The Notebook

Some people save pictures in scrapbooks, ribbons and trophies, figurine collectibles.  I save everything I've ever written, from the moment I started writing things down.  I asked My husband to retrieve "my box" with all of the older stuff in it so I could fill in some memory holes for my foreign exchange book.  It took all of Christmas vacation, but it finally appeared, and right on top was a school notebook from 1984.  I'd etched the Van Halen logo in several places and written other random things on the front.  As I started reading the stuff on the inside I had to put it down and walk away.  I left it for another week, and then one of my girls read a page---"AAACK don't read that, you must never read any of that."  So I'd just given her the greatest temptation ever.
 I took the book back in my hand and read through again, feeling nauseous, feeling very sad.  In French I told my husband what I'd written about, stuff he knows, some he doesn't.
"Girls, I want you to know that the reason I don't want you to ever read that is because it's not your mom.  That isn't me.  It's who I was before I knew Christ."
The notebook is now strategically hidden.  I've made a plan to make one more pass through it and then throw it away.  Burn it.  It was my lonliest most tragic summer, filled with things I'm forever scarred by, things I truly regret. I'm not ashamed for my daughters to know what happened, but I want to tell them with my true voice, not have them hear it from the very confused girl, who wrote about herself in the third person half the time.
There is one piece that I will keep, an ode to an Autumn leaf, that I wrote on stationary and tucked neatly in the notebook.  I'll keep this thing because it is truly beautifully written and it celebrates beauty and being alive. The rest will burn.

Obedience School Dropout

This week we lived through our first bath, learned to sit and lay down, and dropped out of our first obedience class.  I'm so proud of myself, really.  I signed up for the class offered by my rec department, and since this was the guy recommended by all the shelters in the area, I didn't think twice about it.  I was a little surprised that a choke chain was required, but sure I'll buy one. The first night he was a little harsh with a couple of the very aggressive dogs in the class, but at the time I really appreciated it.  After the second week, and seeing my dog get aggressive when she hadn't been before, I made the call.  The program coordinator asks me straightaway, "did he throw a chain at your dog?" Seriously.  And what's worse, he had thrown a chain at a 6 month old lab puppy who was snarling at my dog.

I swear I'm a mom blog, not a dog blog, but being a dog mom is making me sort of "focused" on this topic.   This week I experienced a deja vu of my early parenting experience, when my eyes were opened to the huge chasm between "parenting styles" in our country. At the time I followed my heart and prayed through a churning gut about some of the things the people around me believed and practiced.  As I grew in confidence as a mom, I could speak more authoritatively about what worked for me and why I didn't do it the way they did.  I was really assuming that dog raising would be a little simpler and less volatile than that, but that is not the human way, is it?

So we are looking for a new class, preferably one that uses treats and praise. The most amazing book for me on this journey has  been, Living with Kids and Dogs...Without Losing Your Mind by Colleen Pelar.  Short and simple, it has allowed me to prepare my house and kids for introducing a dog into the family. She provides simple things you can teach each age of child (The Boy loves to "be a tree" when Belle comes looking for a treat in his hand) and ways to train your dog around the kids with treats and positive reinforcement.  I have also loved The Adopted Dog Bible by those great folks at Petfinder.com . It's all in there, from housetraining to buying a brush.  And can I say that my dog stopped bunching up and dropping steamy loads around my house within the first week by using lots of positive reinforcement and not one rolled up newspaper.  

New Years Blah Blah Blah

Tonight is New Year's Eve, officially the worst holiday ever.  The only positive memories I have of this day are from my tween years, before the adult illusions of a spectacular evening had set in. My sister and I would go to my grandma's house and enjoy a corny evening of Dick Clark, make party hats out of tin foil, and if we were lucky, get a shot of Grandma's homemade kalua. In our hearts we knew we were just biding our time until the really fun years would begin.

From that point on, New Year's Eve has always been a holiday of great disappointment; of nothing to do, of reservations forgotten, of wrong shoes and wrong dresses in awkwardly wrong evenings.  Nothing has ever been as magical as a movie.  By this point in my life, I realize that I avoid celebrating New Year's at all.  I hate resolutions because I never keep them, I hate having any kind of expectations for an evening, because I'm always disappointed. Okay, I'll admit that celebrating 2000 nine hours ahead of my fear-mongering countrymen was somewhat enjoyable.  When I could call my mom after midnight and say "see mom, the phones are still working," it was a pretty satisfying moment.  But then my husband insisted on going to downtown Nantes to watch fireworks or something festive and cold, and I just wanted to snuggle up with my baby in my jammies and celebrate by mentally savoring my life.
I'm so thankful. I want to expect nothing and be thankful for everything. Tonight I danced with my kids in the kitchen to the Black Eyed Peas, drank champagne in the crystal flutes from my wedding, played wii in my Christmas jammies with my baby on my lap and my new dog at my feet.  It's 10 o'clock and I'm not staying up until midnight. Good night 2010.

