laughing yogi: this is good for you

Hot Dog - Molly's our Girl!

It's hot in Austin. I have to remember to water the outside plants. The cats help with this, they lounge on the porch like aging southern belles waiting for a mint julep. I sprinkle catnip around them and put ice in their water bowl. It's the least I can do, they ask for so little.

The dogs, they ask for much. Molly, our oldest, sweetest girls is likely on her last summer. I know I've been saying this for years, for six years, since she first waddled up to my front door from wherever she came from. She's not looking so good, she's not moving too well.

Molly is the smartest dog of our little four dog pack. Case in point: A summer rainstorm
Keni worries, paces, drools and tells the others "this is the big one, I know it, better start praying and getting everyone in the same room". Cowgirl, always impressionable, believes him and shakes in terror. Roy just gets more neurotic and starts eating paper. Molly goes into the garage, finds an old towel to lay on and takes a nap. She's been through storms, she knows they cool things down and they don't last long.

file under: dogs

I just put Molly on special Arthritis medicine a week ago. My vet, who I adore, didn't even make me bring her in for an exam first. They all know that she's been working on her exit speech for awhile. After a day and a half on the meds, Molly was perkier. She'd hop up for a dog treat, she'd put her head on my lap and ask for pets.

I've been joking that Molly was about to die since the summer she first waddled up to my front door. I didn't know anything about her, but a neighbor told me she'd been wandering the neighborhood for awhile and no one would claim her. At the time I lived in the "good" school district, people there had money, but they weren't too nice to their pets or to stray pets. Molly picked out my house and I guess I didn't complain too much, so she stayed. She'd come up to the front door every morning, go somewhere in the afternoon and be back in time for dinner.

So here she still is.

She moved with us to this house, she has the run of the back yard and a comfy doggie bed. She has her special pills and yet she doesn't ask for much.

Truth: I always considered her a bit annoying. She loves to bark for attention, she wags her tail on the wood floor and makes a lot of noise, it's happy noise, but it's noise-- still I love the old girl and I'm gonna miss her.

I didn't know her as a puppy, I met her when she was between 9 and 15 years old, according to the vet's estimate. (This would make her between 15 and 21 years old now.) I can guess that she loved to play ball, she still follows bouncing balls when she can see them through her cataracts. She probably had a few stuffed animals, she's been collecting these even in her old age. She was brave, I'm sure. Once I got a note from a delivery man that he was afraid of the dog on my front porch. This was back in the old house when Molly would lay at the front door every day, when we were still deciding if she might have some other home. At the time, it cracked me up to think of an old, almost toothless dog scaring a grown man. Now, I've seen the old girl's loyalty myself and it doesn't surprise me a bit.

Here's her picture with her skunk. This was taken 6 years ago, she's a lot grayer now, but other than that, she looks about the same. We haven't seen the skunk in several years, though.

a few words about Moms

I spent all day Thursday cutting together a slide show for the annual end of year choir concert. In spite of a big work deadline, a lot of work to do for the next phase of color correction for jumping, and a growing list of to do items, I was cutting pictures and video, adding titles, transitions and music, to give all the kids a visual reminder of their year in choir. The seniors got their own segment complete with baby pictures and senior pictures. We've all seen these end of year slide shows, they follow a pattern. Pictures, provacative music, etc.etc.
This was my third one and most likely, my last, as my daughter graduates in two weeks.

All through Annalise's childhood I've shot dance recitals, choir concerts, plays, talent shows, synchronized swim meets, musicals, music revues, awards ceremonies, voice recitals, even soccer games, and edited them into nice little pieces to give to other parents, other kids, coaches, teachers, etc.

Some Moms make cookies, some some show up at 6 a.m. to run garage sales, or drive vanloads of kids on field strips, I've done some of that too, but mostly, I've done the camera work and editing and VHS and now DVD making.

That's what Mom's do.

