An Angel Name Poco

It has been a little over a week since Noah's dog, and best friend, died.  It has been so painful to watch my son openly resist petting other dogs, so painful to watch what I know he is processing deep within himself.  Unlike Noah, I have pretty much run up to every dog we've seen, eager to be covered in kisses, eager to wrap my arms around a furry neck, and just plain eager for the love only a dog can give.  Yesterday at the beach I found myself playing with two yellow Labs in the water, desperately hoping Noah would follow me.  I have not forced him, and completely going against my usual nature, I have let the heart strings go just a bit because I know this is an experience Noah must endure in his own way.

We have a puppy waiting for us when we return from vacation, and Shawn and I have been wondering if we made the wrong decision.  The puppy decision was made before Gretta died, and we'd planned on having Lilly in our home when Gretta died, but things just didn't work out that way.  We sat down with Noah the other day and asked him directly.  Thankfully, he still wants Lilly....  Because she isn't a Lab.  Noah carefully explained to us, as only Noah can, that he just can't bear to pet another Lab right now.  It's not just dogs in general, it's Labs in particular.  That much, I understand.  I too, am grateful that Lilly is a St. Bernard and not a Lab.  I don't think my heart could bear it right now, and I know that another Lab would just never measure up to Gretta's greatness, no matter how wonderful it is.

Today, we went sailing.  I found out beforehand that a dog happens to reside on this particular boat.  And Poco happens to be a yellow Lab.  Last night, I prepared Noah.  I didn't think it was fair to surprise him with the dog.  I hugged him after I told him, and he walked away from me.  I really didn't know what to expect today.

Avery discovered Poco's "I'm a Therapy Dog" tag first.

Poco discovered Noah next.

As Noah's mom, I don't think I can quite express just how grateful I am to this dog for knowing what my son needed, and for making my son smile.  I get that weird mommy "huh-huh-huh" hicuppy feeling in my chest when I think about this moment.  I had to keep wiping tears away!  I hadn't said anything to the captain, the first mate or Poco about Gretta.  Noah hadn't called Poco over.  Somehow, Poco just knew what was needed and he did his job.  I'd say he earned his milkbones today.


I live in a world in which angels exist.  And sometimes, those angels have four paws, a tail and fur.

My Mommy Agony

As moms, we are primed to fix boo-boos.  We are ready to rock, nurse, snuggle, change diapers, do whatever it takes to make it better for our child.  Usually it's a process of trial and error.  Sometimes we get it right, other times we rock into the wee hours of the night, praying for a break in the tears.

We grow with our children as they grow.  We learn when it's time to back off and allow our children to figure it out for themselves.  We find the balance between letting go just enough, and hanging on to the apron strings for security.

Then there are the times we desperately want to make it better, we want to fix it, but it's just not physically possible.

These past 48 hours have been agonizing for me, having to watch Noah go through this grief process.  It is excruciating to watch my man-child experience anger, depression, fury, denial, rage, and utter despair, often all within the same 30 seconds of each other.  This morning he announced he's going on a hunger strike; logically, Noah knows that won't bring Gretta back--but try explaining that to a grieving, angry 11 year old boy.  No child should have to go through this kind of pain of losing a dear loved one and best friend.  I think, for me, the pain of watching Noah go through this is worse than the pain I feel from missing our dog.  It hurts to watch him do his backyard pacing without his happy brown-dog shadow walking behind him, tail wagging, not caring where they were going, just happy to be with her boy.

Shortly after Gretta died, Noah asked me to please not "griefalize" him, as I would a client at the grief center where I volunteer.  Both my mentor and I found this very interesting, and so typically perceptive of Noah.  I have wanted to reassure him that everything and anything he feels right now is normal, but that is not what he needs from his mom.  I have held him, cried with him, laid down with him and snuggled, listened when he's raged on, done my best to comfort him--but I can't fix it.  I can't snap my fingers and make it go away.  I can't go through this for him, in his place.

