Buddyisms

I don't remember hiring a live-in comedian, but that appears to be the situation. Buddy, Mr. 5.5 Year Old, cracks me up on a daily basis! And here I am, recording his latest, because I just don't want to ever forget.

We had a lovely time in Vermont this past weekend, so lovely that I have been itching to find the next time we can go. The kids are older, there are no nap times to plan around, and we can DO THINGS! The flexibility we're feeling right now is only surpassed by the freedom we had before kids. It's wonderful.

I planned a day trip for us that would eventually bring us to Harpoon Brewery in Windsor. Any trip that ends with beer and pulled pork nachos is a win, am I right? We played the tourists that we are and stopped at the VT Country Store, the Windsor-Cornish covered bridge and Mr. G's Liquidation Center. If you're thinking one of those is not like the others, you would be right. I'm a bargain hunter, and I was feeling nostalgic, as my grandparents and I often went to the Railroad Salvage discount store. As dusty and dim as I remember that place being, the memory intrigues me. So we stopped into Mr. G's. Right away I found some Aveeno SPF 50 that was half the price you'd find in regular stores (and it wasn't expired!). We had fun looking around and did come out with a few items.

Fast forward to the picnic table at Harpoon Brewery. I got the sunscreen out because it was unexpectedly a bright, sunny day, and we could all use some SPF. The discount price tag is quite prominent on the tube, and Buddy exclaims:

"$2.99? Not bad!"

Laughter ensues. I don't even know how he knew that was $2.99, but hearing my words come out of his mouth had me in hysterics. Ever since then he's been saying it just to make me laugh.

The other funny Buddyism happened yesterday. I was telling him about an idea I had, and he replies:
"That would be delightful."

I love my funny little man. I hope his desire to make people laugh never goes away. The world needs more love and laughter.

Swim, Swim

Swimming lessons have been a part of our life for over a year and a half. Steve has religiously been bringing Rosie, every Wednesday, and she loves it. It's her thing. Now it was Buddy's turn to start lessons, and I came along, too, to make it a family event.

Did I ever mention that pools are decidedly not my thing? I never learned how to swim. I can't really describe to you how terrifying it is for me to be around a pool with my kids, because if one of them were to fall in, I'd have no way of rescuing them. It makes me anxious and on-edge.

But all of that is changing, and not because I've learned how to swim. Not yet. The goal is to get both of them swimming, and then it's my turn to learn. And it's going to happen. It's on my bucket list.

All of this is changing because, as I watched from my seat on the pool chair, Rosie put on her goggles, jumped in, and started swimming across. I wasn't prepared for the wave of emotions that overtook me in that moment. Tears streaming down my face, my heart in my throat, I watched my daughter do something that I simply cannot. That little girl of ours, she knows how to swim.

I am doing better by her. We are doing better by her. She now knows a skill that will be with her for life, and, unlike me, she will be able to be around pools and bodies of water and not be afraid.

After watching her swim with Steve for several minutes, my attention turned to Buddy at the other end of the pool, just starting his very first lesson with his swim instructor. He was giggling and happy.

We're doing better by him, too.

Nothing Personal

I had an interaction this week, that, had it happened another time in my life, probably would have offended me.

I won't get into details, but I was somewhere in the middle of the day, and when a person I recognized saw me, she said "What is it you do that allows you to be here in the middle of the day?" I was taken aback, and I sputtered "Well, I just got out of work." She nodded, and as she continued past, remarked: "I wish I had your job!"

Really? Which one? Because at the moment, I hold five part-time jobs, meaning I answer to five bosses. I am also the president of my local historical society, a member of cultural council, and I just finished 6 years of being on school committee. Did I mention that one of my kids isn't in full-time school yet? Yeah, it's been a bit of a juggle.

And, yes, when you piecemeal the way that I have, you do get random hours in the middle of the day, here and there, to do fun, non-work things. It's one of the things I enjoy most about the work that I have chosen. 3 of my 5 jobs can be done from the comfort of my home, in front of the computer, any time of the day or night. It's flexibility at its finest. Many nights after the kids are asleep, I am working so I can enjoy my son during the day in his last months before Kindergarten, and my daughter and husband when they get home from their long days of school. One weekend a month has me in front of the laptop while my family goes and has fun without me, but we take it in stride because we know with Kindergarten looming for the youngest, my flexibility will increase and I can move that time to week days.

But I didn't hold that person hostage and tell her all of the above reasons why I could be doing something fun in the middle of the day, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's this:

What people say and do is more of a reflection of them than it is of me.

The day this occurred, it was beautiful, sunny and warm. I believe those comments were said as less of a dig toward me, and more of a vocalization of how that person wishes they weren't chained to their place of work at that very moment. In other words, I think it entirely dealt with her own feelings, and really had nothing to do with me at all, except that I happened to be standing there.

