A Moment in Time

Typical, hectic start of the weekend.  An errand list that could easily fill two weeks but had to be squeezed into one precious morning chunk of Saturday morning. Take a deep breath and go! And joy of joys, my husband G decided to go on the errand journey with me!  This really was a very good thing.  After thirty three years of marriage I can honestly say that spending time with G, even doing mundane errands, was fun!  I know, I know, corny but quite true.  We laugh, we talk, and even though our shopping styles are quite different, we manage. First stop, grocery store. I like to walk slowly up and down each aisle, delighting in finding new and oh so improved products that tempt me with their bold marketing banners and sincere promises of health, ever lasting youth, boundless energy, major antioxidants, and then there is the super-duper spray in a bottle stuff that guarantees a sparkling kitchen with absolutely, positively no effort required. Hmmm . . . Maybe forget that last one.  Sparkling kitchens and I are just not that well acquainted and even I, who lives for trying new things, am skeptical. Anyway, I know I need to get a life but I do have fun contemplating what new products the advertising gurus have conspired to get into my shopping cart.

G on the other hand, is a power shopper.  He knows what he wants and where the items live.  These said items get thrown in the cart and he is in the check out lane and out the door before I can sample a single piece of fancy cheese on a multi-grain wheat cracker all held together with a cute little toothpick and handed to me on a napkin by a very smiley person.

But these differences aside, we still manage to get what we need. And in between my slow meandering and his crazed pace there is definitely eye rolling and good natured teasing but always laughter, and you know, you just have to take your fun where you can find it!

So, here we were on a Saturday afternoon in a big box store doing our grocery shopping dance.  Finally, we both agreed it was time to check out.  He was a little grumpy, I had meandered a bit too much, but it was all good. As we put our items on the conveyer belt, G casually asked the cashier if she was having a good day. This is just part of who he is, this husband of mine.  As much as he likes to zoom through the aisles at breakneck speed, he also immensely enjoys talking to people and is known to strike up casual conversations just about anywhere with anyone. Including cashiers at a check out lane.

We expected a simple answer back, something along the lines of  “I’m fine, how are you today?” Well, instead we got an earful.  The cashier looked up at G and it almost looked like her eyes were filling with tears.  She told us that last night her teenage daughter announced that she could not stand the sound of her mother’s voice.  That mother being our cashier.  She went on to tell us that it broke her heart, how could her daughter say that to her, she doesn’t even know where it came from, and she doesn’t know if she is furious or just very sad but she thinks she might be both.  Wow.  Whoa.  What do we do?  G sort of hemmed and hawed but then he came through big time.  With a gentle tone he assured her that teenagers can get like that sometimes and she should try not to take it to heart.  We think her voice sounds just fine! Her eyes softened a bit and she smiled. Back to briskly back to bagging our groceries.  The moment was over.  She needed to vent, we needed paper towels, granola bars, cereal, milk and frozen pizzas. It all worked out. I knew there was a reason that I like spending time with this guy . . .

The First Rehearsal

I walked into the nondescript room which nonetheless felt filled to the brim with anticipation and promise.  Excited, yes, but nervous too.  Seventeen chairs in a U-shaped configuration. Seventeen women. Seventeen stories to be told.  And mine would be one of them.  Was I brave enough? Strong enough?  Oh gosh, would I be loud enough?

And then the stories started.  Vibes robust enough that they could almost be seen and touched filled every corner. Trust. Energy. Acceptance. Compassion. Understanding. Empathy. And laughter.  Lots and lots of laughter.  This was going to be okay.  In fact, it was going to be more than okay.  This experience was going to change me; I knew I would never be quite the same again.

Photo credit: Sabrina Persico

 The concept of motherhood in nuances aplenty was given 17 voices at this first rehearsal of Listen to Your Mother 2013. Each voice was as unique as it was powerful.

This show is going to touch, entertain, challenge, and enlighten people. We may never see things quite the same way again.  The stories are silly and poignant and awe inspiring and heart wrenching and hilarious and soul touching.  Yep, all in one show.  It just doesn’t get any better than that! Buy your tickets and prepare to experience a very special prelude a week before Mother’s Day.  Please click here for the first step in the start of an amazing, and yes, I am sure of it, a life-changing experience.

