The Rest of the Story

Sometime after my last dog post, I finally DID get around to asking my dad about why he decided to bring Darlin' home. Here is what he e-mailed me:

Darlin' was the main one that pushed the decision.

As I observed her seeming to appeal to other people as they went to their cars, I hung back until everyone left then called her over & spoke to her. She responded & I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, she was pitiful. I was thinking, well, there's nothing I can do. When I opened the car door to get in, she voluntarily jumped in on her own & just sat down on the floor of the passenger side & looked at me as if to say, "let's go home". I couldn't resist so we drove home & I was sure that Mom could not resist either. When I pulled into the carport I tooted the horn & motioned Mom to come out. When she looked in & saw her face, it was love at first sight. You may remember we tried to find out if she belonged to anyone & was lost. I posted a flyer at the Marta station but we never could find anyone looking for her. It was after that that we decided to take her to the Vet for exam & we felt a confirmation that surely, God must have sent her to us.
(Even now, this recollection brings tears to my eyes.)

So, in the words of Paul Harvey, "Now you know the rest of the story."


And I might add that my dad can now say that he has contributed to a blog.



Thanks, Dad.

The End of an Era

Today is a glorious spring day. The sky is clear. The weather is warm but not hot. It's the last day of classes for my 2 older kids. Tomorrow is officially the last day of school, but we are spending it at a class field trip to a water park. Part of me is ecstatic. Part of me is relieved. The homework especially has been a burden - sometimes I think MORE of a burden for me than for my kids. But part of me is very sad. Today is the last day that I get to have my 5 year old "Kuscheltier" all to myself. ("Kuscheltier" is the German word for stuffed animal, but it literally means "cuddle animal." We have called him this almost since he was born because he is so sweet and cuddly.) This year has been such a blessing and ,like most blessed times, has flown by. I will always be grateful for this opportunity to really get to know my third child. He is very independent and plays well by himself. This was wonderful when we were homeschooling because it allowed me to focus more on the 2 kids that were actually "in school," but it also led to many days when I really didn't spend time with him. This year the 2 older kids went to school for the first time, and S. became my right hand man. He has been "my helper" on a myriad of errands, doctor appointments and days of working at home. We have enjoyed many fun park trips, picnics and hikes. We spent many days reading and watching "The Lone Ranger" on the couch after I fractured my back. I have treasured every minute I have spent walking anywhere and holding his hand. But next year, he is going to kindergarten. This is especially hard because I have never sent a kid to kindergarten before. For most people, the third child is probably easier to send to school as they've already sent two others, but my older two did kindergarten at home. I think one of the hardest parts of parenting is throwing yourself totally into the relationship with your child, but yet knowing when and how to let go.

I have been praying that God would help me to be a good steward of the time He has given me. He is thankfully answering this prayer in a number of different ways, but one of the ways is certainly by helping me to realize how little time I really have with my children. 18 years seems like an awful long time when your baby is born, but now I suddenly have one child who is already half way there! I find it so difficult sometimes to truly make the most of every minute I have with them. I'm sure fellow parents can relate to those nights when you are absolutely about to drop & are afraid you will totally go ballistic if the kids stay up 2 minutes longer. I hate it when I barely have the energy to pray for them & kiss them good night, instead of patiently answering the questions they sometimes voice when I am ready to leave them in their beds and collapse.

So, here I am about 3 weeks after I originally started this post (speaking of time management..... :) ). Last night I actually watched a whole movie in one sitting. I don't usually do this because it gets too late. Last night I was trying to catch up on folding laundry. This may give you an idea of how behind I was. Ken was busy working too, so I watched the movie "Mamma Mia." I wouldn't exactly call it a great movie. As they say in Minnesota, "It could have been worse." But there was a scene that brought tears to my eyes, oddly enough relating to this same subject. Just to give a context to anyone who hasn't seen the movie, Meryl Streep's only daughter is about to get married. The video is for the song "Slipping Through My Fingers" by Abba (of course).

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile


Thank you, Father, that we can at least touch the time as it slips through our fingers.

