FLORIDA!!!!

How cool is it to be in Florida, in March, for a conference (American Animal Hospital Association), while it's snowing in the Pacific Northwest?
WAAAAYYY cool!

Back door pets

We have 10 pets- that should be more than any family needs or can manage. So, why is it that we have an invisible sign somewhere outside our back door that says animals welcome here? Did these animals come before we lived in this house, or did we bring the sign with us?

Here is Pikachu. Admittedly, Persian cats are an acquired taste, but I think he's cute. His name truly IS Pikachu- I traced his ear tattoo, but can't find a current "owner". When he first arrived at our door, he was thickly matted and covered in fleas. I took him into work and cleaned him up. His fur is growing back nicely, and I still think he's cute:




















When Rob was taking out garbage recently, a rabbit came up to him and greeted him- he thought it was Chase, but Chase was safely inside his cage when Rob came back in. A couple of weeks back, on a Saturday morning, Rob told us that "that rabbit" was sitting outside the back door. The kids and I piled outside, and spent the day playing with our new friend, who we call "Rabbity Roo" or Roo for short. I haven't been able to determine gender, or figure out why an apparently wild rabbit enjoys the company of people so much, but we all think it's really neat to have these "wild" creatures come to the back door, more or less when called.





























We haven't taken them inside and integrated them into our family for a couple of reasons: Rob doesn't want more pets (!), and neither animal really enjoys being contained or confined. Well, actually maybe Roo would be happy to live inside, but that really would be a bit much, don't you think?

Widow fallout? SOS fallout?

I pretty much live my life without much reference to having been widowed. I have a “new normal”, complete with husband and family, and life is good. When I occasionally get slammed by an emotional response that seems out of proportion with the precipitating event, I wonder whether I have hidden layers of under-resolved trauma from having been widowed by a suicide-like event.

Willis’s death was not classified a suicide (nor an accident) by the coroner, but he was very suicidal in the months leading up to his death, and he was particularly suicidal on the morning of his death. My take is generally that he was very ambivalent. He was reported to have been pacing back and forth on the bridge near where he was killed- I imagine that he considered throwing himself off the bridge onto the highway below, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, for which I am very grateful. There are also reports that he was hitch-hiking on the highway below- it is easy to imagine him turning his back to the traffic that was not stopping for him and drifting into the path of that big truck. It is also possible that he stepped deliberately in front of the truck, which did its best to avoid him.

He was struck from behind, which makes me prefer the inadvertent scenario, but the effect is the same- he is dead, my children don’t have their dad, and I am left with questions and repercussions about why someone would appear to prefer death to living with me and the kids. This is, of course, an over-simplification. Suicide and mental illness is not really a choice, and the pain that Willis was experiencing was profound and unbearable. He certainly believed we would be better off without him, and I ache for him that he believed that was so.

I have spent hours in therapy, addressing all sorts of issues arising from being widowed and surviving the de facto suicide of a spouse. Like I say, mostly this is a part of my history, and not really a part of my present.

But...

Rob and his boys went to Vancouver this weekend to visit Rob’s sister. The boys haven’t seen Trish in a couple years, and it was time for them to make a road trip, as a family, as in times past. Me and my kids weren’t invited along. This is appropriate- logistically and for the emotional well-being of Rob and his boys. My head knows this. My heart and psyche have been aching, crying, raging, writhing about this. I hate the feeling of being rejected and excluded. The boys are 10 and 12- of course they want to have some time without their new family, and with their dad all to themselves.

We will go to Vancouver next weekend to visit with Hannah, Willis’s other daughter, and her mother. Rob is cherishing the idea of time alone at home. He is reveling in it, and why not? He was a half-time dad before we came along, and a bachelor the other half of the time. Much as he began to get lonely after 4 years of this, and much as he loves us all, it can be taxing to a fifty-year-old to be suddenly raising a 4-year-old daughter full-time. He is an introvert, and needs some quiet time alone to recharge. Sam is an extremely active, extroverted boy- much as Rob loves Sam, he finds him taxing sometimes (as do I). Of course Rob relishes the prospect of some time to himself. My head understands this and delights in the chance to offer this to Rob. My heart and psyche cry with feelings of rejection and loneliness that Rob can hardly wait for us to be gone.

After several anguished and stormy conversations with Rob about how painful I was finding the prospect of these two weekends, and how bewildered he was at my response, that references to Willis began to seep into my consciousness. Rob and I had not come back to equilibrium after one such conversation, and he was heading of in my car to pick up the babysitter. I told him not to crash the car, and added, in an angst-filled voice, for him not to take that as me condoning him crashing or harming himself. On the morning of Willis’s death, as we were preparing lunches for the kids, he told me how he couldn’t stop thinking of “it” (suicide), and how he couldn’t stop thinking of driving into something. My response? “Just don’t use my car to do it.” I will probably wish forever that I had added that I really didn’t want him to harm himself either, but it is doubtful that he would have heard it anyway.

After that comment, Rob came back to finish the conversation. In further discussion, we agreed that the emotionality of my responses was likely to be about my experiencing echoes of the ultimate rejection of suicide, and the terror of not knowing whether I would have a husband at the end of the day. The whole damn thing hurts. I may never forgive Rob if he doesn’t outlive me, and the separation of these two weekends and my upcoming conference in Florida is a terrifying prospect. This relationship better last a damn long time, because I don’t want to prove that I have the moxie to outlive another husband.

