Riley #2

So third time's a charm. Joey and I drove out to Fallon to look at some adult dogs. The lady selling the dogs said she had two labs that would be perfect-older, happy, great with children. She just happened to leave out that they were both severely obese. However, she did have a little min pin/lab mix who was two years old. The lady said she was a type of dog that was always there but barely noticeable. Very quiet and not needy at all. Joey liked her immediately.

I was a little hesitant. She looked frail to me, the way she tried to bring in her hind legs, like she was scared and wanted to dart off (which brought back bad memories from that first poor puppy we brought home) but the lady said she was just cold.

The lady said we could take her home, try her out. If we didn't like her, she'd give us our twenty five dollars back.

She slept all the way home, has had no accidents in the house, sleeps silently in her crate, has not made one peep in the form of a whine or bark, and does not bite or nip, even when you stick your hand in her food bowl while she is eating. She likes to have the back of her ears touched, but not so much her body. She's a little skirmish, maybe a consequence of the new house and people, but maybe something more. We'll see. She sits sometimes, but always comes when you call her, even with her new name.

The lady said she had a name (Hallaha)but that the shelter had given it to her, so we could name her whatever we wanted.

"So what should we name her?" Joey asked as we drove out of her driveway.

"I donno."

"I still like Riley."

"Yeah...I still have the tag."

So what the heck. Riley number two.

It fits her and it's one less thing we have to buy for her.

She really is a sweetheart. And Joey loves her and she loves Joey, so much so that I have had pangs of jealousy when they snuggle cheek to cheek. I am not as sure how to approach her.

And of course our main concern was Ethan. So far, he has been totally OK with her, even feeding her from his little hand. He is not afraid of her because she isn't trying to smother him with kisses or use his foot for a bone. I can't believe it.

Thank you Jesus.

The Tour.

Last night a couple of friends and I went to the jail for a tour. It was at midnight because that's when the guys said we would see all the action.
Two female deputies gave us the tour and they were both very nice, very easy going and funny. They cursed regularly, "That's the *&*%-head unit" but always with a smile on their face.
The place is HUGE and all very similar: halls, housing units, halls, and halls. White cement blocks made up the walls and the floor was painted gray cement. The smell varied from hall to hall but overall it was very cafeteria foodish, very make you barfish. After about twenty minutes I was ready to be done; too bad we only had an hour and twenty minutes more to go.
Most of the inmates were locked down and sleeping. Their housing unites were nicer than I expected-very clean and very spacious. There was a rack of library books in each one, a big screen TV, and tables with lots of games. The railings and borders of the housing units were painted a disgusting eighties mauve pink; I've read pink is supposed to be a very calming, soothing color.
The female units were exactly like the males save one overflow area out back that looked like a circus tent. When we went inside the smell about knocked me over it was so stale, so in need of a gallon of Fabreez. It was dim and I saw girls in grey sweats and blue t-shirts everywhere, with orange plastic slip-on shoes. It looked like summer camp. Bunks lined the walls, girls were playing cards at tables, about five of them were sitting next to each other cuddled under blankets watching a movie. Some girls were sleeping, some reading. Most were young, about my age, and there was a real air of kick-backness, like they all liked being there. They smiled at us and asked one of the tour deputies when she was working out there next, and would she please bring that one movie? "Oh wait," she said. "Number 42 over there said she can't watch that one cus it gives her nightmares!" And then she giggled and laughed with the girl next to her, like they were standing in their high school hallway.
When we got to Joey's unit they had "workers" in grey striped uniforms just like you see in the old movies buffing and polishing the floor. Joey looked relaxed and at ease; he smiled easily and I fell in love with him again.
Of course we didn't make any direct eye contact or show any signs of our relationship, because the inmates can't know.
For whatever they've done the inmates aren't trusted while they are in jail, and they have to endure having girls like us come through and watch them like they are animals in the zoo. Some looked very uncomfortable when they saw us, with darty eyes and pursed lips; others smiled when they knew they could get away with it, happy for some distraction and different scenery from all the cement and pink railings. At one point I happened to glance at the window in a cell's door as I passed and like a puppet this face dropped out of nowhere: dark, mischievous and sparkling eyes and a huge smile with yellow and missing teeth. I about pooped my pants. He got yelled at by the deputy behind me.
On a different note the sun is out today, melting the snow. It's warm and very bright and I had forgotten how wonderful it is.

