2 Old Dogs

Tuesday is Maggie's birthday. She will be 12 years old. I'm posting this today, because my daughter is moving tomorrow, and I will be without an internet connection for a couple of days.

12 is not an easy age for a dog. Over the past year I've seen her slow down some. Walks take longer, hills are harder. We both agree. We aren't as young as we used to be. According to one way of calculating 'dog years', Maggie and I are pretty close in age.

I think animals and people have some similar experiences when it comes to aging. This week I have been helping my daughter get her new home ready to move in. After a few days of stooping, and standing, lifting and carrying, I began each day with Advil. Every part of me hurt. Sitting was painful... and I would have welcomed a crane to hoist me back up. Advil didn't make a dent.

Maggie knows how I feel. When she wants to lay down, I watch as Maggie slowly positions her hind legs and then lowers herself to the ground. When it is time to stand up she angles her hips, and then slowly hoists herself up. She starts her day with Bufferin in a "Greenie Pill Pocket". I'm not sure it helps her much either.

She spends a lot of her day sleeping. I don't sleep as much, but she sure does make it look fun.

There is another side to aging. No matter how old we get, in our heads we are still spring chickens. I see that similarity between us as well. When it is time to hit the sidewalk for a walk we start out with a spring in our step even if our tail is dragging on the way home. (1/2 mile later.)

Tonight we had pizza for dinner. Even though her birthday is 2 days away, we decided to celebrate early. Anyone who knows Maggie knows Pizza is one of her very favorite foods. (See  Elephants and Old Dogs Never Forget, Sept. 10, 2010  http://viewfromanemptynest-connie.blogspot.com/2010/09/elephants-and-old-dogs-never-forget.html )


Pizza arrives!

Something smells good!

Waiting Patiently while we sang Happy Birthday.

After we sang Happy Birthday I cut it into pieces and added it to her dinner in her bowl. She never touched her dinner, but ate the pizza and then stared at the rest of us waiting for our crusts. Such a greedy girl!

Happy Birthday, Maggie!

The Art of Language

Today my grandson and I took a walk to the park for a picnic lunch and to play. As we walked along he kept up a steady chatter. It didn't stop at lunch, or after lunch as he played on the playground. It got me thinking, and I made a rather random observation.

Whether learning to talk, or learning a new language, the process is pretty much the same.

My cousin is trying to learn Spanish. In her New Year's Resolution she resolved to practice 1 hour a day. When I was in high school, learning French Ms. Polsky made us speak only in French from the time we walked into class until we left ...even when we had no idea how to say what we wanted to say.


3 and 4 year-olds don't have that problem. Even if they don't know how to say it, they'll say it anyway. A 4-year-old can talk you into the ground. They repeat everything you say. They ask "How?" and "Why?" even when the word doesn't fit. They say I HAVE to do.... instead of I want to do.... which in turn sends parents into the proverbial "Excuse me, WHO is the boss? You don't HAVE to do.....! "

As a parent I was way too weary to try to comprehend why an young child can't just be quiet. But as a grandparent I have the luxury of age, experience, time (and therefore, patience) to think about such things. I think I've got it.

Kids are learning a language. That's it. It's that simple. When you learn a language you need to use it as much as you can. Even if it drives everyone around you to distraction. Practice really does make perfect whether you are 4 or 40.

My cousin may only practice 1 hour a day. Not so with children ...they practice it for 12 hours, or until you manage to snuggle them into bed!

They repeat what you say, rolling the words around, hearing the order, working on comprehending the idioms, grasping the meaning, repeating EVERYTHING in order to embed it in their brain. It is the best way to 'practice your Spanish'... so to speak.

Does that make it any less exhausting to listen to? No. But it does help me better understand why children can't be quiet.

Zachary

2 Hands, 2 Feet, 10 Fingers and Toes! A sweet little mouth and adorable nose. He murmurs. He coos. He's such a sound sleeper. The image of perfection. It's Zachary Wheeler.

We've done it again! We have added grandchild #4 to the family. Zachary is the biggest cuddler I've ever met.

When I first saw Zachary, all I said was "He's a baby Nicholas!" He looks so much like his older brother...except for one thing. I think Nicholas was born with his eyes wide open. (And it is still hard to get him to close them when it is bedtime.) Zachary is a quieter copy of his big brother.

Those first few days it was obvious he thought this world was way too bright, much more so than where he spent the last 9 months! He squinted, he frowned, he scowled, and he kept his eyes closed. As soon as anyone picked him up he fell asleep in their arms.