Lunar Eclipse

I owe thanks to another blogger, Rachd, for the reminder on her blog about tonight's lunar eclipse. Rachel was in the unfortunate position of being unable to see the eclipse due to bad weather. We, on the other hand, had gorgeous weather and a gorgeous view from our house on the hill. It was quite magical to be able to dim the lights in the dining room and watch the eclipse during our supper. Rob even took the time to call his boys at their mother’s house to get them to have a look, too. It was a marvelous moment of family togetherness and wonder at the beauty in the world. I am so grateful to Rachd for the reminder, and for her inspirational approach to grief, which parallels my own. I hold her in awe for how she is managing in the face of her devastating loss. .



I took some pictures of the eclipse, but since my camera doesn’t have a particularly long zoom, you’ll have to use your imagination

Ain’t Sheep Sweet?

We’ve been listening to the Beatles Anthology (this is from Willis’s collection- one small way to keep in contact with him) in the car , me and the kids, during our commute. When we gave a ride home to a friend recently, she exclaimed, “You let your kids listen to the Beatles? That’s so cool!” I replied that it’s not a matter of letting them listen- they insist.

Sam asks for his favourites by number; Syd likes hers by name. Recently, Sydney asked me if sheep were sweet, just like in the song. After a little detective work, I understood her to be referring to Ain’t She Sweet?.

A discussion of sheep and their sweetness ensued, and I mentioned that my friend Michelle at Boulderneigh , as well as Nancy and Lauren , all absolutely believe in the sweetness of sheep.

Michelle herself is no slouch in the sweetness department. She recently embarked upon a Pay It Forward campaign, as have many bloggers. I tentatively suggested that I might participate, but since my artsy skills are minimal, I was hesitant to agree to pledge to send anyone anything. Brushing this aside, Michelle went ahead and took an order from me, in terms of my favourite and least favourite colours. I wasn’t sure what might ensue, but as of yesterday, I found out.

Michelle’s package arrived in the mail yesterday. She had knit a hat and scarf in green and sunshine colours, as requested. They are fabulous and adorable, and they’re mine, in spite of my kids’ instant desire for them.
She also sent a note, written with beautiful colour and penmanship, expressing truly lovely sentiments. Thanks, Michelle.

Now that I have received my PIF offering, I really must get into gear to determine what I have to offer, and how to get it out “there”. Here’s where I’m leaning- a number of my friends from the WidowRoad are having a particularly hard time, lately. I’d like to send them a little care package that includes the things I do do well. I’m going to see if I can get street addresses for these ladies, but in the event that I can’t get them, perhaps I could get some volunteers who would be interested in joining in the PIF fun.

Back to Sydney, and the Beatles for a moment- the kid is an absolute riot, as well as being damn cute and a PITA. She was requesting another Beatles song recently- the bunny love song. Huh? Turns out, she was referring to Can’t Buy Me Love... I’m not sure I don’t like her names better...

Dancing with Rabbits

We had so much fun today. The sun was shining and it fell like Spring was around the corner. We took 8 of our pets into the back yard for some sun, air and grass. In fact, only two of our pets did not get to enjoy the opportunity, but they wouldn’t have enjoyed feeling like fish out of water...

Here are some of the pictures I took of us having fun.






Sam, "dancing" with Snowball and Chase.







Chase is our newest family member.







Isn't Sparkles beautiful? She thinks so!






















Snowball relished the opportunity to dig.










Syd, with blankets.










Pentax, who just turned 16. He’s my soulmate. (Don’t tell Rob.)









Claudia, looking inscrutable. She’ll be 16 in a couple of months, and her whiskers are white now.










Salt’n’Pepper- he’d run amok if he was loose.








Snowball and Teddy.










Sparkles and Teddy enjoy an inter-species moment.








Sometimes Jet looks less goofy, but not often...











The kids were making animal "nests" in the alcove by the rocks.










Oliver, one of my step-sons.











Looking east at Mt. Baker, across the strait. We enjoy this view from our sun room/guest room and living room (whenever it stops raining).












We went inside when this Bald Eagle showed up overhead.

And in the balance...

Syd’s daycare has a late pick-up policy, which includes fines, and after 5 lates in 6 months, immediate expulsion from daycare. We are at 4 lates, and are actively seeking another daycare. This has been a pretty big downer for the last two days since we got our “probationary’ notice- lots of tears and angst on my part, and lots of feeling shamed and blamed- score one for the dark side.

Rob and I have been together for a year. This is our “anniversary” weekend. We had each arranged 3 days off, and I had vague ideas of a low-key celebration of this life-altering event. Rob, it turns out, had no such vagueness. He arranged for our babysitter to come over, his boys to be at their mother’s and for us to go to the world-class Sooke Harbour House resort, overnight, without children. The man is a wonder and a blessing, and we agree that we have reaped a well-deserved reward from life in finding each other- score one for the bright side.

After our exquisite supper at the resort, we were deciding whether to use the oceanside hot tub, the fireplace or that big, inviting bed first when my cell phone rang. There was Sam, in tears, barely discernible through a fading cell signal. The kids were both still up, missing mum, filled with over-tired, late-night anguish about mum being away (is it because I’m a widowed parent that I imagine they fear that I won’t return?). I did what I could to be reassuring over the phone, and suggested that they could sleep in my bed while I was gone for the night. Let’s hope that that suggestion doesn’t backfire... The phone call was disconcerting, which would seem to be another point for the dark side.

As I write this, though, I am relaxed from the hot tub, at peace from the sound of the surf outside, full from a delicious meal, warmed by a crackling fire and snuggled with a man who loves me (in spite of my forays into the dark side), and who wants to spend the rest of his days celebrating life with me. The balance looks pretty healthy from here.