Doctors Make me Sick.

So I got up early and tore Ethan out of his nice comfy bed, plopped him in a bath and bathed him super-duper fast, being as careful as I could to not get water and soap in his eyes but we were on a schedule-and we were late-threw him in some clothes and into the car and then fought traffic to get to our darn appointment on time. I drove around a couple of parking lots before I finally found the right address and then we walked through those glass doors right at 9:15.
I filled out all of the paper work while keeping my eye on Ethan so he wouldn't steal other kids toys and they wouldn't steal his, and when I gave the very nice lady behind the counter my insurance card I said, "It should go to our deductible," because we have fairly cheap insurance (we're still talking hundreds of wasted dollars a year) but that means we have to pay for everything until we meet our six thousand dollar deductible. I love insurance.
So then we waited. Ethan played with the one dumb puzzle they had and rocked back and forth on this neon green thing that was obviously busted, missing parts, grossly dirty and should have been in the dumpster out back.
But maybe I am getting a head of myself.
When we had Ethan, AT HOME (gasp, catch your breath, lie down if you need to) no pediatrician in Reno would touch him with a ten foot pole because he didn't get a vitamin K shot, this incredibly important shot that keeps children's brain from bleeding to death. Ethan didn't bleed to death but I guess he was a really really rare case.
Anyway, my mom made a few phone calls and I finally got him in with my childhood pediatrician after we vowed to not to be those parents who give grief about vaccinations. We promised we would do every single one without so much as a peep.
At this point I was desperate. After being rejected by so many pediatricians, I thought something must be wrong with Ethan, and would some person in a white jacket just please look at him. Please.
So we agreed to the vaccination thing.
But now that we are thinking of getting pregnant and I want to use a midwife again, I thought, you know what? I want a doctor who I can actually be honest with. (I have thrown out, unfilled, every prescription Dr. D has written for Ethan). I want a doctor who thinks a little bit more like me, that antibiotics and vaccines used IN MODERATION are great but are scary used otherwise.
So I was trying a new doctor today. One that doesn't beat you if you don't give your children vaccines, one that won't gave a damn, or a dirty look, if you tell them you are going to use a midwife.
So anyway, Ethan was rocking on that green busted piece of junk and thirty minutes later they called us back. I wasn't mad or angry or impatient at this point. OK, maybe I was on the verge of impatient.
Now, forty minutes later, after sitting in a room that had one more dumb puzzle, a bio hazard trash can, and locked cabinets for Ethan to play with, I was impatient. I was fuming. I was shaking.
I mean, it sounds like I was overreacting. But I was PAYING for this. A hundred dollars to meet the doctor.
And then I thought, what the heck am I doing? Ethan is not sick. Why am I here? And I put our jackets on and told the young girls in the cute cartoon scrubs at the the desk that we were going home.
When I got home I thought well, we will stay with Dr. D. So I called her office to get his two year old "Well Visit" appointment and they were closed. On a Friday. They are also closed EVERY Thursday, and every other Wednesday. Nice. Looks like Ethan has like two good days to be sick on otherwise we are screwed.
And this is what I have realized: I am not a doctor person unless I am sick. And I am not going to take Ethan to a doctor unless he is sick. What is up with a "Well Visit"?
Something is seriously twisted.

Friday, 8am.

I went to Walmart yesterday and bought some tangerines and apples. Also some peppers, in red, yellow and green because I have read they are so good at eliminateing all those free radicals in my body that have a high potential to cause cancer. I mostly bought fruit and veggies and then of course eggs and milk. It felt good. Of course I don't shop like that regularly, but I like to pretend like I do.

Ethan goes to the doctor today. He hasn't been since June and I am really proud of that, like it's all my care, my excellent mothering skills. I guess I like to pretend about that too.

Anyway, it's the weekend, Joey is back at work, life goes on. I am still looking at older dogs, ones that won't dissrupt our life quite so much, and have found three potentials. But I am going about it with a lot more care, a lot more caution. I think that is what happens when you've had your heart broken.

