Enough With The Walking

I walk almost daily. My goal is 6 days a week, but if I hit 5, I'm actually pretty pleased with myself. I always walk in the mornings, first thing. I don't like to get sweaty, so it's better to do that early and take a shower and be all refreshed for my day.

My departure time varies, depending on if I hit the snooze button, but I try to leave the house around6:40. This is so much nicer in the summer time when it's light out! I've been walking the same route, generally in the same time, for years. I had to quit the big hills because my runner's knee was killing me. I'd rather skip the little bit extra workout, and be able to walk every day. Those hills were making me take every other day off to ice my knee.

It's still pretty much the same walk as always.

Let's review. I walk the same way, at the same time, and have done so for years.

Why, now, all of a sudden, are there walkers on my walking route? Is there some sort of get healthy kick sweeping our community?

The other day I started off my walk following two people. It took me a few minutes to realize there were two more people behind me. Urgh!! When walking a sniffing Beagle, one does not need the pressure of keeping the right pace to stay ahead, but not to pass, other walkers. Plus, a Beagle has to do what a Beagle has to do.....And I do not need an audience when I have to bag a deposit.

Every day since, I have seen the same two people. They are usually on my route, walking at a brisk pace, catching up with me, or popping out through alleys and making me look all around for where they went.

It's enough to make me scream!

So, please, ladies and gentlemen, enough with the walking already! I was here first!

Plus, it's going to get crazy when I start walking both Beagles.....for the love of cripes, find a different route!

Zucchini: Friend To No Kid Or Beagle

Ah, yes, it's starting to be that time of year again, when you see free signs sitting next to lovely green piles of zucchini at the edges of people's yards. When I was a kid, I hated zucchini. Call it summer squash, try a little patty pan, and it was still my worst nightmare of a dinner, and the one thing we knew our garden would produce over abundantly.

As an adult, I've been known to sneak a couple free zucchinis home with me. I find they aren't so bad. Dice them up, throw them in a stir fry, and the kids usually don't notice them. The key is a nice Asian style sauce, but that's besides the point. We are eating a veggie here!

Emma and I were taking our usual walk the other morning, and we were almost done, passing one of the most beautiful gardens in our town. I always admire the rich dark earth, the big pumpkins, the vines of beans curling up the stakes, not to mention the gorgeous dahlias. This garden always looks perfectly groomed. I admit to being preoccupied with the height of the corn, and was taken by complete surprise when we came to the end of the garden fence, and Emma skittered and jumped about a foot away from the fence. I dropped my gaze to her, and she had all her back fur up and was clearly frightened by something.

I follow her stare, and saw two ginormous zucchini's propped against the fence. They glistened in the early morning sun and I wondered if they were free for the taking...they'd make a great addition to a Thai curry dish we were having for dinner.

I told Emma it was okay, but she remained unconvinced. She moved closer, slowly, and finally stretched her head out to try to sniff those weird things without getting a step closer. She jumped back again, completely unhappy.

I knew, even if they were free to me, I could not carry one home while walking Emma. She truly believed there was something seriously wrong with those green things.

Further proof that Beagles are super smart dogs. Zucchini is to be feared. Especially end of the season, unnaturally large, ready to be hidden in a dish for some unsuspecting family zucchini.

The kids should give Emma an extra treat tonight in thanks!

Remember, Remember

7 years ago today, right about now, I think I was packing a bag for the kids and myself to take to my mom's house. I had sat on the living room floor that morning, watching the TV show all the horror that September 11th is, and I cried. I sent my son to school, and went to the store with my daughter. Our small town, so far away from the East Coast and all that was happening, was dead quiet. I was only one of a handful of people out. It was like we were all holding our breath waiting for the next shoe to drop.

For me it happened later that morning, when a call came from my husbands unit. Was he at work? Yes. Was this his cell phone number? Yes. I knew what that meant. I waited just a few minutes until the phone rang again.

It was my husband, asking me if I could get some of his gear together. Throw his spit kit and some civilian clothes into a bag. He was on his way home, his unit was being deployed. I called my mom, who picked our son up from school. Our pastor came over and prayed with us before he left.

But what I remember the most from that day is my husband and I standing in our bedroom, holding each other, knowing that could be the last moment we ever saw each other. We laughed a little at some joke that only we would think is funny, our tears could not be helped, and we talked about how much we loved each other, how each day with each other had been the best, how if this was it, we had packed more love and happiness into 9 years than we thought possible....and how grateful we were to have this one more moment, where so many others in the country were not so lucky.