This is still a new way of thinking for me. The old me would have gotten all riled up and offended by the comments said. Maybe one of the benefits to getting older is being able to more clearly see what's worth getting worked up over and what's not. Sometimes you just have to let people slide by with their asinine comments and give them a little grace.

It's Been a While

I know it's a good sign, when, after months of feeling too insanely busy to write, I get the urge again.

Here I am.

Oops, I have to interrupt this blog post to tell you something. Predictably, as I sit down to blog for the first time since October, Mr. 5 Year Old just came downstairs, all sleepy-eyed, clutching beloved Bear and Bear's pocketbook.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Bear has a pocketbook. It is my old teal pocketbook that I carried everyday for two years until I changed to a new one this past January. Buddy immediately wanted to know what I was going to do with my now-discarded purse, and he informed me that it could be "Bear's pocketbook". It's so darn cute. I mean, how many more years will I have of my son lovingly toting around his favorite bear in a pocketbook? Not many, I'm sure.

Which brings me to the other cute things he and Rosie have said and done lately that I wanted to write about. Recently, we took Buddy for a bike ride at DAR State Forest, and I was talking to him about my memories of going camping there with my grandparents. I told him how my gram and I used to take night walks, and find glow worms on the sides of the road. Later, when he was retelling this story to Rosie, it came out like this:

"Mommy and her Gammy used to see glow girls at DAR". Commence hysterical laughing. Glow girls?? Buddy, you are too much! I love when they get words mixed up.

Another day, I took Rosie to a dental cleaning, and told her we had to swing by the pediatrician's office to pick up a copy of Buddy's physical, so we could register him for Kindergarten at her school. As we were leaving the dentist office, Rosie says:

"Don't forget, mom. We have to go to the doctor's office to cash register Buddy for Kindergarten."

I had to ask her to repeat it. Then I got it: she's always heard me say "cash register" but never "register" by itself, so that was the only way she knew how to process that word.

I had to write these things before I forgot, because if there is one common refrain from older mothers in my life, it has been: "Write these things down! You think you'll remember them forever, but you will forget!"

I don't want to forget these sweet days of Rosie ending 1st grade (how do we already have 2 years of school under our belt? Gulp!) and Buddy's last days of preschool. Rosie seems more mature and wise by the day, and Buddy, well, he's still my baby, although he doesn't like when I tell him that.

Here's to more writing (hopefully) and more remembering!

Saying Goodbye

I brought our 10 year old Scoutie to the vet because something was not right. He was slow-moving, had little appetite, had troubling going #2 and seemed bloated. The vet took x-rays and before I knew it, we went from talking about more minor issues to talking about a huge mass on his spleen.

So huge, the vet could not even see Scout's spleen anymore. It was a huge, twisted mass, that had grown so fast, it was scary. His abdominal cavity was also filling with fluid. If they put him on the operating table, he could pass away. Even if he survived, the vet said it might only buy him a few months. And then, she had to put the other option on the table.

The goodbye.

The goodbye that could be done at the office or at our home. The goodbye that I was so not ready to give, that we're never ready to give to those we love. Commence crying, hugging, phone calls. I knew in my heart what had to be done, and I ached and ached. See, in front of me, he was still there! He was still himself! Laying on the floor of the vet's office, patiently waiting for us to go home. My Scoutie. My first "baby". The one Steve and I picked out together at Second Chance Animal Shelter (it turned out that Steve and I were his third owners. We called him our Third Chance Beagle. Why had the others given him away? Because he acted too much like a Beagle. I wish I was kidding.)

I knew we would do it at home. We made an appointment for the next afternoon at 3pm. Those 24 hours between then and when it happened? It was a blessing and a curse. I was acutely aware of every minute. It was his last car ride. It was his last quarry walk (he still wanted to take a big walk in the quarry that evening! It was lovely and confusing at the same time.) It was his last supper. It was the last time the kids would day goodnight to him before they went to bed.

Oh, the kids. Our sweet kids who loved Scout without abandon. Who always made time to get down to his level and pet his smooth fur. The vet helped us with how we should talk to them. She said they were way too young for final goodbyes. That we should just prepare them... "Scoutie is very, very sick. We're going to take him to the vet and see what they can do." The vet said it was imperative that the kids, upon reflection as they got older, would know that we, as their parents, had tried to do something. And we did. We did not want this to happen, but we could not put him through a potentially unsuccessful surgery with unknown outcome. I really appreciated that the vet helped us with how to talk to them.

