Jack, 9:00 PM: "No offense mom, but people always seem to roll their eyes at you."

So I guess she was nice yesteday

since I didn't post =)


Tonight Dagny has a friend over as they are going to basketball practice later on. Basketball girls are a special group. Not sure how to describe them other that that....Special.

Anyhoo, we are having dinner and we are discussing whether a tomato is a fruit or a vegetable and how confusing tomatoes are. Dagny blurts out " Yeah, they aren't vegetables or fruits....they are like bi-sexual or something". I dropped my fork, and my jaw, her girlfriends BURSTS out laughing, spewing water everywhere. Dagny immediately turns 10 shades of red.



Later, Jack wants to look up a web address that was given to him by a friend. Apparently his friend created a website and it was really funny. Jack had the URL written down, but couldn't find it. So he thought he would google some of the words in the web address to see if that would help. He typed in "dark and awesome webs". The first link at the top of the page? "Free porn chat:Nude adults cams naked rooms"


These are some good times.

So I have this idea....

Even if I have nothing else to update or post, I will post one line of the day out of my daughter's mouth. That way, when she looks back and reflects over this here blog I have created for the past five years, and she relives her life, her upbringing, her day to day existence....she can look at these years and truly appreciate what a good mother I actually was, and what amazing patience and control I displayed to her.

Scene from this week.....

I make the children's lunches every day. Everyday it is their responsibility to get me their lunch boxes. This happens sometime between the time they get home from school, to the next morning when they are packing up and getting ready. This has been the routine for oh, about 8 years.

I was packing Jack's lunch up and yelled up to my sweet princess " Dagz, I need your lunch box". About 5 minutes later there was a "storm, storm, storm, storm" down the stairs.....

She storms over to her backpack brings it it in, slams it on the counter, pulls out the lunch box, throws it on the counter and says to me "Looks like someone needs a lesson on how a backpack works".

And so begins our day.



13 is right around the corner. Good times.





So yes there is the storming, but there is also all these wonderful moments of mother daughter grown up talk which is really, really meaningful as well as insightful. It gives me glimmers of the woman that she is oh so slowly and painstakingly becoming. Last night she went to the Friday night high school football game along with all of the other middle schoolers. They all hang out in groups, packs, cliques, eyeing each other up, hanging with all the kids from the other middle school who they will eventually go to school with in two short years. She comes home with the stories, who said what to who, who swore the most, the 8th graders who sneak up to the top of the bleachers and spit on cars, who called who a slut. She knows many of the high schoolers because they went to elementary/middle school with her. She sees them now with boyfriends and girlfriends and she sees them making out. She comes home and tells me everything, or perhaps almost everything. She knows I won't judge and I won't repeat. She is starting to see some of my advice pay off. Like she will see so and so girl who is dressed like a hooker and acting like one as well. She says "OMG mom, you were SO right about that girl!" Sad to say that you can look at a 10 year old and get a pretty good idea of where she is going, but for the most part, you can. So yes, we have the storming, but knowing it is all part of the course of her trying to break free a little bit at a time, watching her stretch those little fluffy downy wings of hers, excercing them daily to make them stronger and stronger. Watching her start to flap them...picking and choosing my battles.


Today is our Middle School Car Wash. I started the Car Wash last year and swore it was my first and last time doing one. However somehow, I got roped in again. And apparently they thought last year's was so successful, that they would do TWO this year! Yeah me! Last year I couldn't walk the next day. Washing cars for four hours is very, very hard work. But thank God the weather is beautiful.....It should be a success.

She's feeling it

Lucy.

I don't think she quite got it....the thing we did Friday night. She was probably optomistic, thinking she was at spa, getting her teeth and nails done. Or maybe one of those overnights at the vet where she gets her IV full of fluids and is home the next day. Or maybe at a sleepover at a friends house, but surely she would be coming home soon.


Someone asked me how Lucy was taking it, I said " Fine, absolutely no change"



But today, she is clearly sad, she is depressed. Her head is low, her tail doesn't wag, she isn't as excited as usual. Instead of following us from room to room, she lays in the living room. Maybe, she is waiting.

I try to talk to her about it.....I do the " WOOO WOOOOO" , she wags her tail like yes, yes, yes, and I pet her and love her and say no honey, no. Hoping to explain to her that no, the WOO WOOOOOOO is gone. We have forever lost the woo woo.

