This just arrived in the mail today. Doesn't make losing our dog any
easier, but makes me love our vet even more than I did before.
Thanks, Dr. Melbo!
Friday, August 30, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
The Sand Momster
This past weekend I went camping with my family. Just the five of us. It went remarkably well. I did forgot a few minor things, like plates and the kids' toothbrushes. And one major thing: coffee cups. I forgot the thing that gets the coffee from the coffee pot to my mouth. But my husband bought these to get us by.
We hiked (it was really more like a glorified walk) to the Willow River Falls. Beautiful. And the kids loved exploring the little caves along the shores of the river. They saw a crayfish. And a stick bug (or Phasmatodea...I looked it up!).
That afternoon we went to the beach. The kids quickly made friends and spent several hours building sand villages. It was perfect! They were having a great time and I got to sit in my camping chair with a beer (I love Wisconsin!!). Then, just off to the left, in front of where Wade and I sat, a family planted themselves. I casually watched as the mom and three kids started building their own sand world. They were digging, filling and emptying buckets, shaping hills and decorating their sandy land with tiny trees. Guilt set in. This mom wasn't sitting back, watching her kids play. She was in there, hands filthy and knees caked with sand. I looked over at my kids, Max almost completely buried in sand by his sisters and their new beach friends. I should be over there. With them. I glanced back at the good mom. By this point their village was sprawling, with rivers and valleys. I focused in for just a second, eavesdropping on their family memory. As I listened, I heard the mom say, "Not there. No no, that's not where that goes. You have to start it over there. Build it to that corner and then dig to this wall." The kids scurried to do as they were told. I couldn't help but keep listening and I started to realize that this mom wasn't really playing with her kids. She was directing them. This wasn't their beach habitat. It was hers. Before I sound too judgemental, allow me to finish my thought. I realized, watching this mom and letting my guilt dissipate, that had I gotten down on my hands and knees in the sand with my kids, I would have been the. same. way. So, my kids played down the beach, checking in from time to time, usually wanting a snack. And my husband and I sat and watched. Drink in hand. Not a grain of sand above my toes.
 |
| I'm sorry, Mother Nature. Coffee won this round. |
We hiked (it was really more like a glorified walk) to the Willow River Falls. Beautiful. And the kids loved exploring the little caves along the shores of the river. They saw a crayfish. And a stick bug (or Phasmatodea...I looked it up!).
That afternoon we went to the beach. The kids quickly made friends and spent several hours building sand villages. It was perfect! They were having a great time and I got to sit in my camping chair with a beer (I love Wisconsin!!). Then, just off to the left, in front of where Wade and I sat, a family planted themselves. I casually watched as the mom and three kids started building their own sand world. They were digging, filling and emptying buckets, shaping hills and decorating their sandy land with tiny trees. Guilt set in. This mom wasn't sitting back, watching her kids play. She was in there, hands filthy and knees caked with sand. I looked over at my kids, Max almost completely buried in sand by his sisters and their new beach friends. I should be over there. With them. I glanced back at the good mom. By this point their village was sprawling, with rivers and valleys. I focused in for just a second, eavesdropping on their family memory. As I listened, I heard the mom say, "Not there. No no, that's not where that goes. You have to start it over there. Build it to that corner and then dig to this wall." The kids scurried to do as they were told. I couldn't help but keep listening and I started to realize that this mom wasn't really playing with her kids. She was directing them. This wasn't their beach habitat. It was hers. Before I sound too judgemental, allow me to finish my thought. I realized, watching this mom and letting my guilt dissipate, that had I gotten down on my hands and knees in the sand with my kids, I would have been the. same. way. So, my kids played down the beach, checking in from time to time, usually wanting a snack. And my husband and I sat and watched. Drink in hand. Not a grain of sand above my toes.
I will leave you with this lesson in making the best of a bad situation...a popped air mattress.
(Turn the volume down, the sound quality is terrible. Sorry.)
