Old and tired

Eleanor is old and tired. This morning it was the most obvious it has been in a long time. We've known that she is suffering from arthritis and getting around is not easy for her so we have been giving her pain medicine to help manage whatever pain she may be feeling. But when I came downstairs this morning and saw her laying at the foot of the stairs, I asked Lance why she was there - she's never there. She's usually out on the back porch having some breakfast after having gone outside for first potty. He said she didn't want to go out, so he gave her the pills hoping they'd kick in quickly and she'd be ready to head outside. I sat on the floor with her, petting her and cooing to her, sympathizing with her sore legs. She knew what I was saying, she was happy to have the sympathy.

We got Eleanor as a puppy, 8 weeks old. I'll never forget going to pick her out. We were first time dog owners and didn't know what to do. All we knew was we wanted a dog. So we found an online site that asked a gazillion questions about our personalities, our activity level, our likes and dislikes when it comes to dogs and the website came back with our perfect match: English Mastiff. Neither of us had any experience with mastiffs, I had always had dogs as a kid but they were always pound dogs who had a minimum of 4 breeds all mixed up in there. So, we started looking through the newspaper and found an ad for puppies. The father was an English Mastiff and the mother was a Rottweiler. We thought how perfect! We'd get a mastiff with a little bit of Rott in it for good measure. We didn't know anything about Rotts, other than they are very pretty and usually quite smart.

Going to "browse" the puppies was so much fun. There were I think 10 in the litter; 5 little Mastiff puppies and 5 little Rottweiler puppies. Because of the way the bloodlines and the breeds work, the little pups came out either one or the other. There was no mutt-look to any of them, they were very distinctly one breed or the other. But they were all full of puppy excitement and joy. Lance and I found one we couldn't live without and put a deposit down on her. A week later, she was old enough to be picked up and brought home.

Our friend, Larry came over to meet her and he was the one to actually name her. We knew we didn't want to name her Fido or Spot but couldn't really come up with anything. Larry had a dog as a kid named Eleanor, and she was apparently the best dog ever. So, we named our dog Eleanor :) Eleanor quickly became our first child. We took her to work to show her off, we enrolled her in school, we took her for walks. She was a very spoiled and loved dog, she still is. She is also quite possibly, the smartest dog I've ever known. She learned all her words, and learned them quickly. You can sit and have a conversation with her and see in her eyes, she understands. She understands everything you are saying.

I know the decision is looming, today was just a reminder that she won't be with us forever. I know that when she is just too tired and too old, she will let us know. She's not there yet, but I know that day isn't too far off and that's just sad. I've always maintained that Eleanor is Lance's dog, but she is my dog too. She's a good girl and has been a great dog for us for many years. She may not be snuggly with kids or even approachable by strangers, but she is Eleanor and she is our dog.

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Jello shots never get old

For the first time in years, I had a couple jello shots last night. I was at an organizational meeting for my mommy group and of course there were jello shots. Why wouldn't there be?! With the very first slurp, the memories came flooding back. It was hard to stay focused on the task at hand as my mind went down memory lane.

I don't recall where I tried my first jello shot, but I know with certainty it was during college. All the good things are, right? I do know that the first party I threw, involved jello shots. I was living off campus in some apartments on Greek Street with Rebecca (my old roommate in the dorms), Jen (friend from GK dorm) and Kimmie (super fun, but don't remember how we met.) I made tray after tray of vodka-laden shots. I had access to those little paper medicine dispenser cups that are handed out to the old people when it is "time for your meds" at the nursing home, because when I was home for school breaks, I picked up as many hours working there as I could. Those little medicine cups were made for jello shots. As you suck the jello out, the cup folds into itself making sure you get all the goodness out. Our little four bedroom apartment was packed tight with friends. The actual party itself is a blur. If I try hard enough though, I can remember bits and pieces - but what I recall most vividly is the day after. Jello shots everywhere. It had never occurred to me how messy they could be. We had jello running down our walls, smeared all over the floor, behind living room furniture, in the bathroom… You know a good time was had, when you find jello shots in the bathtub. Rebecca, Jen, if I didn't apologize then, I totally apologize now - I believe my friends may have gotten a little out of hand :)

One of the last parties Lance and I threw before we became grown ups with children involved jello shots, but in a much more controlled environment. When you're in your 30s, you still know how to have a good time, but you also know it's never a good idea to squirt the walls with jello. Even though our walls stayed clean, I know we had fun. It was a few years ago and it still comes up in conversation every now and then. It was a Disco party, complete with disco balls, music, and platform shoes. We even had our own roller-girl skating around the house. No idea who she was, but it sure added to the atmosphere!