Shawn and I have both spent time talking with Noah when he's been receptive to it.  We've wanted to assure him that we both understand, that we've both lost beloved pets and best friends.  I've been honest with him, because truthfully, Noah is too smart for anything less.  I've explained that it's going to hurt for a while, but one day he'll realize he's smiling at memories instead of tearing up.  I told him I can't promise when it will start to hurt less, but it will.  We talked about anger (after he shoved my ancient cat off the counter and screamed at her for still being alive when his dog is dead), acceptable ways to show it, and how it's even okay to be angry at God and Gretta, me and Shawn.  Anger is something new for Noah--it's not a problem we've typically had with him.  Right now, he just needs to get all of that out, in a safe manner, be comfortable with it, then maybe we can start talking about good memories and Gretta.  Hopefully soon Noah will be able to rest in the knowledge that he gave Gretta a great life.

I will admit that for myself and Shawn, it is a small relief to see Noah experience these emotions and feelings.  Asperger's can leave a person very expressionless.  People on the spectrum don't experience emotions the same way you or I do--it's not to say they don't experience them at all, just differently.  Oftentimes, Noah can seem very cold and callous.  Things he might find funny are actually mean; he can't always grasp the concept of what other people are feeling, and why they are feeling those specific emotions.  So, as awful as it sounds, it is a small relief to see our son experience such a wide range of emotions.  It has given him a chance to do so in a safe setting (he wasn't punished for shoving my cat--he got a hug instead), and a chance for us to teach him what to do with what he's feeling.

I am relieved we are soon leaving for vacation.  We all need a break.  This tiny house has suddenly become too big without Gretta following me around as I complete my daily tasks.  Even with our two loud, energetic boys, it has become too quiet with Gretta's companionship.  It tears me apart to watch Noah stand at her grave and grieve for his friend.  The silence when he goes to bed and there's no "Come on Gretta, it's bedtime!" call has left a void at 8 every night.  There is an ache, an emptiness, when she doesn't come running to greet us when we come through the front door.  There is a hole in my son's heart.

A Boy and His Dog, One Last Time

If there is anything that will tear a mother's heart out and stomp on it, it's having to watch her child say goodbye to his best (canine) friend of nine years, then watch as he helps his dad build her casket, dig her grave, and bury her.  My heart is officially torn out and stomped on tonight.

It seems my grief training is a curse within my own family, as Noah asked me to not "griefalize" him, like I would a client or guest at the center.  Later, he declared that he believes Gretta and Denny (my grandfather who died last year) are most likely already playing fetch, as they have both been restored to good health and happiness.  A child shall lead.


I will write more when I am able, but I wanted to share this picture, and ask for prayers for Noah (and the rest of our family) if you are the praying kind.  Our dear dog, Gretta, received a better funeral than most people do.  Before we closed Gretta casket, we laid a fluffy, soft blanket underneath her, we included her favorite ball at her feet, Noah tucked one of his stuffed dog between her front paws, we laid another fluffy, soft blanket over top of her, then laid her collar on top of the blanket.  After Shawn lowered her casket into the grave, Noah donned his Scout uniform, saluted his best friend, prayed over her soul, then opened it up for any last words from other attendees (can you tell my dear child attended way too many funerals last year?).  I love this boy.  Just when I don't think he's ever going to "get it".....

The Worst Thing to Ever Happen to Me

Tonight at dinner, Noah posed a question.  He wanted to know what the worst thing to ever happen to me was, then he said, "Let me guess:  Having kids!"  He was being a smart aleck, but both Shawn and I knew where this road was headed.  Shawn did his best to tell Noah to drop it in the hopes of derailing the conversation, but Noah--being Noah--would not be diverted.

I told Noah that having children was by far not the worst thing to ever happen to me, that having him and Avery is the best thing to ever happen to me, then asked him to please leave well enough alone.

Now, it's 11 at night, and I've finally answered Noah's question.  He was still awake after a long day, and his question has been at the front of my brain for the entire evening.  It's a source of great heartache for me, but I decided he needs to learn what happens when he asks questions like that.  I wanted him to understand just how much I love him and his brother, and why they are the best things to ever happen to me.  It might seem something very heavy to lay on an 11 year old, especially this late at night, but it was time.  I wanted him to finally know why I cry in the baby aisles of stores, why I am so passionate about certain subjects, why he and his brother are 9 years apart--and so many other things.  I wanted that freedom of communication with him.  Noah didn't have any questions after we talked, but I know his mind is turning, as always, and he will certainly have questions later.

