A Mother's Musings and Mumblings

A friend of mine just got a puppy and is in the midst of the decision to crate or not to crate. This is a process that I’m unfamiliar with as I never really viewed it as a choice – dogs get crated. They learn that their crate is their den. My Old Man is nearly 11 and he still goes to his crate if a storm is coming. If he can’t get to his crate, he destroys the house trying to find a small enough space to simulate a crate.

All creatures need their places of comfort in times of crisis.

Iggy’s girls are with us this week and yesterday it was discovered that the youngest needed an item of clothing that she didn’t have with her. No worries, Thing 1 has just the item! Trouble is, it’s at WF’s house. No worries, I have the keys!

Thing 2 simultaneously levitated, announced “I’ll go” and was at the door with her shoes on. This would be less impressive it wasn’t already her bedtime and she’d been half asleep when I stood up. She was at the front door before I was and opened it so we could head off to WF’s house in search of a random article of her sister’s clothing.

The search was unsuccessful. I did find all three bottles of my missing sun block, both lost soccer bags, the swim bag with gear, a missing lunch box and two of my tote bags. Don’t worry, I left them all there. For now.

But when I was done and had given up the quest, I realized I’d lost something else at WF’s house. Thing 2. She was gone. Now I figured she’d get bored with the search so this wasn’t a huge shock. I walked back up to her bedroom and there she was.

Thing 2 was sitting on the floor in front of a pile of stuff next to her bed. She wasn’t doing anything – and that’s a big deal for this kid. I asked what was going on and she said: “Wasn’t dad nice? I didn’t clean my room so he put my stuff in piles near where it goes for me to go through.”

All creatures need their places of comfort in times of crisis.

Thing 2 and I went home, my home, and she got ready for bed. Even though it was after her bedtime, she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) go to sleep until I got upstairs. So I curled up in bed next to her and we chatted a bit about nothing in particular and fell asleep like that. Curled up with one another in her little twin bed. Two creatures seeking out a a place of comfort in a time of crisis.

To say that I “am not a morning person” would be a gross understatement. Of the order of magnitude of saying that the Pope “has read the Bible”. So it should be no great surprise that morning in our home is not the most pleasant time of the day. Y’all have heard the question: “If a tree falls in the woods where no one can hear does it still make a sound?” right? Well, if an alarm clock sounds in our house where no morning people can hear I am quite convinced that it really makes no sound. That or I’ve trained myself to turn it off in my sleep. This would be why “Good morning” in my house tends to sound much more like “Oh crap! We’re late!!”

“Crap” is the operative word, in case there was confusion.

So it was this morning, the second day of school for the year. The first day adrenaline has worn off and we’re back in our comfortable routine of cutting it just as close as possible in our quest for those last 3 nanoseconds of sleep. Naturally, the Wonder Dog picked up on this and chose this morning to run out the gate as we were collectively sleepwalking to the car. And unlike prior excursions, Wonder Dog elected not to return promptly this morning and stood in the road and taunted us for running so late.

Luckily, the school bus had only just left and there was a group of mothers hanging around the corner near our house who saw the whole thing. One of them called out to me and said that she’d catch the renegade mutt and that I should go on. In my rear view mirror I could see her heading up my driveway with Wonder Dog in tow and I said a heartfelt blessing for her as I went to work.

Now, I don’t consider myself to have a job so much as I have a career. Thing 1 went with me this year to a professional conference and the look on her face when she said to me “You’re really well respected, aren’t you?” was worth every hour I’ve had to spend away from her and her sister over the years. I’ve maintained that part of the reason I value my career so much is because I have daughters and I want to be the kind of role model who shows them that you can be a mom and a valuable, contributing member of society at the same time. It isn’t that I don’t value stay at home moms (SAHM), I just would never choose to be one.

But this morning I had to stop and think about this for a bit. The group of women at the bus stop were all SAHMs. The one who retrieved Wonder Dog was a SAHM. Over the years many of the “room moms” and school volunteers my girls have known have been SAHMs. The parents who drive for field trips often are as are many of the parents who pick up the slack in our various carpools. And it isn’t just SAHMs that do all this work – there are dads and work-at-home parents of both genders.

If everyone I know shared my values and beliefs on the subject then I’d have been running after Wonder Dog in my suit this morning late for a meeting. My girls would have fewer school activities and field trips because there would be fewer volunteer hours to go around. Basically, there would be no slack in my life or schedule of the kind afforded to me because others have chosen a different path from mine.

So I guess when I start to get all uppity about what makes a “valuable, contributing member of society” I need to stop and remember that what allows me to be a mom while having my career is the willingness of others to be parents at the expense of careers that take them away from home and family.

