Mostly good, some not.

It's hard to believe that Mr. Chili came home over a week ago. It is so good to have him home again. And not just because he does stuff and helps. I really missed his company, his good sense, his hugs. (I'd say I missed sex, but I'd be lying. It has been a ridiculous length of time since we last had sex. We both want to, in an abstract, wouldn't-it-be-nice kind of way. But man, by the time the kids are asleep and the hockey game is over and I'm finished with blogging or job searching...well, it just doesn't happen.) We don't connect much these days. I'm finding it tough to maintain our husband-wife relationship while parenting these two kids. We've got to work harder at it.

We've had a few lovely family moments since Mr. Chili came home.

Last Wednesday we all went for a walk in the light rain. Mr. Chili had Pepperette in the backpack carrier covering them both with a large golf umbrella, I had Cosmo (our dog) on leash with an umbrella, and LC skipped on ahead carrying his own perfectly size yellow umbrella. We only went around the block, and there was some whining (from LC), but it was still wonderful. A sweet moment of togetherness.

Yesterday afternoon, we just relaxed and hung out in the front yard. LC played with the girl across the street, Pepperette rode up and down the sidewalk on a hand-me-down riding caterpillar, and Mr. Chili our neighbour and I stood around chatting. It was a gorgeous day. It was a cliched slice of suburban life, I suppose. But it is my cliche and it was wonderful.

Pepperette has been doing all sorts of new things - she can climb the stairs likety-split now. She is very close to walking, which is so much fun to watch. She consistently nods her head for yes and shakes it side to side for no. She is very good at communicating what she wants at mealtime. She doesn't have any teeth yet - almost 15 months old and no teeth. At what point does one start to worry about that? She doesn't really have any distinct words or even sounds that we can associate with objects. A bit of babbling, but that is it. No worries, she's doing just fine.

We're all adjusting to life without Boomer. I really miss him. I constantly see him out of the corner of my eye. I am more confident now that I did the right thing by having him euthanized. We've given away all the cat food and cat litter. It will be a while before we get another pet, I think.

And finally, I am having the worst thrush flareup since last summer. Since I started this diet. I can't figure out what set it off, why it is so severe and how to make it stop. It's okay on the left side, severe on the right. To the point that when I latch Pepperette on the right side I have to bite really hard on my finger so that I don't yell out loud. Having pain somewhere else helps offset the pain in my nipple. My neck and shoulder are wrecked because of the tension everytime she nurses. The only thing I can think that is causing the continued flareup - and I've been dealing with this severity for over a week now - it the spelt bread we were both eating. We ate a lot of it over the time Mr. Chili was gone. It's a sprouted bread, as in non-yeast. It is supposed to be safe for anti-candida diets. I wonder if we just ate too much. I eliminated it from my diet, but it's about the only thing Pepperette will eat for breakfast these days, so she is still eating it. I'm going to eliminate it completely from both our diets and hope that it helps. I am so fucking sick of this.

I am sick of the constant restrictions on what I can and cannot eat. I am tired of trying to introduce new things and getting slammed by a flareup. I am tired of following the restrictions exactly and still having flareups. Whine, whine, whine.

"Why don't you wean Pepperette?" you might ask. Good question. I have thought about it, but never seriously considered it. No, I am not a martyr or a masochist. However, breastfeeding is a really important part of how I want to parent my kids. Also, I nursed LC until he self-weaned at 2.5. I want to offer Pepperette the same opportunity - to nurse until she is ready to stop. Also, I don't know how I would handle early weaning. Not well, I suspect.

For now, I will carry on. Dreading the next nursing session for the pain. Frustrated with the restrictions. Hoping that this will all be worth it.

I love Fridays!

Especially this Friday. Because tomorrow Mr. Chili comes home from overseas, from what felt like the longest business trip ever, but was in fact, two weeks long.



We have (nearly) survived. The kids have dealt with his absence remarkably well, and I am still upright. I am exhausted because neither kid has slept well since daddy left. That and managing the household and job searching and parenting is a lot for one person to do. Oh, and all the crises that happened...



In no particular order, please allow me to whine about the crap that has happened over the past two weeks:

• Aunt Janet died. Couldn't go to the funeral - was not going to attempt to drive to Michigan with two kids by myself


• Boomer died. He was euthanized at the vets. (I hate the expression "put to sleep".) Worse, I had to make the decision myself. One of the hardest things I've ever done.


