MotherMorphosis

In the time I have lived in the house that I do, there’s often been someone else around to take care of the yard and garden, but currently, most of this responsibility lies with me. This has always been one of the chores I’ve eschewed, not only because someone else did it, but because I figured “I’m too busy with what’s going on inside the house,” e.g., my three children and my job, which I do at home. However, this year, I realized that I could no longer put off the inevitable Spring cleanup when a friend pointed out that raking up “all those leaves” (that I had ignored not only in the warmer months but also as far back as the previous Autumn) might be a good service project for our church youth group. Initially, my excitement about getting that project done overshadowed my embarrassment that she’d noticed what a mess my yard was. But then I realized that it wouldn’t be fair to expect someone else to do something I’m perfectly capable of doing. I figured the youth group should spend t...

 (If you want to read the beginning first, it’s here .) I woke up in dread on the day my dog, Niles, crossed the rainbow bridge. I had gone to bed the night before knowing that the next day I was either going to discover that he had slipped away naturally or have to schedule an appointment with the vet to help him transition. Neither outcome was desirable. Needless to say, I had a crappy night’s sleep. I was up several times throughout the night to tiptoe past the front room where he slept, pausing in the doorway and squinting to see his ribcage rise and fall. He’s still with us, I thought to myself, as I had reported to my kids during the previous several days. “Can you give him some pets for me?” my middle asked. He lives and works more than an hour away in the next county. “I hope I get to see him…” said my oldest who lives farfaraway and is planning to come home for Christmas. Two years ago, Niles had experienced some sort of neurological episode that left him partially paralyz...

Here's a story from when I first adopted my pibble, in 2012. I am still working on part two, about how I had to make the decision to help him transition peacefully over "the rainbow bridge," (which occurred just yesterday.) *Update: here is part two . ### "What kind of dog is he?" "A brown one." This is the answer I started to give people when they asked me about my dog, Niles. I got tired of them recoiling in horror when I told them he's a pit bull, mere moments after they've pet him and told me how cute and well-mannered he is. It's what I told the nanny that works down the street,  who wrinkled her nose, sniffed, and pursed her lips when she commented in her exotic Slavic accent, "Heez ed. Eet iss soh beeg. Vy eez heez ed soh beeg? Vuht kindoff dohg eez e?" (When I really wanted to tell her, "Your mouth. It is so big. Why is your mouth so big? What kind of person are you?"). Most people don't even know what ...

“I’m in no rush,” the woman at the end of the supermarket aisle said to me.  We had almost crashed our carts: the aisles are narrow, and one of us was making a wide right turn, and the other of us might have been speeding a bit towards the intersection. We both stopped and smiled, and paused before she offered to let me go ahead. I made my tight right turn down the bread aisle. It was Saturday morning. I had come from a “lite” gym session, which was more about being social than working out since I was saving my legs for my hockey game that night. I just wanted to pick up a few food prep items. “Thank you,” I smiled. “See you at the end of the next aisle!” I’m in no rush, either, I thought to myself, breathing in deeply. What is the hurry? I had four unstructured hours before I had to leave for my game, and it was a long weekend. I exhaled slowly, shifting into not-hurry mode. How often do I find myself • Rushing to the gym? • Squeezing in one more errand? • Running late to ro...

“Hon eeeeee , can you shut that thing off!?” Daddy wailed from the family room. I was in the kitchen, trying to entertain our toddler-who-was-on-the-cusp-of-not-needing-two-naps-a-day-but-not-quite-being-able-to-get-by-on-one while managing multiple other tasks simultaneously. It was near lunchtime. Daddy had been holding the baby for about two hours on the pretense of helping, but I think he was really looking for a good excuse to sit on the couch. “That thing” was The Very Quiet Cricket by Eric Carle and is a book about a cricket who can’t figure out how to make a sound until he meets his true love, at which time he finally finds his voice. When you turn to the last page of the book, it makes cricket sounds. Well, since the book hadn’t been closed, it was chirping intermittently and obviously very annoying to Daddy. I hadn’t noticed it, maybe because I was used to the constant background noise of parenting. It’s not something I could ever shut off, once I became a mother. ...

I set up the nativity in the backyard again this year. In the past, it has been out front near the fire hydrant that is on our property, and possibly near the turnaround, or keeping the inside of the shed festive – I don’t exactly recall. This year, I also decorated the turnaround with the large, outdoor ornaments instead of putting them on the trees out by the street – and fire hydrant – because one of my boys parks there. But, back to the nativity: I was informed, “But no one can see it out there.” I pondered momentarily… …No one can see it when they are up at 6 a.m., making the morning pot of coffee? …No one can see it when they’re putting away groceries or food prepping? …No one can see it when they are standing at the sink doing all the dishes? …No one can see it when they’re doling out the dogs’ medicine or letting them out the back door and watching for them to come straight back in after they’ve pottied? I replied, “I can see it when I am standing at the kitchen win...