Second Born Son

Puppy Tale

/ Sarah / 3 Comments

Like all great stories, this one starts off with “Once Upon A Time”.

I’m going to prepare you now – this is a bum nummer and you may require Kleenex. I’ll wait for you.

Ready? ONCE UPON A TIME a friend of mine at work, who is a fellow dog lover, told me about a litter of pups that was in the custody of the local animal control. Then she sent me a photo….

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…and that wasn’t a good thing.

The Big Guy and I had been discussing the possibility of adding to our family in the four-legged fashion. You see Roman had been demonstrating a lot of clinginess.

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He was really missing us while we were at work and school, and I remembered our German Shepherds while I was growing up. They did really well with a buddy.

At first The Big Guy came to a logical conclusion; dog x2 = food $ x2 and poop x100. I mentioned his math was a little off and suggested we go have a look at the pups. Between my friend at work and the Animal Control, they gave us the story on the litter.

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The original family lost their home in a fire. They were made aware of the fire by adult dogs, Angel and Max. They had a young litter of pups, but were able to make their humans aware of the danger they were in and everyone escaped safely. Their bravery was rewarded by being locked up in the shell of a house, left to starve to death. Fortunately neighbors contacted Animal Control and the family was quickly relocated and cared for.

Animal Control contacted the local “Humane Society” to assume responsibility of the canine family.

<PAUSE> I have to employ the use of quotations here for no other reason than my lack of respect for this organization. Now I know, many of you will protest that “Humane Societies” do great work and have provided support for countless animals. Unfortunately, I have not had this experience. Without broaching Slander, we’ll leave it at that, okay? <PLAY>

“HS” advised animal control that they would take the father and the mother, but was not interested in the pups, to the extent that they stated they would euthanize them. Yup – you read that right; KILL THEM THERE PUPPIES. The rep at Animal Control couldn’t abide by that. She offered to care for the pups and raise them until they were weaned, if “HS” would take them on at that age. It was agreed that “HS” would provide the necessary shots for the pups and would get the four, three males and a female, when they were of age to adopt. “HS” came for the male, as there was no need for him to stay on with Animal Control, and he left his little family.

A week or so later, when the time came for the first shots, the Animal Control rep contacted “HS” and booked a date, asking how the father had fared in the adoption process.

“Oh, we had to euthanize him.” she was told. YUP KILLED HIM!!! The rationale? He was “nippy”.

<PAUSE> Let’s take a moment here and review the facts. 1. The dog had been in a house fire. 2. The human family he loved and in fact, SAVED, had abandoned him. 3. He was left to starve with his brand new litter and mate. 4. He was taken from his home to Animal Control and then to “HS”. I think it’s fair to say he had a couple of reasons to be “nippy”. <PLAY>

The Animal Control rep was devastated. She said she had the male for more than a week, and he did have an aggressive personality, but she was able to work with him and felt he would be a wonderful pet for someone who was interested in giving him love and stability; understanding the trauma he had been through. He had calmed considerably in the time she had him.

With heavy hearts, we decided to see the pups in person, as the story was indeed intriguing.

2013-04-27 13.40.38Within minutes, we knew, we had to put our name in for one of the pups. Second Born Son joined me and The Big Guy as we met with Animal Control and got up close and personal with the pups. We asked if we could adopt from Animal Control, and they referred us to “HS”, who indicated, no, we would have to get our application in like anyone else. I asked if we could get on top of the list, as we were very  interested, were the first ones to contact them, and would even have agreed to help support the pup while it was with Animal Control. Would it not be easier on the puppy if we just moved him from Animal Control to our home? Was it not in the best interest of the animal??

“HS” wasn’t interested.

I didn’t have a good feeling about “HS”.

In spite of this, The Big Guy agreed that we should move ahead. We told First Born Son that we were going to look into adopting another pup. He questioned this, stating he was happy with one dog, until we showed him a photo…

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And that, my friends, was THAT. Hook, line and sinker.

