finished.

I think I'm done here.  I've thought of bogging...but for whatever reason, the appeal of blogging about my life is no longer appealing to me.  I'll leave this here, because I really like some of my posts and may want to look back at them some day.  Maybe someday I'll change my mind and come back.  But for now, this blog is finished.

Something Remembered

In 4th grade, I had my first male teacher.  Mr. VanderLinden.  I remember crying when we found out I was going to be in his class, because I'd never had a man teacher and I was afraid he'd be mean.  I don't know where I got this idea, I just know I had it.  Our school always told us on our final grade card whose class we were placed in the following year.  I fretted and worried all summer about being in his class.

He turned out to be a very nice man.  He was the first teacher I had with a "lending library."  He would let us check out his own books and take them home to read.  I remember checking out a book called Christina's Ghost.  It was the first "scary" book I'd ever read and I remember staying awake all night hearing strange sounds in our attic.

He was also the only teacher that sent us postcards in the mail.  Not often, but every once in a while, and always to tell us something positive he had noticed about us in class.  He wrote one to me that he had really enjoyed a story I had written and thanked me for my effort in editing it.  That postcard was very empowering for me.

In a strange twist, my 4th grade year was the year my brother entered kindergarten.  He had the same teacher I had for my kindergarten year, Ms. Dobbs.  The spring of that year, Mr. VanderLinden proposed to Ms. Dobbs.  They married that next winter and soon had a baby boy they named Brett.

Mr. VanderLinden was a first year teacher that year...and it was the only year he taught.  OK, I don't actually know what came of him after I left elementary school, he very well could have gone back into teaching at some point.  I do know (because Ms. Dobbs/Mrs. VanderLinden was still there for two more years) that he did not return to teaching for a few years, if he did at all.  During his year as my teacher, he also worked at Foot Locker.  After the school year, he resigned and became the manager of Foot Locker and did not return to teaching. Knowing what I know now as a teacher, two things are probable.  It is likely that he made more money as a store manager than a first year teacher.  Also, first year of teaching is hard, and our small district (less than 500 kids K-12) probably offered little training, PD or support to help him adjust.

I saw a hockey scene on TV the other day and Mr. VanderLinden, who I had not thought of in years, popped into my head.  Because his classroom was decorated with a sports theme and one of the motivational posters was a hockey themed one, done by Nike.  I remember LOVING the poster, even though I had no interest in hockey at all, because the words on it were powerful.  So, remembering only the lines about the grinder sticking up for his teammates, because they're his teammates and the other guys aren't and about the stopper bringing the toilet paper on the camping trip, I headed to Google to find the poster.

It took a lot of searching, but I finally tracked it down.  I still really like it.   (It is posted below, for the curious.)

This random remembering of a man, a poster and some words makes me think that maybe as an elementary school teacher, I can really and truly have  a lasting impression on kids.  They may not think of me often, or regularly, but maybe once in a while something will trigger a memory of me.  I would like those things to be good, positive, motivational memories.   Words are powerful and can be empowering.  I want my classroom to be a place that they are.



For those who want to read the poster, here it is:
 
Hockey is a Lot Like Life
You've heard it before.
Sports are a lot like life.
But the truth is, hockey is more like life than life itself.
See, every single person in the world fits into one of five categories.
He or she is either a Grinder, a Playmaker, a Stopper, a Scorer, or a Superstar.

The Grinder
The Grinder works hard in the corners and other places nobody else wants to go.
The Grinder's the guy who doesn't have the grades to get the scholarships so he works the night shift to pay for classes.
The Grinder's willing to sacrifice the body.  Stopping a speeding puck with your face isn't pretty, but then again, neither is the name "Grinder".
The Grinder always sticks up for his teammates. Why? Because they're teammates. And the other guys aren't.

The Playmaker
The  Playmaker makes all of us look good.
The Playmaker is almost as unselfish as the Grinder, but sees the ice differently.
The Playmaker's not the President but he's not an empty-suit Vice-President either. He's more like a really powerful Secretary of State or Chief of Staff.
The Playmaker gets a point for each assist.
Because in hockey, as well as other things, an assist can be more beautiful than a goal.

The Stopper
The Stopper is different.
The Stopper makes a mistake, and a red light goes on and 10,000 people yell at him.
The Stopper's the one you count on to succeed after everyone else has failed.
The Stopper's the guy who remembers to bring the toilet paper on the camping trip.
The Stopper might be weird. But understandably so.
Thank God for the Stopper.

The Scorer
The Scorer is somebody you're very familiar with.
The Scorer was born with his own map to the right place at the right time.
The Scorer's the one who doesn't study all semester, goes out the night before, and still manages to ace the final.
You hate the Scorer.
You love the Scorer.
You watch the Scorer.

The Superstar
Simply put, the Superstar can do things no one else can.
The Superstar has his picture taken a lot.
The Superstar can't be explained.
The Superstar gets to marry anybody.
The Superstar should be watched and enjoyed.
Because the Superstar doesn't come along that often.

