The end of an era

For many years I have been trying to hold on to my own childhood memories of Thanksgiving and reinact them at my dining room table. I guess for most of those years I have been fairly successful. But it is clealy time for me and my memories to step aside and allow the next generation to make the family Thanksgiving celebration whatever it is destined to become. I took Thanksgiving away from my mother-in-law a few decades ago and demanded that it be the one holiday a year that we spend together as a family of four. I have no regrets in doing that. But I would rather give the holiday to my kids than have it taken from me. We are now a family of 7 and soon to be 8. I know Dave and Britt would like to do something different and it's possible that Maria and Bill may want to have their own family celebration. So I have most likely cooked my last turkey dinner. And I'm actually fine with it. I won't miss the stress of orchestrating all those dishes being warm at the same time nor making gravy that is golden and smooth. So let change take its course and take each of us where we will sit at table with smiling faces and grateful hearts. Memories of Grandma Allen's dinners will always be a part of who I am and every Thanksgiving celebration that is yet to be.

Good-bye Jack

Last night I did the hardest thing I've had to do in a very long time. I put my beloved Jack to sleep. A couple weeks ago something started going on with him. He seemed a little lethargic and the legs were all a little tentative. I kept feeling around his pads and moving his joints but nothing seemed to be wrong. Eventually he started favoring his right leg. Once again as I investigated, I could find nothing wrong. Within another day he was crying out in pain when he would try to get down from things - the couch, the bed, the deck. This is not Jack. The dog never complains and I had only heard that sound once before. The pain got worse and so did the yelping. Crying dogs are so much worse that crying babies. So off to the vet we went to try to figure out what was going on. That was as painful as sleeping with a yelping dog. The vet was pretty certain about what was going on but needed to run several tests and prescribe medication to deal with the problem. His first price was $900. As I balked he brought it down to $800. I finally told him to price out what he absolutely had to do to make a diagnosis - the bare minimum. I love my dog but I have always been that person that was not going to go broke keeping my pet alive. I also did not want to see them in pain. So we settled on the $600 range. A few minutes later I was hearing the bad news. Jack had 2 collapsed vertebrae (no disks between the bones), an enlarged spleen and a heart murmur. This did not sound good. The vet was also adamant that Jack should not be around small children. It would be too easy for them to accidentally inflict additional trauma. So we left the office with pain killers, anti-inflammatories and a prescription for a muscle relaxer. This was all new territory for me. So I was hopeful that in a week or two Jack would be his old self again and we could look for a new home for him to live out the rest of his life. The scenario did not play out that way at all. Despite the drugs, Jack remained in pain. He would still try to get down from the couch on his own and still try to welcome everyone who came to the door. By Tuesday, I knew that he wasn't able to deal with this on his own. I crated him for his own protection. That was almost as bad as the yelping - constant scratching to get out, struggling to get comfortable, panting... I let him out in the morning to do a check but nothing was better. So back in the crate he went on Wednesday. Thursday was Thanksgiving and I gave in to his wanting out. I just couldn't do it anymore. He was in pain but he really wanted to be with us, smelling the smells of Thanksgiving and cleaning up any morsels that Callie dropped along the way. I was getting closer to a decision. I could feel it all building up in me. It was so hard to watch him. It was the first time that I carved the turkey and he wasn't at my feet. He could have cared less about me pulling the meat off the bones as I made the turkey soup later that night. I went to bed with a very heavy heart. We had 2 days of pain medication left and then what. If he was like this on drugs, what would he be like without them. I clearly did not want to see that. The alternative was another trip to the vet for more of the same. I woke up yesterday morning praying that he would have turned the corner but he was actually in worse shape. The moving around on Thanksgiving had taken its toll. And now we were down to only one more day of meds. It was clear to me what I had to do. I called the humane society to get the needed information. We spent the day together hanging out and looking at pictures of my buddy in younger days. For some reason none of the pictures accurately portray the joy of Jack. Is it imagined and something that only lives in my heart? My work day ended and I took Jack for one final walk to the car. His tail wagged but that was about all he could do. I met with the receptionist and gave her the necessary information. Jack and I went to the "reflection room" to spend our final minutes together alone. The realization hit me that that my dog was about to die and that I was going to see it. I had just paid to kill my dog. I cried and he leaned against my legs with his tail tucked between his legs. Did he know what was about to happen? What kind of energy had been left behind by other pets in this room. Now it was time for the walk down the hall to the euthanasia room. They explained to me what was going to happen and answered my questions. They gave him the muscle relaxer and he began wobbling a bit so I laid him down on the blanket. It was time. They gave him the sodium pentathol and he was gone. I had snuffed out his life. I know there was no real alternative for us but nonetheless, I had ended my dogs life. Jack was the best of dogs. He loved freely and openly. There was joy and youthfulness in everything he did. It was so hard to believe that it would one day stop so abruptly.