Little Orphan Annie

When you meet a child who is homeless or severely neglected, they often have a very un-childlike quality about them.  They are somber little adults, with big adult thoughts of survival and mortality in their heads.  When I adopted Belle, a seven month-old puppy from the pound, I was expecting a fair amount of puppy behavior like chewing, and romping.  After now three days of care, play and good food, she is finally starting to behave a little like the child she is and actually playing with her toys.  She was so mellow that first night that I was actually starting to worry about her health, and now seeing her grab one of my bras and wrestle it to the ground like the beast that it is, I'm relieved.  She is so thin that her hip bones and should blades stick out through her fur.  This mama started feeding her pretty aggressively from the moment she crossed our threshold, and paid the price in piles of steamy badness in my living room.  I think we've got the food and poop situation under control now, and she is about the sweetest, dreamiest dog I've ever met.  Who could have not wanted this being?  Why would anyone neglect and abandon this amazing, sweet, intelligent dog.  All I know is I'm glad she's now ours, steamy piles, chewed bras and all.

A Face Only a Mama Could Love

Here she is folks, my new baby. This isn't the one I posted a picture of yesterday...  I drove 30 minutes tonight to see her with my children, the empty tank light taunting me and the rush hour traffic encroaching upon me.  When we arrived, they told me she couldn't be seen because she had just returned from the vet where she spent the night after being spayed.  I was fairly persistent, and they let me go out to the kennels to look at her.  After passing ten anxious, barking, crazy pitbull terriers, there was Bell, anxiously barking and running all over her kennel.  We went back in and asked again if we could just pet her, we had driven 30 minutes to see her.  Finally, a nice young man relented and walked us out there, explaining that she was very thin and very neglected and really needed a good home.  I could tell that she had a bond with the guy, as she kept hiding under his arm and leaning against him.  When she saw that I was on her side, she leaned into me to, craving protection.  Her face is wirey, but her body is soft and fluffy.  Her big feet reveal another facet of her genetic makeup beyond terrier and spaniel.  I think we're going to have a sort of big dog on our hands, but a gentle, sweet one. She still needs to rest up from her surgery and finish her medication, but in a few days she'll be home with us. Thank you, Petfinder.com for making a great way to match animals with their people.

Doggy Jail

This is my current obsession.  Not this particular dog, but finding a dog to adopt for Christmas.  This little guy is named Lenny, and I just saw him on Petfinder this morning.  Is he the cutest thing ever?  I say obsession because when I decide to do something, it sort of consumes me.  Only the enjoyable things.  I'm sure my husband wishes that house cleaning consumed me, but alas, notsomuch.
On Saturday we met a sweet dog at Petco named Louie, a short fat rat terrier who wanted to play with my kids so badly he was going nuts.  When we went to the shelter to see him again, he was all over the place, and so hyper I didn't think I could manage him.  That same day I met Rudi, a gorgeous little Japanese Chin, who was mellow and delicate, and let me walk him around the yard---but what would my bruiser toddler do to delicate Rudi?  Another neighboring shelter has some puppies that just arrived, so I made myself read about life with a puppy to see if that is even something I can fathom right now.  I have been trolling Craigslist for dogs, and almost drove 2 hours away yesterday to rescue a gorgeous untrained golden retriever .
Why am I even contemplating another responsibility so badly right now?  It almost feels like a cosmic overthrowing of my better judgement. There is an animal that needs us this Christmas, and I need to find him.

Laughing is my Favorite

Sometimes I get very discouraged by the group of people I'm affiliated with---and we're not just affiliated; if you're a Christian, no matter the denomination, you are my brother or sister in Christ.  We're spending ETERNITY together.  I'll be honest, there are many Christians that I hope are busy enjoying a different part of heaven when I get there, because they bum me out.  My passion for my people has recently be reignited by a guy I've never met nor side hugged and a great little book and blog called Stuff Christians Like.  Jon Acuff, your musings tickle my funny bone like nothing has in a very long time, and I really needed it during an election year.

Why do we take ourselves so seriously?  We are a strange bunch.  Admitting this doesn't make God any less amazing or loving; it is really more amazing that he still loves us despite our shenanigans.  I'd like to pick out a couple of examples from the book, but for some reason the intense humor gets lost in translation. This weekend my husband and I were giggling at the Ninjas, Half and Halves, and Pound Cakes at our worship service and counting how many times God's favorite word was used in prayer. You just have to check it out for yourself.