The Worst Parents Ever

Jerry just helped Victor get into his pajamas.  And by helped, I mean held him down and forced his squirming legs into them.  The problem: Jerry picked out a matching pair of pajamas - dino top and bottoms.  Victor NEVER wears matching pajamas.  It's like his policy.  Victor's response: through tears, Victor said, "you're acting like mean foster parents!"  Moments later, as I was sitting down to publish this amazing quote, I saw my son streak through the kitchen to the living room, wearing mismatched pajamas.

A Little Perspective

For the first time since February 8, 2004 I find myself completely alone.  Well, the dog's here, but she doesn't count.  My husband and my son both left for vacationland early Thursday morning.  Vito will be gone for almost a full month, and my heart is breaking.  My plan for the summer was to be attending a class to become a Certified Nurse's Aide (CNA), which would have kept me plenty distracted from my son's absence.  Now, I am not taking the class, and my boredom leaves me to slip into despair from time to time.  I honestly feel like part of my self is missing.  Who am I without my son to share breakfast with?  Without his body breathing in the next room at night I feel like I'm searching for something I know I have no hope of finding.  I hear the neighborhood kids' footsteps on the stairs and expect my son to burst into the house needing me to get his bike out for him.  I burst into tears at least once an hour.    

Meanwhile, in the real world, mothers in Somalia are walking for days, maybe weeks, in search of food and water because they are in the middle of a famine.  Their babies die in their arms, and they just leave them on the side of the road and continue walking, searching for sustenance.  How do they keep living?  How does a mother keep living when she loses her child?  How can I feel so sorry for myself when nothing is actually wrong in my world?  What a wretched girl I am.  

So, now I'm gonna trade in my sorrow for joy.

Things I am grateful for:

Vito is safe at his grandparents' house in Atlanta.
Vito will be seeing our dear friends, Natasha, Nico and Matteo on Sunday.  
There is a wonderful little boy who lives next door to Papa and Tots, who has made fast friends with my son.  His family has a Wii.
Grandparents who love my son.
The tremendous planning that Tots put into Vito's time with them.      
The ability to immediately give to charities online.
People with the gumption to follow through with their ideas and bring food, water and healing to people in scary lands.
Beautiful, sunshiny weather outside my door that's going to last until 11:00 tonight.
The use of my legs for the walk I'm about to take with my dog.

Here I go . . .

Pepper's Debut

So, in February we got Pepper.

As you can see, she was adorable.  We were all quite taken with her.  Then, she pretty much became the bane of my existence.  Accidents, chewing what she shouldn't, destroying my furniture, puking because she ate something disgusting, etc.  This is not even the worst of the damage, it's just the only picture.  

Sometimes I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  She sits, she waits patiently while we feed her, and then waits for the command to start eating, she usually comes when we call her.  She's got promise, really.  But, sometimes I'm not sure if I'm going to outlast the puppy phase.  Seriously, our neighbors must think we all have Tourette's Syndrome.  We are always yelling at the dog about something.

But, then we do something like take her swimming, and I realize she is pretty cute still.

 
And right now Pepper is snuggled up at my feet after a quick walk around the block.  She is making funny Eewok noises while I pet her with my foot.  She's not all bad.  I suppose we'll keep her.

An Informal Thank You Note

Dear Mom and Tots,
    
Thank you so much for the subscription you got me for The New Yorker.  It has proved to be a lasting gift.  I really enjoyed reading it until February.  Now your gift serves a higher purpose.  As New Yorker magazines enters our house they are promptly rolled into cylindrical shapes and staged in various places around our house.  I usually have one on my lap wherever I happen to be sitting.  There is one on top of the television cabinet, and one on our computer desk.  There is one on each segment of kitchen counter, and one on our dining room table.  We have one in reach no matter where we might be in the house.  They are now devoted to swatting the rump of our naughty puppy.  This might not be quite the purpose you had in mind for them, but they are sure coming in handy.  I think of you both with fondness and appreciation,  many times throughout my day, as I swat Pepper off the kitchen counter, or stop her from chewing on our shoelaces, or snatch the sofa cushions from her mouth, or rescue the electrical cords from her sharp little puppy teeth, or rescue the remote control . . .

Thank you again and again,
Anna

Confronting My Fears

Well, okay.  Fear might be a strong word.  But, as some of you probably know, I'm not too terribly fond of goats.  They just strike me as being creepy.  This little fella, though, well . . . you'll see.

On the other hand, he is just a baby goat.  He'll probably grow up to have creepy yellow eyes and chomp down on that girl's fingers.  Baby steps, Anna.

How I Like to Start My Day

Before I had quite finished my first cup of coffee Saturday morning I had to clean some stuff out of my Jeep so the seat could be put down - a storage run was on the agenda for the day.  I grabbed the bag of trash that I'd been meaning to throw out for a week or so, and the random scraps that had accumulated in the back seat, then threw everything in my hands into the dumpster.  When I returned to my Jeep I realized I couldn't find my keys.  I delayed my panic and took the detritus from my car into the apartment, then went on a key hunt.  I looked in, around and under my car several times, all the while feeling the dumpster looming behind me.  I turned and looked directly at the dumpster.  I walked to the dumpster and opened the lid.  I stared into its stinky depths.  I said a quick prayer of thanks that the day before was garbage day.  It was relatively empty.  No chance a dead body was hiding inside.  I went back inside and grabbed a broom so I could use its handle to push the garbage around before I jumped inside for no reason.  Just as I was clambering up the side of the dumpster one of my neighbors came outside to throw something away.  Awkward.  I sheepishly smiled at her and explained that I was afraid I'd thrown my keys away.  She stayed for moral support.  With the broom handle I pushed the garbage around, and there they were.  Right on top of someone's leftover Chinese.  Blech.  I sighed a big sigh and made my descent.  My keys were rescued!  

Oh, as I was climbing out a moose calf came running from around the corner.  I swear he cocked his eye at me as he ran down 79th Ave.