Five was a big year. A hard year. A rewarding year. A good year. Mostly.
Yesterday he wrote a little love note to me and stuck it in his take-home folder so I would see it when I went through his papers.
Kindergarten has taken the babyness out of him. Which is okay. He's still cuddly and huggy and kissy. Those aren't baby things, he'll tell me, those are things that everyone needs no matter how old they are.
No more baby words. No more pembaroni pizza or any of the other words he used to say that I can't think of right now.
He remembers those words every so often, and uses them just to be funny.
Sometimes he would just make up words for things he doesn't know the name of, and still uses that sometimes.
"Texas-ball" is my favorite. It means tumbleweed.
I miss the baby he was, but it's fun to get to know the kid he is.
***My cat is sick. Again. Kidney failure, I'm sure of it. Probably end stage but who knows, we've been back and forth with this for over a year. I haven't taken her to the vet because that would be crueler than not taking her. Last time I took her out of the house she was in shock for about two weeks. No eating, no drinking, no coming out of whatever hole she crawled into. If I take her out again, it will be to have her put down.
Her eyes are sunken in so far it's hard to keep them open, she smells bad, she lays like a meatloaf, her breathing is irregular, she's cold, she screams sometimes when she moves or sees me, got a case of the twitches, keeps licking her ulcered lips, unsteady on her feet, she hasn't pooped in a week and she hovers over her water bowl. All the signs are there.
Last night we were in bed all curled up together and I was sure she had stopped breathing for good, but she started up again.
I like the idea of her going like that- peacefully in her sleep, all nestled up against my belly with my arm around her and her head under my chin but when an animal dies they usually let go of everything inside them and in the morning I'd find myself wrapped around a dead animal, both of us covered in shit and piss.
She's almost 15 years old and I've had her for her whole life.
My life would be weird without her.
I plan on getting two kittens as soon as possible after she goes.
I have a six-day vacation coming up, live or die she better decide which before then.
What do you do with a dead animal when you live in the city? I guess you have to take them to a vet and have them Disposed of Properly. There's no burying them in the back yard or any of that. I do have friends out in West Philly with a giant grassy back yard. Maybe they'd let me put her back there. Maybe their dog would dig her up though. So maybe I shouldn't ask. Dave's mom lives in Jersey, I could ask if I could put her out there. Or there's that tree in front of my house. How deep do you need to bury an animal? I wonder how much it is to get a cat cremated. I wonder what I'd do with her ashes. Spread a little of them at the doorway of every house she ever lived in maybe. A variation of what I want done with my own ashes when the time comes.
***I'm considering having my grandmother's engagement ring re-set. It's old. The jeweler who I took it to to make sure it was safe to wear said it's safe to wear, but was probably bought used, as most rings were back then. My grandparents got married in 1944, but the stone- based on the type of cut- is probably from the late 1800s, and the setting could be new in the early 40s, or as old as the stone.
I wear it on my right hand with my other grandma's wedding band which is inscribed with DMJ DNB 6-18-38
Daniel Melford Jones and Della Neely Ball. Del and Mel. Because you know, if your name is weird like "Daniel", it's only natural that you go by Melford.
My dad's dad went by his middle name too. Charles Noden, everyone called him Noden. Again, "Charles" is SO WEIRD.
My middle name is Neely too. So is my niece's.
I use it like a last name if whatever I'm doing requires a last name but I don't want to give my real last name.
Three things that are keeping me from having the ring reset:
1) the price of gold. I like yellow gold.
2) settling on a design. It has to be fabulous and wearable and classic.
3) I'm not ready to stop seeing the same ring I used to see my grandma wear
***Live in or near New York City? Want to see me and the rest of Asteroid! live on stage?
March 24th, 8pm at the Underground Theater
123 East 24th Street (24th near Park Avenue South in Manhattan)
***The sulfate free shampoo is going well enough. I've used it twice, I wash my hair every four days or so. More often and I'm a greasy mess. Funny how that works. Scalp oil is like breast milk. The more you take away the more your body makes. There needs to be an adjustment/stepping down of the frequent washing, but it's amazing how unoily a human can become in the absence of scrubbing.
No sulfates definitely makes for a very different cleansing experience. You feel like you aren't getting clean because there are no bubbles, but then when it's said and done you realize you've over-cleansed and now you are a dried out mess.
By "you", I mean "me".
Maybe by the NY show I'll have it down pat. At least I don't have an embarrassing rash anymore.
***Only one more class and some paperwork/tests and I'll be a certified Trauma-Competent Family Professional. Holy crap was that a frigging journey. I'm glad I did it, I'll be more gladder when it's over.
Next up I'm taking a class in Over Indulgence.
"...this course provides family professionals with the research around overindulgence and ways to describe it to their audiences, to share how it happens, how it can be prevented and how it can be addressed when it already exists. Family professionals receive concrete suggestions and opportunities to explore ways to impress, inspire and inform their audiences so they can be more aware and better equipped to identify, address and prevent the many problems overindulgence can create."
We don't like to use the word "spoiled" or "rotten" in the field. Meat gets spoiled. Plots get spoiled. Children are at the mercy of those who may over indulge them. Behavior that we may call "spoiled" is a natural and expected reaction to a caregivers' over indulgence.
That's not a professional quote, I just made that up now, but that's the gist of it.
***It's Friday! Get off your computers and get the rest of your work done so you can mentally check out at 3pm like the rest of us schlubs!