And we’ll end it there before I mention the whole single mother thing……..

It’s a tough time to be a dog. At least in my neck of the woods. For starters we just celebrated July 4th. That means fireworks. No, not just the community display in some common area or park held for the enjoyment of all. That would be what I remember from my youth. But these days, in these parts, an Independence Day celebration means fireworks every night for a week or more. Fireworks set off by neighborhood teens mere yards from my house. Adult supervision optional.

But that’s another vent.

When you add to the mix the typical weather pattern for this time of year – hot with afternoon thunderstorms – you have one very unhappy dog at my house.¬† The Old Man has always been a wuss when it comes to loud noises and I’ve never known why since he didn’t come into my life until he was almost a year old. Age has not settled his fears one little bit and so, last night, between midnight at 5 am, not a creature was sleeping not even a mouse.

He was on my bed every time there was thunder. Not just on my bed quietly at the foot of my bed but on ME on my bed. And if I could get him to the foot of the bed he shook until I felt like I was sleeping in a vibrating bed at some cheap motel. My mistake was not allowing this behavior. You see, this is the Old Man:

And this is the bookcase in the corner of my bedroom:

You know where this is going, don’t you?

He really does fit under that bottom shelf when he’s frightened. Well, he thinks he fits. And he’d be right if only he didn’t shake. But when he shakes the whole equation changes. He shakes, the bookcase shakes, the bedside table shakes and before you can say “Holy Sandman!” furniture is falling and taking books, papers, CDs and my alarm clock with it. The lamp went, too, making it hard to sort out what had happened until the fog in my brain cleared a bit.

So tonight I think the Old Man needs to sleep in his crate in the garage. No problem, right? This Pagan Queen is a farm girl at heart, I have no problem with four footed family members sleeping outside. There’s just one little hitch – really more of an issue for the other dogs than the Old Man, but I’m going to play on the dog theme for a bit.

Our County government, in it’s finite wisdom, has decided to pass a barking ordinance. Now, on the face of this it sounds great – shut your dog up or pay a fine/lose the dog. But in light of recent, and some not so recent, events I have to question this. Teens in my neighborhood are allowed to set off fireworks from dark until after midnight but if my dog were to bark that long I’d face a $500 fine, right? And cats are allowed to roam free but my dog is supposed to not bark at them when they decide to wander into our yard or my dog is the one to get confiscated by the government, not the cat.¬† I’ve eaten Swiss cheese with fewer holes in it than the logic in this ordinance! But, as a resident of this county I suppose I’ll figure something out. Something other than the Have-a-Heart traps that I’ll be putting out to collect the neighbors’ free range cats, that is. And don’t ask what the plan is for unsupervised teens……..I am a witch, remember?

Let’s talk about Magick, shall we?

I mentioned working by the dark of the moon recently but didn’t give details. There were two rituals – the first one was to remove barriers that are standing in my way professionally. I didn’t ask for anything specific, just please let me plant some seeds without Round Up getting poured on them.

So here I am, weeks later, watching the first sprouts peek through the ground. I know better than to mention what those sprouts look like or what I’m hoping they’ll grow into – I save that level of disappointing disillusion for my personal life – but even if they fail to grow into anything ever, at least I have sprouts. Tiny little seedlings of hope reaching up for the light of a new day.

Can you sustain yourself on sprouts?

I think you can. Monday night I was a bundle of nerves, in large part because of how the schedule had turned out and what that meant for Jackie and I. I know the kinds of things that set her off and I knew that Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning would be enough to have her looking for ways to make me suffer. But knowing that things in my life are moving, even if the movement is imperceptible on any sort of “normal” scale, helped. So yesterday when the blow came, it didn’t level me. As a matter of fact I did my own investigation and have evidence that her statements were a very gross mis-representation of the facts. What I’ll do with that evidence I don’t know yet, but it’s good to have it and the reason I have it is because I didn’t crumble. Progress was made.

Speaking of progress, guess what came in the mail yesterday? My divorce papers. Yup. They’ve been filed and notice should be served shortly if it hasn’t been already. Eventually I guess I’ll have to mention this at work but so far I’ve done my best not to let on that I’m even separated. Sure, there are a few people who know but for the most part I’ve been actively keeping it off the radar. One of Jackie’s favorite digs has been how I can’t handle being a “single mother” – and that was when Guido lived with me. I just don’t want to feed that fire right now. Mainly because I’m sick enough of it to go straight to HR and my lawyer to resolve this once and for all. I can’t believe that those comments would be condoned.

