Yearning

I watched ‘Gran Torino’ with Hubby last week. (Well, not all of it – please don’t tell me how it ends.) And in one scene, the characters are at a family gathering. The family is Hmong, and many generations are represented. There are old folks, teenagers, moms and dads, uncles and cousins. There is a ton of food, all kinds in mass quantities. Each room of the house is full of people and talking and laughter and loud voices. The kids run around underfoot.

It made me homesick. I want that. It used to be that way when I was a kid. I was lucky enough to hang out with my cousins all the time, and see my grandparents all the time. But I was also lucky enough to participate in those family gatherings. All the way up until I moved to Kansas.

I miss those gatherings so much. I’m trying to figure out a way to replicate that kind of party here. I am considering a party in the fall – a potluck with my friends from work, maybe Hubby’s friends. But I know it won’t be the same. It will be different. Maybe it will do.

In the meantime, I am totally looking forward to this weekend. Hubby and Bubba and I are going home to Chicago. He will hang out with his brothers (The brothers and the cousins!), and my sister is having a cook-out at her house. I’m bringing fajitas.

I can’t wait!!

Apologies are definitely in order

I just looked at my website and realized that it had been an entire week since I wrote an entry. I was aghast.

For the one or two of you that read this, I’m very sorry. Life has been busy and so have I. And rally, nothing eventful has occured.

Except that O’Baby turned one and had many parties. And he’s walking 98% of the time now. And he wants to climb everything. And he’s cutting his molars.

Oh – and Bubba has rediscovered the joys of baseball. And he’s still swimming all the time. And we’re going to sign him up for boy scouts.

And the deck is pretty much paint-free now, so I have to sand and stain it. That way O’Baby can play with his new watertable out there.

Oh, yeah – and I got a raise because I promoted myself to an RNII. And I’m working on my RNIII. And I got the iritis again after being so sick for a week.

And it’s hotter than heck out here lately and I’m about out of things to do indoors with Bubba.

And Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson died.

I think that just about brings us all up to speed.
Take care.

O’Baby is one year old today

One year ago today, at 5:14pm, O’Baby was born.

I can’t explain to you how our lives have turned around COMPLETELY since he came into our lives.
Where there was fear, there is joy.
Where there were tears, laughing.
Where there were self-destructive behaviors, self-abuse and self-hate, there is now nothing but love.

Our O’Baby is nothing but love.
How lucky we are.

Thank you for coming and saving us, O’Baby.
How we all love you.

Among other things…

– I am sick. My throat caught fire Thursday night, just before my mom came to visit. Now my head is swolled up and my glands are swolled up and my sinuses are clogged and I just want to sleep. I called in sick for tomorrow. Bad employee.
– We had a nice time with my mom. O’Baby practiced walking with her, and we cleaned out the local toy store buying presents for O’Baby’s First Birthday (which is the 17th – can you believe it?!). Mom also watched Bubba burn leaves and listened to his three-day-long running monologue about golf balls. We visited Bro’s new apartment and met his roommate and gave him kitchen stuff. Mom saw how good a mother The Princess is, watched Bubba’s baseball game, and at a nice lunch on a restaurant patio. Good times.
– Hubby left for Chicago before god got up this morning. He’s visiting his family, then doing meetings tomorrow. He’ll be home late tomorrow.
– The Princess went to a ballgame today and has a farmer’s tan and a burnt nose. Good times in the outfield.
– Bubba and Mom and I went to the bookstore last night. It’s gratifying to see that I have passed my passion for reading down to my son. He can’t put down “The Boys’ Book – How to be the Best at Everything.”
– I have had it up to here with my deck and patio and yard. I can’t maintain our lush landscape on my own. I need help and I’m not getting any. I am thisclose to paying the handyman guy out of my paycheck to take care of deck repairs and powerwashing the paint off the deck. It would totally be worth it to me.
– I’m hot and cranky and sick and I’m done now.

Sweet Little Girl

My brother’s dog passed away today. She was eight years old. He had raised her from a baby.

That’s what she was – a baby.

When he brought her home, he kept her in a cyclone-fence cage in the kitchen. Yep, my mom let him move the table out of the room so he could kennel the dog there. He kept this dog at his side constantly, training her with every motion or word. She could anticipate his every command, and would stop whatever she was doing in less than a heartbeat if my brother made a sound.

She was his shadow. They walked together, hunted in the park district woods and alleys. She was always perfectly behaved in public. Even when a large bully dog would try to instigate something with her, she would remain stockstill unless Greg gave her the go-ahead to defend herself.

She was gentle as could be with my sister’s babies, my children. She would ‘watch our backs’ when we slept over at their house during visits. She would curl up in the patch of sunshine on the front porch, following it with little movements so she was always warm.

When she was happy, she would run into the front room and ‘slide into home’, lying on her back and wiggling around. She would pester Mom for a tiny bit of waffle with syrup and butter every morning. My brother would come downstairs and say, “Little, you smell like syrup. Did Mommy give you a waffle?” It was their little routine.

She would lie by my dad’s chair when he took his daytime naps. She would bark at him when he made ‘mouth noises.’ She would tolerate the other dogs that come to visit, only occasionally and decisively keeping them in line.

She was soft and shiny. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her muscular body. She had a head shaped like a shovel.

She liked to play “Fist” and “Watch Out for the Pointy Stick.” She would occasionally make ‘monkey brains’ out of her stuffed animals.

She was loving and sweet. She was an American Pit Bull Terrier. She was beautiful and rare and wonderful.

We’re all going to miss her very very much.
Love you Little.