this week. . .

Dude's departure on Monday has been hard on all of us. . . .

It's been a long week.

She wasn't doing well all last weekend. She went downhill after I reduced her steroids. . . but, even after I returned to original dosage, she still didn't do any better. We said we would call the doctor Monday. . . All weekend she wasn't eating much, or drinking. . . getting weaker. . . Monday morning, right before Sam went to work, he found her in our room next to the radiator. Sitting and smiling at him. He lifted her to bring her downstairs. . . and she died on the way down the steps.

I think she was waiting for him.

Later that morning, as it all was sinking in, we watched the ravens out the living room window, flying back and forth from Sally's roof to her trees. . . Big, black ravens. . . maybe three of them. . . And wondering. . . .

We kept Jack home from school and buried her next to Tyler at Sam's parents.

Very sad. A lot harder this time. . . More of the same: the house is too quiet.. .just doesn't feel right. But harder. Different.

Max has been depressed. Whining at her after she died. Monday night I took him for a walk, thinking he would be full of crazy energy. . . He spent the whole walk just sniffing at everything. Like he was looking for her. . . Lots of laying around. For a few days, he refused to eat of the food bowl that he had designated as hers.

Jack told me the night before last that his eyes were tricking him, and that he kept seeing Dude around the house. Me too. . .

Doesn't help that we have been stuck in the house with all the snow and cold. Jack had one day off (well, two if you count Monday when we kept him home). . .and two snow delays. . .

But, life is marching on. . . We have been watching the birds at the birdfeeder. . .
And, one evening, we caught a small herd of deer at the birdfeeder trying to eat as well.

Last night, in the car on the way to Target, Jack told us about his two girlfriends on the bus (who happened to be having a fight. . . and him feeling that they have to get along because they are his girlfriends). I am hoping very much that he means that they are friends who are girls, and that he is not a budding polygamist.

Spots of light. . .

Today, Sam had an MRI for his knee. . . hoping all is not so bad. . . He brought us doughnuts on his way home. . . Drank coffee. . . ate breakfast. . .

Luke is happily working on his cutting skills. . . Snipping signs after breakfast next to the warm heater. . . Hanging his little artwork all over the living room. . .

Smiling moments. . .

let the bedtime madness begin. . .

It is 8:55 pm. . .

Sam is snoozing on the bed upstairs. . . . .

and the boys are bouncing crazily on the couch. . .

Where do they get this wild energy, moments before bedtime?

PS. . . Do you think Sunocco would deliver milk to the house tonight? Hmmm......

snow day. . .

making me happy right now. . .

big fat flakes outside the kitchen window
while the chocolate chip cookies that Jack and I made
fill the house with a favorite childhood fragrance

Luke's happy voice drifting out to my ears
as he plays happily with cars
in the dining room

finding Jack (home with a snow day) in the quiet living room
at the coffee table
reading. . .
a coloring book
all by himself
just because he wanted to know what it says
Mama, come see this funny part. . .
[thank you Wonder Pets Save the Puppy]

and calling him out to the kitchen
to see the birdfeed
newly filled
attracting many beauties:
mr. and mrs. cardinal
chickadees (known as chippies by my great grandma smith)
a titmouse

Max dropping his ball at my feet
let's play. . .

the gift of a snow day. . .

remembering. . .

our Lady X. . . .

lover of the great outdoors. . .

companion to and tamer of the great unruly Max. . .

snow puppy . . .


opener of the screen door, and sneaker in-er when no one was watching. . .

patient endurer of Dada's practical jokes. . .

finder of that one spot of sunshine. . .

and epicurean of rawhide. . .

lover of walks. . . car rides. . . and the great jog, dog, jog. . .

great giver of kisses. . .

great lap snuggler. . .

aka: Dude. . . Dude Wude. . . Dudentain. . . Big-O. . . Poopy Bo Jangles. . . and many silly other things we could rhyme together. . .


went to find her buddy Tyler yesterday morning. . . after bravely, patiently, and uncomplainingly fighting a brain tumor for weeks. . .

her favorite games included: gimme that stick!. . . dog kabossee. . . x-ey bronco. . . and x-ey crackhouse. . .

we were very lucky to share 12 beautiful. . . bark-filled. . . kiss and snuggle-filled years with her. . .

and she is very much missed. . .

dinner with mr. obvious

We took Lukey to see his new school on Sunday. An open house at Aquinas Academy to see the preschool room (declining to tour the rest of the school). . . we sent Jack there two years ago. . . and already. . . is it really time to think about real school for our Luke? We commented all day about how small he seems (relatively speaking, of course). . .

He is the one I worry about leaving. He is the one who clings to me. . .

And as we entered the room full of strangers and children, he ran to the train table. Not noticing one moment whether we hovered round or stayed across the room.

We saw dear Mrs. Szakos and dear Mrs. Davis. So good to see their smiling faces again. Such sweet, good teachers. They were the ones that made it easier to let Jack go for the first time. Trusting their kindness. . . and good hearts. . . and they were so good for him. As I know they will be so good for Luke.