As most of you readers already know, I became very sick after Noah was born.  Between the medications and what was happening to my body, Shawn and I were told there wouldn't be anymore babies.  For us, this was met with a mixture of slight relief and extreme heartsickness.  Even as an infant, Noah was already proving more than we knew what to do with, and there was just no way I was in any condition to raise more children.  However, we'd always kind of hoped for a home full of children, so this medical declaration was difficult to swallow.

Well, it happened.  When Noah was three. I became pregnant.  And I lost the baby.  I don't know if our child was a boy or a girl, but I have always referred to my child as Grace.  I see it as a very fitting name for a child who resides in Heaven.  I blamed myself for so long, I was so filled with guilt, shame and anger.

The miscarriage became yet another notch in my belt of anger toward God.  Oh, I was so very angry at Him.  I raged on and on--how could this happen to me, when my sister could just pop children out without blinking an eye, yet not be able to afford them or love them?  I had so many examples that I would carry on to God about--the woman next door who smoked, did drugs and drank throughout her pregnancy, yet had a perfectly healthy child, a girl I'd gone to high school with who seemed to get pregnant just by shaking a different man's hand every 12 months, and don't forget So-And-So, you could always tell when she and her estranged husband were back together!  I was so angry.  How dare He take my child from me.  What had I done so wrong that God needed to punish me for it, yet He rewarded all of "those people" with children?


I've learned a lot since then.  I value Noah and Avery more than anyone else in this world.  I love them with the ferocity they deserve to be loved with.  They are my gifts.  They are my miracles.  Now I know that for whatever reason, God was doing what He needed to do to protect Grace.  He wasn't punishing me.  I don't know why He let my child come to be, only to take my child, but I do know that Grace is His child, too.  He loves Grace (and Noah, and Avery) with a ferocity my child deserves to be loved with.  I don't know if Grace was sick and would have lived a life of suffering, or if God saw that I simply was too sick, but for whatever reason, my child was taken to a safer, better place, to live a healthy, fuller life.   I rejoice in that knowledge, and I rejoice in my two boys here, and the happiness they give me.

Yes, I do miss Grace.  I love my child in Heaven as much as I love my children here on Earth.  I think about my child every day, and there are times I still cry.  Even as I rejoice in Grace's everlasting life, I still mourn my loss.  Some would argue that Grace was nothing more than a few cells at that stage of life, but I will tell you right now, Grace was a baby, my child, and that miscarriage resulted in the death of my child.  I don't know that it's really something one ever "gets over."  I often wonder what Grace looks like, what Grace's laugh sounds like, and if, like Grace's brothers, they all share Shawn's coloring, or if Grace has my dark hair and eyes.  I look forward to meeting this dear child of mine some day, but I know now there will be a time and place for this incredibly special meeting.  I ache to know the feeling of having Grace in my arms.  Until then, my child is safe in the arms of God, being loved personally by Jesus, Shawn's mom, my grandfather, and others who have gone before us.  That is my comfort.

A Day in the Life in Left Field

I was considering everything that seems to happen in our house on a daily basis, and surely, someone out there can either relate, or just needs a pick-me-up and a good laugh.  I sent this to a friend first, just in case I missed anything--and asked her what I was missing.  Her response?  "Harnesses, lo-jacks and Tazers."  Oh yeah....  Those might be helpful...  So, here it is-- A typical day in the Furr house:

7:00 am:  The alarm clock wakes up, calling for either me or Shawn to rescue him from his cage--I mean, crib.  No matter which one of us gets there first, we're not the one he wants, even if we're the one he was calling for.

7:30 am:  Child #2 wakes up, and chaos ensues as daily sibling rivalry, strife and fights begin.  I look for a wall to bang my head against, as the Keureg is not giving me my coffee fast enough, and there is no Starbucks barista at my kitchen window.  Double check to make sure Noah really did take his pills after I peel him off the ceiling, and consider padding the walls while he bounces to and fro.

8:00 am:  Shawn heads out the front door to the garage to go to work, where he slips in a huge puddle rapidly expanding from underneath the fridge.  Oh, Noah turned it off and it defrosted in the 100+ degree heat!  Well, there goes a gallon of milk, about 3 pounds of butter and 3 dozen eggs down the tubes.  Hopefully we can salvage some of the other stuff.  Shawn leaves for work, leaving me to deal with Noah and the mess because he (Shawn) is beginning to stutter so much in frustration that he now sounds like Elmer Fudd.