But today, I am good. Saturday was a fucking bitch. Seriously. Sunday was rough-ish. Today was better. I have a candle burning in our room where that beast laid for many moons. I love looking over at that candle and seeing it flicker away. I think there she is, there is her spirit. Still here.

He always wanted a mastiff

Years and years ago, Brian was the GM of Jazz de 0pus. A few storefronts down a woman had a shop.....I can't remember the shop or what she sold, but she had these two giant mastiffs. Beautiful dogs. They would lay out on NW 2nd watching the homeless, druggies, drunkards, and general dregs of the earth traipsing by day after day. They were enormous dogs. 3 or 4 feet tall. Brian would stop by and see them every day and he would say to me "THAT is the dog I am going to get" I always though it was because at 6'6" the mastiffs came up to him around the same spot say a lab or a golden came up to a regular sized person. Also, there is something about being a giant that makes you in your own class. Those Mastiffs looked at Brian and he looked back and I think they got each other.... Like man, isn't it a bitch being this huge.

About 8 years after that, we were finally in a house big enough, with a yard, where the possibility of owning a Mastiff was actually doable. We had one dog, a retarded lab, named Barkley who would eventually self destruct. But our family wasn't complete. Having one dog is never a good idea. Dogs need companionship. So we started thinking about that Mastiff....Daddy's Mastiff. I didn't want to buy from a puppy mill whore breeder so I thought about rescuing one. I contacted the Mastiff rescue society, filled out my paper work, they sent someone out to interview the family, inspect the property, interact with Barkley the retard, all to see if we would pass inspection and be lucky enough to rescue one of their breeds. Things looked good, but we needed to wait.

Months went by, and eventually we got the phone call. A mastiff was dumped at the Columbia animal shelter by a known breeder who had claimed they had "found her". The Mastiff people swooped in and placed her in foster care to have her evaluated where she lived for a few weeks. She passed all of her tests, and they wanted to know if we would like to go out and see this little girl and perhaps make her apart of our home. We were giddy....besides ourselves with excitement. FINALLY our mastiff had arrived and we were all atwitter with excitement. On the way out we had all sorts of conversations....What would she look like, what wold we call her, how BIG will she be.

We arrived in a less than desirable neighborhood, not bad-bad, but not very good. The houses were small, maybe two bedrooms. Crappy cars, garbage kinda piled up, no sidewalks, 500 toys on each front lawn. You get the idea. We found our house and entered. The woman explained what they knew of Katie's history that she too, had small children, and Katie had been excellent with them, etc. We stood there impatiently like yeah yeah yeah, bring out the dog. When it was time, we all kinda looked at each other, all excited, all here she comes !! And instead of a grand majestic four foot lion dog, out walked the saddest looking "dog" any of us had ever seen. She was maybe a foot and a half to her shoulders, her back was so swayed and her nipples nearly hit the ground from being bred, and bred, and bred. She was still recovering from the chop shop neutering they do at the pound ( not the Humane Society) and my God, she was the most sorriest looking Mastiff I had ever layed eyes on.

"What do you think?" the woman asked. I wanted to burst out laughing and say "Is this a joke? you're joking right? Stop it. Brian, let's GO" . But to my left my husband said "Well I think she's just great! Right Silly?" and I looked at her again. And then again, and then she looked at me and through her Jedi-ways said to me "Listen, get me the fuck out of here, trust me, it'll work". The kids were already head over heels and I knew there was no going back. We took "Baby" loaded her into the mad cap mini van, and hightailed it back to the right side of town.

"KATIE!!!" said Brian once we were in the car "Katie is her name!! Isn't it Katie?" and that right there kicked off the next seven years of Brian having conversations with his dog. We brought her home and had to to the daunting task of a. introducing her to another dog and b. living with the two dogs while they try to figure out who's the top and who's the bottom. When we brought Katie out to the deck, Katie literally cowered to the floor and kinda sat there tail between her legs ( the tail remained between her legs for about the first 2 years she lived here. Most likely due to being raped her whole life and she was covering that no-no whole anyway she could) She moved around on the deck a little tail between her legs while Barkley the retard sniffed, jumped, pawed, licked, did anything he could to get his new, ahem, playmate to react. She looked kinda like a turtle and was showing no signs of coming out. That damn dog pestered here and pestered her and eventually, she snapped, and she lunged, and bark growled, and all of us peed a little cause good god was that ever scary, but who it scared the most was Barkley who was like "OK, OK, we cool, calm down little mama".