• The washing machine died. Seriously? Seriously. There is nothing quiet like taking your washing machine apart at midnight, after the kids are asleep and lunches are made, in an effort to a) determine if the machine can be repaired and b) save yourself $100 to hear that it can't be fixed. The answer? Not worth repairing. My 7.5 year old piece of shit Frigidaire (I will post the model number later) is dead. So, hey, sure, let's spend a thousand dollars we don't have on a new machine. 'Cause spending money is awesome when you're unemployed! Oh, and as an added bonus? You get to waste time at the laundromat washing loads of clothes! And there is the joy of shopping for a new washing machine with two small children and the challenge of trying to have a discussion with a salesperson.


• New washing machines are very expensive. The best option - as in cheapest well-reviewed machine by Consumer's Reports is a) a Frigidaire (see bullet above for how much I love them) and b) is not cheap. $1000+ later, we are going to have a new LG machine.


• My wedding present from Mr. Chili - a lovely Australian opal on a white gold chain - broke. Snapped after it got caught on something. I hope it can be fixed, but I was very sad.
• My job search was pretty much non-existant for the past two weeks. I am feeling stressed over how little progress I have made towards finding gainful (paid) employment.

Should I be worried that #2, 3, 4 were all acquired around the same time? What's next? All our appliances, the dog and my marriage were all acquired/started 7.5-ish years ago. Or is that three things and we're done? I have no idea. I'm feeling slightly hysterical. And only kind of joking. I mean, I've heard of the 7 year itch, but this is getting ridiculous.

Putting it all in perspective, when I write it down, it doesn't seem that bad. For all these bad things that happened, everything else went okay. I had a lot of help from my mom & stepfather as well as my MIL. We went to a friend's house for dinner/playdate one night and one night we had another friend & kids over for dinner/playdate. I took the kids to the zoo for a member's only preview of Stringray Bay. LC was pretty stoked about touching a real live stringray. We visited my mom a couple of times. I took lots of pictures for Mr. Chili and put them on a web album so he could see what we were up to. Which was fun for me, using the camera more, taking pictures way more often than I normally would.

Not to be all cliched or anything, but Mr. Chili's absence has made me stretch and grow. I had to figure out how to put both kids to bed when I was alone. I had to figure out how to get things done. I found my groove as a single mom. I don't want to continue, thankyouverymuch, but I know that I can do it.

Random notes related to the death of a pet

Book recommendations for a child who's pet has died:

1. "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney " by Judith Viorst


2. "When Dinosaurs Die: A Guide to Understanding Death" by Laurie Krasny Brown (Author), Marc Brown (Illustrator)


3. "Let's Talk About When Your Pet Dies" by Marianne Johnston

The Tenth Good Thing is really good. To be honest, I sat in the library reading these books, crying. They all made me sad. I think the tears are cathartic.

The experience:

I had cuddled with Boomer before we left for the vet. I just held him and talked to him and apologized. He purred a bit, but mostly just laid in my arms, allowing me to pet him behind his ears and under his chin. I was second guessing myself all over the place, so I put him on the floor to see if he could walk - maybe he was rallying - instead, he walked right into his crate. He has never done that. I usually have to shoe-horn him in. I don't know why he walked in. I'd like to believe he knew what we were going to do and that he was ready to end his suffering. But I'm to rational to really believe that.

The vet examined him before placing the catheter in this leg that would deliver the fatal dose of anesthetic. She said she found a mass on his bladder, and theorized that the cancer that shut down his kidneys had spread. She also said his heart was beating really fast, which is typical of end-stage kidney failure. She was so compassionate and caring, reassuring me that we did everything to keep him comfortable, and that he would have suffered if we had kept him alive. It was still the hardest thing I've ever done.

She laid him down on a towel on the examining table. I held his head and talked him, telling him that he was a great cat. When I was ready (are you ever ready?) she injected the anesthetic. He started a bit at the cold of it, made this peculiar growling noise and within seconds I felt him die. He just stopped breathing and his head slowly came down onto the towel. He was so still. His eyes remained open, which was a little freaky, to be honest. At first I didn't want to touch him. It wasn't Boomer anymore, but a body. I did pet him a little longer and said my goodbyes. The vet said to take as much time as I needed to say goodbye. And I thought, get me out of here. I don't want to spend time with a dead cat. But when it came time to leave the room- to leave him behind - it was so hard.

