Being a (dog) Mom is hard

I am losing my mind. I am pretty sure I actually LOST my mind when Finn came ambling through my door. I hit 30 childless and went "batshit crazy". That is all I can attribute my no-hesitating jump into dog motherhood; and then five months later doing it AGAIN. I was fine with my cats. Really, I was. Once McGee (Mac) died, however, I realized I missed his constant affection, something Milo and Cooper would give too frugally for my needs...

Finnegan (Finn) came to me as a 2.5 lb puppy from a rescue organization. He wasn't the big, lazy dog I'd always wanted. No. He was tiny and would be tiny full-grown, but he was a great "starter dog" for my cats. I did not consider that he would be CRAZY and get into ANYTHING that looked dangerous. Nor did I fully understand the energy level this little guy would have. But we adapted, all four of us. As soon as we got to acceptance, Calloway (Cal) came along. He needed a new home as his adopted home hurt him more than helped. Being a bleeding heart sucker, I took him in too "just to foster". His liter mate/brother, Finn, fell BACK in love with him, then I fell in love with him and that was the end of what I thought was a perfectly balanced household: one dog, two cats, and one "mom".

I'm now, at 30 and nine months, surrounded by boys. Crazy, out of control, demanding boys. Boys who I am terrified will get hurt, die, or hurt and die on me anytime. This neurosis comes from McGee, my beloved black tabby, getting cancer and dying almost two years back and now every morsel Finn puts in his mouth MUST be poisonous, every time Cal's patella luxates I have to check myself from going to the place of pure anxiety and terror.

This constant terror, that has spilled over onto Milo and Cooper, is making me physically ill and causing enough tears to water my plants weekly. So of course I wonder: why? Why is it now out of all times that I get anxious over an abnormally tired puppy? Or why I study their breathing as if I may detect and prevent their untimely death...because I have been doing that! I've been staring at Finn's little chest to see if he's been breathing in a way I deem appropriate for a puppy. See? This is the "batshit crazy" of which I speak and I only adopt northwestern Wisconsinisms in times of complete and utter terror when I am at a real loss of what to say.

I have hesitantly come to the conclusion that I've created a large family for me. A large brood of children. Prior to McGee's death, they were a permanent fixture never to be shaken until I was "really old" and so I gave no further thought. I trusted in them and nature to let "it all be okay"...I'm apparently getting "really old" because death happens prematurely (prematurely to what, again, I deem an appropriate time/date/age--I'm a meglomaniac that way). Life isn't something I have confidence in any longer. I love my "furkids". I love them to distraction and to (my) pieces and any threat to that love and their happiness (alive = happy ;)) sends me into a panic.

So how does a mother calm down. How does a mother lower her vigilance from a strangle hold to cupping the ones that she loves? Lennie couldn't do it in Of Mice and Men with his rabbits, and I am afraid I am going to have a bunch of dead rabbits on my hands soon...or have to find a new vet! ;).

Best Books of 2009

As before, these books focus solely on my reading, not the publishing date, but 2009 was covered in good reads!

10. Angel's Game, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Good, but not comparable to his Shadow of the Wind. The Angel's Game

9. Garden Spells, by Sarah Addison Allen. A fun fantasy that makes one wish we could really do this now and again. Garden Spells

8. Hunting and Gathering, by Anna Gavalda. Getting into the French way of viewing the world took a few chapters, but by the end I felt like lighting a clove cigarette, grabbing an espresso, and sitting outside at a cafe for contemplation time. Beautiful. Hunting and Gathering

7. The Lace Reader, by Brunonia Barry. The Lace Reader

6. The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries, by Marilyn Johnson. I've read obits forever, and this book just made me feel a bit more "normal" about it ;) The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries

5. March, by Geraldine Brooks. So beautifully written. It sucks you to the time and place; the painful parts and the good ones. March

4. Necropolis: London and its Dead, by Catharine Arnold. For some reason, while I was out of work after my surgery this last year, people kept lending me books about death. This, like all of them, where incredibly interesting and well-written... Necropolis: London and Its Dead

3. Monsters of Templeton, Lauren Groff. The Monsters of Templeton

2. Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield. A lovely Gothic-feeling novel. Full of dark book-filled corners and secrets--LOVE it! The Thirteenth Tale