A post of bulleted things and stuff

I can't seem to find words enough for paragraphs, so here's some short phrases...

*I loved the 70+ degree weather we were having.
*I hate the fact that we are back in the 40s.
*I need to move to a warmer climate...

*Spring Break was this week, and in it's honor, my daffodils and forsythia blooms opened up.
*They are both gorgeous.

*On the Monday of Spring Break, I cleaned.  And cleaned.  And cleaned.
*Tuesday, I was supposed to have a meeting, arrived and found it had been cancelled...so I went back home.
*Wednesday, I went to the assessors office for a property tax reciept, got my Kia inspected and got new car license plates.  They have little handprints on them, because they are cute and benefit CASA.
*Thursday, I went to a meeting, ate lunch with the darling Lauren Scott, toured the Harmony House and went to Trivia Night at the Patton Alley Pub.  We won!
*Today, the final true day of Spring Break (I don't count the weekend as Spring Break, since we always have the weekend off), I had Orange Leaf with Trinos, returned some things to WalMart, and picked up my pottery.

*I miss Shortcake.

back to...normal?

Shortcake went back home today.  It was sudden and completely unexpected (we were told she'd be here 3-6 months).  They called at 4:15 and picked her up at 5:15, only waiting long enough for me to pack her things.  We sent her home with double what she came with, and that wasn't even sending everything (some things were only loaned to us).

When they called, I was ok.  Packing her things while she played with Donald, I was ok.  Watching the case worker walk her down the sidewalk to the car...that's where I started crying.

I started thinking about changes we had made in our house...and appointments I had made...and schedules we had arranged.  I realized how much simpler life is without planning around a kid...yet how much more I like it when I have to.

the shoe saga

Shortcake needed new shoes.  The ones she came here in were pinching her toes.  I told her on Friday that we were going shoe shopping on Saturday.  As we left school, she told Ms. Katrina that she was going to get peach shoes. 

Saturday, we went to get shoes.  They do not make peach shoes...at least not around here.  I showed her every pair of shoes.  She declared that she hated each pair and would not wear them, demanding peach shoes.

Finally, she spotted a pair of pink glitter shoes in the clearance bin for $3.75.  She said she liked them and they had them in her size.  However...they looked already ready to fall apart and they had no traction for PE and other activities.

We struck a compromise.  She could get the pink glitter shoes (seriously, not a spot of these shoes was not covered in pink glitter) if she also got tennis shoes.  I picked out two pair for her to pick from.  She said no to both...until I showed her that one pair lit up.  All was well, and we took the glitter shoes and the light up shoes and headed home.

Sunday morning we left for church.  Nugget, who has NEVER chewed on a shoe in his life, DESTROYED one of the tennis shoes that had never been worn.  Can you say jealous??  Donald went back to the store and bought an identical replacement pair.  Of course he chewed up the nice shoes, not the clearance ones!

Oh, how I wish they had just had peach shoes....

please don't go!

Spring is trying to be here.  I can sense it.  Today was warm, the buds on my forsythia are doubled in size from 1 week ago, and a few buds have opened into flowers.  The dogwood tree has little round buds ready to open soon and the grass is getting greener.  One lone daffodil has a yellow bud.

I'm eager for warmth and no coats and a world looking colorful and alive.

However, I fear that Missouri will once again tease me then yank the football away right before I kick it.

hills and valleys

Yesterday was a momentous milestone.  It was the first day since bringing Shortcake into our home with NO TIME OUTS.  She was sweet and compliant and redirectable.  I was extremely pleased with how the day went.

Naturally, you can probably figure out how today went!  She had a decent morning and day at school, followed as soon as we got home by the worst tantrum I've seen yet.  Then a normal dinner and playtime and another big tantrum getting ready for bed.

I suppose that's normal, though.  I know that my being consistent with what is acceptable and unacceptable will go a long way toward helping us have more days like yesterday.  I'm trying to make sure that no matter how our day goes, we have a nice, calm, sweet few minutes right before bed so that her day ends well.

not the mom

Today I asked Shortcake if she wanted to go get Orange Leaf.  She put her shoes and jacket on and then immediately started misbehaving.  I told her I was going to sit down and wait a few minutes and see if she could be nice, but that if she wasn't going to be nice, we were staying home.  She acted nicely the next ten minutes, so we walked out the door. 
Before I even got the door locked, she threatened to "beat my ass."  I opened the door back up, looked at her and said, "We aren't going today.  Go sit on your bed."  The ensuing fit lasted quite a while, and was pretty loud.  When she calmed down, I went in to talk to her and she apologized, then she stood up and said "Go to Orange Leaf?" I replied, "No, I said we aren't going today, we will try another day.  You can take your shoes and jacket off." 
She began tantruming again and said, "You're not the mom!"  I looked at her and said, "I know.  But we still can't go do fun things when you aren't acting nice."  I left her room and she continued screaming and throwing toys for another 10 minutes.  She screamed some more when told she could not come out of her room until the toys were back in her baskets.