From apathetic to obsessed

How has this happened? I, the person who wanted nothing to do with any kind of pet, have now become obsessed with finding the perfect dog. I know there is really no such thing, but I have to believe that there is a good match out there somewhere for our family. Maybe I'm just consumed with the search itself. For some reason, I find Petfinder completely absorbing. There are so many different kinds of dogs, so many different breed mixes, so many different stories of where they have come from, how they ended up in rescue, so many different personalities. In a way it reminds me of our house search. It really became a habit. After we put the kids to bed, we would go online to the MLS website and look at houses. It was really hard to stop once we got started. Even months after we had found our new house & even moved in, I would still sometimes catch myself thinking, "Let's see what houses are online today." Maybe it's comparable to gambling addiction. Somehow you believe that that big jackpot is just around the corner. Maybe there will be the perfect, affordable, too good to be true dreamhouse in our favorite neighborhood online today. New houses pop up all the time. It's hard not to keep looking. I feel the same way about the dogs. Maybe there is that cute, housetrained & crate trained dog who loves kids, walks well on a leash and is easy to take care of. Maybe there is one who would really be a joy to have around, one that would make any extra work worthwhile. I guess this same feeling is what makes garage sales, thrift stores, Craigslist & Ebay so popular. You never know when or where you might find that once in a lifetime deal. I am hoping that we might find that once in a lifetime dog......or at least that I will be able to spend a little less time on Petfinder. :)

Those of you who have not known me for a long time are probably wondering about the dog photos at the beginning and end of this post. I found them in one of my photo albums and scanned them in. On the back is written "Darlin' '92." I think I was about 15 when my dad brought her home from the park and ride. He had gotten off the bus that day and gone to his car. When he opened the door, she just hopped in! She had been shot in the leg with a bee bee gun, and of course, she was filthy. I'll have to ask him why he decided to bring her home. (My parents have never been one for impulsive decisions. Even ordering at a restaurant is a monumental event for them!) He tried to find an owner, but no one claimed her. He took her to the vet to find out whether or not she was healthy. He found out that she was healthy and probably about 9 months to 1 year old. The vet fixed her leg, and we got her cleaned up. Maybe she knew she had been rescued. Maybe she was just one of those dogs that make people want to have dogs. Of course, she wasn't perfect, but she was a joy to have around. She had free run of the house, and we never worried that she would tear up anything. Her greatest sin was probably when my mom had some pastries on the open oven door. I suppose the temptation was too great. When no one was looking, she took one and went very guiltily into the next room.

I have read a number of times that it is not a good idea to pick up a stray. I would probably agree. I guess the reason I bring up Darlin' is that I know it's possible to have a dog that we would enjoy..... which is probably a lot of what makes it hard for me to give up the search.

Dog Parenting Failures

Well, at least we can say we tried. At first, things seemed to be going well with the dog we agreed to foster to adopt. He looked just like we were hoping for. He was friendly, didn't beg for food, didn't have accidents in the house. He had energy but wasn't bouncing off the walls. He seemed friendly & seemed to listen to our commands. He had that adorable way of cocking his head when I spoke to him, as if he were trying to understand what I was saying.

The first night we put him in his kennel, he whined and barked off and on all night. We weren't too surprised, since apparently he didn't sleep in a kennel at his former home. The second night, he carried on for about 10 minutes, but then settled in for the night. Each night it got better. One night, he barely "complained" at all. We were so impressed (not to mention relieved :) )!

I was so proud of the way he listened to my commands when we were out for a walk. We passed by 3 other dogs, and each time, he responded to my correction and totally ignored them! Wow! What a great dog!

But then came some incidents which I thought put me in a position of having to choose between the dog and my children. Although he mostly responded to the kids with wags and kisses, there were a few times that he growled at them. It was not an "understandable" type of growling - such as that they were touching his food, taking away his toy, teasing him etc. A few times he nipped at them. I don't think that nipping is actually the best word choice here, but I don't really know what else to call it. He didn't hurt them. He didn't break any skin, but he did direct his mouth toward them in a scary way. Each time the kids looked so confused - why is this dog who is supposed to love us acting this way? The worst time was when he actually nipped at my daughter's stomach - enough that we could see marks. This makes even less sense as she has been the primary person who has been getting his food ready every day. You know what people say about biting the hand that feeds you.....

So, I talked to a couple of people at MN Boxer Rescue. They were very helpful. They told me that this behavior was perfectly trainable (or untrainable, as the case may be). They told me that I could take him to a trainer (who is at least 45 minutes away) and she could stop him, guaranteed. They told me it might take one time; it might take 5 times, but he could be trained out of this behavior. He is a smart dog. That is obvious. I'm sure he CAN be trained to stop this unacceptable behavior. However, my God-given responsibility is to put my children before....well, before most things - except God and my husband. I thought about my poor daughter who got bitten (although, thankfully, not seriously) and is afraid of the dog. He stares her down suspiciously, even though she is the one who is feeding him. She has asked several times if she can try to pet him again to see if he will nip at her (bless her heart!), but I don't feel right about giving her permission to possibly get hurt again. (O.k., I just have to throw in that just now as I was typing, my youngest child came in and the dog just nipped at him!!) I can't imagine saying to my daughter, "I know this dog is being mean to you, but we are going to take even more time away from you to work on training this dog. He will learn not to nip, but in the meantime, you will just have to be in danger until we can get him trained." I'm sure that many animal lovers would call me heartless and selfish, but surely any parent can understand that my child has to come first.