Eventually the two became BFF's and Katie settled in. She was very much Brian's girl and I was her second choice. The kids? The kids she knew, were children. And being a wise old mother herself many times over, she showed them patience, she showed them protection, ( people would start roughhousing with either Barkley or the kids and I would have to say "you don't want to do that, seriously, you need to stop, no I mean it" and then she would lunge and they would shit their pants and i would say " I kinda tried to tell you" She would never bite, just lunge at you and scare you a little.....I always wondered what would happen if an real bad guy ever got in, what she would have done to him) and she put up with them. They would dress her up and, I bet when I wasn't looking, probably tried to ride her now and then.


Last year, around October, I started to think we were getting close. Brian laughed, "DID you hear that Katie? Mommy is so silly....go get em Katie" and she would.....she would lumber off with Lucy, trying to keep up, trying to get those ever allusive damn squirrels, big soft floppy ears flapping. Lucy would race back and forth for 30 minutes, Katie would race once, decide " yeah, not so much", and then lay down in the grass, roll her big self on her back and look over at her family which always killed us. You see upside down, when all those jowls were hanging upside down, she appeared to be smiling the biggest damn smile, she looked like The Joker, like she was grinning from ear to ear. And the second best part of that was that she felt safe enough to roll over and show her belly.....that my friend, took about 4 or 5 years to happen, and when it did....so totally worth it. Anyhoo, for about the past 10-11 months, she has slowly declined. Watching a massive animal like that try to get up and down can be painful. She slept more and more, getting up and down the stairs wasn't pretty, just generally slowed way way down.


When we got Katie, she was "between 3 and 5 years old". We of course didn't know as she was dumped, but by looking at her teeth, this was their best guess. We have had Katie for 7 years this month, this making her somewhere between 10 and 12. If you Google how long do Mastiff's live, you get this:

"As you may already suspect, giant breeds as a rule do not live as long as smaller dogs. Some Mastiffs will live to be twelve or thirteen years of age- but by far the majority of Mastiffs do not live past ten years of age. Many will only live to be seven to ten years old.

The past week or so, she went down hill fast. Real fast. She quit eating around Tuesday and quit getting up about that same time. She would get up to go to the bathroom ( and didn't make it about 75 % of the time....thank you hardwoods) Wednesday was the last time I saw her drink any water, but Brian said she drank Friday morning. Thursday night she needed to be carried to bed and Friday when I got up with her, she was just laying there motionless with black ooze coming out her behind. She didn't even know she was poopin'. It was then I knew. I called B and he agreed which scared me because it made it real. I called the vet to ask about details and that is when I started to cry, and not just like tears....like unable to speak, which is great when you are calling a place of business trying to get you know, information. It was not good. I then called my mommy who, is so funny, I was all crying and couldn't get the words out and she said " What? What? WHAT?? OK, I'll be right there!!!" which made me laugh because now that I have a child I get it. It doesn't matter that she didn't know what I was trying to say, or what we had to do....you just automatically say I'LL BE RIGHT THERE !! when you hear your child crying, even if your child is pushing 40....you'll just BE RIGHT THERE forever.

So the appointment was made for 4:45. The kids and I took turns lying with her all day, sobbing into her fur, whispering all of their I Love You's, and Thank You's, and I Will Miss You's. It was sad, but everyone knew it was right. Keeping her alive would have been selfish. Brian left work and we drover her over together, him picking her up to put her in the car, picking her up to get her out of the car, and picking her up again to get her off the vets waiting room floor and into her room. The vet looked her over, and yes, yes, it is time, what a good life she has had. All this time she stood, her head in Brian's hands staring right into his eyes. My mom said she would look at us and we would be able to tell, she would be saying thank you. Finally, thank you. but she didn't look that way at all. She was staring at Brian like " I don't know what we are doing her dad, but I trust you and I will do what ever you want" She never took her eyes off of him.