An hour after the proposed trip to Orange Leaf, she was finally calm and snacking on pretzels.  Hopefully the calm lasts through the rest of the evening...we've had a fairly stormy day!

updates from the previous bulleted update...

• My CASA case did not end in January, but the child is back in her home.  We go to court March 11th, and it will most likely be closed then.  7 months from assignment to closing.  Average is 22 months.  But, it seems fortuitous that it's ending so quickly as you cannot be a CASA and a foster parent.  It's considered a conflict of interest.  God knows what He's doing!  Had I chosen the other CASA case I was offered, it's probable that it would have had to be reassigned or I could not have taken in Shortcake.  As it is, since there was only two weeks to closing when we brought her home, they let me stay on the case just to end it.
• I'm no longer considering trying to transfer schools for next year. It was decided for me!  The principal came to me this week and told me that he was notified that one of the Functional Skills classes (Westport has 2) was being moved from Westport to McGregor.  I'm hoping for a transfer to Bowerman, but if it doesn't happen, I'll be moving to McGregor.  Either way, I will be changing schools next year, since the other FS teacher has way more seniority than me and wishes to remain at Westport.  Truth is, I was 90% decided to go ahead and try for the transfer anyway and was praying that God would make it totally clear what the right thing was.  Just another example that he has it all figured out!  It was like he said, "ok, you want me to tell you to leave, here!  I'll get rid of the whole class!  Now you have to leave."  I am sad at leaving my paras and students (although if I go to Bowerman, one of the students may get sent with me, he lives closer to Bowerman than Westport and if I go to Mc Gregor, he and one other student from my room and a few from the other FS room are likely to wind up there with me).
• Paternity tests on Madi confirm what we all knew by looking at her.  She's definitely James' kid!
• I turned in my MAP-As and am thrilled to have that off my back!  Another year from now, I'll do it all over again.
• My dog is JEALOUS of Shortcake.  He does not understand at ALL why I give her attention.  The first night, he wasn't allowed in the bathroom while I got her ready for bed and he proceeded to go pee on my bed.  He got a spanking and has not tried it again, thankfully.  But he's certainly a little bit confused by this new competitor for my affections.
• I still miss my friends who have moved.  All of you, please come back???

roller coaster ride!

Well, since my last post...things are changing fast around here!  But first, before I type anything else, I have to say that I noticed tiny yellow buds on my forsythia bush today.  It was a very nice reminder that Spring really is coming, despite our drop from the beautiful 60s to the devastating 30s.  Ok, now onto the rest of life.


Last Wednesday (2-23), we were contacted to see if we would be willing to do kinship foster care for one of my students.  I can't put any details about why here, for obvious reasons.  We discussed it and prayed and decided to do it.  Thursday we said yes, and submitted for abuse and neglect background checks.  Friday, they called and asked to place her that night, pending a walk through of the house.

A social worker came and did the walk through, leaving me with a list of things to change before the licensing worker came.  Off we went to the other foster home and picked her up.  For the purpose of this blog, I am now joining the world of online nicknames.  Due to her love, bordering on obsession, of Strawberry Shortcake, I will be calling her Shortcake here.  We took Shortcake with us to Walmart, to pick up a few items the social worker said we needed.  New lock for the basement door, fire extinguisher, and carbon monoxide detector.  We also let Shortcake pick a few food items she might want.  Corn dogs, yogurt and lemonade.  We drove through Burger King and headed home.

Life's been busy ever since!  It's been good though, although it is definitely an adjustment to having to plan around someone who needs dinner by six and bedtime by 7:30.

Besides our walk through, we've also gotten fingerprinted and had a home visit.  Next week the licensing agent comes for our first home study.  I've had calls to make, errands to run and forms to fill out every day since we brought her home and I'm not sure that will stop anytime soon.

We went to church last Sunday, and she made it through the entire service in her Sunday School class.  The rest of the day was spent rearranging to turn the home office into a proper girl's bedroom and a corner of our room into the home office.  Deloris, my marvelous para, gave us a cabinet to use for her clothes, since that room had no dresser.  She also gave us a kids bench with some toy storage under the seat.  My dear, sweet friend Melody gave us a kitchen set and various other toys.  Shortcake had asked about thirty times Saturday if I had a kitchen set, so this delivery was the most exciting one for her!  I purchased a round purple rug and some curtains with polka dot circles on them to make the room look like a bedroom.  I also got a ton of baskets to put on a bookshelf to keep the toys in. The room turned out really cute.  A teacher at school brought me some cute clothes her daughter had outgrown, too.  Shortcake and I had craft time to make thank you cards for all the people who donated stuff for her. 

Today, after receiving permission from bio mom and social services, I took Shortcake to get her hair cut.  It was desperately needed, as her bangs were in her eyes and her hair is too fine to stay in a barrette or braid.  I took her to Cookie Cutters, because I figured if she squirmed and rocked, they'd be the ones with the kid experience to handle it.  She picked out a Strawberry Shortcake DVD to watch while they cut her hair.  Other than needing a lot of prompts to keep looking down (but seriously, they put in a DVD and then for the first five minutes tell the kid not to look at it?  Does that make any sense?), she did really well.  I also took her to Melody's daughter's birthday party.  She did great at the party, too, and was very proud of her dress and shiny shoes.