The dog is beautiful. He can be very sweet. I'm sure he will do great with some training (and in a home without small children). But we are not the ones for this job. Thankfully, there are other fosters more dedicated than we are. In a couple of days, we will be able to hand him off. It may sound heartless, but I can't wait.

When perseverance is not a good thing

It's been almost 4 weeks now since my grand sledding adventure. If things go well, I should be half way through my convalescence. In the past two weeks, I have made a strange discovery. How many times when I have been healthy have I been significantly less than excited about doing household chores? How often would I have loved to pawn them off on someone else? However, it is another story entirely not to be ABLE to do some household chores or to have to stop in the middle of them because of a painful back. It is starting to drive me crazy sometimes. Yesterday the kitchen garbage was overflowing and I couldn't take it out. A few days ago the dirty bathroom got to me so much that I actually cleaned the worst of it. This is when I discovered that perseverance is not a good thing. I think I am still paying for overdoing it. I won't even go into the vacuuming issue. With three relatively young children, I'm sure everyone can imagine how quickly our floor gets messy, especially under the table. Maybe some of you are like me in that you are not exactly obsessed with a clean house, but sometimes things just get to a point where you can't take it anymore. You know those days when you just HAVE to vacuum? Imagine not being able to do it. In some ways not being able to vacuum is a break, but having to live with the mess is not. My dear Schatzi is wonderful and is really doing the best he can, but obviously he cannot vacuum if he is not here. Between work, church, grocery shopping and child responsibilities, there are only so many hours in the day. It drives him crazy too.....but sometimes my normal standard of housekeeping (and I do use that term loosely) drives him crazy.

I guess God is trying to teach me patience. When I see things that I can't do that need to be done or that I have to ask someone else to do for me, that is just the opposite of my normal way of doing things. I don't like to ask for help. I want to do it myself (just like a two year old, I suppose :) ). Maybe God is also teaching me to ask for help before I reach the point of having a "nervous breakdown." This is also a fault of mine - not asking for help until I've made myself and everyone around me miserable.

So, I hope I will remember when I am "healed"(and maybe this will give encouragement to those of you who don't have fractured backs or other progress-impeding injuries) what a blessing it is to be able to vacuum what needs vacuuming, clean what needs cleaning, pick up what needs picking up, take out what needs taking out, carry what needs carrying etc. etc.

In the meantime, I'm spending lots of time on Facebook and watching "The Lone Ranger".........and realizing that I need to take it easy more often or I will pay for it later.

The Conspiracy

I have been the victim of a conspiracy. It started with my children. Then my husband joined in. Later my sister and sister-in-law got involved. The final straw was when even our neighbor started to side against me. The conspiracy involved a dog. I didn't want a dog. My husband always said he didn't want a dog, but apparently he changed his mind. He decided it would be a good thing for the kids to grow up with a dog. He also decided that we needed a watchdog. Shortly after this, my sister-in-law kept bringing her very cute Cavalier King Charles Spaniel over. Then one day our neighbor (with whom my husband had been talking about the dog issue) showed up at the door with How to Raise the Perfect Dog by Cesar Milan.......(as if such a thing were possible.)

So, I decided that education was my only defense, especially after my neighbor said (when he gave me the book) that it was "a matter of when rather than if." Since I am one of their best customers, the White Bear Lake library was more than happy to loan me a small collection of dog books. We started with The Encyclopedia of Dog Breeds which showed us all manner of professional photos of show dogs with descriptions of their size, temperament, exercise needs, watchdog ability, grooming requirements etc. Since we had already decided from the beginning that IF we got a dog it would be a short haired one, this disqualified at least half of the dogs in the book. With some of the requirements some dogs have, I don't see how their owners can even think of having a personal life. When I see the masses of hair in some breeds, I can only imagine the time commitment required for the brushing and detangling, not to mention washing and drying of their coats. Some of the dogs I read about require TWO One Hour walks a day! Who has time for that?? Certainly not a family with three young children where the parents consider themselves lucky if they get in one twenty minute workout for themselves three times a week!