And they remembered Jack. How it made me smile. Jack and Junior. Inseparable boy and his dog. They said they had just been talking about him days ago. And how Mrs. Davis kept the dog ornament he gave her in a dresser drawer. [This is so they remember Junior, Mama.]

And we left, happy with the new school. Happy remembering Jack's days there. . . And went out to eat to celebrate sweet endings and new happy beginnings. . .

Chili's. . . love it. . . Jack will eat their burgers. . . and Lukey loves to much from the chip basket.

And we chatted. About life. And trains. And Star Wars. (because in a little boy world, there is nothing more)

And Dada attempted to bring Jack out of his lightsabering obsession: What do the Jedis do when they are not lightsabering the bad guys? They must do something else? Like go to dinner. . . Or watch movies. . .

They look for more lightsaber fights. (of course)

And Ahsoka. What are these things on her head?

They are head tails.

Head tails? But they look like a raccoon. What are they for?

I think that they are tails for her head.

Ahh yes. When you ask Mr. Obvious an question. What else would you expect?

Of course Ahsoka finished off this deep conversation with a kiss on Jack's cheek. Calling her his boyfriend. Which reduced Jack to a strange wordering, melting slump of a boy. Oh Dada.

And, as we left Chili's (Sam sneaking off to the bathroom, and I attempting to wrangle and coat two silly boys). . .

Jack said, What did she do that? Why did Ahsoka do that?

Do what, buddy?

What did she kiss me? And call me her girlfriend?

A true Calvin and Hobbes moment.

waking from a nightmare. . .

and the cobwebs still clinging to my slowly waking eyes. . .my slowly waking mind. . .
images. . . details. . . swirl, mixed in with my awake thoughts. . .
trying to shake the elusive images. . .
inside, I shudder, and rise. . . too wary of falling back into the black whirlpool from which
I just narrowly escaped. . .
feet touching cold floor, and outside I shiver. . .
hands busy, making normal the day. . .
but the cobwebs still cling. . . and small details. . . .
words, I hear them as if freshly spoken, although the house is still. . . and sleeping. . .
that small bit of me keeps returning to the black waters edge. . .
I feel it tickling my toes. . .
I try to understand the shapes swimming out there beyond fingertip's reach. . .
what are they?
why did they touch me?
eyes more awake, I turn the small bit. . . a child, really. . .
and tell her it's time to go. . .
we have real place to be. . .
a morning to start. . .
and we leave. . .
but still I wonder. . . do those words, those images. . . that will haunt me all day. . .
do they hold truth in their spectered hands. . .

Lukey's Friday Eve Adventures. . .

aka. . . how much fun can a little boy have before a Mama breaks down. . .

Busy day yesterday. Luke started back to his Play Pals classes. . . aka school with Miss Lynn. He has progressed so far since we started these classes. The little boy who would cling to my legs and cry if another child looked at him. Who was afraid to interact with other children. Who wouldn't sit and do anything without having a meltdown. . .

He actually sat in one of those little tykes cars and drove around (something I have been trying to get him to do at home for over a year). And, when the clean-up bell rang, he got right out of the car and helped Mama push it over to the corner and hopped over to the carpet for circle time. Who's child is this?

We sang songs (and he lay sleepily in my lap for the beginning. Mama, I snuggle down. He said . . . which is what we say at bedtime. . .).

Made a cute little snowman (and made signs with the leftover bits of paper, of course). Played with sparkely play-doh (cutting out stars and making numbers).

And had cake. How much of a good day can a little boy have?

Came home in time for some lunch. And then a Mama thought, you know, we never paint anymore. Hmmm...

So I pulled out those little crayola paint brushes that have the paint inside. And we happily made balloons. . . and signs. . . and I ran downstairs to put in some laundry (precariously leaving my Picasso alone for just a minute). And returned upstairs to see that grin. You know the one. That guilty one. The one that instantly tells you the child has been up to no good.

You see I did, Mama. And I walk into the dining room, fearful. Knowing the world will have been painted the crayola blue that he is clenching in his little innocent boy fist. And walk in to find that he created his own traffic light and a few rectangles on the easel. Oh, Mama, so easy to jump to the wrong conclusions.

Yeah.

Only to find later in the day one carpeted step painted blue. (the same steps that I cleaned this morning from the dirty Maxey pawprints he tracked in from outside).

And, as I was making dinner, I looked down at little Max. He looked back at me looking like the dog from Braveheart. How did I miss this? Half of his face streaked with blue (I'm thinking marker was responsible for this one). Looking at me forlorn.

So, wee Luke and I had another conversation about where colors go. . . on paper . . . and not on steps and dogs and such. (I color Maxey. Nice.).

All to fall asleep on my shoulder last night as Dada and Jack and I raced on the Wii. .. So sweet.