We are Outta Here!

Shedding this cabin and hopefully the fever that has gone with it! We're heading to the Great Wolf Lodge! The kids are so excited! I am so excited! Plus we will get to see a good friend of ours who happens to be in town while we are there. We only get to see him every couple of years.

very very excited!

see you all Thursday!

I took Behemoth in to get washed today. As I was waiting for the poor guys to finish vacuuming and washing the windows, a man standing next to me waiting for HIS car to get finished said,
"Um. Ma'am, Your car is done."
"sorry?"
"Your car. Isn't that your car?" and he pointed to this cute little sporty coupe.
Stifling back a laugh (and some tears) I said, "No. THAT is mine." and pointed at Behemoth.
very surprised "Oh! I just assumed that one was yours."

I almost asked him if he wanted to steal it with me and we could run away...but the patch of hair peeking out from under the back of his collar woke me from my moment of insanity.

me. in a sporty coupe. *swoon*

Well, let's just say...

My week started out with Chowder and I sitting in the family room watching TV. We hear something come tumbling down the steps. This is an hourly occurence so we don't pay it much mind. Then, Jellybean comes in. Rather meekly she says,



"I made a big noise. Did you hear it?"
"Yes, I did hear that noise. What was that?"
"ummmm. It was your camera."

*silence*

more calm than I feel, "Could you go get it for me?"

Rosie crumbles into tears. "ok."

In the hall I hear her whisper to Max, "Could you go give this to Mama?" and she runs upstairs.

Max brings me my camera. Well, what is left of my camera. Bob tries to stick pieces back on it, but it's done. And here I thought I was going to get to buy a Dyson with our tax refund. ah well. Bob announces that this is where children cost more money. Replacing the things that they break. Two weeks ago we had to get a new optical drive for our iMac. not cheap. Now, the camera. At least it was an older, obsolete camera. I mean 3 megapixels?! C'mon!

but I really wanted that Dyson...
Are the Fisher Price pictures that bad?

So...I've been trying to spend less time on the computer

and I'll tell you why.

The other day, I gave all of my children their breakfasts sat them down, grabbed my cup of tea and sat down at the computer to read my email and catch up on my message boards. Rosie came upstairs and asked if she could have more cereal. I told her I would get it for her in just a second. She told me that she could get it herself, and she can, so I agreed. A few minutes later the boys were clamoring for the same cereal Rosie was eating. I was a bit thrown off because the don't like the oatmeal clusters, but chalked it up to that sibling, if she has it and I don't it suddenly looks delicious. I told them to wait a second. They start screaming that she's going to eat it all. I told them I had just opened a new box, relax already. More panicky screams sent me downstairs to discover Rosie's cereal.

As Promised

Here is the Beaner. This was taken two summers ago when she was in full health. I think what's been really sad for me, is the regret. Her last few years were nothing compared to her previous nine. When we lived in Minnesota we went mountain biking all the time and hikes and lots of other things. Then I became pregnant with the twins, put on bedrest, and then the mother to newborn twins. After that, she was sorely neglected. I try to take comfort in the fact that the last few years of her life she was in fact older. Her activity level couldn't have been sustained. She wouldn't have been able to do all of those things as before. Heck, I know she couldn't because the last few times we went biking with her, we had to go back early or leave her home. But, still. She didn't have the same attention. And that makes me regret.

I haven't talked about this guy. This is Fargo. He was Beaner's canine companion for eleven years. That's how old he is. He has never known life without her. He was a very attentive and protective companion, even though his early years were filled with the jealous Beaner bullying him. (pushing him down stairs, yanking him off beds) When they would play fetch with us out in the fields, Beaner would fetch and Fargo would run holding onto her tail. During Beaner's end days, he would try to cheer up by bouncing around enticing her to play. And she took great comfort in his presence.