So we waited to hear that the pups were at “HS”. SBS and I headed to “HS” the first day applications were accepted. We planned on buying the puppy gear we would need on the same trip, so we would be ready to be new parents – again.

We asked to see the puppies and I was advised I’d have to turn over my driver’s license. When I asked why, I was advised by the “HS” rep, “So you don’t walk out of here with my puppy.”

Kinda like using a sledge to kill a fly, dontcha think??

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I surrendered my driver’s license and we saw that the pup we wanted was growing before our eyes. His mandatory neuter was the next day, and the micro chipping would take place at the same time.

Later we would find out that within two days, 30 applications were filled out for FOUR PUPS. At this point, they cut off applications. The paperwork was one step away from a Revenue Canada Audit. Four pages of detailed questions. “What other pets are in the home?”  “Who is your vet?” “Names and ages of everyone living in the home.” “What kind of collar would you use for your dog?” “What kind of property do you have?” “Where will you sign up for obedience class?” “Does anyone have allergies?” “How much do you expect to spend on your dog in a year?”

Admittedly, some of these were valid queries and sadly some of them are necessary to weed out the twisted individuals who think the “HS: is the place to pick up animals for medical testing. HOWEVER, it would be nice to not be treated like a criminal before I’ve even signed my application. It took more than 15 minutes to answer all of the questions and when I turned in the form, I was told that we would have to bring Roman down for a meeting with the pup, IF we were successful in moving on to that stage in selection.

What

the

holy

hell??????

As we walked back to our vehicle, I turned to SBS and said, “You know I believe in being truthful, but I think this is a case where honesty may not have been the best policy!” He was so sad that I told him he would shop for the pup anyway. When we got to the cashier, I told her, “We’re dealing with the “HS”; I need to be able to return everything.” She gave me a knowing look and said we could, other than the custom name tag we were getting engraved. We promised we would not tell anyone what name we had picked out.

A week later, we were advised that we could come down with Roman to meet the pup. I pointed out that it was an hour drive, and I wasn’t sure it was in my dog’s best interest to have to travel that distance, as he was only used to traveling 10-15 minutes maximum. There was no budging on this point. We had to take him down or we’d forfeit the pup. Oh, and could EVERYONE in the family come along as well, please? Getting the five of us in my vehicle took a great deal of timing, co-ordination and begging.

Roman traveled well, met the new pup and was a complete and utter gentleman. The pup loved Roman. I thought things were looking good!! Then TBG and I were called into the office for a meeting. With the boys tending to Roman, TBG and I sat through a 20 minute grilling on what I had put on the form. What was perceived as “right” and “wrong”. I was told that I would have to register for obedience class. I pointed out we had three dogs at this point, two of which had gone to class, and we felt we had learned enough to train them ourselves.

Wrong.

answer.

Bub!

We were advised we would need to enrol if we wanted a pup. I pointed out that living in the “sticks” means we have puppy classes spring and fall. Too late for one, too early for the other.

Wrong.

answer.

AGAIN.

I promised to look into classes.

As we left, we were advised that we would be given an answer by the end of the week. Excited, but nervous, we returned home and waited for a call.

And waited.

Longer still.

Need a bathroom break yet???

Theories ran rampant. Maybe we wouldn’t be picked because we already had a dog? Maybe they didn’t like that we saw the pups before they belonged to the “HS”? Maybe the applicant (me) was too much of a bitch herself to be considered as the successful candidate!!!??? (Admittedly, the kids never actually SAID this in my presence….)

Friends offered to be references for us. Friends offered to “influence” the “HS”, but agreed with us, that it might not be well received!! We all agreed that there was a reason why puppy mills and kijiji do so well when it comes to selling puppies. One assumes they are helping an animal when they go through a “HS”, but it is more like undue hardship!

I called the following Monday and was told there was another couple coming in for an interview on Wednesday. Folks, this has been a month since we completed our application. At this point, the entire family is frustrated, along with my friend who was wishing she hadn’t mentioned the litter to us in the first place, for all the hassle it was turning into!