1. The Sugar Queen, by Sarah Addison Allen. This novel was a bit of a sugary fairy tale, but that is what was best about it: escapism into happy! Made me a little sad, too, that as adults we don't go to those imaginary places much. The Sugar Queen

I am Not in the Mood for Love so Please Do Not Get Near Me

I've been consistently single now for over two years. Not the most joyous experience of my life, but there has been no one that I've wanted to invest my time or emotions on and into, so that has been the circumstance. However, as it goes in waves with my life, everyone is partnering up again and all these friend and family members feel it is somehow against the laws of nature that I should remain single. I am not sure why people feel that upon hearing that I am single they must do one (or both) of two things:

1. Offer to set me up with another single person they know/met/know from a friend/knew in kindergarten/tried to date and hated, etc.
2. Try to get to the "root" of why I am single and offer unsolicited advice (or what I like to 'affectionately' call Coerced Therapy) about the reasons why I am single.

Now, although I love my friends and some of my family and know they all mean well, I would like to state, in a less frantic, hand-waving, spittle-induced fit of pique that I don't need a diagnosis to my problem nor do I need to be set up with Random Joe. I can do it myself!

Okay, yes, I am acting a bit childish and misdirected about wanting help, but this is one area where my pride goes into overdrive. Well, that and there is a reason I've been single for two years...here goes my rant of deranged proportions of why I sit home alone on weekend nights or don't hit on everything with a phallus and/or y-chromosome:

Two years ago I was, what I thought to be, in love with someone going nowhere in a s-l-o-w 'relationship'. I let my guard down. Let him in to see more of me than I've let anyone else and apparently, for the long term, he didn't like what he saw. Now, a "normal" person would have sucked it up and moved on, figuring it was all like shopping. You see something you want, open your wallet to see if you can afford the item, and realize you don't have that much money (patience, sanity etc) to afford it and put it back. But as I don't like not being "good enough". This drives me a little nutto and a lot hermit. Instead of going back out shopping or trying to sell myself again (and really, I am a horrid sales person as I am too honest about flaws by half), I sit and curse this *boy* who hurt me, and wish I had never let my guard down. I build back up my unhealthy defenses and close into myself.

Yet, all the while I do this, I yearn for a committed relationship with a sweet man and babies (and a dog and cats). I let these dreams and yearnings almost crush me in a quiet moment, so I fill those moments with books, movies, friends, music, liquor, anything that will help me make it until bed time, where I will ache again for the same dream that won't come true...at least not until I find someone again that will make me want to open my shell back up and let him in.

Until that time, I am one unhappy clam, laying on the beach, and waiting for the water to recede. (how is that for a pathetic metaphor? :))

My Top Readings of 2008

Seeing as many of my friends like to do the Top 10 CDs of 2008, I would like to dedicate my first Blog to writing simply about the top books I read in 2008. That is correct...not books that were necessarily published in 2008, but books that rocked my little mind this year. As I am an annoyingly prolific reader this list may very well go under considerable and telling revisions for the next few days as I 'ponder it out' :)

10. The Wolf at the Table, Augusten Burroughs

9. When you are Engulfed in Flames, David Sedaris: Funny? yes, but sadly not his best.

8. The City of Dreadful Night, James Thomson: provides a striking image of insomnia and melancholia

7. Certain Girls, Jennifer Weiner

6. Jane Austen, A Life, Claire Tomalin: well, I love Jane Austen, Claire Tomalin is a wonderful biographer...it all works out really.

5. Bonk, Mary Roach: This woman is seriously smart and HILARIOUS...and somehow makes the most random of things accessible.

4. The Alchemist, Paolo Coelho

3. The Idiot Girl and the Flaming Tantrum of Death: Reflections on Revenge, Germophobia, and Laser Hair Removal, Laurie Notaro: Pee-in-my-pants, pained-cheeks-from-smiling funny. Man, this lady can paint a picture :)

2. Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd: I am embarrassed to admit I even read this as I fought it for so long due to it's popularity, but like most things, it was lauded for a reason.

1. TIE: A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail, Bill Bryson
and The Sea Kingdoms: The History of Celtic Britain and Ireland, Alistair Moffat.

*Both are chuck-full of random and glorious information and when Bill Bryson is involved I get to laugh too! :)