Each Mom has her own style. None of us know it all, none of us have it all down, none of us know the only or best way to be a Mom (though some certainly think they do). This is why I've loved being a Mom and meeting so many other Moms through the years. Each of us struggles to find our best way to be a Mom.

The best way to get me riled up and on my soapbox is to mention something about what all Moms "should" do. We should all, for example, put work last and kid first, all the time, every day, no matter what. If life were simple and easy, that might be possible, but it's not. There are days you have to go to work when your kid needs you, there are moments when you have to sit your kid in front of a video and grab a few minutes to write down a thought or two. There are times when you have to make a choice between giving yourself a break and building up resentment. It's a fine line sometimes and that's just how it is. There is honor in allowing yourself to be just a "sort of okay Mom" for an afternoon just as there is honor in spending an entire day rendering slide shows for the choir kids.

Through it all, my daughter was always the biggest part of my life and the part I worked hardest to be my best at.

I enjoy being a Mom and that's not to say it isn't hard. It is. The time the cat died, the time we moved, the time she wasn't chosen for something she wanted, the time I had to call her out at second base, the time we were both in the hospital and I had to see her all bandaged up and weak and sad because she was missing the 6th grade dance, those were the hardest. It's still hard to think about those times. Did I say and do the right things? Was I good enough?

After the big end of year choir concert and the slide show, two people I have a lot of respect for came up to me and told me how impressed they are with my daughter. She's confident and self assured and self possessed all in a good way. She is ready to take on the world. How did I do it?

I winged it, that's how I did it. I've been an officially solo parent, since my daughter was 18 months old. Still, there were always people right next to me: my parents, my brother, cousins, amazing teachers, choir directors, neighbors, friends, camp counselors. There were also quite a few dogs and cats and fish and a couple of horses.

So, it appears we've made it through the craziest roughest part: Birth to High School Graduation. It flew by. I messed up a lot. Sometimes I did things really well, mostly I was just good enough.


Years ago, a woman my age once pointed at me in a crowd of "friends" and said, "I'm sure Stacy would do things differently if she could". Meaning I would somehow go back in time and not have gotten divorced, or perhaps married someone else, or done something different so things were "better". I didn't have the confidence or the insight then to tell her that she didn't have a clue, that life isn't perfect and we can't guarantee our kids a perfect life, or a perfect set of parents, all we can do is give it our best.
Now, I'd just tell her, "I wouldn't change a moment."

file under: life of a mom

my dream

In my dream, Annalise and I are vacationing in some tiny mountain village. She leaves every morning down a dirt path to "work" while I hang out in the village and meet people, shop, have coffee, read books. She comes back in the evening and we sleep in our little car/travel trailer.
I tell her I will follow her to work so I know how to get there in an emergency. She tells me that you can only go there on foot and it's treacherous. So, I tell her I'll follow her around the darkened town to make sure she's safe and knows how to avoid danger.
We walk through the village at night, no lights at all, and she has to pick which path to take, while I whisper from a few steps behind. I tell her, to head for the middle of town, stay away from the side streets, there's someone up there, turn here, avoid that.
It goes on and on.
There is no trouble, there is no danger, there is only my concern of not being there to protect her, as if somehow that would always be my job.

file under: life of a mom

passages

Kat is married. She's now Mrs. Kat Candler. She and Mark seem like a perfect fit, a dear, dear couple. Their circle of family and friends is stronger than titanium and full of good hearts.

A weekend of people coming together, new friends, old friends, sudden rainstorms, muddy paw prints, lots of good wishes, good food and a wonderful wedding ceremony that had almost everyone in tears. We danced and ate and laughed and cried together. There were heartful Dr. Pepper toasts and one amazing poem that my new friend Ama wrote this very morning. My fridge is full of pickles and ketchup and mustard and fruit salad left over from the rehearsal dinner.

I'm so happy for the couple and I'm happy for everyone who knows them.

Next, it's my own little passage when my daughter graduates into the next stage of her life.

Life just keeps going on in it's own wonderful little way.

file under: friends