Besides, not only can I handle being a single mom, but I can handle being a single grandma. Thing 1 last night was moping around the house trying to cheer up my grandpuppy after said canine was spayed yesterday. Poor Shadow wanted nothing to do with being cheered up (or picked up or fed or anything but being petted) but she was perkier this morning. Thing 1 is back with her father tonight so I’ll be playing nursemaid to a wounded mutt tonight. Poor creature. I’m sure she’ll be back into trouble long before we’re supposed to let her off leash in a week.

And working our way back to Magick, I’d be remiss to not mention the interesting conversation we had in the car yesterday on the way home from school. Thing 2 has been told not to use the “W word” unless she knows it’s safe. As she gets older I’m getting more lax about this and she has a shirt that says “Witchlet” on it so I’m not sure that her language matters all that much any more but she knows the rule. We were driving home with another girl (Cat) in the car – a friend of Thing 1′s that we car pool with but whose parents I’ve never discussed religion with at all. The subject of religion came up (no doubt my fault) and Thing 2 made a comment about the “W word”. Cat asked why it was the “W word” if we meant “witch” and Thing 2 said that she wasn’t supposed to say the word.

I jumped in at that point to explain to Cat that some people didn’t like the word “witch”. Cat said that we weren’t witches because we didn’t fly and cast spells so we talked about the difference between fairy tale witches and real witches. She asked what real witches believed and I started to wonder where her father was and why he wasn’t there to pick her up yet because I was getting into conversation that I’m not comfortable having with other peoples’ kids. While I was scanning the horizon for a distraction, Thing 1 said that real witches believe that all living things are connected. Cat’s response? “Duh” Thing 2 found her tongue and said “Yeah, and we believe ‘God’ is female – it’s the Goddess” Cat’s response? “Gaia is female. She’s Mother Earth.”

Her father drove up at that moment and the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun but I have to think that this was just one more little sprout peeking up into the light. I look out into my life and I see the barriers. That’s how I was conditioned. But maybe, just maybe, there’s more there than that. If I trust, if I believe, if I give my hesitation a holiday I might just find that there’s more out there than that. I may find champions and children to give me hope. Sure. The crap will still be there. But if I look up just a little bit and quit focusing on crap I might be able to see the flowers. And the blooms are so pretty when they’re well fertilized….

I had lunch today with a dear friend (see also “third date rule”) during which many, many topics were discussed. Face it, there are only so many people in your life with whom you can sit in a public restaurant and sing Monty Python songs. And that’s a good thing. So was lunch with Moishe (although I gotta say, first the wife, now Moishe. Does Fate have a thing for Shiksas?).

Now many of the things we discussed will remain classified because I don’t want the government to know that we can solve world peace over lunch. One thing we talked about that can be shared, and that I’ve been mulling over, is the nature of the male of the species. Actually a separate species, we decided, but I’ll humor those of you who don’t have the most up-to-date biology textbooks yet.

There are three types of creatures with an XY phenotype – boys, guys and men. Moishe and I talked about this but so did my Wife and I over dinner so these thoughts reflect both conversations. Boys are easy to spot and all too common. I know for a fact that I am not the only woman to make it to a third date only to realize she just kissed Peter Pan. It’s not that I mind housebreaking…..never mind, I do. I also don’t like cleaning up their messes or wiping their noses because they can’t figure it out for themselves. Boys have one advantage – they can be controlled and to a lesser extent trained. Other than that, I really don’t see the appeal.

Guys. There’s a breed I have some experience with. To the tune of 18 years of marriage (kindly ignore the fact that it wasn’t continuous or with the same guy). Guys grew up enough to take care of buying their own beer and mowing the lawn. They can fit in with the boys when need be and can be a reasonable partner if one doesn’t expect much in the way of self-reflection, open communication or an honest willingness to compromise. The biggest advantage of guys is that they are common and easy to find. The disadvantage is that the breed is highly variable making it difficult to know exactly what you’re getting into. Case in point: 18 years of marriage took me 3 “guys”.

Men are the easiest to understand and the hardest to find. They’re like unicorns – every little girl dreams of finding one someday and every little girl has about as good a chance of finding one as they do a unicorn. I have to tell you that my Wife disagrees – she personally claims to know several men. I can think of one that I know. So they’re out there but I honestly have never known one young enough to be able to state that they are born and not created. Perhaps that’s what drives so many of us crazy – the hope that we can have a man if we find a guy with enough raw potential and train him. Better to settle for a guy, I would think, and be done with it. Then again, that was the plan with Guido and look where it got me!

So while talking to my Wife about this and brainstorming about men we knew it dawned on me – RC may actually be a man. If that pans out to be true, there could be a very interesting character study there waiting to unfold because he certainly wouldn’t see it that way and I’m not sure how much that plays a role in the fact that he and I don’t speak the same language.