Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Twas ever thus...

Once again, we are empty nesters.  Our over-achieving roller coaster that is our daughter has taken off, spreading her wings towards parts north (150 miles to be exact) as she prepares to enter her first year of medical school.  Once again, I am at loose ends -- adrift as I try to figure out how to handle the empty, now oh so quiet room across the hall . Empty room, hole in my heart -- twas ever thus. The same thing. It does not change with age. It does not get easier.  Off she goes, taking my heart, my peace of mind -- leaving behind a void that will take time to fill with the fluff of nothing important. An impossible void.  An un-fillable vacuum.

Only children have it rough. They are the sole focus of a parent's attention from the moment of their first indrawn breath -- from the first moment a parent is aware of their existence actually. Now, rather than staring at the crib to see the small movements that mark a baby's shallow breathing, I focus on my own deep breath and the knot in the pit of my stomach.  Rather than hers?  Something I am once again not used to doing...

Throughout this past gap year in my daughter's academic schedule, I have grown used to having her around. I've been lulled into somnolence -- having her in the house, coming and going, hopping around the house, dancing in her room, playing her music, laughing loudly as she reads something funny on the internet, plopping down between us on the sofa to watch a film, helping with dinner.

Throughout this 400 day idyll, the three of us have lived through the agonizing roller-coaster that is the medical school application process.  The initial exciting anticipation followed by seemingly interminable waiting, interviews, more waiting, more interviews, insecurity, frustration, disappointment, anger. Then comes the icing on the cake -- joy, excitement and pride followed by the fly in the ointment -- that inevitable final preparation until her car backs down the driveway towards her own life -- this time as a medical student.

And so, the cycle begins anew.  It's another sunny Sunday in August -- and she's gone again on her own life's journey.

My husband says that we have done our job well. We have raised an intelligent, thoughtful, independent, yet loving young woman who lives her life, loves her freedom, yet calls us every day. She does her thing but still lets us know that she loves us -- that we matter. We let her know the same.  We are connected and will be -- I hope -- throughout our lifetimes.

Twas ever thus...

Friday, February 8, 2013

Oh no! He didn't!


Look at this face. It's a happy face... A playful face... This smiling face dreams of squirrels, rabbits, cookies,  squeaky toys, a well thrown tennis ball -- and rides in the car.  It is face full of joy -- and mischief. It's the mischief I want to discuss today.

Meet Beau Beau. Beau (aka Bo Bo, Pupcicle, Stink-pot, Bud, and Bubbie) is the four-footed companion of my life. He is sweet, he is charming, he is well-mannered --  most of the time. He is pound-puppy extraordinaire. And generally a very good boy.

The Great White Westie-Hunter
During the day he is great white hunter-- ruling the backgard domaine with constant vigilance -- patrolling with energy and interest in any and all.  He seeks out the dead and rotton in which to roll, particularly after he has just had a bath. He barks incessantly as the squirrels jump from tree to tree, just out of reach. 

When he wishes to go out, he speaks (more a low glutteral growl). When he comes back in, he lays down by the door and presents all four feet  to be cleaned -- usually with some disgusting goo smeared all over his nice white shoulders.  

My co-pilot

An angel, you're thinking... and he is most of the time.

But, at night, it can be another story...

Beau is a creature of habit. When I go to bed, he follows me down the hall, ready to hit the crate. Has he been out? Not sure. Should Daddy let him out since he's often the last to retire?  Definitely. Does Daddy forget? Sometimes. Therefore on occasion, there is a nice wet surprise at the side of the bed. Given the location of the accident, I'm sure he's tried to rouse us from sleep. I suspect there is quite the dance before the accident occurs. 

What can one do?  It's our fault for not making sure he goes out at 9:30. No punishment is in order, although I'm sure Beau gets the gist from my exasperated tone of voice. But it's not his fault that Daddy dropped the ball and Mom was too exhausted to be roused from her tourpor.  

Therefore, I offer the link below to the absolute best, bar none, solution for eliminating, no eradicating, dog urine odor and stain from carpet. It is natural.  It is pet friendly.  It is golden!!

Water, white vinegar, baking soda, peroxide. That's it -- go figure!  The list from which clean-smelling dreams are made...

Give it a go. It really works. No more nasty smell. No more stain. No recidivism (hopefully). The trick is to get to it as soon as you can. I have no experience with set in, dried stains as Beau rarely messes up. But, I have heard that this works very well on those old stains. I know it works damn well on the fresh ones.  

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