Blossom

This afternoon on the way to drop off Megan, Jeran and Joie at band practice, we saw a truck parked in an empty lot with a huge sign on the window for beagle puppies.  We didn't stop, even though they begged and begged.  On the way back home from dropping them off, Nate and I stopped "just to look."  There were several other interested parties gathered around the last remaining puppy, vying for her attention.  She walked right over to Nate, who was a little unsure if he should pick her up or not, and pawed at his foot.  Then she stood there and looked at him until the owner told Nate he could pick her up, which he did.  We asked all the standard questions, just being curious while we were holding her, and one by one, the other people left.  

I don't quite remember how we got from "just looking" to falling in love with her.  Nate, who has been having a really difficult few months had lit up like a child.  I said something about needing to call Tim, but with my phone in my hand I thought of the pending conversation.  I'd have to convince his rational mind that my emotional mind was right.  I decided not to call Tim.  I know.  I broke all the rules of responsibility associated with getting a new pet (not to mention rules associated with maintaining a healthy marriage relationship), but Tim is on board too.  It actually didn't take much convincing.  I called her a therapy dog, and he was on board.

Thirty minutes later, an 8 week old puppy was flopping around our living room, and it was time for me to go get the other kids from band practice.  I didn't tell them about the dog.  As we drove past the now empty lot where the truck had been, I could hear their disappointed groans.  They had missed their chance to see the puppy.  "They must have found an owner," I said, hiding a smile.  We arrived home.  Nate was laying on the floor looking under the couch.  Jeran kicked Nate to make sure he was still breathing.  "Dude, why are you looking under the couch?"

Nate says nothing.  Jeran shrugs and walks away.

Megan and Joie kind of look under the couch but don't see anything. 

Jeran, still a little curious, returns and looks.  He saw fur under the couch and started feeling around.  Instantly, he jerked his hand back with excitement, jumped to his feet and whispers, "I felt a puppy!" 

Energy filled the room, and there were children happy dancing all over the place. 

Immediately, Nate informed them it was his puppy. Several hours later, everyone but Joie is ok with that. They have their drums, piano, viola, singing, basketball, soccer, etc. Nate has a puppy.  Nate trained Champ.  Nate likes animals.  Champ can't do agility and Nate wants an agility dog.  Enter Beagle puppy. 

Naming a pet is always interesting.  Nate named his Beagle puppy Blossom because (in Megan's words) "It's a beautiful spring day, and she's a ball of sunshine." 

We'll beat our track record for second dogs this time.  Really, we will.  Champ likes her.  Unlike Angel, who annoyed Champ and tried to boss him around, Blossom is indifferent to Champ.  Within 10 minutes of meeting Angel, Champ had growled at her and bitten her.  So far Champ and Blossom just play.  She's courteous and he's curious. 

And Nate is the proud new owner of Blossom.

Getting Recognized

Today was one of the 6th grade main performances for Macbeth.  The entire cast did awesome.  They were "on" and having an audience made them come alive.  Their months of practice paid off.  In attendance with all the parents and grandparents of the 6th graders were some of the elementary school kids.  Remember being little and looking up to the big 6th graders?

This afternoon it was business as usual for Macbeth.  He took a test, did his jobs and homework, pestered his siblings, etc...A day in the life of a "star."  Tonight I took him to get his hair cut.  Right there in Great Clips Jeran "got recognized."  A little boy approached him and asked, "Were you Macbeth today?"  When the boy left I was teasing Jeran that he "got recognized."  Mostly Jeran was just surprised that someone he didn't know knew him.

You Are a Good Parent

"You are a good parent."  Words we love to hear as parents, but don't hear often enough. 

I lead a parent-child relationship group at work.  It's part of a series of groups that coincides with age-based groups for children working on relationship skills.  These are children who struggle.  They have been abused, abandoned, or bounced around in foster care.  They have Autism, ADHD, Anxiety, and Depression.  Parenting them is a challenge.  Their parents often come to group exhausted and discouraged, with little progress to report, and they're honest about it.  They're relieved to hear they weren't the only ones whose son was kicked out of daycare or whose daughter was suspended from school.  They're tired of hearing that they're bad parents.  I believe, and frequently state to the group, that they are exceptional parents who are dealing with issues that most parents won't ever have to deal with; issues which require of them to reach deep down inside themselves to find that level of parenting they never thought they'd have to discover. 