I still can't believe how fast it happened. He really didn't suffer at the end. I tell myself that I did the merciful thing. It still feels like I was trying to play god.

LC's reaction:

After we've been home for an hour or so. Me: "Have you noticed anyone missing?"

"No." puzzled face, thinking.

"Boomer isn't here."

"Where is he?"

"He's dead, honey."

Pause. "Why?"

"He had a disease called cancer. It made him really sick. Eventually his heart stopped working."

And it went on from there. LC cried when I told him, but it sounded to me like that fake crying he does so well. No real tears behind it. After the bit of crying, he asked me if we could get a new pet. Wow. Didn't wait long there! I told him mommy and daddy needed time to be sad about Boomer, then we would talk about it.

Since then he has randomly commented that he is sad Boomer is dead. I printed off two pictures of Boomer from healthier, happier days (including the picture in this post) and asked him if he wanted to take them to school. He did. First thing he did this morning when we walked into the schoolyard was run up to two of his friends and tell them Boomer died. The two little boys he told nodded solemnly, then the three of them ran off to play. I'm relieved and glad that LC seems to be taking the news well. Although I fully expect this to play out in stages as he absorbs and adjusts.

Is it morbid of me to believe that this truly is a character building experience for LC? Dealing with the death of a pet is not fun, but it helps you know what it's like when someone you love dies. So maybe when a grandparent or aunt or uncle dies later, he'll have some of the tools for coping. I don't know. I'm really just making this up as I go along.

Bye Boomer

RIP Boomer

2000-2008

Beloved pet of Chili, Mr. Chili, LC and Pepperette. Favourite chew toy of Cosmo the dog. Boomer was a funny and affectionate cat with a loud meow that bordered on a siamese yowl. He loved to sleep with Chili and Mr. Chili, although in later years like to sleep on LC's bed too. His favourite chin? Mr. Chili's. Why he liked to lick Mr. Chili's chin so much remains a mystery. Boomer enjoyed tormenting Cosmo by walking over to him when the later was napping and taking a swipe at him. Started way more fights with Cosmo that Cosmo did with him. Boomer never did figure out that Cosmo was way bigger than him and was always going to win. Boomer was incredibly tolerant of the kids. He didn't mind being mauled by kids, although he did reserve the right to bolt when he'd had enough.

Died peacefully at the vets office after a short battle with kidney cancer.

We'll miss you.

Moments of heartbreak

This morning LC said, "Mommy? I wish I had a lucky pebble because if you have a lucky pebble you can make a wish."

"Uh huh," wondering what LC would wish for.

"If I had a lucky pebble I would wish Boomer better."

"Oh sweetie. That is so nice. I wish you could."

I'm taking Boomer to the vet at 2:20pm today. I cried as I booked the appointment and she walked me through the procedure. Then I went to the library to find books for kids about dying pets. A helpful librarian found a few good books, including a very good one about a girl's cat who dies. I sat there reading books and crying. I'm really worried that LC is going to be mad because he didn't get to say goodbye. He did see Boomer this morning and talked to him for a minute and petted him. But I didn't know for sure that today was Boomer's last day. And I'm a wimp.

A couple of months ago, before we knew how sick Boomer was, we were admonishing LC to be gentle with Boomer, since he had lost weight and appeared to be getting a little frail. LC cheerfully observed, "Boomer keeps getting smaller and smaller. Soon he's going to be a kitten!"

Oh honey. If only it worked that way.

I'm not God

Our cat, Boomer, has been sick for a few months. It started with him losing a bit of weight, and then we realized he wasn't eating very much. A few visits to the vet and some hundreds of dollars later, we found out that Boomer is dying. Cancer likely, definitely kidney failure. We'll never know the exact cause, just that he's wasting away before our eyes. He used to weigh 12 lbs, now he weighs 5. It's shocking how frail and thin he is. He looks like a fourteen year old cat, not a 7.5 year old.