8:30 am:  Avery grabs Cat #1, throws him into the air as best he can, yelling "That's not flying!  That's falling!  With style!"  As Cat #1 lands, Avery runs off in search of Cat #2 and Cat #3, who have wisely hidden wherever he won't be able to find them.  I make a mental note to talk to Shawn about the things he does to the cats in front of Avery.

8:35 am:  I walk down the hallway just in time to catch an Avery-in-potty-training checking his diaper to see if "there's poop in there."  Something falls out of his diaper and rolls down the hallway.  Yep, there was.

8:45 am:  Avery asks for "pidaman Jesus."  I clarify, "You mean Spiderman Cheez-Its?"  He answers, "Yes, Pidaman Jesuses!"

9:05 am:  I hear Avery's voice very muffled.  I'm busy with something else, so I really don't have time to investigate.  The garage disaster is finally cleaned up, the hallway mess is cleaned up, and I'm behind with my daily tasks because of that fiasco.  The dog is at my feet, licking up the flour and any other ingredients being knocked over the edge of the counter as I knead my frustrations out with some bread dough.

9:15 am: I finally investigate Avery's noise because it just won't stop.  He's on the wrong side of the back door, locked outside.  Noah, who has been engrossed in a toddler tv show, hasn't noticed.  I open the door and Avery yells that Cat #1 got out again.  Cat hunt ensues.

9:30 am:  I locate Cat #1 by tripping over him in the yard, grab him by his tail and haul him back into the house, lecturing him the entire time about how lucky he is to have a family who loves him, an air conditioned house, food and a comfy bed (that would be my bed).  Cat #1 is safely back inside, glaring at me with his gratitude.

9:45 am:  Avery hands me a gift bag and asks me if it's a d****e bag.  I tell Avery no, admonish him for using the word, then make a mental note to have a talk with the husband about yet another word he can't say in traffic in front of the 3 year old parrot.  We will be praying about this at church on Sunday, begging forgiveness, and hoping it's not the main point in Pastor Nick's message....

10:00 am:  Noah is repeating EVERY.  SINGLE.  THING.  SAID.  ON.  THE.  TV.  He is also rocking back and forth on the couch, slamming his head into the back of the couch with each rock and periodically bouncing from wall to wall.  Welcome to Asperger Hell and echolalia.  I snap the tv off and order everyone under the age of 35 OUTSIDE.  NOW!

10:05 am:  Everyone under the age of 35 comes back inside, complaining it is too hot to be outside and begging for pee-pops.  Wii is turned on and children escalate.  AGAIN.  Noah is sprinting in place and moving his hands at a manic speed, loudly commanding his Mii to win the race.  Avery joins in the fray, just for the fun of it.  Now I'M beginning to sound like Elmer Fudd.

10:30 am: Prayer request via text comes in as I'm moving laundry from washer to dryer.  Cat #2 is "helping."  I pause to pray, then shut the dryer door and start it.  THUDTHUD. THUDTHUD.  Open door, let Cat #2 out of dryer, laugh as he wobbles and shakes his head, trying to regain his bearings after being spun.  I also wonder why my cats are as hard headed as my children, and why this cat has yet to learn the dryer is not a playground.

10:35 am:  Clean Cat #3's hairball up from freshly mopped floor, then realize Dog has finally pooped, after holding it for the past several days....  ALL OVER THE CARPET.  Nevertheless, she seems relieved and is instantly no longer behaving as though she is on death's door, so in spite of the mess, I am grateful for poop!  I get to scrubbing the carpet, mopping the floor (again), and cleaning up Dog.

10:45 am:  We need a change in scenery, so the children and I head off to take care of a friend's pets while she is swimming with dolphins and her children in the Florida Keys.  Shawn has decided to head out for a 6 mile run in the 100+ degree heat.  I lock the house up, not realizing Shawn does not have keys.  While at friend's house, Avery attempts to let a lizard and a gerbil loose, harasses her kittens in the name of loves and snuggles, and I grab her bottle of olive oil that I will replace later because I have run out at my house!