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Seventeenth
The other day a friend told me that my suburb, Apple Valley, MN, is ranked #17 on Money Magazine's list of best places to live. In the United States. In full disclosure, Chanhassen, MN is #4 (something about bouncing back and a festival with ice-fishing). But I'll take #17. Less pretentious. More Minnesotan.
http://money.cnn.com/magazines/moneymag/best-places/2013/snapshots/PL2701900.html
http://money.cnn.com/magazines/moneymag/best-places/2013/snapshots/PL2701900.html
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Interview
I had an interview this morning. It went well, thanks. At least I think it did. It remains to be seen how the interviewers feel about it. It's for a part-time job at our church. A job that I think I would be good at and would really enjoy. It's in God's hands now...literally!
It's funny to think about going back to work. It sounds a little bit daunting. A little bit scary. I haven't gone to work in over nine years. As in, I haven't walked into a building where other people are working to go to work myself in over nine years. And prior to this interview I thought, What am I going to talk about? When they ask about my organization skills, should I tell them how I have a specific way I like to load the dishwasher (and how my husband STILL hasn't figured that out)? When they ask about my experience recruiting volunteers, should I mention how I often ask my friends to babysit for free? When they ask about my comfort level planning and leading events, should I explain that just getting out of my house in the morning takes an immense amount of planning...and yelling. Maybe I'll leave out the yelling part.
At first, during the interview, I found myself relying on my teaching experience, which seems like a lifetime ago (my nine year old's lifetime, actually). But as I got more comfortable, I realized I have experiences from these last nine years that, even more so than my teaching career, have prepared me for a job out there. In the workforce. I, with my two co-chairs, run our school's book fair, the biggest fundraiser our school has. And we ROCKED it last year. That alone covers recruiting, planning and organization skills. For six years I was an organizational tutor. I was second in command at that same tutoring company, where I handled all of the day to day stuff. Yes, I sat on my couch with my computer on my lap while making and taking phone calls, entering hours to bill families and sending out paychecks. I may have been in my pajamas, but I was professional in every other way. And I was good at it. And I grew my Norwex business and built a team of 5 recruits. On any given day, I do more than just yell at my kids to turn off the T.V. and get their shoes on. Although, it's easy for me to forget that most of the time.
I'm not saying I do more than other stay at home moms. I'm saying just. the. opposite. I think stay at home moms, like me, don't give ourselves enough credit. We do work. And we work outside the home. We volunteer at our kids' schools, sporting events, churches and more. We may or may not get paid for our time and energy, but we do it nonetheless. We hold the mute button so the person on the other end of the phone can't hear the tantrum being thrown by our three-year-old because she wanted her pretzels in the purple bowl instead of the green one, but we make those fundraising phone calls anyway. And, like all moms, working or not, we run a household. That in and of itself should qualify us for just about any position we want.
I don't know if I will get this job (fingers crossed!) but I do know that I'm qualified. Being a stay at home mom doesn't have to be a death sentence for a career. Off to organize my dishwasher. Again (will he ever learn?).
It's funny to think about going back to work. It sounds a little bit daunting. A little bit scary. I haven't gone to work in over nine years. As in, I haven't walked into a building where other people are working to go to work myself in over nine years. And prior to this interview I thought, What am I going to talk about? When they ask about my organization skills, should I tell them how I have a specific way I like to load the dishwasher (and how my husband STILL hasn't figured that out)? When they ask about my experience recruiting volunteers, should I mention how I often ask my friends to babysit for free? When they ask about my comfort level planning and leading events, should I explain that just getting out of my house in the morning takes an immense amount of planning...and yelling. Maybe I'll leave out the yelling part.
