Layla

Waiting for Vets office to open. I hoped this was not my last pic of Layla, then dismissed the thought as morbid and overly dramatic.

On December 18 I took our dog Layla to the Veterinarian by myself because she had been listless and unusually lethargic for 24 hours. Husband could not go because he'd already used his sick days from work. My daughter-in-law offered, but that would also mean bringing a newborn and an active three year old.

Our crazy dog eats sticks, lizards, legos and matchbox car tires, so we figured something she ate was making her sick. After a thorough exam and a million questions the vet said that she had "a traumatic insult to her liver." I stood next to her on the exam table and the manner and sadness of the young nurse and the doctor told me more than the medical words could.

In the truck I had noticed that the whites of her eyes were very yellow and outside the office door she stumbled and leaned against me and did not bark at the other dog waiting near by. Definitely not a normal Layla.

The vet kindly said, "I am afraid there is no good end to this situation with your little one." He believed she had eaten something that damaged her liver irreparably. I still have no clue what hurt her. She has no access to our pool chemicals, but our house has a forest behind it that sometimes send us snakes, armadillos, coyotes and any assortment of critters that could have brought poison into our yard.

She was suffering. I was sobbing by now and I asked if he was suggesting we put her to sleep and he said he was afraid so. I whispered "ok."

The doctor and nurse left me alone with Layla for a while then showed me a paper to sign giving my consent. They left again so I could say good bye. I removed her red collar with the little pink bone shaped dog tag. I told her she was a good dog.

The nurse returned and gently picked up our Layla and pointed her head towards me and softly said, "Say bye bye to mama." My heart broke and I held her face and put my forehead on her forehead and said, "Bye bye baby girl."

They took her away and I sat in the exam room alone trying to fathom what had just happened. I was going to have to walk back to my truck with just her leash and collar. How could this be happening? The nurse came again and said she would meet me at the reception desk whenever I was ready. Thankfully they have two reception areas so I did not have to walk back into a waiting room full of people and pets.

I cried all the way home and am writing this at 5:30am, unable to sleep.

I came home to a too-empty and too-quiet house. But glad to be alone. I let my tears flow. I watched a romantic movie and ate the afternoon away. Could not stop crying as I tried to imagine life without our bratty Layla.

She drove me crazy and made me angry over and over again. Keeping her safe was nearly a full-time job for me. "Hold Layla, the front door is open!" "Hold Layla, the baby is on the floor." "Hold Layla, someone is at the door!" 

Buddies

I could not have company because she insisted on constant barking and jumping on people. Could not trust her alone with grandson because he loved to get her excited and then she would knock him over in her enthusiasm.

She drove me crazy and made me angry, but she also helped us through a tough time in our family. When we got her 6 years ago we'd just been let go from our ministry job and most of our friends were moving away and we no longer had a home church. Husband and I talked about how her silly antics were sometimes the only bright spot in our days.

She inspired me to take a job as a freelance writer for a pet supply company. I wrote their website content and they loved my idea to add a weekly column about "Life With Layla." She gave me plenty to write about and my own blog, "Recovering Church Lady" was often full of Layla stories.

As wild and noisy as she was, she was also a great cuddler. Her head was usually on my lap as I did my freelance writing jobs and as I wrote my book. Sometimes when she felt I had been writing long enough, her paw would inch onto the keyboard to get my attention.

Layla was very destructive the first few years and our couch pillows and cloth napkins disappeared. Even at 6 years old she loved to find a toy my grandson left out and she would trot happily with it to her crate to destroy it.

Tornado warning time in bathroom.

She was a good watchdog that I was thankful for when home alone. More than a few salesmen backed away from our front door when she barked her head off at them. At the same time, I hated that no one could enter our home quietly and peacefully.

A few weeks ago I came home from work depressed, tired and tearful after a rough day. I closed my bedroom door because I needed to be alone and she came into the room with me. I sat on my bed and cried and she jumped on the bed and slowly army crawled to my side and gently put her paw on my arm and whined. It was so comforting that I cried even more. Coincidence or not, she made me feel better.