I'm pretty sure there are more jello shot parties in our future, though probably not until the girls get a little older and can be sent off to slumber party somewhere. I'm thinking a party like the old days might make turning 40 much less daunting. Thankfully, I've got a few years yet to plan. I imagine I'll be that grandma in the nursing home who asks her grandkids to sneak her in "just one more shot" for old times sake.

A former smoker

All of my "pre-children friends" will remember me as the fun one who always had a cigarette in hand. I was a really heavy smoker, averaged a pack a day…sometimes more depending on the day :) It was a nasty habit, but one I loved dearly. I'd watch friends try and quit, only to pick it back up in a couple weeks. They'd ask me to try and quit with them and my answer was always, I don't want to, I don't even want to try - I love it too much!

When we bought our first house, my smoking habit was relegated to the basement. I think Lance's theory there was "if she has to go to the basement, maybe she won't want to smoke as much." Boy, was he wrong! I set myself up a whole smoking lounge down there. Chairs, table, tv, laptop, etc. It was a nice lounge. When we had dinner parties, my lounge was hopping because a good chunk of our friends smoked.

When we bought and moved into our second house, I pleaded my case and got my smoking lounge upgraded to the second floor. Lance realized I wasn't letting go of that habit anytime soon and if he wanted to see more of me, I'd better be allowed in the main area of the house. So we set the third bedroom up as a smoking lounge/hanging out lounge - it was sweet. Dark burgundy paint on the walls, comfy seating, poker table, good times.

I had always maintained if I were to get pregnant, I would quit smoking. Initially, it was just something to say to get people off my back, I had no intentions of getting pregnant. But after six or seven years of married life we decided we'd join the breeding masses. I knew my time was up, I was going to have to let go of this habit for the good of the baby and myself, not to mention all that second-hand smoke Lance had inhaled over the years. When I found out I was knocked up, that was it. I quit cold-turkey. It's hard to say if I was cranky after quitting, because I had all the pregnancy hormones raging through me. It is pretty safe to say though, that Lance had a very, very rough couple of months there for a while.

I honestly don't even know how long I've been a non-smoker. I'm not one of those who count it down to the day or week - all I know is I quit in 2008, probably around April. I do know that I can smell a cigarette from blocks away though. If I have my kids with me, I instantly think about how to keep them away from the cigarette smoke. If it's just me, I will inhale the smoke, just a little bit :) So when Lance and Hannah came home yesterday smelling like smoke I was all over him. You smell like smoke, yuck! Hannah's hair smells like smoke, yuck! Stay away from smoke with her - yuck! Hours later, I could still smell smoke on them…I know they weren't being smoked "on or at," but just being near it, man that smoke is a hanger-on-er. Makes me realize why one of my friends hated smoke so much, he always said my clothes smelled like it. Turns out he was right. Hear that Larry? You were right :)

So, any ideas I may have occasionally about picking back up the habit are always quashed once I think about my sweet little girls smelling like smoke.

Back in the saddle

A friend recently started a brand new blog which made me remember I have a blog! I used to write in it religiously and then came Hannah…with a baby, things tend to fall to the back burner. Now that we have another baby, I'm not entirely sure how I expect to keep on top of it, but I'm going to make an effort. My thinking is that by maintaining my blog, it'll give me writing practice, which I desperately need; I've gotten back in the freelance writing saddle. With two children, I enjoy a night out even more and those nights out cost money. If I want to be able to spend money, I really ought to earn some :)

So, this morning we all got up like usual…Eliza first, because she's the baby and is ready for first milk anytime between 6 and 6:30am. As she and I are sitting quietly in her room nursing and enjoying the breeze from her window, I hear the pitter patter thud of Hannah. Eliza is at the age now (5 months) where she is easily distracted and finds enjoyment in everything…her toes, a cat tail going by at eye level, a lightbulb, but especially her older sister. When Hannah is near, Eliza loves to watch her and giggle. I just love it. Watching these two grow up together is going to be amazing. Of course, I'll probably bitch and moan a good deal of the time because raising two kids is hard, but it's also rewarding. Every step of the way, it's rewarding.

Hannah and Lance headed off to Grandma and Grandpa Bodensteiner's for a relocated pancake breakfast. Usually Lance and Hannah make pancakes on Saturday and Sunday morning as part of their daddy/daughter tradition; they started doing that when Hannah was old enough to stand. It's so sweet. But this morning, they headed out the G&G's to share the pancake love. Since we were all just out there last weekend for a visit, and I dislike pancakes a great deal, Eliza and I opted to stay home this time :)