11:30 am:  Return home to find overheated husband has fashioned a water slide/shower for himself on the boys' playset after finding himself locked out of the air conditioned house.  Soaking wet husband then tracks water throughout the house, leaving puddles every few inches.  I retreat to my kitchen, realizing I just can't win against these three.  Back to my bread dough.

12:00 pm:  Whew, halfway through the day!  I send Noah off to play with a friend, set Avery up with crayons, and I sit down to email the Shandys (that would Sharon and Mandy), to let them know we're all still alive, see how their days are going and to just take a breather.  Email is an excuse to sit down and block out everything (and everyone) for just a few moments.  Both will laugh over the day's escapades; Sharon will remind me to proudly let our freak flag fly high, and Mandy will do her best to compete with me...  Not because we're competitive, mind you, but because it just happens naturally.  She lives on a neighboring planet, according to Murphy's Law.  Both women will remind me to be grateful, they will both make me laugh, and we will all offer to meet up somewhere with bread and dip, wine, and chocolate, should the need arise for a serious stress intervention.  And cake.  Can't forget the cake at a serious stress intervention....

1:00 pm:  As I'm working with something else in the kitchen, I realize the cookies (muffins, scones, bread, rolls, etc) cooling on the racks on the counter behind me are slowly disappearing.  It would seem the noises I heard earlier were the pitter patter of 3 year old and 35 year old feet.  Now I can hear them laughing at my seemingly oblivious nature, thinking they got away with something....  But I'm on to them, so I move the goodies to a sealed container out of their reach.  Ah-ha!

2:00 pm:  It's almost nap time!  My favorite part of the day, well, next to bedtime, of course!  Time to call Noah home.  I text him.  Nothing.  I call him.  Nothing.  Text.  Call.  Text.  Call.  Text.  Call.  Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.  No response.  Shawn finally locates Noah via the family GPS system we have on our phones and I call that house.  I find out that Noah's phone was on silent...  Well, then what is the purpose of having a phone for me to call you if you turn it to silent and ignore it?!

2:15 pm:  Noah is now home, and is reminded that next time, it won't be Mommy calling his friend's house, it will be the police showing up if I can't find him and he doesn't answer his phone when called.

2:30 pm:  Praise God, we made it to nap time.  Woo hoo!!!  Nap Time Rules:  Avery is sleeping, Mommy is taking a break.  Unless you are bleeding, broken or dying, or the house is on fire, please do not disturb.  Nap time is just as much for Mommy as it is for Avery.


2:40 pm:  After putting Avery down for a nap in his crib, I hear a loud thud in his room.  Moments later, I hear his doorknob turn, then I hear Avery say, "Mommy?  Mommy, where are you?"  I put him back in his crib, and ask him to show me how he got out, which he does.  Now the real fun begins!  Does this mean it's time to turn his doorknob around?!

5:00 pm:  Nap time is over.  Repeat 7 am-2:30 pm.  Dinner chaos ensues, children in and out of the house, Shawn is finally home from work, I might get a bit of a break now!!!  His commute is a real killer on his work-from-home days.

5:05 pm:  Call for help comes in from Sharon, who is at Mandy's house checking on the animals.  In the words of Avery, "We wost one of Monkey Mandy's wizards!"  Looks to me like one of the 5 cats fell through the top of the cage and enjoyed a feast of gecko.  We line the cats up, they all look guilty, but none of them are talking.  Ohhhh boy.  We text Mandy, take pictures and thankfully, she laughs with us, agrees it was bound to happen eventually.  We all dread having to tell her daughter.


5:35 pm:  I realize I haven't seen Noah wear his Crocs for a few days.  He has been making a point to wear only his sneakers.  When I ask him about this, he admits he doesn't know where they are.  An hour-and-a-half long search ensues, until I finally find them in Avery's train box.  Don't ask.  I don't anymore.

7:00 pm:  Mommy needs some alone time, away from the three menfolk she loves so much.  I settle in for a bubble bath, Avery settles on the floor next to the tub with Daddy's iPad to watch a movie.  This is not working out how I had planned.  Earlier I was looking for a wall to bang my head against, now I'm wondering if it's possible for me to drown myself....  You know, it's a good thing we don't keep alcohol in this house.  These kids could drive us to drink!

