Sunday, July 8, 2012
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Must Be Doing Something Right
To protect all my lovely (and expensive) new furniture, I decided even before we moved that it was time to invest in Soft Caps for the cats' front claws. We had long ago made the decision not to declaw the cats, and I figured these were the best way to keep both my cats and me happy.
They're just little silicone caps that you fit on over the claw itself, and what's essentially superglue keeps them on. According to the manufacturer, after 6-8 weeks, as the outer layer of the claw sloughs off naturally, the caps fall off too. They come in a range of colors, from clear to sparkly pink to blue. I tried to use a different color for each cat, just so that I would know who lost a cap. And I once gave Pa'ani pink caps because he'd ticked me off during his pedicure.
Now, the manufacturer clearly doesn't know my cats. They are not normal. Usually, less than half the caps fall off on their own (which the kids occasionally find, and bring to me). I have to get the rest off myself, before the claw grows so much that it hits the toe pad.
It was very comical to watch BIL do a double-take after seeing Pa'ani's toes, which were capped in purple at the time. "Did you paint their claws?" he asked. I chuckled and explained. He'd never heard of such a thing, but agreed it was a practical way to keep my furniture from being destroyed.
I told you that story to tell you this one.
Koa's claws had grown dangerously long inside her reverse-french-pedicure caps (white, with pink on the tips). I knew I had to put on a new set of caps. I'd been putting it off, though, because Koa is a pain in the heinie when it comes to pedicures. She yowls. She fights. She tries to bite. She fights some more. It's tiring and irritating.
But she sat half on my lap tonight, and I decided it was time. She yowled and bucked the whole way to the kitchen, where I retrieved my basket of kitty supplies.
The Fries all crowded around to watch (I usually do this after bedtime, just so the cat doesn't get further irritated by kids).
The claw trimmers work well at getting the remaining old caps off, and as Koa howled her indignation, the girls peppered me with questions. No, it doesn't hurt her. She doesn't like it. Yes, I need to do this, so her claws don't hurt her toe pads. No, the caps don't hurt. And on.
Koa broke free after I got one paw recapped, and I chased her downstairs. I caught her and she yowled all the way back to the dining room, where I'd been working on her claws. Hubby hung up with his mom and came to help. He held Koa still for another minute after the last cap was on--there's no way my cats are going to hold still for the recommended "five minutes"--while I put the glue and claw trimmers back in the basket.
Small Fry pulled out another package. "Why didn't you use dese ones, Mommy?" The caps were dark gray and blue. Blue is Mika's color (it matches his collar).
Gray is Keiki's, usually.
Also in the basket was a set of the sparkly light pink and hot pink caps. Popoki's cap color was always the sparkly pink. At Keiki's last little pedicure, I put the hot pink caps on her toes.
My head dropped into my hands as I fought tears unsuccessfully.
"You okay?" Hubby asked, letting Koa go to lick her emotional wounds.
I shook my head.
"Are you sick?"
I shook my head again.
"Hormones?"
No.
"Missing?"
I nodded.
"Why is Mommy crying?" Large asked.
"Because she misses Popoki and Keiki."
Two sets of little arms wrapped around me as I cried.
"You should give Mommy a hug, too. It'll help her feel better." A third set of little arms came around me from the other side.
"It's okay, Mommy," Large said encouragingly.
I pulled myself together and Hubby sent the kids to clean up dinner stuff. I put away my basket and threw away the old caps I'd taken off.
Hubby called to Large Fry to come get her plate and cup, just as she appeared in front of me, holding a sheet of lined looseleaf paper. (I'd found a bunch during our move, and put it in the craft bin for the kids to use.) "Here, Mommy!"
I took the sheet of paper, blank on the side facing me. I turned it over, and smiled as my eyes felt watery again.
"I drew it for you, so you can always remember and be happy!"
She'd drawn Popoki and Keiki together, and the size ratios were just about right.
"Why are you smiling and crying?"
I gave Large what must have been a very watery smile. "Because sometimes it's possible to be very sad and very happy at the same time."
Golly, I love my kids.
They're just little silicone caps that you fit on over the claw itself, and what's essentially superglue keeps them on. According to the manufacturer, after 6-8 weeks, as the outer layer of the claw sloughs off naturally, the caps fall off too. They come in a range of colors, from clear to sparkly pink to blue. I tried to use a different color for each cat, just so that I would know who lost a cap. And I once gave Pa'ani pink caps because he'd ticked me off during his pedicure.
Now, the manufacturer clearly doesn't know my cats. They are not normal. Usually, less than half the caps fall off on their own (which the kids occasionally find, and bring to me). I have to get the rest off myself, before the claw grows so much that it hits the toe pad.