I waited until Thursday to call the next time. Left a message. Hours later, “HS” calls back.

We got the puppy! The other couple attended the night before with their dog for a meet and greet, which did not go as well as Roman’s did.

In short, Roman is the reason we got the puppy!!!

TBG and I brought him home and surprised the boys. No one was more surprised than Roman!! We introduced them right away. Roman, meet CANE! Cane, meet Roman!

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He bounced like a gazelle for 15 minutes, “OMG YOU GOT ME A PUPPY!!!!!!” It was truly one of the sweetest things you will ever see!

Well, other than this…

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…or, perhaps, this…..

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So for now, the house smells like wet dog. But they are happy, wet dogs!

Heart of the Home

/ Sarah / 6 Comments

Nothing like being laid up for a couple of days to help you catch up on the little things you don’t seem to have time for.

Such as downloading photos. Ironically, this coincides with a large project we have just finished, and I’m quite proud of! The kitchen.

When we purchased this house, the kitchen was…..something.

Warning! This image has been known to cause seizures!

Warning! This image has been known to cause seizures!

 

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It was quickly determined to be one of the priorities when we bought the place, and two years later, we finally tackled it. Here’s what we started with;

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The backsplash is so old, it’s actually en vogue!

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Spot the Difference! Paint, light, window and about 2 lbs less of finishing nails.

Last fall I bit the bullet and decided to paint the cupboards. It took two weeks of almost no activity in the kitchen, thanks to the work schedule, and if I knew then what I know now…..

Then came the painting of the countertop. We had done this in our previous house, and while we could have paid four times as much for new countertops, or twice as much for a fancy stone-look application, we know this is not our forever kitchen. We just need to give the old girl a touch up, not an overhaul!

A countertop that looked like someone threw up butterscotch pudding.

A countertop that looked like someone threw up butterscotch pudding.

 

We stayed off that counter for a full week. A blessing in some ways, a curse in others. Suffice it to say, we are not having fish and chips for  a long, long time!

The Big Guy, being the handy fellow he is, finally got around to the little job that has been a thorn in my side since we put in the dishwasher. I pulled the cupboards out when we installed the dishwasher, and the remaining hole has been a catch-all. I’d like it to be a space where the boys can store their lunch bags, and a tidier look for the dish rack.

Ok, so he needed some help....

Ok, so he needed some help….

But in the end, I think it was work it!

On a sunny day, this room glows!

On a sunny day, this room glows!

Yes, that is the World's Largest Fridge. What about it?!!

Yes, that is the World’s Largest Fridge. What about it?!!

 

Almost makes the floor look better. Almost.

Almost makes the floor look better. Almost.

A big job off the To Do List. The only problem now is, this room is making other rooms looks pretty shabby. (Master Bedroom, are you listening?)

The Joy of Boys

/ Sarah / 2 Comments

These conversations actually happened in my house.

Honestly, I can’t make this stuff up…..

 

Second Born Son: Having a girlfriend is expensive.

Me: How do you know this?

SBS: Everybody knows this!

Me: (Ok, I’ll indulge him) Hmm. So how is having a girlfriend expensive?

SBS: You have to buy the gifts for their birthday, for Christmas, Valentine’s Day. So I’ve figured it out.

Me: Oh, have you?

SBS: Yup. I’m going to break up with them. Right before their birthday or Christmas or Valentine’s day. 

Me: Oh, you think that’s going to work?

SBS: Yup. Then I won’t have to buy them any presents.

Me: Well, I think that’s only going to work for you once or twice, then the word is going to get out.

SBS: What word?

Me: That you are a lousy boyfriend!

 

Followed by this gem…

 

First Born Son: I think I’ve figured out the Valentine’s Day thing.

Me: What’s that?

FBS: It’s not what you do on the 14th that counts…

Me: Ok… (I’ve got some hope here!)