Is there anything like a dog's greeting when you've been away? Or even just asleep for the night? With the kids and grandkids living here now, she was thrilled with all the action and coming and going. She insisted on greeting every single person in the family when they'd been out for the day. If she'd already greeted my son, she would run around the house until she found my daughter-in-law to be sure she'd been welcomed home too.

It is 6:30am now, one week before Christmas and my second large cup of coffee is gone. The house is silent and I am staring at our pretty Christmas tree. Layla's favorite Kong toy is on the floor next to my grandson's Lego bucket. My heart is heavy and all I want right now is to stroke those velvety ears again. I want to hear the jingle of her dog tags and I want to trip over her while trying to make dinner.

But this has been helpful to write my heart out. Thank you for listening.

Susie

Because I Want the Nativity Scene Up There, That's Why

Our TV is blasting The Grinch and my family is watching with fresh eyes as we giggle at my 3 year old grandson taking it all in with a silly grin on his face. He is nestled under his mommy's arm and my son is in a rocker with our granddaughter, born just 19 days ago. 

I know you'd like to see that picture. But tonight I want to tell you about a moment a few days ago, in the kitchen you see above. I was on tiptoe with one foot on the top step of that step ladder and the other on the counter. My arms were stretched high above my head trying to keep my fingers on a heavy ceramic pitcher. You can see it below. 

Here's the situation; A collection of pretty bottles and pitchers decorate the top my kitchen cabinets all year long. But in December they must come down so I can display my favorite Nativity scene up there. They must.

Husband hates these important projects each year...but it simply must be done. It must. Not that he is up there doing it. He hates that I am risking my neck and insists that I only do it when he is home. So he can call 911 I guess. 

So this year I made myself wait for his day off to make the big switch. The house was quiet and he was watching a PBS documentary with his eyes closed while I was discovering that the heavy pitcher was not moving easily. Maybe it was the hot, humid summer we just went through or maybe it was the greasy dust above the stove area, but for some reason the pitcher was stuck. 

I pulled and it tipped and I yelled "HONEY!! I need you!!" He kept me from falling and I was able to hand him the sturdy pitcher safely. All ended well. Nothing was shattered, human or ceramic. 

December has a way of reminding me of my mom, every single year. She was one of those crazy-for-Christmas ladies that everyone talks about...and I keep on seeing her in myself, my home and my words. I fought it at first, but what is the point? 

Now I think about my mom and her bigger than life, much bigger than anything I would do, holiday decorations and projects. And I know that my dad was her muscle to make a lot of the magic happen. I am pretty sure he was shaking his head in wonder and worry over her shenanigans at Christmas time too. He will be here with us for Christmas this year, I will have to ask him about that.

My mom with my son, her first grandchild.

Me with his son, my first grandchild. 

          I know...sigh.          

Susie, Grandma, writer, preschool teacher, crazy Christmas lady.

This Moment

This is my view at this moment. A short bit of quiet in a very busy household. Is it possible to treasure the silence while at the same time rejoice in the loud activity that fills these rooms more often in recent months?

At this moment two adults are at work, one adult is taking the newborn to doctor appointments, a 3 year old little is napping in the room behind that wall, and the fourth adult is savoring the peace by capturing it in photo and written word.

Oops, munchkin is up from nap. I hear him coming down the hall, gotta go. Now he is in my lap and I quote, "What in the world is happening on your iPad Grandma?". I am letting him choose an emoji for the ending of this post. Who knows what he will pick! I love this life...most days.

Susie

🔥👀

Susie

Humming Christmas Carols with Thankfullness

Last year Max added his safari people to the nativity scene.(And some new animals)

November is here. Yes, I am slow to recognize this, 12 days after the fact. The view outside my window (at this moment...who knows what tomorrow will bring. Texas is unpredictable) is grey and dark and cold.The trees behind our home are becoming naked and shivery looking. For the first time it is beginning to feel like summer is really over.

I played Christmas music yesterday. I do not care about the "rules" that our Facebook feeds keep spouting regarding waiting until Thanksgiving is over to talk about Christmas.