It was very comical to watch BIL do a double-take after seeing Pa'ani's toes, which were capped in purple at the time. "Did you paint their claws?" he asked. I chuckled and explained. He'd never heard of such a thing, but agreed it was a practical way to keep my furniture from being destroyed.
I told you that story to tell you this one.
Koa's claws had grown dangerously long inside her reverse-french-pedicure caps (white, with pink on the tips). I knew I had to put on a new set of caps. I'd been putting it off, though, because Koa is a pain in the heinie when it comes to pedicures. She yowls. She fights. She tries to bite. She fights some more. It's tiring and irritating.
But she sat half on my lap tonight, and I decided it was time. She yowled and bucked the whole way to the kitchen, where I retrieved my basket of kitty supplies.
The Fries all crowded around to watch (I usually do this after bedtime, just so the cat doesn't get further irritated by kids).
The claw trimmers work well at getting the remaining old caps off, and as Koa howled her indignation, the girls peppered me with questions. No, it doesn't hurt her. She doesn't like it. Yes, I need to do this, so her claws don't hurt her toe pads. No, the caps don't hurt. And on.
Koa broke free after I got one paw recapped, and I chased her downstairs. I caught her and she yowled all the way back to the dining room, where I'd been working on her claws. Hubby hung up with his mom and came to help. He held Koa still for another minute after the last cap was on--there's no way my cats are going to hold still for the recommended "five minutes"--while I put the glue and claw trimmers back in the basket.
Small Fry pulled out another package. "Why didn't you use dese ones, Mommy?" The caps were dark gray and blue. Blue is Mika's color (it matches his collar).
Gray is Keiki's, usually.
Also in the basket was a set of the sparkly light pink and hot pink caps. Popoki's cap color was always the sparkly pink. At Keiki's last little pedicure, I put the hot pink caps on her toes.
My head dropped into my hands as I fought tears unsuccessfully.
"You okay?" Hubby asked, letting Koa go to lick her emotional wounds.
I shook my head.
"Are you sick?"
I shook my head again.
"Hormones?"
No.
"Missing?"
I nodded.
"Why is Mommy crying?" Large asked.
"Because she misses Popoki and Keiki."
Two sets of little arms wrapped around me as I cried.
"You should give Mommy a hug, too. It'll help her feel better." A third set of little arms came around me from the other side.
"It's okay, Mommy," Large said encouragingly.
I pulled myself together and Hubby sent the kids to clean up dinner stuff. I put away my basket and threw away the old caps I'd taken off.
Hubby called to Large Fry to come get her plate and cup, just as she appeared in front of me, holding a sheet of lined looseleaf paper. (I'd found a bunch during our move, and put it in the craft bin for the kids to use.) "Here, Mommy!"
I took the sheet of paper, blank on the side facing me. I turned it over, and smiled as my eyes felt watery again.
 |
| Large's picture. Love the spellings. |
"I drew it for you, so you can always remember and be happy!"
She'd drawn Popoki and Keiki together, and the size ratios were just about right.
"Why are you smiling and crying?"
I gave Large what must have been a very watery smile. "Because sometimes it's possible to be very sad and very happy at the same time."
Golly, I love my kids.
*palmforehead*
Overheard just now...
Hubby: Go! Get your swimsuits on. Fast! You have permission to run!
[90 seconds, tops]
Hubby [to Medium Fry]: That's not having your swimsuit on! That's naked!
Hubby then appeared in the doorway to the den, and slapped his palm to his forehead.
Hubby: Go! Get your swimsuits on. Fast! You have permission to run!
[90 seconds, tops]
Hubby [to Medium Fry]: That's not having your swimsuit on! That's naked!
Hubby then appeared in the doorway to the den, and slapped his palm to his forehead.
Friday, July 6, 2012
North Shore Acapella
Way back when Hubby and I were dating (and even before, honestly), when we were both going to college back in Quincy, MA, we were also broke.
We needed cheap dates.
For less than $2 apiece back then, you could get in and out of downtown Boston on the T.
We would take the Red Line downtown to Faneuil Hall on Friday or Saturday nights, just to go hear these guys.
We'd feel the bass singer through the cobblestones before we could hear them. That's a good bass...who's well amped.
During the spring, summer and fall, there was a pub in Faneuil Hall that would open up its glass enclosure, and these guys would rock the joint. They sang mostly hits from the 50s and 60s, with the occasional hits from the 70s, 80s, and early 90s, all served up in classic acapella doo-wop. People would congregate outside just to listen...and dance.