The first shot was to relax her....the vet said she would relax and lay down. The shot went in, and she stood there, not even flinching, head in Brian's hands staring. And she stood. And stood. And stood some more. I was like God damn that is just like her, stubborn thing. Vet came in...."Not feeling it yet huh?" Nope, not our Katie. But eventually she did, her labored breathing relaxed and I swear she was like "OMG yes, where has THIS feeling been all my life". She layed her self down, and rested and breathed easy for the first time in a week. They then shaved her arm, found a vein, popped in the second needle, and we waited, 10 seconds was about all it took, and she was gone. Peaceful as could be. I won't get into the tears, the heartache because we all know it's was there.

The drive to the vet was in complete silence, neither of us could speak because what is there to say when you are off to kill one of your own. The drive back was back started the same way. Neither of could speak. Eventually I said to Brian " Lot less dog food".

He replied " Less dog poop"

me "less dog hair"

Him " Lot more sleeping through the night"

me "Our house won't stink"

silence

me " No more "WOO-WOOOOOOOO's"

silence



When we got home, we started to clean things up, mostly Katie's sleeping area which was utterly gross. She wasn't a very clean dog, lets just say and baths did little to help. We threw her bed out, cleaned the walls ( trust me if, unless you have lived with a slobber dog you don't know what I am talking about) cleaned the floors, swept and swept and wept ( typo but I am leaving it) and swept some more. I will be sweeping Katie hair for many more weeks. Cleaning to help with the healing.

This morning I woke up to rain. It hasn't rain-rained in weeks. Katie is making it rain to help clean out the backyard, wash away all the mess she left behind, all of the diarrhea for the past week, getting rid of her peeps so that Lucy isn't reminded of the BFF she just lost, she is washing everything clean back there, and we are doing the same inside. Living with a 114 pound dying animal isn't a tidy event. There are a lot of messes to clean up, both before she died, and now after. Including two little broken heart who are learning about love and loss.

People keep asking if I will get another dog. I am not a fan of having one. Dogs are social animals. Dogs need to be with a pack. And sometimes the pack goes out to dinner, and guess what? You my friend are left home alone. When Barkley died, I lasted a week and I needed to get another dog, Katie and I needed to get another dog. But when Barkley died, the loss was different. Barkley was a loud social, tail wagging, greeting you at the door, knocking over the Christmas tree kinda dog. When Barkely left, the house was silent. Katie wasn't that kind of dog, she was big, but she was quiet, she slept most of the time, she didn't want to play fetch, or go for a walk, or wrestle on the floor. Katie was like Brian, only a dog. She wanted to sit back, observe, relax. She is gone, we are sad, but the house, the noise, the energy while different, isn't deafening different. We still have Lucy, and all of her wannagoforawalkwannagoforawalkwannagoforawalk energy. Brian says we will wait at least a month. Me? i am not even thinking about it yet.







When I googled that question about Mastiff's here are some other questions I found.....


Do Mastiffs Make Good House Dogs?

Mastiffs are wonderful house dogs whose only desire is to lie at their master's feet and to be loved. They are sometimes called 'velcro dogs' because of their tendency to follow their owner from room to room to be with them at all times. On the 'down side', a Mastiff takes up a lot of space on the floor, and their tail can clear a table of knick-knacks in the blink of an eye.


Are Mastiffs Good with Kids?

Mastiffs are often called 'Gentle Giants' because their normal demeanor is dependable, loyal, caring and docile. However, like any breed, if a Mastiff has been teased or frightened by children they may grow up to distrust and avoid them. Most Mastiffs who have been raised with children are patient, gentle and loving with them.


What About Drool?

Yes, Mastiffs do drool, mostly after eating, drinking, or exercise. Many Mastiff owners water their dogs outdoors, replacing their water several times a day to keep it fresh. However, drool still does happen. If you are not willing to wipe up some 'slingers' from your walls now and then, or carry a 'drool towel' with you, maybe a Mastiff isn't the right breed for you.


Are Mastiffs Active Dogs Or Are they Lazy?

Both! Some Mastiffs are athletic and playful and others are too dignified to lower themselves to chasing a ball or stick. Many Mastiffs will 'fetch' and enjoy playing with other dogs or their owners, for long stretches of time. Others would prefer to lie on the couch and watch agility trials on Animal Planet



Maybe I reconnect with the Mastiff Rescue folks......

