Just after Christmas we decided to put in a fence. This is a totally uncompensated plug for Orme Fence Company and Wayne Orme who did an amazing job installing a beautiful fence at a great price and with excellent quality. Wayne’s a hell of a nice guy, too and his team was quick – I left one morning on a business trip and returned around midnight the following night and lo and behold, had a fence. I couldn’t be happier. It’s been great for the dogs and was the final key step in getting our puppy housebroken.
Clover was plenty annoyed, never having been fenced in before. In fact, on the first night of the fence, Mark caught him wearing a hat with a light on it and investigating the perimeter for escape routes.
I’m also happy to report, not only are our dogs penned in for good, making them safer and less of a hassle to chase down or stand outside with, refusing to pee on the end of a leash, they now seem to be genuinely getting along better.
I attribute this to the Couples’ Retreat we sent them on over the holidays while we undertook the Great Midwestern Road Trip. They returned on better terms and are often seen spooning.
Not that Clover isn’t completely mortified any time we see him appearing to enjoy Starbuck’s presence.
Today the boy turns 20. And before you leave a comment saying anything at all, I request that you read this post and realize that I can be a little touchy about the fact that I was a teenage mom. I was 19, OK? And married. And you know what else? I just might be the most successful teen mom you’ll ever know.
Yeah. I’m touchy.
What’s important today is not my touchiness. It’s this boy. This man. This kid that I have loved for 20 years. This guy that has made me laugh and cry and holler his First Middle and Last name in the tradition of mothers all over the world. This boy who is now a wonderful grownup. He’s responsible! He’s a good driver! He’s the best employee at his job! He gets good grades! He’s a good, albeit snarky big brother! He is, in general, a guy I’d like if we weren’t related by blood; if we just met on the street.
So happy birthday son. I’m so dang proud of you.
Love,
Mom
Starbuck (more nicknames: Star Trek, ShamWow) was looking shaggier than ever. We sorta remembered her having eyes under that mop. It was time, at eight months old, for her first haircut.
Doesn’t she look gorgeous? Much more like a Wheaten-Poodle mix than a dustmop.
Last year I wrote about the girl’s first foray into the public school class “Family Life,” a nice euphemism for Sex Ed.
This year, in seventh grade, the curriculum is getting a bit more detailed. Last night, after dinner, she was giving her dad and me a rundown of what she’s learning. Words and phrases came out of her mouth that simultaneously made me want to either laugh or clap my hands over my ears and sing “Do Wah Diddy” at the top of my lungs.
I kept telling her how, in my repressed parochial school upbringing we NEVER learned the stuff she’s learning and frankly, I think it’s great that she knows what she does from an appropriate source. My generation, you know, the one that hit puberty the same time that AIDS was sweeping the nation, is a throwback to a bit more squeamish time. It’s refreshing to me, that our daughter is comfortable enough to tell us what she’s learning, without embarrassment and with a little bit of delight, I think as we turn to her with our mildly shocked expressions.
Dear Lord, please let our daughter continue to tell us everything, even when it makes our ears bleed. Amen.
Most people give thanks on Thanksgiving, but Christmas Eve is a time that I pause and think about the year, and everything I have to be thankful for. Four years ago I was in the exact place I sit right now. I’m a different person four years later. Then I was waiting with some anxiety to move to Virginia, unaware of how much our lives would change. It’s been wonderful; we love Charlottesville and I’m thankful for that, and that our move and the past four years have gone so well. I’m grateful for family who put us up, and put up with us, both moving and visiting and coming all the way to visit us.
This year I reunited with several people, thanks to an active social network. I am, as you may have guessed, easy to find. One reunion with one friend in particular was a life-changer and I’m so happy that the years we spent apart have been dissolved.
I’m thankful for my husband who has been by my side for more than 20 years as of this year. I’m grateful the boy, the girl and the allergist’s daughter have had a good year; that the boy has been at home (you know, geographically speaking) and that they have all been well and happy in 2009.
I’m thankful for my wonderful friends (and you know who you are) including all you gorgeous blog readers, Tweeps and Facebook buds.
In this year of the masses being made redundant across all businesses and industries, I’m thankful that I have a job I love and coworkers doing the best they can.
This Christmas I wish the same happiness for all of you and the peace and love I feel to flow to you and on to the next person who needs it. Merry Christmas, my friends.