For the past month of so, we've been giving him subcutaneous fluids to help keep him hydrated, to make him more comfortable. It's been working pretty well. He starts eating a little more and drinking a little more. The vet showed me how to do the injections myself and I did for a while. But then Boomer really started to fight it, and his skin is so fragile that the needle would go right through. I gave up, feeling that I was causing more trauma than benefit and resumed having the vet give the subq fluids.

Up until the past few days, he's still had that Boomer spirit. Loving, feisty, always wanting a good cuddle. When Mr. Chili left for his overseas trip on May 3rd, and we never dreamed that the end was so near. On Sunday I cleaned out his litter box. There were but three small lumps of pee and one tiny lump of poo. From almost a week. Not good. On Monday (yesterday), Boomer was having trouble walking. He looked up at me, lost his balance and fell over. He had just one lick of wet cat food. I thought he had been eating some food daily. It turns out the asshole dog* was eating the food when I wasn't looking.** On Tuesday (today), Boomer became incontinent - he's peed tiny pees all over the house, despite the fact that I've carried him to his litter box many times.

He spends pretty much all of his time crouched down like he's uncomfortable. He doesn't curl up to sleep anymore, just hunkers down near us. He just walked into the office where I am writing this and peed on the carpet right next to me. I think this is an indicator of how miserable he is feeling. I am really struggling with the decision. People have said to me, "You'll know when the time is right." But what is happening is that I know he's suffering, that I'm tired of cleaning up accidents and worrying. And I wonder if I put him down, will it be to end his suffering or mine? How selfish am I, to euthanize a cat because I am tired of cleaning up. Then I think that he really is suffering. That he can hardly walk today, his back legs wobble and he loses his balance.

I called Mr. Chili late tonight my time, at the start of his day. I had to tell him where things are. And that I am going to call the vet on Wednesday morning to make an appointment to - what do I say? - put him down. Euthanize him. What I'm really doing is ending his life. Killing him. I was worried that Mr. Chili was going to be mad/upset at me. But he understands that Boomer is miserable and it needs to end.

I've never done this before. I know he's "only a cat". But he is my first cat. And this is very hard.

* Okay, the dog isn't an asshole. He took advantage of the conveniently placed chair, intended to help the cat, who can't jump anymore.
** I was so mad at myself for deluding myself into thinking that Boomer was eating again. Self-delusion much?

He's cute when I don't want to strangle him

LC stumbles out of his bedroom after midnight.

"What is it?"

Standing there, rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other holding his penis. "I have to wash my hands."

Hmmm. "Maybe you need to go potty."

"Okay"

Mission accomplished. Back in his bedroom, I tuck him in. He asks me to rub his back and is asleep in seconds. And I am filled with love as I lean over and kiss his tousled hair. I remind myself to hold onto this moment now, for tomorrow there will undoubtedly be moments where I want to strangle him feel very frustrated.

Aunt Janet

It's been one heckuva week, almost two, since Mr. Chili left on his overseas business trip. The kids have generally been great. I was especially worred about how LC would handle Mr. Chili's absence, but he has handled it with grace. Thank goodness.

In the meantime, it feels like everything else is falling apart. I am exaggerating, of course. But it's getting ridiculous. Details on some of the crap in a separate post. The thing that sucked most about the past week was that my Aunt Janet died. Technically she was my Great Aunt, given that she is my grandfather's baby sister. But to me she was always just Aunt Janet.

I know that dying in your sleep at age 88 is hardly tragic, but it is sad just the same. And hard on my grandfather. Now he just has one sister left. And Janet was the baby, making it harder to accept.

She was:

• wife of Dick for 62 years
• a mom of three
• a grandmother of eight
• foster mom to 33 babies
• an artist
• baby sister to my grandpa
• my Sunday dinner companion for a few months when I lived in Michigan

I really wanted to attend the funeral. At the same time, I didn't think it was realistic for me to drive five hours each way with two kids by myself. If Mr. Chili was here, I probably would have taken just Pepperette and driven with my parents. I settled for sending a sympathy card for Uncle Dick. I can't imagine how it feels to lose your beloved spouse after 62 years of marriage.

Makes me sad. But I know she had a good, full life.

That's about right

As seen at Andrea's. I always mean to do these quizzes and never do. The assessment? Pretty accurate. I would classify myself as a realist tending towards pessimism.