During our group check-in, I heard parent after parent describe their week.

"My son dumped craft paint all over a newly painted, newly carpeted room at daycare.  On purpose."

"We had a huge meltdown at the grocery store."

"Someone called DCFS on us for the eighth time."

I work daily with parents.  I believe that no matter what the situation, most parents are doing the best they can.  From the ex-drug addict who struggles to stay clean and get re-acquainted with her children after several years in prison to the foster parent who is struggling to parent children who have lived through multiple cycles of abandonment, they all are doing the best they can.  I can look a drug addict in the eye and say that.  I have a lot of respect for a parent that will own mistakes and get help.  I could tell that tonight this group of parents needed more than a "hoorah", even more than a listening ear. 

I told them of a story I heard on the news where a mom was interviewed as her son was recovering after nearly drowning in the bathtub.  During the interview she stated, "I know I'm a good mom."  That statement stuck with me because I knew she believed it.  When I heard it I celebrated that this little boy would not have to grow up in the shadow of his mother's guilt at having walked away from the bathtub for only a minute.  She could forgive herself.  They could enjoy the gift of life together they had been given.  In the heirarchy of importance to a child, it was a blessing equal to that little boy's life.  Every child deserves to look into their parent's eyes and see delight.  (See this link for the complete story.)

I thought of my group when I heard that television interview, and tonight I told them so.  A mom in the back started to cry, first little tears, then as the story continued, she began to sob.  Other parents also shared tears, and shared feelings about the invalidating things they hear from schools, neighbors, and even well-meaning friends and family members.  Everyone has an opinion.  Everyone has advice.  No one but them has to wake that child up for school, struggle through a morning of frustration over clothing and breakfast choices, drop that child off at school, wonder all day if they'll get a phone call from the school, then take that child home, get them dinner, help them through homework, somehow convince them it's bedtime, then start all over again the next day.  No one but them lives that life all day, every day, without a break.

It made me think of parenting in general.  On the way to work that morning I had criticized myself for not leaving myself enough time, for having to rush my kids, and for forgetting the deadline for a sports sign-up.  On the way home I thought of my group and promised to be more gentle with myself.

You are a good parent.  Today you are doing the best you can.  Go give that kid a hug! (Then go tell another parent, "You are a good parent.")

For more on the realities of parenting (and a few parenting ideas) see here.  (Warning...This is our first time as parents.  Mishaps are frequent and certain to occur.)

Jeran as Macbeth

Make a Smilebox slideshow

A Bonfire, Sugar Cookies, Fireworks, A Birthday, and a Farewell

This has not been a heavy snow year for the Salt Lake area, but drive just 2 1/2 hours to the north and you're in a winter wonderland.  That is where we spent our Valentine's and President's Day weekend.  Sadly, Tim has seen more snow in Atlanta, Georgia (home of the 1996 Summer Olympics) than we have in Salt Lake City, Utah (home of the 2002 Winter Olympics).

With three feet of snow on the ground, and balmy (i.e. above freezing) temperatures, it was the perfect night for a bonfire and roasting hot dogs and marshmellows.

 The boys enjoyed the freedom of being able to be in charge of the fire (surrounded safely by snow).  They even lit a second bonfire the second night, just because they could. 

Snow benches

(Sydney, Reigan, Joie, and Sierra with Dani in back)

A snow table.

(Becky and Melissa...the party planners)

The post-dinner entertainment was a fireworks show with fireworks left over from the 4th of July.

(Megan and Jordan)

And what's a Valentine's Day without sugar cookies?

(cute Dylan)

...and more sugar cookies.

(Megan, Sierra, and Joie)

Yum!

(Mike and Michelle)

And when the sugar cookies were gone and there was left-over frosting, there was a contest to see how many things could be eaten with frosting.  Whole wheat bread, and cheese were among the least favorites, with graham crackers taking home the gold medal...the box was emptied in a matter of minutes.  

And a sugar cookie birthday cake.  Happy birthday Dani!

And parents who are leaving for an LDS mission for two years.  Unofficially, the mission call is to Orlando, Florida.  They have lots of grandkids planning trips to Disneyworld!  The word is the official call will arrive in the mail this week.