At first, during the interview, I found myself relying on my teaching experience, which seems like a lifetime ago (my nine year old's lifetime, actually). But as I got more comfortable, I realized I have experiences from these last nine years that, even more so than my teaching career, have prepared me for a job out there. In the workforce. I, with my two co-chairs, run our school's book fair, the biggest fundraiser our school has. And we ROCKED it last year. That alone covers recruiting, planning and organization skills. For six years I was an organizational tutor. I was second in command at that same tutoring company, where I handled all of the day to day stuff. Yes, I sat on my couch with my computer on my lap while making and taking phone calls, entering hours to bill families and sending out paychecks. I may have been in my pajamas, but I was professional in every other way. And I was good at it. And I grew my Norwex business and built a team of 5 recruits. On any given day, I do more than just yell at my kids to turn off the T.V. and get their shoes on. Although, it's easy for me to forget that most of the time.
I'm not saying I do more than other stay at home moms. I'm saying just. the. opposite. I think stay at home moms, like me, don't give ourselves enough credit. We do work. And we work outside the home. We volunteer at our kids' schools, sporting events, churches and more. We may or may not get paid for our time and energy, but we do it nonetheless. We hold the mute button so the person on the other end of the phone can't hear the tantrum being thrown by our three-year-old because she wanted her pretzels in the purple bowl instead of the green one, but we make those fundraising phone calls anyway. And, like all moms, working or not, we run a household. That in and of itself should qualify us for just about any position we want.
I don't know if I will get this job (fingers crossed!) but I do know that I'm qualified. Being a stay at home mom doesn't have to be a death sentence for a career. Off to organize my dishwasher. Again (will he ever learn?).
Friday, August 9, 2013
Missing Sadie
If you know me, you know my dog drove me nuts. I complained about her daily. The way she was always standing in my way, no matter which direction I turned. The way she jumped, impressively high, straight up in the air at the screen door when she wanted to come inside. The way she would wait until no one was looking and then sneak a sandwich off the counter.
Sadie was not an easy dog. She had separation anxiety, which meant she could never be alone in the house. Whenever we left the house she had to go in her kennel until we returned. (For those who don't know what separation anxiety entails: animals get so nervous when left alone, they lose control of their bowels). She was a rescue, so it was understandable in the beginning, but rather than getting better over time, she got worse. She started having accidents at night even though we were home and sleeping in the same room she did. So we bought a kennel for our bedroom and kept her locked up at night. Eventually she started having accidents simply being alone in a room. I had to clean up after her once a week or so. Which, as you can imagine, led to a significant amount of frustration on my part. Like most dogs she would run to the front door (although, in the end it was a slow trot) barking at whoever was waiting on the other side. But unlike most dogs, Sadie could jump several feet off the ground. Straight up in the air. This was both frightening and impressive to everyone who visited us. And of course there was the dog hair. Always the dog hair.
I have always been pretty vocal about the things that bothered me about our dog. But I realize now that I wasn't always so vocal about why we kept her. Loved her. Sadie was gentle. She was timid and kind. You could take a bone right out of her mouth and she would let you. Dropping it and stepping back with a what's mine is yours look on her face. When Luna and Solei, her two best friends (who, together, are less than half of Sadie's size), were over, Luna would undoubtedly end up with Sadie's treat. Sadie would watch Luna chewing, never trying to take it back. Once, many years ago, I took Sadie to a dog park. I would throw her frisbee and she would bring it back. Until I threw it and another dog got to it first. Sadie watched that dog run away with her toy and then she ran back to me empty handed, but happy. The kids, when they were little, used her as a step to get up on the couch. Or they would sit on her back and pull on her ears. Or stick their fingers in her mouth. And she took it all with a smile. Quite literally, she would have a smile on her face. I always heard that you're not supposed to trust a dog with young kids, but I always trusted Sadie. And she never proved me wrong. Her eyes said "love me" and how could you look into them and not? We used to say she was a like a super model; pretty, but dumb. But she wasn't dumb. She knew she was loved and she loved us unconditionally in return.
The hardest park about loving a pet is knowing when it is time to end their pain and suffering. We could have come up with endless excuses not to put Sadie down, but in the end she was getting noticeably sicker every day. The growth in her throat made her cough and gag constantly throughout the day. And made eating difficult and possibly even painful. The cancer in her stomach made her once sleek 50 lbs. body look skeletal at only 34 lbs. As much as we hated to admit it, it was time.