FBS: Ya, it’s what you do on the 15th! And besides, everything is on sale then!

 

I can see I have my work cut out for me!

TechNOlogy

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

The discussion of technology has been a controversial one when it involves my parents. They don’t own a computer and my mother’s cell phone is dated, but functioning. They feel they have all the technology they need and are rather leery of the concept in general.

Don’t even bring up facebook.

Unfortunately, they have only heard of the negative aspects of computers/social media/internet. They know everything they want to know about teens posting X rated photos of themselves, cyber bullying and people over-sharing on Twitter and facebook, companies failing to protect our identities and viruses that cause access to banking information.

They know about this blog, and I’ve read specific entries to them, but they don’t read it on any kind of regular basis. Perhaps that’s why I’ve lived this long!! Little Sister and I have tried to talk them into getting a computer and are swiftly shot down.

I’ve tried to tell them about the positive aspects of computing; the ability to reach around the world from your couch, talking to family in different time zones with simple key strokes, shopping without pulling out of the garage (ok that’s something I appreciate more than they do!), about connecting with their grandkids, about finding friends.

So at Christmas, Little Sister and I risked our lives and our sanity by buying our parents a tablet.

Technically NOT a computer.

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You know something memorable was  being said here, dontcha?

So while they have a tablet, and as of last night, an email address, they refuse to entertain the idea of facebook.

Second Born Son got his facebook account this week. We made an agreement that when he reached a certain age and with a certain level of maturity. Some people think it’s not a good idea for a person his age to have a facebook account, but The Big Guy and I have a different perspective on this.

We live in a technological age. Toddlers have toys that interact and compute. If we can give him guidance and structure on how to use this technology, then we are doing our job as parents. When the day comes that he needs to learn how to drive, we will take him out and give him the tools and experience he needs. Why would we do any less when it comes to the internet?

I don’t believe that the internet, or facebook, is the root of all evil. I think people who over share their thoughts online are the same people you stand behind in the line at the grocery store who talk too loud and describe in great detail their most recent medical procedure. These people are just as irritating whether there is a computer in their hands or not.

For us, the key is supervision and transparency. I have the password and we have set time frames for when he can be online. It won’t be perfect; as with his brother, there will be glitches and growing pains. But I’d rather be beside him and help him navigate the internet, than leave him to figure it out for himself.

He can learn alongside his grandparents!

Cuba – AKA The Opposite of Roughing It

/ Sarah / 1 Comment

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Ok, that break was a little longer than I planned, but a “medical event” messed with my time line, my Christmas and my enjoyment of all things chocolate. So while I’m back in the saddle now, we must get caught up, now mustn’t we!

When we left, I was sharing the joy that was furnace replacement. As I mentioned, we finally had the new furnace up and running hours before we were to fly.

To back up a bit, each winter the boys have played hockey. Since The Big Guy was a hockey player, it was a natural progression for the boys to play. However Second Born Son bowed out last year, and First Born Son called it a career this summer. At first we were a little surprised, but we looked at this sudden discovery of time and funds as an opportunity. Without the stress of the politics of hockey, without running to an arena four or five days a week, without the cost of equipment ($$$$), gas ($$$) registration ($$$), tournaments ($$$) not to mention the gate fee at every away game, we were practically swimming in money.

But not really.

But almost.

So we decided to take a family holiday, and booked a week in Cuba. The boys were beyond excited. The departure date crept up on us, thanks to the distraction of the highly combustible furnace.

We went from no heat to 27 degrees and humidity. HEAVEN!

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Now I was fortunate enough as a child to travel with my parents and Little Sister to a number of destinations. I would have liked to have done more traveling with our boys, but we felt that making a commitment to a team sport, not to mention the financial obligation, was the priority; especially when the boys seemed to enjoy hockey so much.

But an hour in the sunshine and thoughts of arenas, penalties and slap shots were banished. We were all about the sun, waves and OLA!

