Pet Mama

I actually don’t like the term pet parent or fur baby. I own a pet. I had dogs when I was a little kid, the dogs were loved and cared for but never thought of as children. I now share a dog with another family member, my first time having a pet as an adult. Btw, I recommend dog sharing if you can, it makes it easier for backup care.

I never had children of my own. I have several family members who I have been close to as they grew up. It’s not the same, I know. Having a pet gave me responsibility and commitment, different from other responsibilities in my life. I am responsible for feeding and caring for this 4-legged creature. I need to make sure that I am not gone from the house for too long. I worry when she doesn’t eat, sleep or poop. I buy things for her on vacation and take a million pictures of her. I have parental responsibilities. It’s not the same, I know.

Raising humans is getting them ready for the outside world. It’s raising outstanding members of society. Making decisions on their behalf and then figuring out how much decision making to give them. We try to get our pets to behave (still working on that with mine), but we never train them to be outstanding members of society. We teach children and train pet.

While I may never know the feeling of raising children I know the feeling of unconditional love. I know how much I love the children in my life as well as my dog. My guess is that having children is that feeling but exponentially more.

Who’s a good boy?

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

  1. Write about going back to school after summer vacation.

I was 11 going into 7th grade. Young, yes but I started kindergarten at 4 so that would place me in 7th grade at 11. Seventh grade was the start of middle school, a large middle school where I would get lost in the crowd.
My “What I Did During Summer Vacation” story was probably not like any of my fellow students. Mid summer I attended the funeral for my father. My dad had a fatal heart attack at the age of 41. I was visiting cousins in Massachusetts at the time so my last memory of him was two weeks prior at the airport. Having just watched my stepfather die I think that it was a blessing that I did not see my father pass.
Some six weeks after my father’s death I started school. A few of the kids from my elementary school knew what had happened but for the most part I was alone in my grief. I don’t remember having a “poor me” attitude I just plugged along, my mother’s strength was my guidance.
During a morning class the teacher had us fill out cards with our information and parents contact information. The teacher said “If your parent is deceased then write ‘deceased'”. I felt a friend look at me, may have been my imagination though. I wasn’t certain how to spell “deceased” and didn’t want to raise my hand to ask so I wrote “dead”. That was a knife through me and I had to fight back tears for the rest of the class. I also panicked thinking about the teacher asking me details, of course it never happened but I was entitled to my fear.
Later that day another teacher had us fill out the same information. I took a deep breath as I prepared to fill out the form. The teacher went through the same speech but added “If you have no father write ‘No father”. I wrote “No father”, somehow that hurt less.

A few weeks later my mom asked my siblings and I if our teachers knew that we recently lost a parent. I told her about filling out the cards. She was upset that I wrote no father. “You have a father, he just died”, she said. I couldn’t explain that it hurt to write dead, and also that I couldn’t spell “deceased”.

I laugh about it now but I wish that I could have told my teachers the truth. I had one teacher ask me why I didn’t finish a project. Well, I didn’t want to burden my suddenly-widowed mom to help me. Of course she would have helped but I felt like a burden at the time.

I think that now there is more guidance, therapy was not the norm back then. There is so much more that I needed at the time and I didn’t know it.

Always Something There to Remind Me

My father died (suddenly) 40 years ago today. There is a lot to unpack about this but I’ll do some of that later. I found something I wrote soon after he died; it’s not dated but my guess is that it was within a year of his death. I am missing the last page but that is okay. I found it a few years ago and couldn’t believe that I had it, I had forgotten some of the details.

One thing I wrote about was the plane ride home on the day he died. I was visiting my cousins in another state. My aunts, grandfather and I all flew to my home in Illinois. I was in shock, numb and not sure what would happen as we were expecting to move to another state in the coming months. As an adult I cry for the trauma that little me went through. It’s something that I have had a hard time realizing is a trauma for life; life goes on and I can be happy but I carry my little trauma with me.

Back to the plane ride. I was listening to music through whatever headphone system they had in 1983. A few songs came on that made me think of my dad, any songs would have made me think of my dad. The song “Heart Attack” by Olivia Newton John was not cool as that was his cause of death. I kept changing the channel to find a better song to no avail (did I use that word correctly?). Then the song “Always Something There to Remind Me” by Naked Eyes. That put me over the edge, I burst out in tears and put my head in my aunt’s lap and cried. As I cried I felt a tear drop from my aunt fall on my face. I didn’t understand the pain my aunts felt losing a brother-in-law and seeing their niece in pain.

Today I hear that song and smile. I laugh at how terrible it was changing channels and getting worse song. I smile knowing that I still have memories of my dad. I smile knowing how wonderful our family and friends were during this difficult time. I smile knowing that I got through that tragedy at such a young age, I am stronger than I know.