Now, I remind you, I was raised by scientists. I have always been strongly cautioned about anthropomorphizing. So, whether Fargo misses her, or is sad, or depressed, or lonley doesn't matter. He is plainly out-of-sorts. He is factually not eating. He is observedly listless. The kids and I are doing what we can. He has the same full bowl of food he's had since Tuesday. I went and bought him new bowls because when Beaner was declining, he wouldn't eat until she had eaten. I worry he is still waiting for her to eat. The kids have been giving him his senior nutrient dog treats and trying to get him to perform the same silly tricks he did before. But, that was before...

The kids appear to be alright. But, as I learned Thursday appearances really aren't what they seem. Rosie was a right pain in the butt. She was completely obnoxious and difficult. She had not spoken of Beaner other than a casual mention of her being dead, now and then. When she finally was sent to her room she threw a nasty tantrum but was screaming and crying, "I want BEANER!!!" This broke my heart. Rosie became Beaner's never tiring caretaker in the end. She would set her bowl of water right before her face. Rosie handfed her, and since Beaner would never want to disappoint a child, she ate. She would sit and brush her and sing her songs. It was all very dear. Sometimes Oliver will simply cross his arms defiantly and demand, "I don't want Beaner dead! huh!" and stomp his foot. Max will just look at you out of the blue and with a croak of a voice say, "I want Beaner to come home. to our home. not God's home. She's our dog. God can have another dog." God suddenly seems selfish...

Me? Well, I don't feel like I'm mourning. Bob and I have talked about how disconcerting it is to have a life in your hands. To make the decision, to have the power to put that light out. To take from the world Beaner's life force. But, I haven't been crying. Maybe, I'm more like the kids. I was a wreck right up until she was gone and I laid her head down on the table. Then, the nurse told me we could have some time with her and I asked her, "Why? She's gone now. I just wanted to be here for her when she went." And I washed my hands and blew my nose, and haven't cried since.

But, I can't stop thinking about it. about her. I can't stop seeing her shadow.

It's Done

note: My computer is in the shop, so I'm making due with the church's. I will add a photo once I get it up and running again.

This morning we took Beaner in to be put down. It was an agonizing decision for me to make. I've had her for nearly thirteen years and she has been a very very good dog. Bob went with me, we left the kids at my sister's house. Conor was in agreement with the decision, though he hated that it had to be made. She was just getting worse. She couldn't stand without help and even though I would carry her outside a few times a day, she lost control of her bowels and was pooping all over herself in the house. It was horrible, and it was time.

We have been talking to the kids about the fact that Beaner's time was coming. We never explained euthanasia. Not quite a topic for 3 and 4 year olds to grasp. They began sharing their sadness at the idea but we came up with all of things that she would be able to do again once she was made whole in God. This is where things get a little goofy for us. While I loved Beaner as much as one can love an animal, I still believe that she was an animal. And while I believe that in the end all life returns to God, I don't believe in a doggy heaven that has become a great comfort to the children.

What struck me, as it always does, as I held her head and whispered into her ear while they injected the dose, was that death is so final. I know. I know. duh. right? but the profoundness of the loss is always beyond words. the finality. the doneness. the emptiness left in life's wake. the expansiveness of the silence following the last breath. the fragility that is...life. It shakes me to my very core. Because every life I love is attached to this simple, profound truth. my love can not spare them. It stops me in my tracks. It steals my breath. It puts the darkest of fear in my heart.

Love is...

God and God is love.

When I was at a Mother's retreat a few years back, we did an exercise that I now do on a regular basis. The thought behind it is that we as mothers entrusted with God's children should try to emulate God as parent. And since God is love, we too, should try to be love. So, we took the familiar Corinthians reading, famous for weddings, and exchanged our name for the word love or it. Give it a try. Put your name in the blanks and see how well you match up to divine love.



__________ is patient, ________ is kind. ________ does not envy, ________ does not boast, ________ is not proud. ________ is not rude, ________ is not self-seeking, ________ is not easily angered, ________ keeps no record of wrongs. ________ does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ________ always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (New International Version)


ok ok. so we probably don't score very high. but it makes you think, doesn't it? Thankfully, eventhough we are not perfect, we start anew every morning. And every morning we can cry out for help in trying to live out our lives of love.

Happy Love Thursday