Honestly, I'm Not Ignoring You

A friend and I took our dogs for a walk in the woods so I decided to leave my phone in the car where it would be safe from my accidentally dropping it in the snow, never to be found again. Plus, I just wanted to enjoy the company of my friend and our dogs, uninterrupted. When I got back to the car from our hour walk, I checked my phone. There were 7 missed calls from my son. In addition to those calls were the following texts:

Is there something wrong with your phone?

Call me back, right now

You suck at answering phones mom, seriously

Do you want me to tell you there’s an emergency? Because I’ll play that card

I’m gonna throw your phone into a porta potty

What was so important? He wanted to know where the dog was (she was with me).  My response to the missed calls and messages was this:

            You only need to leave one message or call only once. If I am available I will call you back.

 I have had told that to both of my sons at one time or another. Usually I have to remind them that I am not tied to my phone 24/7 like they are so if I don’t respond, then I will when I can. Both boys have left message after message with the same

            Answer your phone!

            Where are you?

            Why won’t you answer?

            Seriously, why even have a phone if you aren’t going to answer it?

messages as if I am sitting there looking at the screen saying “Muahahaha! They will never know I’m here refusing to answer!” The most missed calls I have received from one son was 9. 9 missed calls! No emergency. Nobody has lost a limb. It’s usually for something dumb like, “Did you order that shirt yet?”

I guess I am going to have to blame this on the generation gap. I just don’t feel the need to have my phone on me every waking second of every day. I don’t carry it around with me at work. I leave it on the counter at home and most of the time the ringer is off. I’m not innocent here. I can find myself in a panic if one of my kids doesn’t respond to my messages. But usually, I can surmise that if they aren’t responding, they are probably busy at the moment. Both of my sons carry their phones everywhere, even in the bathroom. I can hear the shower running and a phone buzzing with incoming texts. I have to wonder if the extra towel in the bathroom is for drying off wet hands to respond within seconds. I guess I can understand why they can’t understand why I’m OK with walking away from it sometimes. I like my phone and how it allows me to stay connected, but if I don’t respond right away, please understand that I’m probably busy at the moment, or I just want to unplug and enjoy the quiet, like a walk in the woods with a friend and our dogs.

            

Do Whatever you Want, but Don't Take My Spot!

I’m one of those early people. I’d rather be to work early than stay late. When the day is over, I want to get home. I make it a point to get in to work early (most days ½ hour early) to get myself ready for the day without a fluster of running around doing last-minute things in a panic. In coming to work early, I have had the good fortune to land one of the prime parking spots. It’s one of those ‘closest to the door you can get without parking right next to the door’ spots. Every day for the last 5 years or so I have quite literally parked in the same spot, although my friend Deb might disagree. She claims it’s only my spot because I stole her spot. The only time I have changed that is when I either have been late due to unforeseen circumstances (and when I say late, I mean closer to contract time than I usually arrive) or if I have an appointment and need to scoot out before the buses leave. One morning I arrived at my usual time only to see someone leaving her car and walking towards the building. Fine, except for the fact that this car was parked in my spot. I thought “That must be a substitute teacher. Everyone knows this is my spot! But why would a sub be here so early?” I didn’t recognize the car or the back of the person walking in. I half wanted to chase her in and say “Um, excuse me, but you have parked in my spot. Could you please move?” But could I do that? Afterall, there is no assigned parking. She is free to park wherever she wants, as I am. But it’s the principal of the thing. If I have to park somewhere else, so does Sara, and Deb, and Dana, and so on. It’s like the domino effect. If I was so rattled by someone “moving my cheese” wouldn’t everyone else be? I took my plea to Facebook. The response was overwhelming. I got a mixture of sympathy and ribbing. Those who understood what it’s like wholeheartedly supported my stand.  In fact, I found out that the culprit found her way to my spot because two people before me had informed her that she was parking in their spots! But since I’m not one for confrontation and because it really is just a silly parking spot, I’ve decided to suck it up and park wherever there’s a free spot, which will still be my spot because I’ll just make sure I’m there earlier.

The Joys of Puppy Parenthood

When we embarked on the adventure of adopting a new puppy, never in my wildest dreams did I remember how much work an active puppy is. Some of the things I had forgotten were:

·      House-breaking and those “accidents” that are completely intentional because Puppy simply doesn’t want to go outside right now.

·      When the puppy discovers how much fun it is to run away while holding something she isn’t supposed to be holding.

·      Ignoring the commands you know she knows.

·      Chewing on anything BUT her large box of toys (including emptying out the box and then chewing on it)

·      Standing out in the rain and blizzards waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for her to do her “business”

·      Wanting to hold her on the couch because she is sooooo stinkin’ cute, but knowing that we won’t want her on the couch when she is a full-grown dog with muddy, wet paws.

·      How much FUN a roll of toilet paper can be!

I have been exhausted ever since we got Betsy. From the first week of sleepless nights and her constant need for supervision. This experience has thrust me right back into being the parent of a young toddler. If it’s quiet…there’s trouble. My friend came over and said “I’ve never seen your living room so clean!” We literally can’t keep anything below waist-high because if she can reach it, she will destroy it. Bitter Apple Spray has become my new best friend. Chewing on wires behind the couch? One quick spritz stops that in a hurry I quickly found out.