7:30 pm:  Time to start getting everyone ready for bed (including Mommy!)--yay!  Send Noah back to brush his teeth.  Five minutes later, realize I still haven't heard his toothbrush or water.  Go back to bathroom to investigate and realize the air is heavy with that "fresh clean scent" advertised on the gel toilet cleaner I bought that morning.  No, I don't want to look.  YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!  Upon investigation, I see that Noah has stamped the entire bathroom with gel toilet cleaner....  The walls, the shower curtain, the floor, the tub and shower, himself....  Not to worry, the toilet wasn't hit!  *sigh*


7:58 pm: Last minute pleas from both boys to please stay up just a few minutes longer.  Nope.  Sorry.  Mommy needs a break....  She is more tired than you are!


8:00 pm:  Hugs and kisses are distributed, children are tucked in and it sounds like an episode of The Waltons up and down our hallway:  "Night Avery!"  "Night Noah!"  "Night Mommy and Daddy!"  "Night Gwetta!"  "Night kitties!"  Good night Jon Boy....


8:01 pm: Shawn and I collapse on the couch, exhausted after yet another day in Left Field, totally unable to form complete thoughts or finish our sentences.  Go Team Tired!


10:00 pm:  Shawn and I finally work up the energy to move from the couch to our bed, drifting off to sleep with grateful thoughts of exhaustive children and our pretty darn good life.

*Editor's Note:  Mandy found the gecko....  One of the kittens was playing with a dead leaf on her kitchen table....  The dead leaf turned out to be a dead gecko....  Her daughter was actually more worried about it crawling on her while she slept than she was about it being dead.  He had a proper burial, and all has been forgiven, and most likely, forgotten.....

Facing Life

Today was a weird day.  One for the record books.  Totally beyond our normal weird.  I know...  Crazy, huh?!?  Even for us!

We had a visitor, someone we have't seen in years.  The last time this woman saw me, I was very sick.  I was on a lot of medications, I was using a walker, I could barely stand--and there's just so much more that separates me now from that person I was then.

She asked about my health today, commenting on how great I look now.  I told her I have my good days and bad days, but I'm definitely having more good days now that I've accepted my situation, now that I'm actively working on my relationship with God and taking better care of myself.  She asked if the doctors ever really figured out what it was, and I explained they've never been able to agree.  She then asked about my enjoyment of life, my quality of life.

And you know how I answered?

I have a fabulous life.  I didn't even hesitate.  My life is good.  I have two great kids who I'm darn lucky to have.  I have a wonderful husband who loves us.  We have a good life here.  We've done well for ourselves.  With everything we've been through, we've made it.  We've conquered it.  We've beat it.  We are the couple people placed odds against at our wedding, and we are still in love. I have wonderful, amazing friends who love me and don't judge me.

Has it always been this good?  Nope.  It's been tough beating those odds.  There were times, especially right off the bat, when I thought the people who placed bets against us were right.  It was rough going when I was at my sickest, especially for Shawn and Noah.  But we're here, on the other side.


Is every day that great?  Hmmm....  Nope!  We certainly have our bad days.  We can both be jerks (don't tell him I admitted that!).  But, at the end of the day, we can both own up to our jerk-ness, apologize, and get over it.  And, of course, there are days our kids aren't so great, either!  But hey, that's life, and that's just how it goes sometimes.

I have no idea why this woman decided to just "pop over" for a visit after years of not seeing each other, but I do know that yet again, God has put someone in my path to force things into perspective for me.  He has blessed me tremendously in this life.  I do have a good life and I'm grateful for it.  I'm grateful to be on the other side, to be having more good days than bad days, and to just be alive to enjoy it.

Never a Dull Moment...

....  Not even at 9 am.  After some typical "left field adventures" last week, a friend commented that I can't seem to catch a break.  No, it would seem that I really can't.  And the adventures just continue....


Here is the email, and picture, I sent out to my mom and two best friends this morning:


So, while Mandy is off swimming with dolphins, I'm here in this hothouse of a house with two cabin fevered kids, runaway cats and a dog who has yet again decided it's just too hot to eat, move or do anything other than just be.....  