DSCN0304We made a deal with the boys; they had to try new foods in order to appreciate the local culture. We also did some research on Cuba and the politics of the country so that there would be an understanding for the history of the nation and its people.

They realized they liked calamari, lobster (in small quantities) and the amazing, generous and sincere service we received.

We figured out the lay of the land and checked out a local market.

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Everything from hand-made jewellery, toys and artwork could be found. Not high-end and precious, but beautifully crafted, simply presented and whimsical.

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The amazing part was, these toy vehicles were two for 5 Cuban dollars, which is pretty much at par with Canadian dollars. Five dollars. Second Born Son was stunned, thrilled, but stunned. We grabbed a number of items for gifts and had an enjoyable experience meeting local people. As part of our travel tradition, The Big Guy and I purchased a piece of art to bring home. The trip had only just begun and was already a huge success.

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Except for the sugar cane juice. Not a winner.

There were a couple of provisos for the trip. 1) Mommy was going to spend a huge amount of time in a chaise. This was not to be questioned or debated. 2) Fun must be had by everyone!

We wanted the boys to see us playing A LOT because Lord knows, they certainly see us working A LOT. The Big Guy took care of that right away!

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We also decided to sign up for an excursion. While there was a ton of activities at our resort, we wanted to capitalize on the packages available through our carrier. Since were away during SBS’s birthday, we felt it would be appropriate to plan a special day on his Special Day. A dolphin excursion was the perfect plan.

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After the dolphins we had lunch and then enjoyed the afternoon on a catamaran. I do believe there are catamarans in Heaven, in case you were wondering….

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I made one of the best decisions, which was to leave my “Big Girl” cameras at home and take a simple point and shoot. This meant I ACTUALLY GOT TO BE IN PHOTOS!!!! I KNOW – amazing!!!! It was funny, however, watching “photographers” using their cameras in bright sunlight, with their flashes, then looking at their LCD screen and scowl because they just couldn’t figure out why their pictures weren’t turning out. I didn’t have to worry about babysitting the camera bag and the boys took a ton of photos. It was interesting to see the trip from their perspective.

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First Born Son likes to play with light…..

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SBS was more about food….

That night was SBS’s birthday dinner, where he was treated like a Prince!

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It was important that the boys understand the social climate in Cuba. The average wage is $5 a day for those working on our resort. The work ethic was outstanding and the grace and kindness shown to us by just about everyone at the resort was remarkable, noted even by FBS and SBS. They developed a better appreciation for the things they have, as well as an understanding of new corner of the world.

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By the end of the week, we had enjoyed walks on the beach….

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Lovely dinners out….

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Quality time in the pool…

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…and donuts for breakfast!

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I’m so glad we took this time together, since life is moving far to fast. We hope to have another trip in near future, but if it’s longer than that, we know we have some awesome memories of Cuba.

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The Business of Shopping

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

A lot of businesses talk about customer service.

Few of them actually deliver, and I believe it’s because it’s a seldom few who know what it the phrase really means. Living in a smaller town, there is a big push to support local merchants and for the most part, I agree. Unfortunately, I can’t shop for my kids in town, unless it’s their groceries. Shoes and clothes have to be purchased roughly 45 minutes to an hour away.

Therefore, when trips to the “Big City” whichever direction that may be, are strategic and include trips to stores we don’t have locally. One such store really gave me an eye opener in a good way. Upon check out, one employee who jumped to help me with the my cart, offered two really great suggestions regarding purchases I made. His colleague was helping with the transaction and asked if I had considered upgrading my membership, which would allow me to earn back 2% of all my purchases. She explained the change simply, quickly and made complete sense to me. Within five minutes, my membership was modified, I had a new card and was heading to the parking lot. Second Born Son was with me, and he was blown away by the experience. THAT’S how obvious it was.