My two favorite memories of the week:
1.  Watching her come out of her room in a new-to-her skirt and telling Donald she looked cute.  He proceeded to dance with her in the living room.  Great start to a day!
2.  Today she informed me that I am not Amber, I am her Ms. Hawkins. (I've told her she is allowed to call me Amber, but she's having none of it!)

This is a new adventure...I'm looking forward to seeing how it unfolds!

hey! an update!

Here's a bulleted list of things I have to say, but have no time to expand upon!

• We've lived in our house a year and a month now.  I still love it.
• The house across the street has had three door colors in 13 months.  It was hunter green, then maroon and is now a beigy yellow.  I'm confused by someone having a hobby of painting the front door...
• My Christmas tree is up, as of tonight.  I LOVE having a sparkly, glowing tree in my living room.  It makes me feel warm.  Pictures soon.
• Which makes another point!  My husband got me an early Christmas gift the day after Thanksgiving of a new camera!  My old one had a cracked battery compartment and using it was very complicated.
• My CASA case is going well...so well, in fact, that the judge believes it will be over by the end of January.  Meaning my first case will last less than 5 months from appointment to dismissal.  Crazy!  They told me the average case is 22 months!
• I'm considering trying to transfer schools for next year.  But, I'm very attached to my paras and my students, which is making it a very difficult decision.
• I made piggy banks for my brother's three kids for Christmas at Firehouse Pottery.  I love them, they are totally adorable!  Pictures soon.
• Oh, there's another point.  My brother now has three kids.  Madilynn Rae was born the Saturday before Thanksgiving.  Paternity tests are pending, but she looks just like Sage, who has a different mother, so it's just a formality at this point.
• Ugly Tree Party is tomorrow!  My ornament...ugly, but I have doubts as to it's potential to win.
• Bryan's here.  I love it when Bryan's here.  I'm going to keep him captive and not let him go home.
• MAP-A is a complete and total pain.  An arbitrary and ridiculous assessment that tests the teacher much more than the students.
• My dog is still amazing.  I cannot imagine him not following me around all the time.  
• I miss my friends who have moved.  All of you, please come back???

That's all for now.  Bye!

bell ringer

When I got Nugget, I decided to bell train him.  I didn't want him scratching to go outside, since our doors are wooden.  And Donald hates whining, so I didn't want him to whine to go out.  But I wanted to train him to signal to go out. I settled on bell training.  I went to the pet store to get bells...and they wanted 14.99- 19.99 apiece!  I figured I could make them cheaper. 

So, I headed to Hobby Lobby and purchased a wide brown grosgrain ribbon roll with multicolored swirlies and a narrow cream satin ribbon roll with pawprints in those same colors.  Ribbon being 50% off helped, too.  I bought  rings that open and close, created to hold cross stitch floss, but I used them as the part that goes around the doorknob.  I also bought key rings to hold the bells.  And of course, I bought the bells.  Hobby Lobby being ready for Christmas already was nice, since I got to have a lot of options!  All total, I spent $8 on supplies for 2 potty chimes.  Not bad at all.

Since I am not a sewer, I used hot glue to put the smaller ribbon on the larger one, then I threaded it through the top and bottom rings and glued it shut.  I even made bows and glued those on!  Yay for hot glue!!

2 days later, I took Nugget with me to my mom's house.  He had only used the bell once unprompted.  I took the bells with us, and hung them on the doors at mom's, but since people were constantly in and out of the house, we didn't really use them.  When I came home, I realized I had left them there.

We went to Bryan's the next weekend and I had not had time to remake them.

Last week I finally remade them.  I had to rebuy ribbon, but it was still on sale for half price.  I also rebought bells, but I still had several rings.  In the end, I spent $13 and made 4 sets of potty chimes!

The first couple days after I remade them, he would only use them if I told him to "ring the bell" and pointed at it.  But yesterday and today, he has used them regularly without prompting.  I take him out as soon as he rings and he goes!  I'm so glad it's working!!

And, since pictures always help, here are my potty chimes!  (These are actually pics of the first set I made, but the second set used the same materials, so they look about the same.)

Front door chimes with pawprint bow.

Backdoor chimes with swirlie bow.

Actually, looking closely, I realize my bows look much better on the second set.  I winged it on the first go.  I watched the Martha Stewart ribbon bow tutorial on the second time around.  I'm not kidding.  I might post pics just to show how much I've improved!

I wanted both bows to be the swirlies, since so little of the swirlie ribbon shows up in the background.  But both times, I ran short of it and had to make one bow from each kind.  Oh well, it's still cute!

my favorite picture right now

                                                     I love this picture.  That is all.

bowls of distraction

Here are the bowls I painted at Hanna's shower.  I used the primary fur color of the pet for the base, the color of their collar for the main accent color and a second accent that went well with the first two colors.