In spite of all of the frustrations that go along with that first year of puppy-hood, the rapid growth and learning that takes place is really fun to be a part of. She seems to learn something new everyday and each morning she literally looks bigger. She is so happy all the time. The thing I missed most when we lost Molly, was that pure joy when we got home, whether we walked to the mailbox and back or were gone for spring break. I love my cats, but when I come home they barely lift their heads. In my attempt to be the best dog mom ever, I have exchanged “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” for “The Border Collie’s Owner’s Guide,”  “Training Your Working Dog to go from Obsessive to Companion,” “Border Collies,” and hours of YouTube videos on How to Train Your Dog. I’ve left behind Piaget’s Stages of Child Development for Zac George’s Training Revolution. I know, like with kids, this is a stage that will pass and once again I’ll forget what it was like to have a puppy so I’ll do what I can to treasure every frustrating, irritating, funny, and adorable memory.

Watch out for those Impulse Purchases!

We almost made a huge impulse purchase. One of the worst kind. A
puppy. A puppy is a terrible impulse purchase because they are so cute
and sweet at that 8 week mark. They snuggle in and murmur in your neck
"take me home." Unfortunately, about one sleepless week later the
Tasmanian Devil emerges and you are wondering what the heck you were
thinking. Tom found an ad (with pictures) on Craigslist for Border Aussie puppies;
just the mix we had been hoping for. It took us several months (and 4
chickens) to cope with the loss of our beloved Molly, but being the
dog people we are it wasn't long and we were again craving that
undeniable devotion that only a dog can give. But we wanted to wait
until spring. I have had puppies in the winter and puppies in the
spring and when I have the time in the summer to devote to
housebreaking and training a dog things go much better. That weekend
in particular we got sucked right into the throes of impulse-puppy mode. We
were thinking up names and Googling How to Get Ready for a Puppy videos. But since we had one roadblock keeping us from going to get her we were forced
to end the weekend puppy-free.

"Wow that was close!"

"I do not want another dog!"

"The middle of winter is a terrible time to get a
puppy!"

“Did you see the neighbor trudging through the rain walking his dog? Glad I’m not doing that!”

"I am so glad we didn't get that puppy!" I even said to a
friend in the copy room.

But we couldn't let it go. We thought, and talked, and strategized. And then, exactly one week later we drove downstate and got a puppy. She was cute and snuggly that first sleepless week and then came the Tasmanian Devil. We now find ourselves doing and saying all of the things new puppy moms and dads do and say.

“Bite the toy!” (instead of the furniture or my hand)

“Go pee outside!” (instead of in the dining room or under the Christmas tree)

We take her out at 11:00pm and 3:00am and get up with her at 5:00am. We take her for walks in the rain. We drive home at lunch to let her out and eat our lunches in the car and the next day start all over again. We watch puppy training videos on YouTube and we get puppy snuggles and puppy breath. We are exhausted and frustrated…and happy. It might be an impulse purchase, but if you’re ready for the hard work and challenges that go along with it, it’s the best kind. Welcome home Betsy.

An Old Fashioned Knitting Bee

We are an old fashioned “knitting bee.”  We meet on Thursday nights in the lobby of a church in Charlevoix. We range in age from 11ish to 60-something.  We knit (or crochet) tell stories, laugh, relax, and unwind.  A friend of mine invited me to this knitting group a year or so ago. The ladies who attend are a mismatched set of individuals with the same common goal; to make stuff. Some of us aren’t very good at it, some are absolute beginners, and some are advanced, with yarn collections that could put you in awe. Only a few attend every week without fail, but we keep in contact about who is going to try and make it with our weekly Facebook messenger thread that not only includes who is coming, but who needs thoughts, prayers, or hugs.  The dictionary definition for a bee is:

            (noun) a social gathering  for a specific purpose, as to carry out a communal task or hold competitions: a quilting bee

I am guessing that the “hold competitions” part refers to things like spelling bees. We don’t do any competing. We do begin each week with our little “show and tell” of projects we have completed. Stacey usually has the most to show. And then we show what we are working on this week. If Carrol comes, she is our resident expert in both knitting and crochet and helps those who need it. She usually brings skeins of cool yarn she has recently added to her collection. Greer is the youngest of our group and one of the regulars, who doesn’t seem to even notice that she’s the only youngster among moms and grandmas (although sometimes she does bring a friend). Not to mention that her knitting skills could put any one of us to shame.  There are many Thursday nights that I don’t make it. Most of the time I am just too doggone tired from the stress and business of my everyday life, which is exactly the reason I should go. When I do make it, I find a spot at the round table where I can get ahead on a project without distraction from the pile of dishes that need to be washed or papers that need to be corrected. I can chat with or listen to a group of ladies with whom I have at least one thing in common. I may not see them at any other time during the week, but when we get together in that lobby, around that table, with our yarn and our stories, we are friends.