And, it snowed once again. It's snowed everyday now for like five days straight. Thankfully just a dusting, just small enough you can (Joey can) sweep it off the driveway and walkways.

Expanded Time.

For some reason this morning I can't believe it is only Wednesday. Usually Joey's days off disappear like water vapor but this week I'm thinking, "We still have one more day!" He is shoveling snow because, yes, it snowed again. Living where we do doesn't help because the snow from the last storm never melts before the new snow comes. It makes for some really disgusting muddy snow piles and perpetually icy driveways.
One thing that has been good since we gave Truman back is that we have been able to hang out with friends a ton. I think this is one of the reasons Joey's days off feel longer, because we are actually together, doing fun things. Last night we went to Brad and Kelly's, tonight Jen and Sam's. She is making meatloaf baked in a Pillsbury flaky croissant dough roll.

A White Day.

It's quiet today, and very white. There is snow on the ground, and the sky is covered in clouds. I slept in until eight-thirty, until Ethan was yelling from his bed, "Ma-ma! Ma-ma!" Joey stayed still while I got up, put the incredibly needed contacts in, and went into Ethan's bedroom.
I went to Resistance and even there the class was going on around me but inside of myself everything was quiet and still, a little sad.
I feel like I just broke up with a boyfriend. When a love song comes on the radio (this is so pathetic) I think of Truman. Gosh I am embarrassed to write that.
Anyway, there is so many things I can do now, like concentrate on getting certified for group exercise and keeping my house clean and nice to be in, and making Joey and Ethan good food.
I can do whatever I want.
***
We went to the mall last night to walk around and I bought some BEE-U-TI-FULL black boots for 26 bucks, regularly 75. I can't wait to wear them with a skirt or dress.

Red Feelings, Purple Feelings, and Everything in Between.

I woke up this morning and thought of Truman and how my kitchen was empty. That I didn't have to rush to get up before he did one more pee or little hill of poop on my floor. That I don't have to constantly remove him from chewing on my computer cord as I write, that I didn't have to immediately light three candles to cover his stale, puppy smell. You'd think all this would make me immeasurably happy but instead my chest feels heavy, like some big hard boulder is laying on it, smashing me.
Ethan is relaxed for the first time in two weeks sitting in his high chair in the kitchen because Truman is not here. He is eating his "frozens", ie frozen blueberries, intermittently asking me to sing him "Away in the Manger".
Joey has gone shooting but before he left I made him scrambled eggs, an extra white and preservative filled bagel with whipped cream cheese, and coffee. He was happy when he left.
Maybe if Truman were here I wouldn't have done that, I would still have been trying to clean up all his little ponds of pee.
I am a wife first, a mother second. With Truman I was a puppy owner first, a mother second, and a wife if I had enough energy, which I never did. My energy stopped about half-way into a story with Ethan, or in the middle of changing his diaper. Truman got all of me, Ethan got half, and Joey nothing but my weariness, my frustration, my attitude.
***
We went out last night and it was so fun. I had my first martini. Well I actually tried two but the first one I tried tasted like medicine and dirt. I can remember everything from what I talked to Sarah about to the taste of the greasy, crunchy, yum yum yummy onion rings to the plump waitress asking for my ID, but when we got up to leave I could not feel my legs and I felt very warm. Joey had to boost my bootie up into Ken's new truck because of the leg issues but by the time we got back to the house I could feel my legs again.
***
Ethan had his two year birthday last night too. We had all the family over and a couple of friends.
It was really wonderful. Crowded, but wonderful. And when I brought the cake with two little candles dancing in the air and started to sing "Happy Birthday" Ethan stopped playing with his new tractor and got very attentive. He looked at me with that cake and then around at all his family singing to him like a huge, horrible choir and then he started to smile. He knew the cake and the singing were for him, and you could see he was loving it. When we finished the song I told him, "Blow out the candles!" and he did. Then he started jumping up and down in the most ungraceful way ever, more like he was stomping grapes, and clapping. And of course we didn't have the camera or the video camera out.
***
It was an emotion filled day yesterday. If feelings were a rainbow, I went through all of the colors, and I felt more alive than I usually do.