Given that Hubby and I met because we both sang in our college's semi-professional A Cappella Choir (the Latin isn't picky about spelling, believe it or not), we loved this kind of stuff. (Okay, so I also loved it because my dad had gotten me hooked on it years before.)
Especially since these guys would do something they called acapell-eoke.
Poor unsuspecting patrons of the restaurant would find the tenor in front of them, shoving his mike in their faces, and commanding them to sing the opening trill of The Tokens' "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," which he'd just sung for them. He'd do this several times, and then the tenor would mosey back to the rest of the group, and they'd sing the whole song. (On a totally unrelated note, our choir would occasionally travel to concerts by the T, and a bunch of us would often break out into that song, only to have our director groan and command that if we were going to do it, we should "do it right.")
I loved it. It was great.
I'm so glad they're still singing.
We needed cheap dates.
For less than $2 apiece back then, you could get in and out of downtown Boston on the T.
We would take the Red Line downtown to Faneuil Hall on Friday or Saturday nights, just to go hear these guys.
We'd feel the bass singer through the cobblestones before we could hear them. That's a good bass...who's well amped.
During the spring, summer and fall, there was a pub in Faneuil Hall that would open up its glass enclosure, and these guys would rock the joint. They sang mostly hits from the 50s and 60s, with the occasional hits from the 70s, 80s, and early 90s, all served up in classic acapella doo-wop. People would congregate outside just to listen...and dance.
Given that Hubby and I met because we both sang in our college's semi-professional A Cappella Choir (the Latin isn't picky about spelling, believe it or not), we loved this kind of stuff. (Okay, so I also loved it because my dad had gotten me hooked on it years before.)
Especially since these guys would do something they called acapell-eoke.
Poor unsuspecting patrons of the restaurant would find the tenor in front of them, shoving his mike in their faces, and commanding them to sing the opening trill of The Tokens' "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," which he'd just sung for them. He'd do this several times, and then the tenor would mosey back to the rest of the group, and they'd sing the whole song. (On a totally unrelated note, our choir would occasionally travel to concerts by the T, and a bunch of us would often break out into that song, only to have our director groan and command that if we were going to do it, we should "do it right.")
I loved it. It was great.
I'm so glad they're still singing.
Thoughts on the last week....
- Parenting is a lot easier when you have an equal child-adult ratio.
- You would think I'd be used to being this tired. Or being tired, period. I've been tired for the last four years. (Most of the time, it's a good tired.)
- I have discovered why I've been feeling so wonky for the last week or so. Wacky hormones will do that to you. (No, I am not pregnant.)
- It has been beastly hot here. We're supposed to reach triple-digits again tomorrow. Alaska is looking nicer and nicer.
- Going to the pool is great. Always having to be in the water because my kids are still learning how to swim is fine while I'm in the water. Once I get out, I remember that I'm no longer pre-30s or pre-accident. My ankle always forgets in water what it can and can't do. I limped out to the van tonight after nearly three and a half hours turning into a prune.
- Large Fry burst into tears tonight because the lifeguard determined that she's not quite 48" tall and said she could no longer go down the slide into the pool. (She's really close, so it's sort of a toss-up if she reaches or falls short of the height requirement.)
- Pool noodles are lots of fun. Especially when you let the hollow center fill with water, and then aim and blow.
- The revelation that someone I know had Hodgkin's Lymphoma as a child (now, full-grown, strapping adult with two kids) gives me great hope for my former youth group kid who was recently diagnosed. If he was cured as a child, 30ish years or so ago, there's great hope for my dear friend.
- Eating ice cream has become difficult. I burst into tears the other night after Hubby brought home some frozen custard from Rita's for me, because I set my empty cup down on the floor for Keiki to lick, without thinking. And, of course, she's not here to lick out the dregs like she's done for most of the last 13 years. It broke my heart. Grief is such a funny thing. The weirdest stuff will bring it racing to the forefront. Keiki could hear the ice cream scoop hit the ice cream, and she would be right there. Out of a sound sleep, I tell you! And then she would sit in front of me and watch me eat, often sitting up on her hind legs like a prairie dog and plaintively meowing.
 |
| Small, Medium, and the PA Memorial. |
- We spent the 4th in Gettysburg, touring the battlefield in an abbreviated fashion, with some good friends of ours. It was quite a day. We finished the day with watching the local fireworks. Getting home this year was considerably easier and quicker than last year in C-burg, where it took us an hour to get out of the parking lot and another half hour to get home, from the elementary school where we parked...which was all of a ten-minute drive from our house (the Fries were all zonked within three minutes of classical music in the van).
