting quiet. The pursuit was over, the crowds had gone home. My limbs were heavy and the blankets were so warm...

BBBRRRING!!! The phone rang at 1 am. It was my Mom. At first I didn't answer because I thought she must have dialed my number by mistake. Then I realized most people don't accidentally call at such an ungodly hour and I started worrying about who might be dead or in jail. So I called her back. Turns out she just wanted to chit chat and "misread" the time on her clock. Eesh. Then I was all worked up about the death and jail stuff so sleep wouldn't be my friend any time soon. I decided to get up and take an ambien. Just so you know, I'm not a junkie. I've had this prescription for 10 months now and still have over half of the bottle left, which includes sharing with my husband. Obviously I rarely use it or I would have known better...

The next thing I know it's 10:30 in the morning and Dane is leaning over me whispering in a anxious voice, "Mom, are you going to get up? We've been watching TV downstairs for a lo-ong time and we're hungry." I wish I could say the realization of neglected children jolted me right out of bed. Unfortunately in the strangeness of dreams I was still bowling with one of the contestants of American Idol. As I slowly surfaced out of sleep, I murmured a quick thank-you prayer for Spring Break. I mean, had it not been for the day off I probably would have been forced to concoct a good lie and brainwash my kids on the way to school, "Don't tell your teacher you are late because Mom took some medicine and couldn't get out of bed, Okay? Er, uh, dentist! Repeat after me, I had to go to the dentist!" In my prayer I was also thankful for the Easter candy (that a mere 24 hours earlier I threatened to throw away) must have kept them content while I "slept it off."

After brunch I decided to make it up to my kids by taking them to a dollar movie. I was aware that they already had enough vegetation-in-front-of-a-screen time today but the weather was bad so our options were limited. We decided to see The Spy Next Door. My tolerance for this kind of family movie is very low, but I thought a little over an hour with Jackie Chan might not be so bad. Well, that show was sold out. There we stood outside the box office in what felt like 20 below, the kids' pouty faces staring at me with that Mom-you-gotta-pull-through-for-us look and I panicked and bought 4 tickets to Alvin and the Chipmunks, the Squeakquel. This movie was worse than you can imagine. By the halfway-mark I was thinking I would rather have a Russian mobster yank my fingernails out with a pair of pliers than sit through one more minute. Or that maybe, just maybe, the janitorial staff needed a little help scrubbing the theater's toilets and my kids wouldn't mind finishing this show by themselves. Sadly, after all that ambien-induced sleep I couldn't even take a little cat nap.

So there you go, that's 90 whole minutes of my life I'll never get back. It would have been much better spent playing a game or simply renting a better movie. I'm sure you're wondering how I can look myself in the mirror when I've considered only my own misery and not how much my children must have enjoyed going to a movie. Well, don't lose any sleep over it. I'm sure I'll be obsessing about that fact myself (and how I almost sold my soul to the devil to get out of that movie and all the trouble that would have caused) into the wee hours of the morning.

Lazy Saturday Morning...

Today outside my window...
The sun is shining, but I'm not buying it. I know it's cold out there even if it looks warm.

I'm thinking about...
When I'm going to fit in a run and who I'm going to call to babysit Libby while I run. And I'm a little frustrated at myself for being too lazy to get up and run before Brad left this morning. And I'm wondering if I should ask the same babysitter to come again tonight when we go to a client's party. And I need a haircut.

I am thankful for...
The sunshine, even though it's cold. Legs that work. A husband who is a fantastic father.

From the kitchen...
Smells clean. Check that off my list, for now.

I am wearing...
My favorite tech-fabric running sweatshirt/jacket. I bought it for cold-weather running and I wear it even when I'm not running. I need to buy a few more in different colors. I'm also wearing my favorite slippers. They have a little bit of tread on the bottom, warm and furry on the inside, and soft leather on the outside with an embroidered flower. I love them, but they are a bit embarrassing when your kid leaves his lunch in the car and you have to run into the school.

I am reading...
Fablehaven by Brandon Mull. I just finished Pope Joan for book club and it was awful. Kinda strange when you get a better book recommendation from your eight-year-old than your book club.

I am looking forward to...
A nap

I am hearing...
The neighbor's dog howl. You would think this sound is irritating, but he does it so softly and politely. Like someone lightly tapping you on the shoulder, "Excuse me, ma'am..."

A few plans for the rest of the week...
Same as last week. Finish hanging pictures downstairs and paint the bathroom cabinet.

I need to remember...
To call my sister.

A picture to share...
Tave. My Grandma (although she preferred to be called Nonnie instead of Grandma). I never met her but my Mom has told me so many great stories about her that I love her anyway.

Dane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Dane came to the dinner table with a pouty face, wet eyelashes, and red eyes. Obviously he was having a rough evening. When I asked him what was wrong he replied in a teary voice, "It's raining outside, my quesadilla is burned, I don't have any friends, and everyone is acting like idiots!"

We were able to cheer him up by quoting Judith Viorst's book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, which is one of my favorite children's books. If you haven't added this book to your collection or read it to your kids, please do so. Not only is it cute and funny, it actually might help them laugh when they are having one of those days.

Anyway, while blogging I thought about this picture. Dane is a baby and got his very first owie that warranted a band-aid. I hope as my kids grow older God gives me the wisdom to know what to say when a band-aid just won't do.

A Little Dose of Reality From a First-Grader

The kids bring home some pretty fabulous artwork from school. This original masterpiece of Camille's will be one of my all-time favorites. I think the topic, "This is how I'll look when I'm 100 years old" is a strange one to pose to first graders, don't you? My favorite things about the picture:

• The headstone got cut off a bit but it reads, "Camille R.I.P."
• Just in case the x mark over the eyes didn't clue you in, her caption says, "I'm dead."
• She's clutching her heart as if she just dropped dead of heart-attack two seconds ago. Those undertakers don't waste any time!
• Camille told me the red squiggly lines are worms. They look kinda hungry (and creepy).
• She might be dead, but no worries! The sun is shining and skies are blue...it's a beautiful day!

Clorox Clean

I love the smell of bleach. However, based on my experience you would think I would pick Pine-Sol instead.

First, there was the time when it smelled so strong it was making my eyes burn. That's because Dane dumped some down the vent in his room. He was about three. I don't know how he got the bottle open or what inspired him to pour it out in his room. I just remember being so proud of myself for scrubbing the toilet and getting a load of whites done by 9 am, except then I realized I hadn't done either of those things. I don't know how much he dumped out but it was enough to make us have to open all the doors and windows and get out of the house for awhile. Somehow he managed to avoid spilling any on himself or the carpet.

Another memorable encounter with bleach occurred when I was a teenager. Back when I used to fight with my mother every day. I was a sassy, smart-mouthed girl. Hard to believe, I know. One day as my mom was scrubbing the floor with some bleach-containing cleaner I must have thought she looked vulnerable down there on her hands and knees (she never uses a mop). Perfect time to bring up some offense of the typical teenage variety, peppered with my particular brand of back-talk. Well, forget cleaning my mouth out with soap she just turned around and squirted the bleach right at me. Fortunately I was a few feet away from her and she's a terrible shot. I screamed, "That's great! Now you're trying to blind me!!" then ran to my room and slammed the door. I pray every day that my daughters are nicer to me than I was to my mom. It's a miracle she still speaks to me.

I thought of all this bleach business as I was doing some cleaning today. Just like my mom, I like to clean with bleach. I guess it's nostalgic...and it smells nice.