Blog, Interrupted

Who knew that a three-pound ball of fluff could wreak such havoc in a household in less than 24 hours?  Yesterday an adorable cream and apricot Yorkie-Maltese mix found his way into our lives.  It was a friend of a friend situation, and that friend of a friend had just gotten a puppy a week ago and found she was hugely allergic.  So, with the way that friend of a friend networking works, I found a forwarded email in my inbox at 6:00 am yesterday. It was from my cousin announcing the availability of an adorable puppy to a good home.  Uh oh.  Yep, I was on it in no time flat. We used to have two Yorkies.  And we miss them desperately. But our life had settled into a comfortable, calm routine, as far as the world of owning animals goes.  We have a cat, who is, admittedly, high maintenance, but she does not have to go out in the middle of the night and she does not chew on my shoes. Yes. she does sometimes sleep in the bathroom sink.

It was a good life.  But a little too quiet, and missing one important element.

Problem solved. Now there is the aforementioned three-pound fur ball to contend with 24/7. 

And no sleeping for anyone, not even in the bathroom sink, at this point anyway.  It was not for lack of trying. We played and played and played with him, he just had to be tired.  We took him out countless times.  We made sure he was well fed, well snuggled, and surrounded with familiar toys from his former home.  But yes, we had to insist that he sleep in his crate during the night.  It was for his own good.  He is so little that if he wandered the house he could easily fall through the banister rungs in our loft.  And of course, he is not housebroken yet.  So who knows what we would have, could have stepped in on our way to a middle of the night bathroom run. And then there is the dynamic between the old and the new.  He cannot resist pouncing on our cat every chance he gets.  So far she has been incredibly tolerant but we need to keep a careful eye on things so for all those reasons, it was crate time for nighttime. 

Lights out.  Kisses and hugs.  Nighty nite. A big soft fluffy blanket, oodles of toys, and still room for the food and water bowl in this Taj Mahal of a crate. It all looked good. Within seconds the whining started.  Followed by crying, whining and more howling. I raced to make sure all was well.  He was fine, just very indignant.  I did what I was not supposed to do, brought him back to bed with us.  

Momentary lapse.  I knew I had to put him back.  Jaz had to get used to the crate, every article I looked up on the Internet told me so.  And we have had many dogs before, so I truly did know. Okay, little cutie pie, back in the crate.  Silence for a quarter of a second.  And then, howl, cry, whine, repeat.  It was breaking my heart but I knew I had to persevere. I woke my husband.  “How can you sleep?  What should I do”?  He was very sweet and calmly told me we had to keep little Jaz in the crate.  Then he promptly fell right back asleep.  How does he do that? 3:00 am. Okay, I am going to take him out, I am sure his tiny little bladder needs relief.  Very legitimate reason to go to him. He did his business, yay!  “Good boy, Mommy is so proud of you!  Now it’s time to go back to bed.”   Howl, cry, whine, repeat.  My son Z woke up and begged me to take Jaz out of the crate.  I wanted to, I really did. But we had to hang tough here.  Z tried sleeping on the couch to keep Jaz company, but no luck.  Needless to say, it was a very long night.

And then it was morning. Time to write my blog. I started it three and a half hours ago.  In between there has been accidents and feeding and cleaning up more accidents and rescuing my backpack buckle from inquiring and surprisingly strong little jaws.  Not much writing getting done.  But did I mention there has also been cuddles and puppy kisses and tummy rubs and more cuddles and big brown eyes looking adoringly into my eyes and more cuddles and more puppy kisses?  

And he even wandered into his crate on his own this morning so apparently my 4:00 am worry that he was being traumatized was for naught. Whew! Yes, blog interrupted, no sleep, somewhat stressed cat, husband and son but you know what? This new normal is going to be just fine.  In fact, better than fine.  This little guy has something that lasts forever, a complete and total hold on our hearts.  All this in a three pound package.  Who could ask for more? And my husband, he is hooked! And sleeping just fine thank you!