You see, when we buy items locally, there is a certain assumption. It is assumed that we will buy from our local stores, therefore the level of interest to actually be interested in the purchases we are making isn’t significant. If we don’t buy there, no biggie, they know our neighbors will. They’ll be back next week, and the week after. Unfortunately, my shopping experience at some businesses has left me feeling less human and more like cattle in a chute. Truly – like the change drawer is still closing and I’m the one saying “Thank You” to them!?!

I don’t apologize for shopping out-of-town from time to time even though some people would have you feel guilty for doing so. I work very hard for my pay cheque. It is not in my best interest to burn the gas to drive out-of-town to shop. However, I do get tired of clerks who refuse to make eye contact with me, and heavy sighs when I ask if there “is any more in the back.”

It’s been a long time since I actually felt good about spending money. So much for the customer always being “right”.

Fifty Shades of Silver AKA A Hair Raising Situation

/ Sarah / 3 Comments

I have had a love/hate relationship with my hair for a long time.

Growing up, I had long hair. Think waist length. My parents loved it. Both Little Sister and I would go years between trims and I can remember how  exciting it was, that I might get a hair “style”, but no. It was just a trim of dead ends. I begged for shorter hair like some of my friends. I was told I could cut my hair when I was “older”.

Well…that wasn’t Grade 8…

Lookin’ like I just fell off the buggy….

Hair as thick as a horse’s tail and would give me a headache when it was up in a ponytail. My friends had adorable shags, bowl cuts, perms. I had brown-blonde hair. Although my mother will swear on a stack of bibles that I am a blonde.

I enjoyed some relief in Grade 9 when I was sophisticated enough to trim off some length.

WHOO – HOO. Trimmed all the way up to my shoulders. Daring!!!

I must have forgotten to book my back to school trim, because I have a mane full of hair again the next year.

Holy Nelly, the girl has bangs. Or is that fringe? Or just a sad excuse of….oh forget it. Like those “bangs”.

In fairness, I should mention, I did have braids, the occasional bun and was the proudest owner of the largest barette collection this side of my sister’s room.

At some point in my later secondary school career, I sported the Wilson Phillips; that is the same chop job sported by Chyna Phillips. Somehow, I didn’t look as good as she did. Now I know it is because she has fine, thin hair, and mine, uh, isn’t. So it grew back out once more and by the time I was in college, it was long. Again.

I waited until after my graduation photos were taken, and hacked it off again. The only thing that consoled my father was that he had the photo of me with “normal” looking hair.

Not long after that, I became engaged, and thought long hair sure would be helpful if I wanted to sport a bun with the very chic and simple veil and headpiece I had in mind. Two years later, I had the hair I needed. Two days after the wedding, I step off a plane in the Caribbean and my hair went up four dresses sizes. I couldn’t do anything with it. I had also neglected to pack a trunk for all my barettes.

With my new husband in tow, I found a fellow passenger whose coif I fancied and asked her to help me. We found a hair dresser and he cut off my hair. From that point on, the honeymoon was a blast and I needed A LOT less conditioner.

My return home was less smooth, as Little Sister, who had just completed her training as a hair stylist, was severely annoyed that I dared to let someone else tame my tresses. She finally forgave me when I agreed to let her put highlights in my hair.

“Don’t do it!” my mother warned. “You’ll end up coloring your hair!”

I scoffed. A couple of well placed touches of sunlight couldn’t possibly hurt. Two years later, I’m blonde. Like the blonde my mother thinks I’ve always been. Like, Marilyn Monroe and I finally have something in common.

In the years following, the longest I got my hair was to my shoulders. I couldn’t imagine letting it grow any longer. My hair was a rainbow of colors from red, to black and even blue. When I worked in the entertainment business, my hair became somewhat of its own persona. People discussed it, admired it and actually anticipated seeing me again, just to find out what color it would be. In my current position, my coworkers could give a rat’s ass what color my hair is.

Over the summer, with my “blonde” look matching my sunny disposition with the warmer weather, I watched my roots grow out. I wondered what colour my hair was, exactly. After another trip to see LS, this is what we got…

Something special in here!