I read at least four other dog-related books (My favorite was Be the Pack Leader by Cesar Milan. I think this book is interesting and helpful even if you never own a dog.) I have interviewed people from two different rescue groups and the Humane Society. I have spent hours on petfinder & been fascinated by the myriad of dogs up for adoption, their names and their stories. Two of my children and I even went to a "meet and greet" for a rescue group and had a wonderful time petting the dogs and talking to their foster parents. All the "parents" were eager to answer our questions, and one of them even put her "foster child" into my arms and began to sing his praises. I have talked to a number of friends and relatives who are dog owners to glean their words of wisdom. I have even gone so far as to become a volunteer for Minnesota Boxer Rescue. Although I have yet to do anything for them, one of their members volunteered to mentor mentor me on doing home visits (for potential adoptive families), and I have begun receiving many interesting e-mails about dogs and jobs that need volunteers. The most interesting thing I have learned about is the transports. People from various rescue groups band together to transport dogs LONG distances....like from Georgia to North Dakota! Different people volunteer to transport the dogs on a leg of the journey (usually about a 1-2 hour drive) and all the legs together combine to cover the whole distance. I had no idea that something like that went on! (Although I have to say that I would pity the dog who had to relocate to North Dakota. :) )

So, after all this, am I ready to get a dog? The answer is that I feel like I am about to jump off a cliff. I am worried about how well I will handle the additional responsibility, and since I do like dogs, I don't want to be a bad dog owner. However, dog ownership does interest me, and some aspects I actually find exciting. I recently read an article about a study in Great Britain showing that dog owners actually get more exercise than non-dog-owners who have gym memberships! Heaven knows, I could use more exercise! I also like the idea of having a warm, furry body around spreading joy and unconditional love. I just hope I am being realistic.

We have decided to wait until spring. At that point, we will lay everything out on paper and try to realistically evaluate our fitness for dog ownership. Of course, money will be a factor. If we can afford it and it seems that we are truly up for the task, we have all agreed that we would like to get a boxer or boxer mix. But I have told my husband, "No puppies." I have done enough potty training already.

Don't try this at home - the latest "adventure" in the frozen tundra

Last Sunday, I took the kids sledding. This would seem to be an uneventful occurrence in the frozen tundra. The kids wanted their dad to come along too, but he had recently hurt his back & didn't feel up to a sledding excursion. In retrospect this was an interesting statement.

When we arrived at the sledding hill, we had it all to ourselves. At the time, I thought this was a good thing. My four year old, S, refused to sled down the hill at all. This surprised me because he had been excited about going sledding. Perhaps he was remembering last years incident in which he sledded through a plastic fence with his sister. Perhaps he was just wiser than I was....apparently. The other two kids, 9 year old J & 7 year old K were having fun sledding down the hill alone on their own sleds. After a time, J asked if I would sled down with him (I had already taken an uneventful slide with K). Someone had made a jump on the hill. We weren't trying to hit it. Before either of us could react, we hit the jump and went sailing up into the air. I would be interested to know how high up we were - it felt like about 3 feet. Of course, the law of gravity was alive and well. I took the brunt of the impact, smashing into the ground and feeling a crunch all the way up my back. We both had the wind knocked out of us, and we were screaming. I was screaming in pain and fear that I had just paralyzed myself. J was screaming, "We knocked out the wind!" and "I need some water!"


(Here is a pre-accident photo of the jump that would later become my undoing.)

I neglected to mention that another family had arrived during the time we were sledding. This was absolutely an act of providence. The man of this family came down to us and asked if we were o.k. My first response was, "I don't know," (and I honestly wasn't sure whether or not I would be able to get up again.) After a few minutes, I asked if he could help me get up. He helped me up and helped me back to our car. I was so grateful that he was there.

I drove us home. I was crying the whole way because the pain was so bad, but I was so grateful to be walking.

Because a bone in my back didn't look quite right, my dear Schatzi advised me to go to the doctor on Monday. I got x-rays and discovered that I have a wedge compression fracture in my thoracic spine (which I was told is much better than having a fracture in one's lumbar spine). Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. And this is from a woman who has given birth to 3 children (one of whom took 36 hours to finally make an appearance) without ever using pain medication.

So, this has been an interesting week - filled to the limit with Ibuprofen and Tylenol 3 with Codeine. Thankfully. I have been advised not to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk which means (among other things) that Schatzi now has to do the grocery shopping (as if he didn't already have enough to do). My family has been wonderful. My children have helped me get up and walk around. J & K made their own lunches one day (although J complained, "Why should I make my own lunch?" My response was: "Because you want to eat?") My wonderful Schatzi has been cooking and cleaning up the kitchen, carrying around laundry baskets for me and telling me to sit down.

There is a blessing in this, though. The blessing of laying on the couch with 4 year old S, reading books, watching Lone Ranger and Partridge Family episodes on Hulu and trying not to devour his cheeks. There is also the luxury of being able to lie on the couch and not feel guilty because, for once, this is what I am supposed to be doing. :)