Jax's is black with red and orange accents.

Dash's is white with royal blue and red accents.

Nugget's is brown with light blue/turquoise and light green accents.

I love how they turned out!  I am thinking I may go back this fall and paint piggy banks for my brother and cousin's kids for Christmas.

baby showers...

I have a really hard time with baby showers.  I tend to leave a little (in the past, more than a little) depressed. 

It's totally contradicted by my insane love of shopping for babies.  And how much I love to actually hold, cuddle, smell, play with and coo at the baby once it's born.

Tonight was Hanna's baby shower.  I felt guilty when she first got pregnant that I said to her, "I can't handle throwing you a baby shower.  I'm sorry, but I just can't."  I really hope I didn't hurt her feelings when I said it.  If I did, it was not my intention.

I threw Hillery one for both Gabbie and Davy.  Gabbie was easy, since I had no idea I was infertile.  Davy was a little harder since I knew I had issues that might complicate things, but I could handle it with minimal sadness since I still didn't know that babies were completely off the table yet.

But these days, after years of trying, wishing, hoping, praying, crying and finally (more or less) accepting that it isn't in the cards...baby showers drive home the fact a little harder than I can handle.

For a couple years, I went to showers and cried on the way home.  For another couple, I avoided them like the plague.  I only recently decided I could handle them again.  The one I went to in January, I got lucky.  I left with no sadness because someone managed to piss me off, so I left angry!

I desperately wanted to attend Hanna's.  I love her.  And I've been friends with her for so long.  I knew she would understand if I couldn't.  I had her blessing to bow out.  It took me awhile, but I decided I would go.  (I debated the merits of a few shots beforehand to help me out...)

I have to say, I'm so, so, so grateful to Heather P.  First for throwing the shower that I could not muster up the strength to give (and I know Heather has had a few challenges lately that may have made this just as difficult for her).  But also, for planning a shower at Firehouse Pottery.  It enabled me to focus on Hanna, and then just lose myself in painting, emerging to watch her open my gift and then dive back into the diversion of creating pet bowls.  No games to play and no forced participation in a circle of oohing and aahing over tiny cute baby things.  It helped, so much.

I picked a spot a little out of the way, so that if I was too quiet or got sad, maybe no one would notice.  It wasn't necessary, since I had something else to occupy myself with.  I can honestly say I only felt a twinge of sadness leaving.  And that's the best it's ever been for me.

Hanna, I love you.  I am glad I could participate in tonight's festivities.  I can't wait to see Blueberry Bedskirt A.A. Lyons.  I've been hoping she'll have Joy's freckles.  I think freckles are cute.  Please pass my thanks to Heather, who did a great job tonight.  I thought the little corked bottles of shrinking potion were the cutest thing I've ever seen on a refreshment table.

A thank you note through the mail seems weird when you share an address, so...

Summer is halfway over now.  Not quite, but since I know when I start back to working in my room, I know that it is for me.  Plus, I am a "teacher trainer" for the new SunGard Data System and have to do the training for that on the 8th of August.  I am considering that to be the end of my summer.

I've been kept busy by Nugget this summer.  I've had less time to miss school, my mind has been well occupied.  THAT'S A GOOD THING!  I've felt less of the sadness, loneliness, pointlessness and aimlessness that invaded the last few summers.

I'm a person that needs goals and accomplishments.  Plans and (rough) schedules.  Something to do.  People to see.  Lists to cross off.  A purpose to my day.  Rather, I should say that I've become a person who needs those things.  Because if you knew me in college (or before)...well, I still needed people to see, but the rest of the list...not so much!

But the last 3 years or so, its been important to me that I have that structure in my life.  I have learned to thrive within it and when it's taken from me for long periods, I feel lost.

This summer, though, has FLOWN by.  Between 11 days at mom's and 4 at Bryan's, I've really only been home 17 days.  With Nugget and a "to-do" list each day, I've had little time to feel lost.

And I am so, so thankful for that.  It may be an exaggeration, but only a slight one, to say that this dog was my saving grace this summer.  He gave me a purpose and happiness.  I have a vivid enough imagination to know exactly what this summer would have been like without him.

And so, thank you sweet, dear husband.  For caving in to my persistent, annoying pestering about a puppy.  I know you'd rather have stuck with no, but only because you had no idea how much I needed this.  Thank you for saying yes.  Thank you for loving me that much.   It means everything.

I'm official!

On June 4th, I was sworn in by Judge Jones of the Juvenile Court as a Court Appointed Special Advocate for Kids. Want proof? Fine. Here you go!

This is me with the judge and my graduating class of advocates.  I also recieved a graduation certificate, a CASA pin and badge and a pencil shaped like gavel.  Now, I just have to await the return of a clear background check and I will recieve a case!

The many naps of Nugget

Puppies do three things with the majority of their day.  Pee 40 times, take 30 naps and chew anything they can get their teeth on! 