I am grateful to Maria and Bill who seem to understand so much of this without my having to speak the words. I went over there afterwards for a glass a wine, a loving hug from each of them and some petting time with Milo.

And so now I was to begin life without Jack. I came home and tried to ignore that corner of the couch that Jack had been spending so much time in the past two weeks. I threw away what was left of his medication because I just didn't want to see it or think about it. I put the throw on my bed that I would no longer be constantly washing to remove the dog fur and said good night to Jack. I prayed that his spirit was content and could somehow understand what I had just done to him and to us. The thought of life without Jack is so much harder than actually doing it. I can definitely live without him but it was so much more fun with him here. I now truly wake up and come home to an empty house. Or maybe it just seems that way. I will be missing Jack for a long time. He was an important part of my life. I know that I will never ever see Milo without thinking of Jack and the fun they had together. He was a vital part of Growing and Learning Together. He greeted every child every day with love and told them he was happy they had come. And he did the same for me every day that we were together. I love you Jack and I always will. I am sorry that you are gone and that we had to end our partnership so quickly. I thought we would have a few more years together. But I am so happy that you are once again pain free. Just like any other death, I will learn with every day that goes by to live without you by my side. But you will never leave my heart. Thank you for all the good times, all the joy you gave to me and anyone who met you. You were the best! I love you Jack.

Exposure Notices

The last few weeks in the daycare business have been down right interesting. Within a week's time we had a child with chicken pox and two more with head lice. This seems a little odd considering there are only 7 kids enrolled. It's not like it's a classroom of 35. And besides that, the chicken pox kid had been vaccinated. When I got the chicken pox phone call, I hung up feeling sad for Allison and then I realized that as the director/teacher/owner I should do some something. But what? Where is my secretary who is in charge of all that? Oh yeah, that's me too. So my job now was to notify my parents that their precious child has been exposed to some ugliness in the world. And if they hadn't been in my house, it probably wouldn't have happened. So I got to work writing an e-mail that would somehow communicate information as well as care and concern. I hated the thought of being the first person in their lives to give them this news. Guess what; vaccinations aren't guarantees. Little bugs crawl from head to head. You don't need to share combs, brushes, and bows for that to happen. It was especially difficult because the e-mails came back to back. I tried to end the second one with a little light-heartedness. I have no idea if it was effective or not. Once again, time is our friend. With the passage of time I have stopped by psychosomatic head scratching. The chicken pox kid has healed and thankfully the disease did not spread to the 7 month old baby. The affected heads of hair have been treated. I have had time to thoroughly clean the house and put into effect a couple new rules including assigned nap mats. I am feeling more in charge when the unexpected happens and more responsible as these children's caretaker. I am definitely in loco parentis (in place of parents) in this job. There's a good reason that I am accidentally called Mom by my little ones.

Raising Kids

I did know going into this adventure that I would have a feeling now and then that I was raising kids rather than teaching them. There is one in particular where that is definitely true. She comes to me every day and is here from 8:30 until 5:45. That is a long day for a little kid to be away from home. Now factor in the idea that this little darling goes to bed at 8 and gets up around 7. She is definitely mine more than Mom and Dad's. Add to this that about once a month Mom and Dad also have me babysit while they out for some fun of their own. In the last week, there have been several instances that have made me smile but then I feel so incredibly sad for this sweet sweet girl. She knows my refrigerator like it is her own. She often accidentally calls me mama or grandma. She takes off for the outdoors on her own exactly like Callie does. Those are all "cute" things. But tonight my heart almost broke. Each day I fill out a family communication form so the parents know the big events of the day. Dad was reading through it and stopped at the phrase "Good jumping today." We've been working on this off and on for a few weeks. Evidently this was unknown to Dad. His response was, "She can jump?" So sad. So very sad. I never had to make the daycare decision until my kids were in 5th and 6th grade. By then, that decision just meant before and after school care at school. I can't imagine what it is like to leave your child in the hands of another person for most of the day and somehow trust, truly trust that this person will do what I would do. This little darling who comes to me every day for 9 hours a day 5 days a week makes me take my job very seriously. And now that responsibility has taken on even more importance. I am mom and teacher and babysitter all rolled up into one while she is in my home. I sure hope that I am doing it right.