A Day of Drama: Smells Like Chicken

I used to think that having 3 kids under 4 was a monumental feat of mommyhood. Either I forgot how hectic those days were, or it truly wasn't that bad. Because today I was wishing I once again had 2 in diapers and toddler meltdowns. Dog and cat meltdowns can get very, very ugly.

The drama was unfolding in this section of the house we call Doggy Hospice. By "section," I mean the entire first floor, which is a bit inconvenient since we haven't been either upstairs or downstairs since Christmas. This first floor thing - it's our space, or was. The Doggy Hospice gig has been going on since October. The dog that was going to The Bridge in two months remains alive and somewhat well. Still, he remains.

It started out with The Soup last night - the infamous chicken vegetable soup I started making for Lucky when he was no longer able to eat his kibble because of the tumor that is growing through the roof of his mouth. It takes hours. Stew the chicken, peel and cut up the vegetables, strain, cook until everything is good and soft, add noodles, cook some more. Thicken a bit, cool, then put in a giant vat to dole out his daily rations.

Because the vet said when he stops eating, it's time.

And we don't want it to be "time."

He loves his special soup. He knows when I'm making it. And he can't wait for it to get served up in his bowl. Underfoot, but very unsteady, he falls, I trip over him and vegetables go flying and the chicken carcass hits the floor. I pick it up and rinse off the inevitable dog hair. I start mopping up chicken stock, while he competes with the scrub rags. Slipping, sliding, and of course, covered in the stock. And I grab the wishbone. Just because.

And the cat now thinks Lucky smells nice. Like .... chicken.

Eventually the kitchen is clean and all is well. For now.

I woke during the night to the sound of cat yak. Ugh. In my sleepy stupor I tell myself it can wait til morning. Oh how I wish that Little Green Machine had a remote. I got up and saw that Snickers had not only yakked, but she had dropped a deuce in the corner of the family room. Ripe. She had already done the same thing on the edge of her litter box, and no Princess Kitty can go in the same place twice. After all, we have scruples.

Today before I served up Lucky's (will it be his last?) supper, I scrubbed and cleaned his eating area, the floor, the rugs, the bowls, the wall. His poor little mouth is pretty much out of control, and food flies everywhere. Reminiscent of 3 children under 4. The hose to the vacuum is on the floor and he decides he needs to be right by his bowl, so he attempts to navigate his way across the hose. SPLAAAAT. Down he goes, gangly legs tangled in the hose and he tries like crazy to get himself up. His legs are too weak to push himself up on the tile.

So like any old person who gets frustrated and confused, he pees. And pees. This ginormous puddle beneath him spreads like a giant amoeba, all over the vacuum hose and under his belly. And his feet and legs are literally swimming in the mess as he flops around, trying to stand. One tall, skinny dog, covered with pee, and his spiffy dining area is now a sea of pee. The only way to get him out of the mess is to lift him up, take him outside, and dump him in the snow.

Now I'm covered in canine urine, still have the lingering smell of feline feces, and Ron Burgundy comes in as I've finished cleaning up the floor. He puts Lucky in the tub. Yes, the whirlpool. Gives a whole new meaning to "spa day." Dog gets clean, towels get washed, and then he tackles the litter box. I hear him mumbling under his breath.

Standing there in the laundry room in his whitey tighties, I hear "I never thought I'd find myself standing here on a Saturday morning doing this."

"And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Sweet man.

Smells like....chicken.

Tea tonight: Harney & Son's green with citrus

TSMSS: Million Pieces

A cranked-up house-cleaning, soup-making song for today if I've ever heard one. One of my favorites!

Soup's on today: Chipotle 15 Bean, Loaded Baked Potato, and of course, Doggy Hospice Chicken Vegetable. (linky love especially for Elaine! (((hugs))))

Check out all the other great songs at Signs, Miracles, and Wonders!

Tea today: Genmaicha

Little Girl. Pink Shirt. Big Tears.

Today in church the Sunday School kids got up to sing a song - "We Want to See Jesus Lifted High" with all the arm motions and the whole nine yards. The usual suspects were there. The shy ones, the talented performers who you know will be performing long into their adult years, and the ones who are craving attention and exaggerating all the movements. Not looking too cool, but making some great footage for the graduation highlight reel. The kind you know will need to be peeled off the wall the rest of the afternoon.

And then there was the little girl in pink.

I never saw her face. She was in the front row, right beside the hyper kid in the Bears fleece vest who definitely got all the chuckles from the congregation.

But she stood there, her head looking straight down at her tennis-shoed toes and her hands in her tiny pockets and her silky blond hair falling covering any facial expression that might reveal her heart. And she didn't move a muscle the entire song.

After the song she slowly moved down the steps, slower than anyone else in the group, and she wiped obvious tears from her eyes, head still down.

My heart just ached. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened in the few minutes before an obviously well-rehearsed performance that would make her feel so seemingly invisible. It was almost like she didn't think we could see her because she wasn't looking at us. Like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Like perhaps, it already had.

After the song, the kids gathered for the children's sermon and she had her back to pastor, continuing to dry her tears with her little pink shirt. I had all I could do to not run down there from my perch in the balcony and whisk her in my arms, stroke her hair, and tell her how much He loves her. To tell her that nothing will separate her from His love. To tell her that yes, everything will turn out all right.

But obviously her parent(s) were somewhere in the congregation - she didn't get there by herself, and it certainly wouldn't be appropriate to do anything at that point, because perhaps her mother was thinking the same thing. I just prayed that she had a loving embrace waiting for her.

I looked for her after church and never found her. I wanted to tell her how pretty she is and how much Jesus loves her. That she can be a princess or a ballerina or anything she wants to be. But I never saw her again.

My heart still breaks that little hearts break and don't understand why.

I left church praying that the rest of her day goes better and that she feels some comforting arms around her.

We have all at one time been that little girl in pink.

I hope the next time I see her, her eyes are focused upward.

Will you pray for her with me?

Tea today: Republic of Tea Beginners Mind

The Hopeless Romantic

Y'all can post your lovely photos of your loved ones on this special Hallmark day, and yes, I enjoy them. Really I do. But since my husband's birthday was yesterday and he got all the attention anyway, I thought rather than a lovey-dovey picture, I'd link to a lovey-dovey post because to me, it means more than any other Valentine's Day post could.

Read about my baby girl's love.

And for the record, I love this guy, too. And not just on Valentine's Day when the price of roses is too high and there's not a reservation to be had in town - except in our humble little kitchen.

Oh snap, I had to throw a photo in anyway.


Tea today: Republic of Tea White with orange blossoms

TSMSS:You Never Let Go

I can't get through this song without tears, and by the time it's over I feel so peaceful. Sing along with me!

Tea today: White cantaloupe