Is there a song that reminds you of a tough time? How do you feel about that song now?

East Coast/Midwest Coast

When I have down time I will write little memories in my notes app. I found a few and am adding to my blog. Many of these were done while at the hairdresser waiting for the color to do its thing. 1st in the series”Notes from the hair chair”

When I was 6 I moved to IL. I had only lived in MA and didn’t really understand what living in a different state meant. People told me that I would have to lose my accent. “My accident?” was my response. I talked the way everyone talked. I was about to understand culture shock.
My cousins and aunts/uncles came to the airport to send us off. I was dressed in a little pea coat for my first plane ride. I don’t remember much about the plane ride and getting to Rockford (about 90 minutes outside of Chicago). We stayed in a hotel for about a week while we waited to pass papers on our house. My parents wanted us to start school and my dad had to work (the reason for the move).
On our first day of school; my brother, sister and I were all at the local elementary school, we all walked in the bitter Midwest cold trying to find the entrance. Once inside my mom signed us up and we walked with the principal to our respective classrooms. My mom mentioned that we would have to buy lunch as we are at a hotel. We were told that there was no lunch to buy but today they could give us the “Satellite lunch” that was reserved for lower income students.
I was brought to Mrs. Kearney’s First grade class where all eyes were on me as I was introduced. I sat next to Jennifer Burkhardt who was my guide. At lunch I ate a gross ham sandwich with a dry block of cheese. I had winter boots on so at gym the teacher told me that I needed “tennis shoes”. I didn’t think that they made tennis shoes for my little feet and was confused as to why they specified the sport shoes I needed since I clearly wasn’t playing tennis in January. My family quickly learned that tennis shoes were the same as “sneakers” in Boston speak.
I was a shy kids but I started to make friends and I figured out what my family was referring to when they talked about my accent. I remember telling a story and said “tiah” when referring to a tire and my neighbors laughed. In the section grade we were doing vocabulary and the teacher asked who knew the word “plaza”? I raised my hand and said “plah za”; I straight up knew this because the mall near me in MA was the plaza. The teacher, who was evil btw, corrected me and said “plaa za”.
My family had wonderful memories in Illinois and made some lifelong friends. The Midwest is friendlier; many of our neighbors were transplants like us. We connected over holidays as being with family was too hard to do. They became our family. They helped when we were in an accident. Oh how they helped when my dad suddenly died.
I’m glad that I got to experience living in Illinois and I always smile when I hear the Midwestern accent. I feel so worldly knowing that I have been to the Quad cities. Yet there is a part of me that wishes I grew up in the same area; went to school with the same kids and lived in the same house.


Running as a Kid

What are your first memories of running?

The Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge, remember that? I was not an athletic child, I played soccer but was afraid of the ball. I was often one of the last kids left in dodge ball, not because I was skilled but everyone knew that I would be easy to get out. I was often second-to-last to be picked for teams, bad but not the worst. I did okay in gymnastics but the rest of gym was terrible.

When we did the Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge, a series of activities to test our fitness levels, I could never pass anything. I had not core or upper body strength (still don’t) so sit-ups and pull ups were out. I couldn’t jump high or far and I my throwing arm was pathetic. I came the closest with the runs. I couldn’t do the shuttle run, going back and forth to touch the ground. Despite my low center of gravity I couldn’t do it in time though I think I was close. Finally, I passed a test with the 600 meter run. It was 6th or 7th grade. I don’t know the time I needed but after many tries I did it! I was shocked because I never fancied myself a runner but I did it.

No one in my family ran. I remember my dad running for a short time during the running boom of the 70s/80s. I ran with him once, probably for a block. My brother was a goalie in hockey and my sister was the more athletic one. My desire to run is definitely a latent gene.

After figuring out that I didn’t completely suck at running I decided to go out for the track team in high school. Of course I wanted to be a sprinter because I didn’t want to run a lot. Yes, that was the logic of my friends and I when deciding what events to try. Clearly I should have been a middle distance runner but that was too much running.

I’m still horrible at sports and don’t participate in team sports like softball. I found my love with running. I imagine that the young me trying to eek out a pull up would be thrilled to see that I became a 5-time marathoner who still can’t do a pull up.

What sports did you participate in as a kid? What are involved in now?

My cuppa tea

Are you a coffee drinker or a tea drinker? Or both? I’m both but more of a tea person. English Breakfast, black. Sometimes honey if I have a cold. A big mug, not a dainty tea cup.