Why is it so awful? Can't I be thankful and excited about Christmas at the same time? My brain is pretty good at multi-tasking. I am perfectly capable of making Christmas plans while thanking God for all we have and share.

I usually use the day after Thanksgiving as my home decoration day instead of joining the shopping craziness. But there is something about this year that is tempting me to climb that weird little pull-down stairway thingy (that always remind me of Home Alone) out in the garage and get our decoration boxes down now.

Maybe it is because the news and Internet is so full of garbage and awfulness. As a nation we need some smiles, don't we?

Or most likely, it is because one week ago our family welcomed a brand new granddaughter. My ridiculously adorable and funny grandson just turned 3 years old a few weeks ago and oh my goodness is Christmas going to be fun??? They are all staying with us for a while and we are once again a toy and baby paraphernalia scattered home.

Holiday decorations take on a completely different dimension and meaning when little people are involved. I hear my grown sons get mushy and nostalgic over odd little holiday items and traditions and it reminds me that parents are in the memory making business. Whether we mean to or not.

So even though we are still several days away from Thanksgiving, I am looking around my home and deciding where the Christmas tree should go this year and wondering if Max will care about my little light up houses or the nativity scenes the most. I definitely want to pull out the ceramic trees my mom made, even though I am missing a few light bulbs on them. Oh, we need a new stocking too!!

November is only 12 days old. But I am humming Christmas carols while I set up Thanksgiving art projects for my preschool class. (How many ways can 18 4 year olds make a turkey? Literally hundreds!)

I am thankful for Christmas and Christmas gave me the One who I am thanking. So it all works together, right?

Happy Thanksgiving AND Merry Christmas!
susie

Does Your Furniture Tell Your Story?

Do you remember when I told you about my pretty new-old table, purchased here in Texas through Craigslist? I imagined all the elegant Christmas meals around it with my family and more. Well, I probably did not really imagine the "elegant" part because we are who we are and that is not a word that has ever been associated with us. (Can you see how I tried to convey the "elegance" by adding the blurred edges to my posted photo?) 

But, I honestly did not foresee that I would be getting down on the floor to wipe peanut butter (and other assorted food items) from underneath the table top. My almost 3 yr old grandson likes to ignore that little basket of napkins for his messy fingers. He prefers the quick and easy 'scrape it under the table' style to clean his hands. 

I don't remember my boys doing this, but now I wonder what may have been hidden underneath the dining table we sold so long ago. Yikes! Elegant we are not.

Do you recall my excited posts about buying this gorgeous desk? Soon after the purchase, thanks to craigslist once again, this beauty helped me write and publish a book of which I am very proud.  

I wondered if more books might be birthed on this desktop in years to come. 

 And once again I must say that I honestly never pictured the scene you see above happening on the rich dark wood. Play-doh, children's library books, paper plates being made into a million different things, glue guns and stickers everywhere! I had no clue that I would become a preschool teacher.

I was a WRITER! In all caps! Writing is all I wanted to talk, think and write about. The publication of my one little book solidified the identity that helped me accept my new life in a new state, away from everything I knew.

But my desk today reveals my true self...for now.

I am enjoying the way our furniture can be an expression of our lives. How each hunk of wood and glue can carry history within it. That's why I love old bits of furniture so much. Don't you love how a nice antique store can take you to another era completely?

It would be great to have the history of my desk and my dining table in front of me. Where have they lived? Who sat around them to eat and to create? How many families used them, messed them up and polished them clean again?

My dining table and my desk are a picture of my true life. It is messy, creative and so so unpredictable. I love that. And THAT is extremely unpredictable, right, my old friends?

I am living in Texas. My home is noisy and messy and full of life and family. I don't know what we are having for dinner tonight. There is a trike in my entryway hall and I just bought an outfit for a baby girl online yesterday!

This uber-planner is happy. Often confused yes, but mostly happy. My pretty furniture may be peanut butter and hot glue smeared, but it is happy...I can tell.

Susie

The Teacher's Restroom - A Place For Deep Breaths and Shallow Prayers

This morning during my second week of teaching preschool this year, I found myself in the teacher's bathroom taking a deep breath and whispering a shallow prayer.