He's definately going to be long haired.  His coat is starting to grow in on his ears and the backs of his legs.  He's also gained 2 pounds since I got him 10 days ago!

He likes to go bye-bye in the car.  We went to Andy's the other night and he got a puppy cone.  He ate it so fast he was shivering!  Yesterday I took him to the SPS Community Fair and he got tons of attention, ate a lot of dropped popcorn and fell in love.  He would have easily left me and gone home with the new love of his life.  The Honeybaked Ham lady.  She gave him ham and for the rest of the time he tried to pull me back to her booth!

 I made three pet beds, it's the black and white paw print bed seen above. Dash and Nugget both like them, Jax could care less. I keep one in the car and when Nugget goes bye-bye with me I make him stay on it, which helps him have some boundries and keeps me driving safer!

I am going to try to get him approved as a therapy dog, either through Love on a Leash or Therapy Dogs International.  He has to be a year old first, but that gives me time to work on all the skills he will need to be certified.  He loves everyone, so he would make a great therapy dog.  He lets anyone love and cuddle him.  The only thing he has been afraid of is the Springfield Cardinals mascot at the community fair yesterday!  And really, who can blame him for being afraid of the giant bird man?

Donald was not thrilled with the idea of getting a dog.  And normally, him telling me no would have decided it for me.  I would have dropped it and moved on.  I try not to do things that he really doesn't want or would make him unhappy.  But, with this, I just couldn't.  I really wanted a dog.  I needed him.  So I pestered, and eventually Donald gave in.  In fact, I think this is the first time I have every really gone against his decision for something big.  I felt bad about it, but somehow I couldn't stop myself.  And if he had kept saying no, I never would have gotten him.  I would not have brought home a dog without him saying, however grudgingly, that I could.

The truth is, this puppy makes me happier than I have been in quite awhile. He needs me and it's nice to feel needed. Plus he is cute and loving and cuddly. He adores me and follows me everywhere and makes it impossible to feel too sad.
And yes, I know that I am using him to replace having a baby.  I'm filling a void.  I'm aware of the psychological implications.  I'm ok with that.  I'm not treating him like a human, or demanding that anyone else do so.  He has boundries, discipline and is being trained to be a good dog.  I'm not off the deep end, and I'm trying to keep it healthy.

A furbaby for me!

While finding myself surrounded with loved ones and colleagues having babies this spring and summer, I have decided to take on raising a little one myself.  Since I can't have the human variety, I have settled on the furry type.  On Thursday, the first day of summer break, I adopted a dachshund.  It seemed the right time, since it gives me all of summer break to train him. 

His name is officially Nixon Daniel, but his nickname is Nugget.  He's wonderfully precious and snuggly, with soft floppy ears and these chubby short legs! 

His momma is a miniature wirehaired dapple dachshund and his daddy is a standard longhaired red dachshund.  Momma weighs 9 pounds, daddy 18, so Nugget should end up in the low-mid teens when fully grown.  Nugget has tan and black ears that look like a longhaired doxie, but the rest of his hair is short.  He has mostly smooth reddish tan fur, but he has some black on his back that feels more like wirehair texture. 

I got him at 11:30 am on Thursday and he ran errands with me for 4 hours!  He did great in the car and on the leash.  We went to All Pet Supply to get a harness, leash, toys and food.  Then we went to Parkview High School and got my new school ID picture taken.  He's not in the picture but he was in my lap during it!  We headed to the vet to get worm and flea meds (just in case!) for him and the cats and to make an appointment for puppy vaccines.  He gets his shots at 2:30 on Tuesday.  Then we drove over to the Foundation office (which relocated way south on Golden past Republic Road) and turned in my grant applications.  After that, we headed to the Collado's to pick up Jen, drove through Sonic and headed home to meet the cats.

The cats are not fans.  Not at all.  They hiss and puff up when they are near him and he's awake.  Jax has even swiped at him a couple times but not made contact.  Dash just avoids him.  But when he's sleeping they both seem to want to get close and sniff him and see what this new creature might be.  I'm hoping that in time, they will come to an amicable indifference, at least!  He is smaller than both of them right now, so he's pretty timid once they start hissing. He tries to crawl up my leg for safety!

I'm trying to balance the line of being his nurturer and his Alpha.  Small dogs tend to get yappy, snippy and overly territorial if they think they are the pack leader.  He's doing well with sit and come commands.  No bark, no whine and no bite are still confusing ones!  He's a puppy, so he does want to chew.  But I am trying to tell him every time he chews me (or an undesirable object) "No bite!" Then I give him an appropriate object and say, "Bite toy.  Good Nugget!"  So far it's working.  He also walks beside or behind me instead of leading on the leash, which is a good indication that he sees me as Alpha right now. 

We are working on crate training, and he does cry, but when I have come home, he's quiet and calm in the crate.  He has not had a single accident in the house or the crate!  I've been vigilant about keeping him near me, because of the cats and the chewing and the house training, so that helps.  I also take him out once an hour when he isn't crated.  He was paper/puppy pad trained when I got him, but I don't want to use them.  It seems like teaching them that sometimes it is ok to potty in the house.