Perhaps you can’t see it on this side, or the blonde tips are blurring your vision. Let’s try again.

I don’t like to call it “grey”; I prefer “platinum”!

When I was 19 I noticed a patch of grey, which obviously spread and took residence on the rest of my cranium. Reaction to this new do has been mixed.

The Big Guy doesn’t get a vote. I told him that since I don’t get a vote on whether or not he loses hair, he doesn’t get to comment on my silver follicles.

First Born Son was very supportive. He liked the idea that this was my “real” color. He thinks I should keep it like this.

Second Born Son, however, thinks it ok. He doesn’t want it to be a permanent move though.

“You have to color your hair, Mom!” he declared.

“No, I don’t, actually,” I replied.

“But your hair, it’s your….THING!” he said. “People know you because you color your hair!”

While he most definitely overstates this, I can’t help but think it might be novel to actually move away from coloring my hair and just stick with what I “am.”.

Who knows, maybe the next thing will be waist length locks!?

Highly unlikely.

Catching Up

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

I think it is an unspoken law of blogging that one takes off the summer months, if not cut back the number of entries. In my case, I tried to pack as many things into each day as humanly possible.

It’s hard to believe that with the return of back to school and fall routines, that it was only two months ago that we were admiring First Born Son’s gardening abilities.

 

While the lettuce was impressive, his corn and sunflowers are MASSIVE. He entered the sunflowers in the local Fall Fair and won third. The tallest stalk was 10’4 ft so I cannot imagine how tall the winning entry was!!! I’m waiting to get sick of eating corn, since its on the table every night. Hasn’t happened yet!

 

It was a nice hot summer for swimming at Mom & Dad’s pond. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more, the kids, or Roman!! On a related note: this was one of the few activities Second Born Son could actually take part in – so he spent a lot of time in the water. His are is healing well and we go back down to the specialist in October for an update. This could be an ongoing pattern for a while.  

 

 

While you saw M&M’s photos, her sister, Lil’ O also played softball and we loved watching her year-end tournament. “The power is strong in that one, master!!” So nice to see the kids enjoying ball. Now if we could do something about the nut-job adults who organize their teams….SIGH.

FBS had a great season playing ball. It was great to see a team of players who wanted to play ball, and not simply signed up because of their parents. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of structure to the team, and they didn’t perform well overall. “There’s always next year!”

 

SBS was my little fish this year. Since swimming was considered good therapy for his arm, and we normally do swimming lessons through to the end of elementary school, he enrolled at the local pool. PARENTING TIP: Try to get your child into swimming during the summer Olympics. I wish I had video of SBS splashing at himself and getting psyched like the big boy swimmers. HeeLARrious!!!!

 

What summer is complete without a wedding? It was a beautiful July day when this lovely couple made it legal. The painful part, to me anyway, is that I USED TO BABYSIT THE BRIDE! That’s right. That gorgeous creature you see there – I used to feed her snacks and keep her and her deliciously chubby little brother entertained. He’s not longer chubby and she’s beautiful. I’m taking all the credit.

 

Then there was the cottage. Easily the highlight of the summer. Due to the time restraints dictated by work, Lil Sis and I decided to split a week. She took the girls and our parents up from Monday to Wednesday. We all enjoyed Wednesday together, then she took her crew home, and my family stayed on until Friday. HEAVEN! Even when the weather was poor, it was nice to just be together and not have to do anything. This beach has special meaning for me and The Big Guy, since it is where he proposed. I love the fact that the cottage was on the beach, so we didn’t have to load anything up to enjoy the water!!!

 

 

 

I love how this summer turned out; with birthdays and sunshine and being outside. I just need two more months!!!

 

 

 

About a Girl and her Horse(s)

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

I could say I love horses, but that would be grossly inaccurate.

Saying I love horses is like saying, the ocean is damp. A gargantuan understatement.