Back to the lasts... it was the last time I would see both Maggie and Scout file into our bedroom to go to sleep on their respective beds. It was the last time I would enter my room, and see Scout so peacefully resting in his bed. It was the last morning that I got up, and both dogs came out of the room with me...

We fed Scout all the delicious people food he could manage. The vet said to spoil him, and I did my best. He, Maggie and I went on another last walk in the field behind our house. And wouldn't you know it? He was on a scent, doing the Beagle grunt, and howling! Yanking at the leash! Dog owners can appreciate this: he even had his first normal BM in days, at which point I looked up at the sky and said "God, why are you making me doubt this decision?" But my heart knew that appearances can be deceiving. The vet told us that without surgery, the spleen was going to burst any day, and he would bleed internally. He was also having some labored breathing because of that huge mass. I took that last field walk for what it was: one of Scoutie's Greatest Hits, where he got to be in true Beagle form.

3pm too long and way too quick all at the same time. The vet came with her technician, and we were all cross-legged in Scout's favorite room, the wood stove room. He wagged his tail at them and smelled their hands. After a while, they gave him a tranquilizer to calm him, but he still knew Steve and I were there. Then I did one of the hardest but absolutely necessary things I've ever had to do.

I got right down there with him, my face to his, cradling his soft Beagle head in my hands, petting him, and words started spewing out of me between tears. "You've been such a good boy. We love you, Scout. We love you so much. Rosie loves you. Buddy loves you. Dad loves you. I love you..." and that's about all I was able to get out before I saw the light leave his eyes and his body go quiet and still.

Oh, my Scoutie.

I had never been there at the moment death happens. It was so surprisingly quick, and peaceful, and I can say with certainty that the spirit leaves the body. I knew I was no longer cupping Scout, only his cute Beagle face.

I'm glad I was able to be there for him in his last minutes, and I'm not quite sure from what well I was able to muster the strength to do so, but it was exactly how it had to happen. In his and our home, in the woodstove room, my face to his.

Steve and I buried him together on the back hill behind our house. We buried him in his bed, with a few bones, a rope toy, and one of those horrendously smelly calf hooves he used to love to chew (really, they sell them at our local pet supply store.) We cried. It was so tough. But we were able to laugh some because man, he was a stubborn little Beagle. But we loved him for it.

Telling the kids once Nana brought them home, was so tough. Especially with Buddy saying "You're tricking!" three of four times before he realized we weren't. We try to explain the spirit to them, and Rosie seems quite reassured that Scoutie is now in Heaven with Great Grampa.

It's been two days, and while the pain seems a little less acute every day, it's still there, gnawing at us in the moments we least expect. But we just have to let grief do its thing. We loved our first dog deeply, and we had to say goodbye. At least for now.

We love you, Scout.

Things that will never get old

1. That very first sip of coffee at 6am.

2. A smidge of butter and a layer of peanut butter on toast with that coffee.

3. Calling my husband to hear his voice on his way into work.

4. Spying a hummingbird at the feeder in the early morning light.

5. Gently waking my kids and inhaling their sweet, sleepy scent as I give them good morning hugs.

6. Walking outside and being able to tell that it's going to be a gorgeous day.

7. Bringing my lunch outside later that day, and savoring the taste and good conversation.

8. Feeling productive yet not overwhelmed.

9. Seeing Rosie and her friend hop excitedly off the van after school, and seeing Buddy get caught up in the excitement, too.

10. Planning, preparing and cooking healthy, delicious suppers that my whole family enjoys.

11. Stretching my legs with a much-welcomed walk after supper, when the sun has lowered enough that it's not scorching my back.

12. Finally easing into bed under soft sheets and blankets and opening the book I'm currently into, getting lost in another world.


What never gets old in your life?

What I'm Thankful for this Week

This week I find myself thankful for:

1. Perfect, gorgeous weather three days in a row. I was outside as much as possible!

2. A planted garden. This is our biggest garden yet, and I can't wait to see what we yield from it. (More garden blog posts to come.)

3. Steve putting the kids to bed so that I can go on an hour long walk after supper, my favorite time of the day to do so. We give each other time to exercise because we realize its importance to our mental and physical health.

4. Sharing a glass of wine with Steve in the late afternoon sunshine, while he grills the steaks, with the kids running and shrieking around us.

5. Being able to eat lunch outside all 3 beautiful days in a row, and watching Buddy delight in it, also. I swear our lunch tastes ten times better when we're enjoying it under a bright blue sky and talking about the swallowtail butterfly that visits us every day!

No surprise here: all of the above involved being outside. I am a Goshen Girl through and through and when it's sunny and in the 70s with low humidity, you won't find me in the house.

I'll be out by the garden. Or pushing my kid on the swing. Or... anywhere but inside!