I used to daydream about not having to sweep up the dog hair. Or vacuum the stairs several times a week. Or about taking the kennel out of our bedroom. There is still some dog hair around, I'm sure we will be finding it for a while yet. But the empty spot in our bedroom, where the kennel used to be, breaks my heart. And, so much more than I thought I would, I miss seeing this sweet face.
Sadie was not an easy dog. She had separation anxiety, which meant she could never be alone in the house. Whenever we left the house she had to go in her kennel until we returned. (For those who don't know what separation anxiety entails: animals get so nervous when left alone, they lose control of their bowels). She was a rescue, so it was understandable in the beginning, but rather than getting better over time, she got worse. She started having accidents at night even though we were home and sleeping in the same room she did. So we bought a kennel for our bedroom and kept her locked up at night. Eventually she started having accidents simply being alone in a room. I had to clean up after her once a week or so. Which, as you can imagine, led to a significant amount of frustration on my part. Like most dogs she would run to the front door (although, in the end it was a slow trot) barking at whoever was waiting on the other side. But unlike most dogs, Sadie could jump several feet off the ground. Straight up in the air. This was both frightening and impressive to everyone who visited us. And of course there was the dog hair. Always the dog hair.
I have always been pretty vocal about the things that bothered me about our dog. But I realize now that I wasn't always so vocal about why we kept her. Loved her. Sadie was gentle. She was timid and kind. You could take a bone right out of her mouth and she would let you. Dropping it and stepping back with a what's mine is yours look on her face. When Luna and Solei, her two best friends (who, together, are less than half of Sadie's size), were over, Luna would undoubtedly end up with Sadie's treat. Sadie would watch Luna chewing, never trying to take it back. Once, many years ago, I took Sadie to a dog park. I would throw her frisbee and she would bring it back. Until I threw it and another dog got to it first. Sadie watched that dog run away with her toy and then she ran back to me empty handed, but happy. The kids, when they were little, used her as a step to get up on the couch. Or they would sit on her back and pull on her ears. Or stick their fingers in her mouth. And she took it all with a smile. Quite literally, she would have a smile on her face. I always heard that you're not supposed to trust a dog with young kids, but I always trusted Sadie. And she never proved me wrong. Her eyes said "love me" and how could you look into them and not? We used to say she was a like a super model; pretty, but dumb. But she wasn't dumb. She knew she was loved and she loved us unconditionally in return.
The hardest park about loving a pet is knowing when it is time to end their pain and suffering. We could have come up with endless excuses not to put Sadie down, but in the end she was getting noticeably sicker every day. The growth in her throat made her cough and gag constantly throughout the day. And made eating difficult and possibly even painful. The cancer in her stomach made her once sleek 50 lbs. body look skeletal at only 34 lbs. As much as we hated to admit it, it was time.
I used to daydream about not having to sweep up the dog hair. Or vacuum the stairs several times a week. Or about taking the kennel out of our bedroom. There is still some dog hair around, I'm sure we will be finding it for a while yet. But the empty spot in our bedroom, where the kennel used to be, breaks my heart. And, so much more than I thought I would, I miss seeing this sweet face.
 |
| Thank you Michelle Trombetta for this beautiful picture. |
Monday, August 5, 2013
A Goodbye Letter to my Family
Dear Family,
I understand why you are leaving. If I were in your position, I would do the same. You are only doing what you believe is best. For your survival and mine. I wish it could be different, that we could handle this some other way. But alas, we cannot.
The Days Inn won't be so bad. I think they have a pool.
I will see you all on Friday morning. When my cleanse is over. And I start drinking coffee again.
With love,
Sara (or Mom)
I understand why you are leaving. If I were in your position, I would do the same. You are only doing what you believe is best. For your survival and mine. I wish it could be different, that we could handle this some other way. But alas, we cannot.
The Days Inn won't be so bad. I think they have a pool.
I will see you all on Friday morning. When my cleanse is over. And I start drinking coffee again.
With love,
Sara (or Mom)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)