I can remember riding the first pony I was able to call my own. Squirt was brown and stubborn. I was maybe five. Years later, a friend of ours was looking for a place to board her horse and since I was older, she felt he would be a good fit for me. He was a buckskin named Sir Twirp – and he was a Twirp, with a choppy gait, but he was fun. But he wasn’t mine. Neither was Pip, his stable mate and a lovely, kind and generous mount. He was perfect for me to learn how to show in the ring. He knew more than I did. But, sigh, he wasn’t mine.

Willow was mine.

He was a retired Thoroughbred whose coat glowed red when he was spiffed up. Looking at him was like looking at the sun. Sitting on him was like being on top of the world. I looked down at everyone else. I’m sure he’s the reason I’m drawn to tall horses. He was beautiful and strong and faster than a tween had any business riding. He probably could have killed me and almost succeeded when we were at a fair and he caught an eyeful of the gravel track that surrounded the fair grounds. He took off so fast, and so hard, that he could have given me whiplash. If it wasn’t for the quick thinking of a horse-savvy bystander, I may have grown up in Texas. He pulled his head down and kept him from leaving the fair grounds.

But Willow had health issues and needed more care than we were able to provide. It was decided to sell him, and also decided not to tell me – likely in hopes of avoiding the fit I would have pitched. Finally one day a truck and trailer arrived with some people I vaguely knew. I was sent to my room where I had the mother of all break downs. I could see the paddock from my bedroom window. I could see the new owner reach across and snap her lead on Willow’s halter. I remember yelling and crying so hard that I pressed my head into the window for counter pressure and ended up with a lovely crease in my forehead.

And anyone who knows me knows this; I. Don’t. Cry. Like I watched Old Yeller and didn’t cry. Like I can watch The Notebook and not cry. But put on The Horse Whisperer, and I have to have a moment. I don’t even know if I can buy a copy of War Horse because the scene in No Man’s Land is the only time I’ve ever cried in a theatre.

It took a while to get over Willow, but when I was older, and my parents felt I was more capable of caring for a horse, we tried again. We bought an Appaloosa filly and named her Darlin. She’s the one who planted me in a stone pile, but she was the sweetest thing otherwise. I worked with her for months to make her gentle; got her used to be handled and help put weight on her before it was time to get her under the saddle. I learned a lot about relating to horses, which I feel helped me later on when it came to relating to people. It helped me realize I like horses more.

When we left the farm, Darlin was sold, but I kept my tack. It would have been easy enough to sell it at our auction, but the idea of cutting all aspects of horse from my life was too much to bear. One day, I told myself, I’ll have a horse again.

Since then I’ve been blessed with very generous friends. They have invited me to go for rides (Thank you KW!) and even allowed me to roll around in their pasture fields to enjoy quality time with their equine (Thank you SH!) and I look forward to even more new babies with an upcoming session, (Hopefully next week SS?) Being around horses fills a piece of my soul. I actually have a physical reaction; tightening of the chest, faster pulse, a sense of contentment that is difficult to describe. I’m home. I watch old friends show horses in the local fall fair. I get the same overwhelming desire to grab a saddle and bridle and find the nearest bareback. It’s the smell of leather, of horse.

My boys know how much I love horses. Second Born Son, on one of our recent road trips, asked me as he admired a field of mommas and their babies; “Why don’t you just go out and buy a horse, Mom?”

I explained to him that owning a horse isn’t like buying a new toy or a lawn mower. Even buying a dog is less of a commitment. A horse relies on you every day. If you don’t feel like walking the dog, he’ll wait until later, but a horse needs you regardless of how you feel. There are no holidays. That aspect of my life is already tapped out. I want to be a great mom and wife, daughter, sister, friend and employee. There’s not much left of me after all of that.

Then there is the matter of cost. While I certainly don’t want my children to feel I am “doing without” because of them, the fact is there are priorities in my life and a luxury like making good on a childhood promise isn’t up there right now. It’s not say that it never will be.

I’m just more focused on their childhood memories.

Until then, I’ll rely on the kindness of friends for my horsey fix!