That night I went to my parent's home. I could not stand to be alone in our house, with our young kids, when I had no idea where my husband was. For all we knew, he was on a plane headed to war.

He was gone for three months, but thankfully, it was not to war. He was stationed nearby, so he could come home on weekends. And every time he came home, I was reminded of how lucky I was. For the hardships we were having, it was nothing compared to thousands of other families trying to cope with the immense tragedy of loss.

Every year since, on September 11th, I stop and remember. I pray for the families, I pray for the soldiers, I pray for the police and fire fighters, and I also give thanks for what I have. I hope everyone does.

First Day Of School Picture

Ah, the first day of school. I feel jittery and nervous, just like I did as a kid. Being the mom has never changed how I feel about school. I dread it! For the first time ever, I did not walk any kids to school. I stood at the back door and watched my son and his friends walk with my daughter to middle school. I resisted the urge to stand in the back corner of our yard and watch them walk all the way....we live so close I can almost see them all the way into the building. But I did not go farther than the back door. The kids would not have approved of me in my pj's, standing in our yard, watching them!

I had gotten up at 6:30, ready to make them eggs or something for breakfast, but they were sitting at the table, completely dressed and ready to go, eating granola bars and talking about school. Instead, I poured myself a cup of coffee, sat down at the table and used a permanent marker to write my daughters name on her calculator and school bag while I listened to them laugh and talk.

I have never taken a first day of school picture. Never. Not sure why, just didn't do it. I was sorely tempted to do so today. The first and last year they will both be at middle school...and I wanted to take a picture. Probably so I could add it to this blog! But when I mentioned it to my kids, my son told me he had always been proud that I wasn't weird like that. Okay. No picture!

No picture of those kids at least. Instead, I took my camera into my room and took a picture of my other two kids. Today is a day of firsts for them too: Sarah snuggled down under the covers this morning, without trying to play, and I had to wake both of the girls up. Sarah tried to burrow back under the covers, while Emma was resigned to the fact that if I've pulled the covers off of her, it's time to get up.Besides, I am a mother who believes in fairness always. I weaned them both at the same age, make sure they have an equal number of twix and dove chocolates in their Christmas stocking, and have never taken a picture of D on the first day of school. To take one of L on her first day of middle school, when I never did for D, would not be fair.

It's a good thing Sarah and Emma can't talk. I'm sure they would have said no thanks to a picture of their back legs in bed and that they have always been proud that I never took embarrassing photo's of them and posted them on the web!

It's a very good thing they can't talk!

We Are Dog People

Now, if you are a dog person, you know exactly what I mean when I write that. We love having dogs for pets, we see dogs and oh and ah over them like other people do babies.

Our neighbors across the alley recently got a puppy and suddenly we've gone from just nodding and waving a brief "hi, how are you, yes, I'm acknowledging that you do exist" wave, to our dogs having play dates, and us chatting it up in each other's backyards. The new neighbors in the rental across the street also have a dog, and yes, we've introduced ourselves. We never even thought about talking to the previous tenants, and you guessed it, they were dog-less.

Just now, I was letting Emma outside, when the puppy next door came running into our yard, and the dog across the street, crossed the street and raced up the alley to join in the fun. We all had a good laugh, and one neighbor remarked that it sure is funny that all the dogs run away to our house.

Well, it stands to reason. Dogs are pretty smart, and we are dog people!

Side note: anyone who doesn't like dogs seems suspect to us. There are some countries in the world, who shall remain nameless, who not only are not dog people, they prefer cats.

Cats! That is so unspeakable, I will not speak on it further.

A Written Remembering

When we go camping, late at night, when we are all bedded down in the tent trailer, my kids ask if I will tell them a story. Sometimes I tell them a condensed version of a book I've read. As anyone who went to school with me can attest too, I don't know the meaning of "condensed"....every part of the book is important to understand the whole story! Other times they ask for stories from when they were babies.

Last time we were camping, my daughter, the youngest, asked why all the stories were about her brother as a baby. Didn't I remember anything about her? I paused and thought. Huh. That might be true. The answer I gave her was when she was a baby, she was D's shadow. Anything he was doing, she was doing. It's hard to separate a baby story of hers, from a story of her 2 year old brother.

But it is more than that. When D was born, he was our first. He was our sole focus, and we did everything with him in mind. We were living across the country from our families, so it really was just the three of us. Then we moved back home, realized we were expecting baby number two, and things in our life got fuller.