  

All is going well, and I love my kids and the job. But it is exhausting, draining and challenging on a daily basis. My co-teacher and I have 18 four-year-old's who are adorable and ridiculously funny!  And as busy as  4-year-olds ought to be.

My bathroom quickie prayer often sounds like this, "Father, help! Help me relax, help me look into their eyes, help me let go of my agenda and be ready for what they need right now. Thanks! Love you."

  

Sometimes it is more like this, "God, HELP!" 

Shallow, but real. 

And maybe that kind of prayer is not so shallow after all. When I am grabbing my minutes of quiet in the middle of a noisy and active day, it is best if I steer my mind and thoughts toward God. If I do not think of asking for His help, I tend to be hard on myself or others and I berate myself and them for not being perfect.

  

When I send God my 911....SOS....Bat Signal, it brings my heart back to where it needs to be. Calling out to God invites Him into those deep breathes and makes them much more helpful and beneficial.

  

A deep breath is only as good as what you are inviting in with that breath. It is calming and centering and relaxing. But we can also turn right around and walk back into frustration and tension faster than we can snap that bathroom light off. Ask me how I know. 

Maybe I should make a pretty poster for the teacher's bathroom that reminds us to take a deep breath and say a shallow prayer.

  

Do you think this idea can apply to your day too? Your office breakroom, your car between clients, your bathroom while hiding from the kids?

  

We all walk around in a busy and noisy world, whether online or outside our homes. It is easy to keep carrying around the frustrations and grievances that we bump into all day. The bumps and bruises add up and we end our day stooped over with the weight of it all.

  

Do you think that ducking into a nearby bathroom, closet (well no, that could be embarrassing) or breakroom for a deep breath and a shallow prayer could make a difference? It sounds too simple really.

  

But sometimes simple works. 

Susie 

Just Wanted to Impress the Pinterest Moms

I am two days away from facing a room full of eighteen 4 year olds! Eighteen 4 year olds! Four is a delightful, chatty and busy age, they were my favorite age to work with years ago before my own kids arrived. And now, here I am again, teaching preschool!

This last week we had our Open House. My first time to meet the kids and THE PARENTS. I have decided that the real reason for Open House is so that after the high tension of a classroom full of student's multiple family members, the idea of just facing the kids sounds wonderful and easy.

So anyway, I wanted to surprise the kids (and impress the grown-ups) at Open House with "Magical Play-doh." You hide colored dough inside a ball of white dough so that it just looks like white play-doh. I made a cute sign that said it was magical and if their play-doh changed color it would mean they were going to have a great year in our class. 

As you can see I worked very hard on this little project and they looked so cute. Those young Pinterest mommies would be so impressed with the new teacher! 

With heart pounding and bags packed I kissed Hubby good-bye and headed off to the school for Open House night. I parked and grabbed my purse, cup and .......THE BAG! My truck cab is tiny, but I still sat there looking and looking, trying to figure out why my bag of school supplies was not in front of my eyes. 

Thankfully I live very close to the school so I raced my truck back to my street and there was my bag on its side in my driveway. I had set it down to unlock my door, got other stuff inside, then hopped up and drove away. Right OVER my bag! 

My sweet little play-doh balls were smashed. No longer snowy white but blueish white and no longer very magical at all. I drove back to the school upset and shaking and trying not to lose it completely. 

Came across these tonight as I cleaned out my school bag. Sad huh?

I managed to reshape them a bit but they did not impress anyone, but the kids still enjoyed squishing them into a pretty blue color. 

As evidence of my anxiety about Open House Night; I was more upset about my smashed play-doh balls then the fact that my iPad was also in that bag and it came so VERY close to being a crunched device. But it was fine, not a dent. My priorities  were seriously messed up. 

Last year was a crazy and challenging year as I worked with two year olds. I loved them and cherished some exuberant hugs in the hallway outside my classroom the other night from last years students. The 4 year old class is a whole new ballgame and I am excited, scared and thrilled to get started. 

My class has, get this... 13 girls and 5 boys. Pray for me, OK? 

I will keep you posted.