Whyz I luvz him

Last week we were low on groceries, and even lower on cash.....Thursday night I said to my darling Brian "There isn't anything good in there. How about frozen pizzas ?! Again."

Brian pshawed me, asked me to step aside, and 30 minutes later called the family to dinner. Brian had created "Make Your Own Bento Night".....two types of chicken, peanut chicken or regular, rice, two types of fresh cabbage, green onions, sauteed spinach with garlic, shredded carrots, roasted red peppers. It was phenomenal.

We leave for the beach tomorrow. The kids, Jack especially, is beside himself with excitement. We hit Powells yesterday where he picked up 5 books on greek Mythology. He is especially excited to delve into Homer's The Odyssey. WTF I did to deserve a child like Jack is beyond me......




While down at the beach we will do all the back to school shopping. This has been our tradition for many, many years. Dagny has worked hard all summer to save up her funds and she is excited to spend them all. The trick is buying just the right pieces and praying no one else buys the same thing, because apparently in 7th grade this is a fate worse than death and you can never ever wear that particular piece of clothing again. Ever. Ever.


It is 8:25 which is the exact time school will be starting in a few weeks. At 8:25, currently both children are sacked out unconscious. This will not be helpful or good come September 8th.

wtf is David Letteman doing on? ISn't it like 9:00?

How the hell can it be Thursday already?

Thursday means Brian and I really only have tonight left. Friday we will have to go to bed at a reasonable hour cause we have to hit the road Bright and Early to drive up and get the chillin's. Pick up is between 10:00 and 11:30, however this year we know that people arrive about an hour earlier than that because of the God forsaken line of cars one must wait in to actually get into the camp. Which means your babies sit there for what seems like an enternity waiting to see their parents and it looks like mom and dad completely forgot to come and get them. Dagny asked us to PLEASE not be the LAST people to pick up their kids this year.

So this year we know to arrive early, we will probably need to get there around 9:00, which means we need to leave town around 8:00, which means we need to get up around 7:00, which hasn't happened in a week, which means momma needs to figure out how to go back to falling asleep at a reasonable hour. Good Luck with that.


I went over to a new mom's house last night ( new meaning I have only known her for a year) and had the most wonderful evening on her back porch with her and her husband. They are quiet simply, two of The Nicest People I have met in a very, very long time. I can not think of another couple I know who are that nice. They ooze niceness, and kindness, and the two of them together are simply delightful. They are a true breath of fresh air. Dagny and their son have become BFF's and so it is wonderful to get to know his parents, and to like them as much as I do.

So only about 48 hours left to savour. 48 quiet peaceful hours.

I need to be getting ready to go to Leslee's for wine, but I am not....I am sitting here checking my STOOPID farm to see if I need to "harvest" anything. Do they make that shit specifically for people like me? People they know who have children away at camp, and a lot of free time on their hands? They must. I won't have any make-up on, but by god my fake non-existant flowers are watered. Phew.

So the babies are gone again for seven long days. Last year I just about had a nervous breakdown while they were at camp. I couldn't STAND not knowing how they were doing. Every day I all but accosted our Mail Woman waiting for SOME sign of how they were, if they were happy or not, if Jack was miserable up there all alone. But none came. I wandered around aimlessly throughout the day, completely fucking lost. Night were good. Brian and I spent them going out, staying in, having crazy monkey sex like we did when we were 23. But still, I missed them. They have, of course, spent the night away before, but usually there was like, a PHONE, were I could at least hear them, have some communication with them, some reassurance. But a week at camp, you get nothing, nil, nada, zero. On about day 6 last year I did receive a card from Jack. Inside it read "Camping is hard" written backwards of course, so I needed to hold it up to a mirror and read it. It about broke me. The only thing that prevented me from driving up there and swooping him up was the fact that the next day was pick up day, and I knew he could make it one more night.

But that was last year.