- Today we got invited to my oldest great-nephew's birthday party. Why, yes, I am a great-aunt (in addition to being a great aunt). That's what happens when you marry the "what do you mean, you're pregnant?" baby of the family, and there's 12 years between him and his oldest sister. He'll be six. My great-nephew, that is, not Hubby. The party's at Chuck E. Cheese. I'm torn between really wanting to go--Little D and I share the same birthday--and being leery of stepping inside a Chuck E. Cheese's again, mostly because my brother took the Fries there the last time they went to one.
- We have to play the party thing by ear, anyway. My friend A posted this on Facebook tonight: "Walking with someone into eternity is a painful blessing." I know her sister and family arrived today from where they're missionaries abroad, and I know some hard decisions were being made. My guess is that they have decided, as a family, to stop her dad's sedation and remove the ventilator at some point this weekend, and they do not expect her dad to make it. I am going to try to make it to the funeral if at all possible, and that may throw a wrench in other plans.
- I am seriously contemplating going to bed right now, but I had a nightmare last night that we were facing court again because of another custody suit, and Hubby and I spent the greater portion of the dream meeting with our lawyer's senior partner. I still feel rattled. (Our lawyer would love to go back to court. She's that confident in our case.)
- I smell like chlorine.
- I have a huge craving for more french fries.
Monday, July 2, 2012
When it rains, it pours.
A little over a year ago, my best friend from high school emailed me, to let me know that her dad, a Navy veteran, had been diagnosed with mesothelioma.
My friend, A, is a cardiac nurse. In situations like this, well, she knows too much. She doesn't have the bliss of ignorance concerning the worst parts of cancer.
I know how much she loves her dad.
I love the crotchety guy, too.
She sent another message last night, with an update on her dad's condition. They learned a couple months ago that his cancer was growing again, and due to some scheduling conflicts, he had missed both his chemo sessions for the last two months. He was scheduled to go in again today to see his oncologist and have another chemo treatment.
He apparently had a bad allergic reaction to the chemo, because his throat closed up fast and his heart stopped before the docs could get there. A said that they did CPR for a long time, which is never a good thing, before they were able to restart his heart and get a tube down his throat to help with breathing.
It will be another 24 hours or so before they know if there was any lasting damage from this little anaphylactic (spell check suggests "intergalactic") adventure.
If your praying muscles aren't already worn out, would you exercise 'em again for my friend? She's scared. Her mom is scared. They need wisdom. And comfort. And love.
Thanks.
Again.
My friend, A, is a cardiac nurse. In situations like this, well, she knows too much. She doesn't have the bliss of ignorance concerning the worst parts of cancer.
I know how much she loves her dad.
I love the crotchety guy, too.
She sent another message last night, with an update on her dad's condition. They learned a couple months ago that his cancer was growing again, and due to some scheduling conflicts, he had missed both his chemo sessions for the last two months. He was scheduled to go in again today to see his oncologist and have another chemo treatment.
He apparently had a bad allergic reaction to the chemo, because his throat closed up fast and his heart stopped before the docs could get there. A said that they did CPR for a long time, which is never a good thing, before they were able to restart his heart and get a tube down his throat to help with breathing.
It will be another 24 hours or so before they know if there was any lasting damage from this little anaphylactic (spell check suggests "intergalactic") adventure.
If your praying muscles aren't already worn out, would you exercise 'em again for my friend? She's scared. Her mom is scared. They need wisdom. And comfort. And love.
Thanks.
Again.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
This should not be.
As I browsed through Facebook tonight, I came across the latest status update from one of our youth group kids from 13 years ago.
I only reconnected with her about two years or so ago. It's been a treat to see the person she's grown into, and to compare mommy notes, since she's now the mom of two young kids.
It doesn't seem like all that long ago that she was in high school, and Hubby and I were volunteering with the youth group at our church.
Her status tonight announced the results of a biopsy that she had a couple weeks back, a status I must have missed.
She has Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
She's not even 30.
Thankfully, she says that, while this is cancer, it's also easily treated with chemotherapy, which she will begin in a few weeks.
One of my kids should not be facing cancer.
This seems so...wrong.
Your prayers for my friend, her husband, their kids, and her doctors would be appreciated.
I only reconnected with her about two years or so ago. It's been a treat to see the person she's grown into, and to compare mommy notes, since she's now the mom of two young kids.
It doesn't seem like all that long ago that she was in high school, and Hubby and I were volunteering with the youth group at our church.
Her status tonight announced the results of a biopsy that she had a couple weeks back, a status I must have missed.
She has Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
She's not even 30.
Thankfully, she says that, while this is cancer, it's also easily treated with chemotherapy, which she will begin in a few weeks.
One of my kids should not be facing cancer.
This seems so...wrong.
Your prayers for my friend, her husband, their kids, and her doctors would be appreciated.
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