Yesterday, I had my CASA swearing in ceremony in the afternoon and Aaron's birthday in the evening, so he had two stints in the crate of 3-4 hours and seemed to do fine.  When I get him out, he needs a lot of hugs and reassurance, but then he's fine.

He hunts worms when I have him in the yard.  Doxies were bred to hunt moles and rabbits, which is why they are tunnel shaped.  When he sniffs a worm in the grass, he pulls it right up out of the dirt and is so proud.  He carries it in his mouth for a couple minutes then drops it.

Right now, my biggest dilemma is night time.  I haven't figured that one out yet!  He does sleep 5-6 hours straight at night, which is really good...but only if he's beside me.   If it were just me, with it being summer and having a flexible sleep schedule, I would work on crating at night, even though I know he would whine and cry a lot.  But Donald has to work and therefore sleep! I wish we had a place in the house where I could crate him and let him whine some until he figures out that at night, he has to sleep there.  But no matter where I put the crate in the house, we can hear him and he can hear us.  Nugget won't sleep on the floor if I am in the bed, he just keeps trying to jump up with me and whines and barks.  I can't let him sleep in the bed because the cats sleep in the bed and it doesn't seem fair to take their bed away when they are already so upset that the puppy is even in the house!  Night one, Nugget and I slept on the couch.  Last night, we crashed on the air mattress.  I don't want to sleep out of my own bed, without Donald, forever.  So I do have to figure this out.  If anyone has any suggestions, let me hear them! 

And here are some cutie pie pictures of my Nugget!

I didn't do it

I chose not to publish my story at this time.  I haven't decided yet if I "chickened out" or used valid reasoning.  It would have hurt people I love.  It may have caused irreparable damage to a relationship with my mom that is, for all its flaws, unconditionally loving and supportive.  And so, I just couldn't do it.  Not now, not yet, maybe not ever.

I can finally talk about what happened in my life, to both friends and strangers.  I still choose whether or not I want to based on setting, reasons for discussing it and other factors.  But I am able to do it. 

However, there is a huge gap between being able to tell my own story and handing my story to someone else to tell.  For them to edit it down to what they feel are the "important parts" and then give their version of the events to anyone and everyone.  And the feeling of handing over the control of to whom, when and where my story is told wasn't a step I was ready for.

In our CASA training a couple weeks ago, a man presenting to us declared, "It is not possible to be a drug addict and a good parent simultaneously.  The two are mutually exclusive.  You just can't be both."

I disagree.  I think there are probably few exceptions, but the exceptions exist.  My dad was exactly as he says.  But my mom, she was an exception.

I am not just saying that.  I have thought about it for YEARS, examined it from every angle, relived events and conversations.  It's true.  She was a good parent.  Perfect, no.  She made mistakes, sometimes huge ones.

But I grew up KNOWING that my mom was my biggest fan.  And that is an important reason I made it to the place I am in.  It's a huge factor in why I attended school, made good grades, was involved in extracurricular activities and volunteering, went to college and made it through.

I remember a few days after my dad's arrest that my grandparents bailed him out to await trial.  I was in a car with my grandma after that and she said to me that they had done it for my brother and I, that they didn't want him to be away from us and that he needed to work to pay child support.  I told her the child support was all fine and dandy, but that him being away from us would be a good thing, not a bad thing.  She was angry, and responded from what I believe to be the place of being his mother, saying, "You blame your dad for everything.  Well, you should know that your mom used drugs with him, too!"

For the only time in my life, I felt like slapping my grandma.  She's a great, Godly woman who would fit in well on 50's housewife tv shows, ala Donna Reed.  She's sweet and even tempered and patient.  I love her.  But that day, I wanted to hurt her.  I still feel pain when I really think about how much of that time she spent defending my father and how little time she spent defending us, protecting us, or even considering how we felt about the whole situation.  After all, we were the ones who had lived in it.

I can't remember exactly how I phrased my response to her, except to say that it was LOUD and was the first time (and only) I had ever cussed in front of her.  I distinctly remember using both damn and fucking, and there may have been more.  I was mad, hurt and my teenage brain couldn't think of better words to describe exactly what I was thinking and feeling.

