Monday, July 1, 2013

Saved by the Drummer Girl and the blessings of a pooch

Today marks one week ago that we lost our beloved Cosby. I know probably three of my five readers have hit their dead dog story limit, but it is still a raw nerve for us at the ranch. Not to sound all New Agey, but the energy she added to the house helped balance the rest of us out. So my oldest got extra teary and contemplative today when she looked at the calendar and realized she had survived 7 days without her furry sister. Between dropping brother off at his class and running to work with me so I could send some emails, the girls hit their limit with each other. The emotional meter was running hot and we needed distraction...fast. Enter in my secret shame. WIth the iTunes credit I had, I purchased the most recent Justin Timberlake album. Those who know me are recoiling in shock right now. A staunch listener of The Who, Talking Heads and Jim Croce(among a few others in those musical veins), JT is not in my genre. I love him, though. There aren't many who are better hosting SNL. He has a lovely look about him and an undeniable talent. So I downloaded it and the kids and I had a dance party, with one song that is very nice and free of any language unbecoming a12 and under dance party. Seeing their mom do the "Bernie" brought some smiles and some disbelief. Oh well. After lunch, I readied the youngers for quiet time while S's drum lesson was going on. Stupidly I thought that using a potato peeler would be safe enough for them and they would help me prep for dinner. I went to fold laundry and was knocked back into reality as it was announced the boy had cut himself with the peeler. As we often do when something hurts, we shake it, thinking that this action will make the pain go away. When I got upstairs, the hallway looked like the aftermath of a 80's Stephen King novel. Then I stupidly and casually mentioned "stitches" which sent him into hysterics. I honestly wonder what people think of us. After his finger was doctored and the lesson was over, G insisted that our percussion teacher, SC, watch her interpretive dance to our recently acquired JT album. Oh good grief. I fear this may be the last lesson that occurs at our house. SC was more than a good sport about it. G kept saying over and over, "This is the best day ever! SC is awesome!". She was awesome to be an audience, even if it was captive in the "you cannot leave until we have danced to every one of our favorite top 40 songs" kind of way. Big sister sat there looking horrified and amused all at the same time. With the fear of impending storms as indicated by lots of yellow and orange on the Weather Channel app, SC escaped the nut house and found safety in her car. Sorry, Drummer Girl, but thanks for saving their afternoon. I owe you.

After a dinner of dishes I have made for years and none of them turned out, S started feeling very sad and needed to let a few tears flow. She had accidently and instinctively gone to feed the dog. Insert sad face here. So we went to have some dog therapy at my brother and sister in law's house. They have two super sweet dogs and the kids love them. They received enough kisses and love to tide them over for bit. Maggie the momma dog even gave the boy her blessings:



On a day that shaped up to be a dud, we were so fortunate to have people and pups soothe the kids' sad hearts and give them some love,laughs and attention. I am so grateful for these special blessings. And I promise, SC, that every lesson will not require you to view a dance party. They haven't pulled out the guitars and recorders yet. You just tell me how much to write the check for.....
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