You Are a Realist

You don't see the glass as half empty or half full. You see what's exactly in the glass. You never try to make a bad situation seem better than it is... But you also never sabotage any good things you have going on. You are brutally honest in your assessments of situations - and this always seems to help you cope.

Are You An Optimist or Pessimist?

re: Job search

The interview I had two weeks ago? The one that went well? That I talked about here? I guess it didn't go as well as I thought. I didn't get the job.

On the plus side, they did not keep me hanging for ages. And the manager offered to debrief me, which is nice of him. I know it would have been just too easy if I had gotten the first job I interviewed for. But it would have been nice.

The same day as that FOAD*, I also found out I didn't even make it to the interview round for another position I applied for. Two FOADs in one day. Go me!

I really, really need to get more stuff in the pipeline. I have no active applications out there right now. I have one posting I'm going to apply for tomorrow. Other than that? Nada. I am not going to find a job if I don't freaking look for one. And I am trying. I am networking. But obviously not hard enough.

* A term from my undergrad days. FOAD as in Fuck Off And Die. As in, you didn't get the interview/job/etc. Most of us amassed a collection of these suckers during our last year.

Pepperette cuteness

I have independent verification of this one. Pepperette has started nodding her head to communicate "yes". She's pretty good at telling us what she does and does not want to eat by reaching and "aaaaahing". Then a few days ago, after she indicated she wanted another oatcake, I asked her if she wanted it and she nodded. It is so cute to see her nodding yes. I thought I was projecting or imagining it the first time, but tonight my stepfather observed and agreed that yes, she is nodding her head.

Second moment of cuteness: in the bath tonight, Pepperette was grinning like a loon, splashing around and having a grand old time, per usual. Next thing I know, she's right by the drain plug, tugging on the handle. And pop, out it comes. She was pretty thrilled by the action, the water draining out didn't phase her one bit. I laughed and put the plug back in. I reached for the shampoo, look back and yank!, she's done it again. Little bugger. I put the plug back in, move her to the far end of the bath tub and watch as she makes a beeline back to the drain. Aaaargh! It was funny and frustrating at the same time. I managed to distract her and finished the bath quickly. She's getting pretty strong and pretty coordinated.

(So it's totally cute in real life. In the blog? It is pretty boring. I think that's why I don't post often. I can never get those real life moments written with any life. My prose sucks.)

feeling low

Today has not been a good day. I know that I am a pessimist, a glass-half-full kind of person. And I know that I'm feeling this bad because of a convergence - no, wait - an accumulation of events. Regardless of how I got here, I am struggling today with feelings of frustration, wanting to cry, feeling sad, feeling weary and simply not having the patience to deal with my abnormally cranky daughter.

I found out yesterday that a very dear friend lost her baby. She was finally experiencing a normal pregnancy. They had seen the heartbeat. She went for a twelve week ultrasound on Monday and found out the baby was dead. I don't know whether she will have a d&c or miscarry "naturally". That is just one more painful decision for her. This is her fifth miscarriage. It is so fucking unfair. No one should have to suffer like that. I'm so sad for her.

I also found out that I did nor get the job I interviewed for last week. It was a good role for me in many ways. The interview went very well. I am disappointed. It is hard for me not to take it personally, not to feel rejected. I do. And dammit, I need to find paid employment soon. Our savings isn't going to cover us much longer.

Add to this the fact that Pepperette had a bad night, moaning, crying and nursing pretty much all night. Which means that I didn't get much sleep. Then there is the stress and denial that I am careening betwen as Mr. Chili prepares to leave on Saturday for a business trip. A two week long trip, on another continent. I will be a single mom for two weeks, including two weekends. I have no idea how I'm going to survive.

I haven't felt this down, this anxious, for a long time. I hate it. I have to get some sleep. But when I feel like this I tend to stay up even later because I don't want to face reality, preferring to lose myself in the computer or a book. I'll just catch up on one more blog. One more. And so it goes until Pepperette wakes up crying at 1 am, wanting to nurse. Only then do I go to bed. But lately I can't sleep while she is nursing. It's too painful. So I get cranky and frustrated with the epic nursing sessions.

Got to go. Pepperette is out of patience. I will be back. Blogging is going to keep me same during the next two weeks.