My introduction to tea was through my nana. She drank lots of tea, Salada. She made me a cup when I was little; milk sugar and an ice cube because it was too hot. I loved sitting with her and having our tea and of course the cookies. Years later she and my grandfather would visit and I would have a cup of tea with them, I dropped the ice cube by then. There was a warmth of that cup that went beyond the boiling water. We would read the saying on the tea bag, dunk a cookie in the tea.

While staying in Ireland as a teenager I had tea every day, a proper cup as they would say. I stayed with a family and the mom and I would have afternoon tea together. She gave me an ugly-faced mug when I left, we had laughed at them in a store days earlier. I told her that I would have my tea and think of her with my ugly mug.

My dental hygienist has remarked that the tea stains my teeth. I try to swish water and/or brush after drinking it. I’m not giving it up though. You will have to pry the cup away from my cold, dead hands.

Encyclopedia mania

Do you remember life before the internet?

Of course. The internet wasn’t common when I was in school, really until after I started working. In school we had to look things up using encyclopedias, card catalogs and microfilms. We used phone books to get numbers and addresses. Newspapers were sources for daily information.

We ordered through a catalog, or went to a real store. We paid our bills through the mail or at the store. We went to the bank to deposit checks or make transactions.

When I drove cross country I went to AAA to get a triptik. This was Google Maps but in book form. They highlighted the route and noted areas where there may be construction traffic. I also got guide books for the areas I was traveling through. They listed motels along the way and we would call for reservations.

Runner races meant paper applications. Results were sent to you via mail or published in the paper. You found out about races through running magazines, or flyers that were put on your car while at another race.

Was it better or worse without internet? Both. While things were more challenging, we were more patient. The anticipation of waiting for the nightly news to find out daily events and weather could be exciting. We worked harder to get information and had more personal interaction. Sometimes I miss the simplicity but I can’t imagine going back to pre-internet.

I was away this past weekend at a place with spotty cell coverage. I didn’t look at my phone much. Emails went unread, statuses were not updated and we had to call or drive by to get information. It was a welcome reminder to slow down and put the phone away. Of course I jumped on it as soon as I had coverage.

Baby It’s Cold Outside

How do you feel about cold weather?

(Yup, I’m referencing a controversial song)

The cold never bothered me anyway. (I’ll stop). I’m all for seasons, for four seasons. I like bundling up in a warm winter coat and a cute hat. Getting under a warm blanket with a cup of tea. What bothers me about winter is the dark. I love the spring as it stays light out longer. It is depressing when it is dark at 4:30, especially after the holidays when there is nothing to look forward to.

I wonder what it would be like to have the cold but longer sun light. I may not dread January if there were more sunlight.

Having lived in San Diego I did enjoy have better weather year round, being able to get outside more. I did miss autumn, the chilly mornings and crisp air. It seemed unnatural to be Christmas shopping in shorts. I did not miss the snow though. A light coating is fine but shoveling out stinks. I would take the cold over the snow.

Of course paying for heat in an old house is painful as is worrying about frozen pipes. Why do I live in the northeast again?

What if it worked out…

Exactly how you imagined it, or greater. Entertain that thought. Someone posed that question to me and I struggled to find the answer.

I’m not a pessimist, more of a realist. I’ve had life experiences that have made me not expect everything to work out how I imagined it. I’m blessed in so many ways but certain things have not come to fruition that make me put up walls. It’s obviously not a good trait but I try to avoid disappointment. In the process I tend to put up walls or refrain from taking big risks. When the bad things happen then I can say “I told you so “

Running is one area where I take the risk and have had good results. I have successfully run 5 marathons. Although my times were not always as I wanted I have been able to complete them. I remember thinking that the first one would never happen and the glee that I had when it did. On long runs I will picture myself crossing the finish line. I set realistic goals for my race times, being smart enough to know what my body can do. I imagined it and it worked out.

I’m not sure why I can’t translate this to other parts of my life. My guess is that I knew disappointment early on. I sometimes think that what I am imagining is pie-in-the-sky. I’m not thinking “Imagine winning the lottery”; more like “Imagine getting that job that you want” or “Imagine finding someone to fall in love with “. Maybe if these things happen then something bad will also happen, like a see-saw needing to be in balance.

What do you imagine? What if it were greater than that?

Phew, that was deep

If I could be king for one day

What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?

My initial thought is being a teacher, I often thought about being a teacher but never got far with it. I would enjoy working with children but the administrative side of it would bother me.

What I would like to do though is to work a humble job for a day. A bus driver, a cashier or a cleaner. Not that I have a glamorous job and I am not knocking these jobs either. There are jobs that people do with minimum wage and minimum thanks. I often wonder what goes through the minds of these workers each day.