I kept hearing Avery and he was muffled.  I couldn't figure out why.  I was in the kitchen getting bread dough going, so I really quite honestly didn't pay too much attention.  I figured he was back in his bedroom, right?  Nope.  He'd locked himself outside--this was what I found when I finally got around to investigating (because Noah is so much help).  And he's yelling "Kitty got out again!"  Well, he'd been muffled for 5-10 minutes, so the cat had a pretty good head start.  Crap.  I got Noah, and we headed out to the backyard.  I asked Avery where the cat went and he pointed over the fence, saying that he'd gone over the fence and into the neighbor's backyard.  Double crap.  I sent Noah that way and ran inside to throw some clothes on so I could head out to look for the cat in the car.  I went inside, threw my clothes on, went back outside and Noah is telling me he's going to start knocking on doors, asking people if they'd seen him (Jethro didn't have his harness with his name tag on this time, so we were concerned someone would find him, thinking he was just a well fed stray, or realize he was a well fed housecat and not know where to return him ).  Fine.  I grabbed Avery and headed for the garage--and tripped right over the cat.  I don't know if he circled around or what he did, but there he was, happily chewing on grass and doing his best to avoid being caught.  Good thing he has a tail.


And now, I'm headed for the shower.  Hopefully everyone can leave everyone alone long enough for me to do that!


This was Sharon's response:


HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! That face! Omgosh...YOUR LIFE!

1) he WENT OUTSIDE by himself. (b/c he has NO FEAR!)

2) he LOCKED HIMSELF out (b/c .....thats how the world works)

3) when he did try to get help...NO ONE ran to his rescue (b/c he's always into something!!!)

4) the cat got out too (with no harness!)

5) the CAT was in the front yard (HAHAHAHA!)

6) Noah. Just Noah. he probably saw Avery outside and thought...oh well, he has to learn! (where does he get that from?!?!)

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Yes, I'm sure someone out there in blogland needed a good laugh, or needed to feel better about his/her own day.  If you can use your imagination to see the 11 year old and 3 year old wandering around, chasing after a cat who was behind them the entire time, me frantically racing around to find the cat who was in the yard the whole time, and Jethro laughing at us (I'm sure)....  Maybe you'll get that much needed laugh.  At least, I hope you do. And now, I'm off to see what other adventures the day holds for us.

Grateful

Noah has only been out of school for 3 weeks (ugh....  Only three weeks???), and life has been, well, interesting.  More so than usual, if you can believe that!  My patience has run out faster and more easily than I care to admit.  I have been frustrated, angry and annoyed.  Quite simply, I have been taking my children for granted.

And now, I have been set straight.

Thousands of people in Colorado have lost their homes, livelihoods, belongings, pets and countless other items of importance in wild fires.  Many of them do not have insurance with which to replace and rebuild what they have lost, while other things just simply can't be replaced.  Thousands of people here in our area are still without power during one of the hottest heat waves in history, days after massive thunderstorms moved through several states.  In other countries, people have lost their homes and loved ones due to floods and earthquakes.

Today, I am grateful.  

I am grateful to be one of the few families in our area to have been able to maintain power throughout the storms.  I don't know if God was looking out for our ancient dog, who is having difficulty with the heat even in the air conditioned house, and Avery, who has been sick and having asthma flares due to the heat, but I'm grateful to have power and a fully air conditioned house.  I am grateful my kids are happy and healthy, I am grateful to have a husband who loves me, takes his role in our family seriously, loves our children and would do anything for us.  I am grateful for our house, this roof over our head, this van down by the river of ours.  I am grateful our pets are safe, healthy, taken care of and loved.  I am grateful for the protection we have been afforded.

As more stories emerge of the bravery people have exhibited during the fires and power outages, I'm grateful to our firefighters and other first responders, to those ready with hugs and tissues for the newly homeless.  I am grateful there will be people to show them the way from the devastation, to hold their hands and just love on them.  I am grateful for the heroes I have read about how raced back into the fires to rescue the animals, both farm and pets, that others were forced to leave behind, and who are now taking care of those animals as if they were their own, while doing their best to match pets with owners.  I am grateful to the people who have opened their homes and hearts to those in need.  

Today I am humbled.

More than anything else, I am grateful for the grace and mercy God extends to me every hour of every day.  When I take my children, health and other blessings He has given me for granted, He loves me through it, putting people in my path to set me straight again, gently reminding me of how good I really do have it, annoying children and all.