Therapy

I have more mother horror stories to tell, but they will have to wait for another day. Lest you think I’ve gone over the deep end and have spent the last week rocking myself in a corner, I’m back to tell you I’ve been too busy to blog. I know: sacrilege! Par for the course for me, I tend to write more when I’m down, which is a real shame, I’m sure my readers don’t want to hear just the bad parts.

So here’s a good news post for you.

Last Saturday we wandered around our local small town art and wine festival, which around these parts means tie-dye and handmade bead jewelry. We brought the dogs with us and, as usual, they garnered a lot of attention. Tiff and her husband joined us. After a while she suggested bringing a tip jar next time, we could make some big bucks. D and I always say we should start charging $1 per smile; they have those lovable doggie faces that look so happy all the time you just can’t help but smile back. We bought a stuffed train and a whistle for S (he’s big into Thomas at the moment) and headed home.

C and S showed up right at the scheduled time (punctuality goes a long way in my book) and I was happy to see he wasn’t too scared of the dogs. They are an awful lot bigger than he is, after all, but C’s mother has two big dogs so it was a short adjustment period. S is 2½ and just as cute as a button. Here…see for yourself. That's my purple dressing room, D found this old school desk at a yard sale for $15, isn't it great?
He’s charmingly shy and laughs easily, particularly when his Daddy is tickling him. The only time things got a little dicey was when Tucker discovered he had a tennis ball in his back-pack and S was not about to let him play with it. “It will get all slobbery!” he says, stuffing it back inside. He’s quite articulate and very polite for his age, but of course, I’m a little biased. Once again, I’ve fallen in love with a man I’ve just met. He lives in Oregon with his Mom and her new fiancé, but it seems like his parents are committed to making sure he spends time with both parents. Every three to six weeks C either flies or drives up to get him, or sometimes his half-brother (who lives nearby in Oregon) will drive him down when he comes to visit the rest of the family. Suffice it to say the little guy is a seasoned traveler already.

By the end of the evening S doled out many good-bye hugs and kisses, dogs included, so I’m declaring it a rousing success. In a perfect world they would be referring to D as Dad and Grandpa, but considering it was just in January that contact was established, we are pleased as punch with the way things are going. First person to call me Grandma gets tripped on the stairs! C is coming with us to watch a drum corps show in a couple of weeks (that’s how his parents met), hopefully he will be able to come up for a few days to join us on our rental houseboat on Lake Shasta in September, and plans are in the works for father and son to make their first hunting trip in the fall.

On Monday morning I got up early to meet a friend for coffee, then she took me to a local horse farm where she boards her horses and takes lessons. I am in love with this place! In addition to many gorgeous horses, there are pot-bellied pigs, goats, four dogs and too many cats to count. They’re all exceedingly friendly and roam the grounds freely (well, not the horses). This coming Monday is my first lesson. I’ve been on a horse maybe a half dozen times in my life, but taking lessons is on the list of Things To Do Before I Die. When I found out my girlfriend had her horses at this exclusive farm and the lessons were only $35 each, I jumped at the chance (ooooo, sorry, no pun intended). That’s way cheaper than therapy, and it definitely qualifies as such for me. In the three hours I was there I thought of nothing but animals and riding technique, and how beautiful and clean the place was. Seriously, I never saw or smelled manure once, and there must be at least 50 horses there. Noah Wylie’s sister boards her horse there, he was being re-shod while I was there. I couldn’t get a picture without looking like a complete idiot, but I promise I will take one and post it for you. This was the most gorgeous horse I’ve ever seen, a pinto with a long white mane and pale blue eyes, right off the cover of a gothic romance novel. Here's a couple shots I took, to give you a feel for the place.








































I’m really going to try to cut myself some slack and allow for a learning curve, something I am not good at. I know I am going to be terrible at first and I will get frustrated and I will be sore, but I hope to continue with the lessons as long as the weather holds out. They have a program there where you can lease a horse if you are in the lesson program, which enables you to come and ride “your” horse whenever you want. Maybe next year I’ll be ready to do that, but it’s nice to know the option is there.

I’m so glad we skipped the Annual Memorial Day Picnic for Rugrats, but I will be attending the cake and ice cream portion of the birthday festivities for our best friends’ son on Sunday, he’s turning 5. Which doesn’t seem possible, I met him when he was 5 minutes old, and that seems like just last year. *sigh* I have a birthday coming up later this month and it’s incredible to me that I will be turning 42. In a strange way, adding another year to my age makes it a little easier to live in the world as a childless woman. In another few years I will be safely out of the child-bearing zone (not counting Romanian IVF patients and celebrities of course) and people won’t find it unusual that I have a grandson. They don’t have to know I totally skipped the mother part and went directly to the next stage.