Call George!

Who's ready for a post that's not about cancer? So there I was, finishing Rich's dressing change (we can only get but so far away from cancer topics), when there was a panicked knocking at our front door. Our new neighbor Rachel was in her PJs yelling, "The dog's stuck in the fence and he bit me!"

I yell back to Rich (who is pantsless but with his wound covered at least) that I'll be right back and go running out the door. I thought their dog was a girl but she said "he" so I was confused.

When I come around the corner of her house, it was her next door neighbor's akita stuck in the chain link fence. She had tried to lift him but he was terrified so he'd nipped at her. Thankfully, it didn't break the skin, though she will have a huge "domestic abuse" bruise on her jaw that will be awesome to explain at work.

I ran back to our house to get towels and my phone. Rachel called animal control and I called my dad.

Whenever my parents' next door neighbor would have issues, they would call my dad for help. She was in her late 70s with young grandkids so there were always issues. It got to the point that when something went wrong (like when one of the kids locked herself in the bathroom), the youngest would yell, "Call George!"

I called the house number but no one answered. I called his cell phone but it rang and rang. That's strange because it's always on his belt and he always answers it. Eventually my mother answered it. I blurted out, "I need Daddy immediately!"

I heard my father on the other phone line say, "I gotta go." and they just hung up on me. Dad came racing down the street in his 1985 (actually, 1984 maybe?) Vanagon which is like a toolbox on wheels. I ran over to tell him it was the neighbor and not Rich that needed help. He went back to his van for nippers, jumped the fence and clipped it to free the dog. I threw my arms in the air and shouted, "Hooray Daddy!"

We got the dog fresh food and water and set him up in his laundry room out of the storm. Animal control came about 15 minutes later and assessed that he could walk fine. They'll leave a note for the owner and I left one as well. But he was smiling and wagging his tail when we left.

I thought working from home would be more relaxing.

Homestyle cooking

Previous to the last few weeks we rarely ate at home. Weekend breakfast is Panera. Lunch is wherever we are while we're out running errands. Sunday dinners are Qdoba or Moe's because kids eat free and Rich loves Mexican. Rich usually assumes "what do you want for dinner?" meant "where do you want to go for dinner?" He loves to eat out. And there are some advantages to it. He can have a salad and I can have a steak or vice versa. There are no dirty dishes. We can incorporate it into whatever shopping we may be doing that evening.

But the portions are too big. I don't like being shoehorned into a combo that has way too many starches and not enough veggies. Why don't they make a combo that is an entire bag of frozen broccoli with four ounces of meat?

When our kid was in the "luggage stage" as a friend called it we could just park his little car seat bucket next to us at the cafe and enjoy some conversation. These days, though, our kid is incredibly busy. He wants certain foods. He may not be hungry when we're hungry. He gets bored quickly in a restaurant. He doesn't always have a good indoor voice. It just gets more complicated. And don't get me started on paying $6 for a kids meal that goes untouched.

So I've been enjoying our eating at home this week. Tonight Ian had macaroni and cheese, a hot dog and 4 bites of soup. He also ate half of my bagel about an hour later because he always eats half my bagel. Meanwhile, I had chicken soup and (half) a bagel as soon as it finished in the crock pot. Rich wasn't hungry yet so he read his book and about 30 minutes later had a small bit of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich I made him. We still all had only marginally similar meals and we certainly didn't sit down as a family and say grace, but I'm not expecting that. I just want my kid to be able to eat for the 15 minutes he's hungry and then go play trains if he wants so I can eat in peace.

I can eat an entire bag of frozen broccoli if I want. I can have 1/3 of each of the leftovers in our fridge from all the previous meals we've had. I can wait to have my slice of pie until 10pm.

Sure, we have more dishes these days but we also have a perfectly good dishwasher. The only downside is we have a lot of leftovers. Our chicken soup produced four storage containers of extra soup after we'd all had our fill, so I took two containers down the street to my folks'. As luck would have it, Mom had been sick all day today and was just getting up from a nap. She was hungry and wasn't sure what she was going to eat so my chicken soup delivery was just what she needed. It was nice to chat and catch up while she had some healthy food.

I do miss the Panera blueberry bagels, though.

Hold your babies close to your heart

Today has been one of those days where my heart aches. It started out with horrible news stories about babies dying in freak accidents that I can't seem to avoid because everyone on Facebook has to repost them with the comment of "So sad. I just can't imagine." Yes, I wouldn't be able to imagine either except you stuck it in my timeline so now I can't get this horrible image out of my head and all I did was read half the headline.

I literally had to watch videos of Ian playing with trains to try to scrub my brain of all that.

And then there was the update of Heather's little girl having two seizures and being in the hospital overnight. My heart aches for her and her little Dizzle. Others were commenting about how hard it is to share a room in a children's hospital because your roommate is usually miserable and both the child and parents are not on their best behavior because of stress.

I remember being 8 years old at Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters and having to sleep in this room by myself (barely having had my own room at home at that point) with this two year old in one of those cribs that looks like a monkey cage. That little girl screamed bloody murder and rattled the bars all night. That was probably the worst thing about becoming diabetic was that first night alone in the hospital. At least Heather is in the bed with Dizzle and all her tubes and wires. I would have given anything for my Mommy that night.

Shortly after that news, I left work to get my nails done. My nail tech Lee Ann asked me about Ian's potty training and how it was going. She then mentioned that she just found out she's a grandma on Sunday. But her grandson is not an embryo, but a three-year-old little boy that her stepson is "not doing right by" as Lee Ann said. I then find out the mother is 19 (!) and that she also has a one year old (!) and that the one year old has cancer (!). So she's having a hard time finding someone reliable to help watch the 3 year old when she's at the hospital with the one year old. Did I mention that she also works as a waitress?

Enter Lee Ann. So after only having met this girl for an hour, she offered to take in the little boy and watch him whenever she can. And then suddenly this little boy is going on vacation with Lee Ann and her husband because the mother has to take the baby for treatment this upcoming week. So Lee Ann was scrambling to gather up supplies for a three year old little boy. I started telling her about some things I have she can use and next thing I know, my nail tech is following me to my house to get a potty chair and undies and other necessities.

On the drive home, I thought about how hard things must be for this girl and how she's doing all she can for her kids. She never knew who her father was until her mother gave her a list of possible men and she had to go door to door asking them if they would submit to a paternity test. Thankfully, on the fourth door the man who opened the door looked just like her and said he didn't need a test to tell him she was his. But when you're 19 with two kids and you're more responsible than your own parents ... man, that's rough.

Lee Ann (and I) just want this little boy to have a good life. She said that if she could help the mother out then that would help her be a better mother herself and then help this little boy. She said, "I just want to love on him and hold him tight!" I love Lee Ann. (She also does amazing nails.)

On a little side street almost to my house, I passed a woman who was probably Lee Ann's age pushing a stroller but holding the tiny baby in her arms versus in the seat. Even in the short block I passed her, I could tell the baby had been fussy but was settling down as they walked home. This lady was probably a young Grandma like Lee Ann is. And she's probably just loving on this baby so that his parents can get a break. I slowed down as I passed them and gave her a big grin and she smiled back at me, nodding.

When it was time to walk home tonight from Mamaw and Pop's, it was already dark. Ian was walking barefoot next to his tricycle as I pushed it down the middle of our street. When we got closer to the house, he heard cicadas and got scared. He ran back to me and said, "Mommy, the buggies spook me! Pick me up; I want to snuggle!" And so I held him close while I pushed his tricycle home.

We're all just doing the best we can, trying to love on these little babies and hoping all the rest that we can't control will turn out okay.