This year, they have spent the ENTIRE year talking about camp, counting the months, weeks, days, hours until they could go. This year Jack is going with two of his buddies, and dagny is going with two of hers as well. This year I know that they are spending the week taking night hikes into the woods and camping under the stars. They are canoeing on lakes, playing on the shores of the Sandy, enjoying all you can eat of the most heavenly camp food created, enjoying their nightly campfires, partaking in wide games, swimming in the pool, taking their 7:00 AM polar plunges. They are weaving and looming, they are studying nature, they are making new BFF's that they continue to email all year long. Middle Schoolers have a dance, and this year dagny knows this, and knows to bring a beautiful dress to whip out for the evening. I know they are completely submerged in happiness, friendship, and sunshine. This year when Brian dropped Jack off, Jack's this-year-counselor noticed his Camp tshirt. He asked what year this one for him and Jack told him second.....he then said, "wait a minute, I remember you, I had you last year in my cabin" Jack looked up and couldn't believe it. He was so excited. They are in very very good hands.



Which leave me. Me with a week to do pretty much what ever I want. And man, is it EVER hard deciding how to spend one's day. So far today I have completed both the NY Times Crossword, as well as the Oregonian, eaten left over lemongrass chicken, taken a hot bath. And now what? Nap? Watch The View? Or one of the movies I have taped? Ride my bike to Michael's and pick up scrapbook stuff? Paint the ceiling? Yesterday Brian and I spent the day puttering. We drove out to the farm to buy more of the salsa I am addicted to, picked up a couple of plants for the bed beneath my kitchen window ( for some reason Lucy feels the need to dig up every damn thing I plant there) and went out to both lunch and dinner. We also napped a lot. All that relaxing is exhausting. As a matter of I am getting tired just thinking about it.....I may need to nap before I decide how to spend this day :)

I don't know when I quit being a fighter.

Back when dagny was in Kindergarten, I was all political. I was fighting for dollars to be spent on public education, mainly Beaverton. I was part of the seed pod for her school, we met in kitchens, organized letter writing campaigns, licked stamps and wrote addresses by hand, organized the families to stand out front of the school holding signs, made cold calls to people in the district, etc. You name it.

And then I kinda quit fighting the fight.

And here we are years later, facing this recession and it is finally starting to hit Our School. Word on the street is we won't have Spanish next year. What is nice about Our School, and why many people choose to send their children there is, for middle school, our kids don't have to choose electives. They get them all. They get PE, they get Music ( they do have to choose between band and choir), they get art, they get Tech, and they get a language. They get it all. Until perhaps, this year. We may not have Spanish next year and this isn't fair. it isn't fair because somehow are Spanish teacher was on contract and contracts aren't being renewed. All of the red tape makes no sense to me, but somehow it isn't right. Luckily, we have a fabulous Squeaky Wheel and she is all up on our new principal. I saw her at the pool yesterday, told her the word on the street, and later that evening I was forwarded our Principal's reply to her letter stating that no, this is not an option. Our School isn't going to add "Study Hall" as an elective, because, please. C'mon, Study Hall? Oh, and if you want to know who voted which way on what measure in the House or Senate on any given day of the week., let me know. I can ask her and she will know :) I am glad SOMEONE is still fighting the fight. I hope our kids continue their Foreign Language Studies

This week Jack is off to Mac Camp and he is beyond excited. He has one day of Movie Camp and one day of Music Camp and you'd think he'd won the flipping lottery. He is chomping at the bit. He would make music and movies all day long if I'd let him. I have a feeling I will be fighting pretty hard for screen time when he gets home. Both dagny and I are working two days this week so we will have to coordinate driving.......I swore my kids would not get cars when they hit legal age, but I am starting to see the benefit of having your children be mobile. After all that is said and done, we are of to The Lodge for the night. How much money do those people spend on advertising? Jesus. Anyhoo, the kids have been BBBBBEEEEEEEGGGGGGIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG to go. Instead of begging, I told them " No one will let you go if you continue to beg....it sounds awful. Can't you come up with a Presentation on why you should go?" And the two of them were off. They created a three panel board complete with charts, graphs, statistics, etc. Jack put on his suit, Dagny put on A Dress! and they gave their spiel. They wowed the crowd and grandpa was won. I think the he was fianlly swayed when Dagny threw in "Pumpkin Pie" which was his name for her when she was little. So, we are off to The Lodge And yes, they serve cocktails......I already checked. Gramma and I will OK.


Looks like another day to be spent at the pool.....Off to pack our suits.