When she was born, I remember thinking this was going to go by way too fast. I knew she was the last baby we'd be having and I wanted to savor every moment. But, with a 2 year old at home waiting to meet "baby", I knew I wasn't going to get the same chance to focus on her that I did on her brother.

When D was born, my OBGYN gave me a daily journal to record the first year of D's life. I wrote in it every day, but sometimes the entries were just a line or two. I kept a journal for L's first year also, but it is full of page long entries. I knew I had so much going on, so much to do, that it was hard to find the time to just sit and marvel at her perfection, like I got to do with D. So, at night, when I could find a moment, I would write and write and write.

I might not have memories I can pull out of my head at the drop of a hat for her, but I have the journal. It is full of all the things I wanted to remember about her being a baby. Maybe I'll take it on the next camping trip, and when the kids ask for their stories, I pull out the journals, get out the flashlight and wow them with stories they might not have heard before.

Like, March 25, 1998: L looks so cute today! I wanted to give her a ponytail, but one was impossible. So she has two curly pigtails on top of her head. It is just too adorable! Went to Seattle see Aunt A;s house, L was good. She got screaming mad in the car though. Grandma K said she was glad to know L had such a strong personality! As soon as Daddy came home, her pigtails fell out. Daddy loved them and was so excited he got her all excited. Pigtails weren't meant for rough housing!

And to be fair: March 25, 1996: Boy can D move! He's not a crawler yet, but soon. He twists and turns and wiggles all over the place. He rocks forward, leaping really, and moves all over our laps when he's on the ground. Next steps are crawling and sitting up on his own.

A written remembering.....I'm so glad I took the time to write it down, for them, but mostly for me. It did go by too fast, and I love reading and remembering....those were great days....but these days 11 and 13 years later are pretty darn good too!

Why I Might Turn To Drink

In one crazy moment of complete insanity, I asked for a puppy for our 15th anniversary. I just blurted it out when my husband asked what I wanted, I was almost as surprised as he was to hear those words. More surprise followed when he said, "Okay."

On our anniversary, I opened my gift bag to find a tiny stuffed Beagle and a letter listing all the reasons why we should get a puppy. I can't say I was disappointed...I was pretty darn excited. And very nervous!Emma is a fantastic Beagle. She always has been, from her puppy days to now. What if the new puppy was not so good? What if, even worse, Emma hates her?

We did not rush right out to buy a puppy. We have some very strict guidelines, such as it has to be a girl, raised mostly outside, but not in a kennel. So I told the kids, and anyone who asked, it could be months before we find the right dog. We waited 8 days.

And then we saw the add for Beagle puppies. In the next town over. Two girls and a boy left. Both dog parents on the property. My husband went over to visit and came home very happy. He was pretty sure I'd like the one he picked out. We went back the next night, but I stressed over and over again, if I didn't fall in love with this puppy, we weren't going to get her.

Of course, I fell in love with that puppy! There was really no doubt, I love dogs. I sat on the floor of a house that smelled like it had six puppies and three adult dogs living in it, and let puppies and dogs run all over me. I loved the puppy's big eyes, and petite little paws....she was ours. On the way home, we tried out name after name, deciding that the original name "Bailey" was totally wrong and "Midge" just didn't have the two syllables we like to holler but "Sarah" might be just right.....but mostly we worried that Emma wouldn't like her. Sure, Emma loves having the neighbors puppy over to play, and even herded him into our house, but a puppy living with her full time was going to be a change.

When we got home, I put the puppy down on the ground, the kids and Emma ran over...and little Sarah took a wiz all over my bare foot. Flip-flops do not give any protection against a dog peeing on you!

It took a few days. I won't lie. When Emma wanted to play, Sarah was tired. When Sarah wanted to play, Emma was so not interested. Then on day 5, magic happened. They both wanted to play and they took off running and wrestling. When they finally slowed down, it was to sit close to each other. The wind came rushing through our yard, their ears both started to lift up like Dumbo's, and they closed their eyes and sniffed....It's so cute, so adorable, so sickeningly sweet, I'm not sure how other people can stand to listen to us gush on and on about them.

The down side is, they wrestle from one end of the house to the other! There is no peace when they are feeling full of the dickens. With all their barks, growls and teeth, their tails are wagging non stop.

It's enough to warm my heart, give me goosebumps of happiness...or it's going to drive me to drinking. One or the other!

And if I do turn to drink, it will have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with three thirteen year old boys having a party, running around in the dark with squirt guns and drinking tons of coke. That's just good times!