I remember though, what the essence of my response was.  I let her know that , DUH! I knew, and had known for a VERY long time that my mom used drugs, too.  And should she have?  No.  Was it stupid? Yes.  Was it my dad's fault? No.  My mom was a child of the 60's and 70's.  She was smoking dope before she ever dated my dad.  I know that.  However, my mom held down a steady job, always, my entire life.  My dad spent many, many years unemployed and not even looking for a job, content to get high on the couch while my mom supported us.  My mom made sure we had lunch money, school supplies, clothes and food.  My dad did not, in fact my dad spent the propane money on drugs while our house was so cold water on my nightstand froze solid.  My mom was on time to pick us up when we were at friends houses, girl scouts, baseball games, etc.  My dad was either late or didn't show up at all and we had to bum a ride from a kind parent of a friend.  When we got back home, we would either find he was passed out and not answering the phone, or not there entirely, but at a friends house getting high.  My mom didn't use drugs in front of us.  My dad used them not only in front of us, but in the car with us while driving.  When I complained of the smell (not being brave enough to tell him he was risking our lives), he told me to shut up and roll the window down.  My mom was there for me, she cared about me and for me.  My dad was just there.  And even that was sporadic.  My mom never disappeared for days at a time to sleep with other people.  My dad had a habit of it.  My mom loved me.  My dad never had, or at least had never acted in such a way that would cause me to believe he had.  So, yeah, she used drugs, but their behavior toward me resulted in an entirely different attitude toward them.  So did I care if my dad was out of jail?  Not even a little bit.  In fact, I thought jail was a pretty good place for him.

My grandma cried and said nothing else to me that car ride.  She dropped me off at home and to my recollection didn't speak to me for a couple of weeks, at which point she decided to act like nothing had happened and never bring it up again.  In fact, we never spoke of my parents drug use again until this January when I hotlined my brother for drug use.  She was upset that I had done it because, "What about the kids?"  I told her that I had been those kids and that no one tried to protect me and that I wouldn't do that to them.  That when they grew up and wanted to know who tried to step in, at least they could say someone did.  They didn't have to feel like no one tried.  She said, "Well, I hope you don't blame me for not protecting you.  I didn't even know half of what was going on."  That might be true...but I have a hard time believing that the signs weren't there if you weren't avoiding noticing them.

It's not just my childhood that makes me feel more strongly toward my mother.  In my adult life, my mother has apologized to me.  She has accepted blame, admitted her behavior was stupid, admitted to being selfish.  She said she tried her best but screwed up, and I believe that.  She's a loving woman.  She has a huge heart.  She accepts anyone I bring into her home and loves them just because I do.  She treats people with the kindness that more Christians should try and emulate.

In my adult life, my father has written me an "apology letter."  He feels this is sufficient for me to move on and have a "father-daughter" relationship with him.  However, in his letter, he accepted no blame.  He said, "I really thought at the time that what I was doing was the right thing."  Sorry for my language here, but BULLSHIT.  No one could possible think that the the things he was doing were right, ok, good for his family, or anything even approaching the realm of being right.  If he really thought that, then he was on a whole lot better and stronger drugs than I even knew existed.  He then spent the next two pages of the letter detailing all the ways I had been such a disappointment to him as a daughter.  Really?  No, really???  Seriously?  I graduated high school, college, have a career that I am damn good at, I don't use drugs, I don't get drunk, I've never been arrested, I am not a criminal, I didn't have 3 babies by 3 babydaddies, I didn't even tell him all the things I wanted to yell at him for my entire life.  Which part of that is a disappointment?  How have I lived my life in such a way as to emotionally wound him?  You've got to be kidding me.

I called him and discussed the letter, but I still didn't say a lot of what I wanted to.  It was easier not to fight, mostly because I wasn't emotionally invested in having a relationship with him anymore.  You really only fight when emotions are invested.  I had decided long ago to keep it surface and casual but cordial, for everyone's sake. He asked if he could call me once a week and talk and try to get closer.  I agreed and the result were exactly what I had expected.  He called me weekly for 5 weeks, then an average of once a month for 3 months, then...nothing.  Holidays and birthdays, maybe.  And that's the essence of my whole life with my dad.  A little effort, then nothing, then blaming me that it didn't work.  Yes, according to him I am to blame, as he said at Christmas, "You know you never call me.  I'm starting to think your phone is broken."  Excuse me?  The agreement was that you would call me once a week.  Not that you'd sit back and see if I would call you so that you could be hurt when I didn't and blame the fact that we don't have a relationship on me.  I know that sounds bitter.  That's because it is.  I am tired of him believing that all the problems in our relationship are due to me, my actions and my behaviors.  Everyone has crosses to bear, and bitterness is one of mine.  I know it.  I try to deal with it.  But, just as Jesus came off the cross and then was buried and rose again, I can only bury the bitterness for so long.  Then it rises back up in me.  It will probably be the biggest battle of my life, to not let bitterness take me over.

He has had periods of trying, I'll give him that.  He even gave us a car this year, for which we are extremely grateful.  But I do wonder what the motive was.  Was it really to bless us?  Because in conversation with both him and my stepmom, it seems that at least part of the motive was to hurt my brother's feelings.  I hope that isn't the case, but I probably won't ever really definitively know.

But in the end, so few children of addicts can really say they have a good parent-child relationship.  In that way, I've been lucky.  And I can't just throw that away by throwing all my mom's mistakes in her face.  And, to be fair, I can't write my story in such a way that absolves her, either.  So, at this point, I chose not to give CASA the rights to my story.  I think its the right choice right now.  It comes down to a judgment call, there is no distinct right answer.  Feel free to disagree with my decision, but please do know, and accept, that it had to be MY decision.