He can make anyone feel like the most protective person in the world. Nicholas actually sat for over an hour holding Zachary on his first day home. No TV. Nothing going on. Just Nicholas on the couch with his baby brother in his arms. Not moving. Sitting very still. And protective. Nicholas is a devoted big brother. And so far he seems to have little problem sharing Zachary with his mom and dad. (Phew! Always glad to get past the jealousy hurdle!) Of course, every parent knows there will be moments.... but they are off to a good start.

Zachary is changing already. Looking bigger, and not so 'brand new'. He has unfolded and stretches out, nice and relaxed and checking out his world. Zachary has decided if he is going to stay, he might as well look around and take in his surroundings. He is beginning to be awake more often. I can see him start to focus and look at objects, lights, and faces. And he listens to sounds. Some will make him open his eyes, or look towards a sound. He may just raise his eyebrows. But he hears them. He doesn't startle easily.

Each infant comes with its own personality. As a grandparent it is so much fun watching them develop. I've learned (from being a parent) that half of who a child becomes is influenced by their parents. The other half is who they inately are. It is how those 2 parts interact that will ultimately determine who he will become. I've gotten to know my first 2 grandsons, and I love what I see. They are works in progress, as different as night and day, but still have lots of fun together. Samantha is obviously Warren's sister, and at 18 months gives us clues as to what kind of little girl she will be. Now it is Zachary's turn. His genes are set. He is who he will be. Today he is a needy infant, totally dependent on the adults in his life. Over time we will get to know who he is.

I'll be on the sidelines watching.

Day at the Park

Tuesday night I was enjoying a quiet evening of TV with my daughter and her family. It was especially exciting when Dave put on one of his favorite new shows of the year;" The Walking Dead". The title says is all. UGH! Jen wisely went for her shower. Maggie and I remained in the family room. I tried to read through it. Maggie began to talk to me.

Growlllll, grr, grrrrrrr!!!!!, owooolllll, grr.
Her vocabulary is limited but she puts lots of expression into it.

Unfortunately for her, after 12 years, I still don't speak DOG.
However,  I understood part of her message. "I am bored. Take me for a walk!!!!!!!!!!"
A couple of rainy days had kept us inside.

This morning Nicholas and I headed out for a bike ride/walk to the park.  I decided not to encumber myself with a camera. Dog and boy on bike would be sufficient entertainment. I was wrong.

As soon as we got to the park the first thing I saw was 2 Sandhill Cranes. Where's my camera? AT HOME!!! 

Sandhill Cranes are residents in this area. They are stately, regal birds that move slowly. They are year-round residents in Florida and are hesitant to relocate from their territory. As land is developed, they don't move on. They stay. This can put them at risk from traffic and pets and in some cases they can be aggressive. However, I've never seen their aggresive nature and for us it is a treat to watch them. They are beautiful. The only pictures I have of  them were taken on a foggy morning a couple of years ago, from my car window, as I was leaving Florida. (And those pictures are on my home computer of course.)  Thanks to Google, here is a photo of this gorgeous bird.

It was a beautiful day. Nicholas rolled his cars down the slides, and then rocketed them back up.

 Maggie enjoyed fresh air time in the shade and I angled for a little sun on my legs. (time to get rid of a little of that "winter white" we 'northerners' have.)

The mockingbirds sang non-stop through their entire repertoire, and then hit repeat. They serenaded us the entire time we were there. The trees were just about to burst into bloom, giving each branch a 'crested crane' kind of look.

Overhead falcons and hawks soared. At one point there were more than I could count. Some soared so high they were hard to see, while others ran shadows over me as I sat. At one point they were close enough I could identify different characteristics, but where was my bird book and my binoculars? AT HOME!!!!

Fresh air and grass for Maggie, Nature for Me, a Playground for Nicholas.
That is a perfect day at the park. But the next time I am going to be better prepared!

Car "Tunes"

This is a big weekend for us. My daughter just gave birth to our newest grandchild! Zachary is beautiful...of course! But this post isn't about Zachary, as big as that is. That will come later.

This weekend is also the start of the NASCAR season, and that means the Daytona 500. For my daughter's family, that is VERY big. Dave is a lifelong NASCAR fan. His family will be at the big race tomorrow. We will all be watching here. Larry and I are also fans which is a good thing for me. My 4 year-old grandson, Nicholas, keeps me at the top of my game.

Nicholas has a rug race track and more NASCAR cars than I can count. He has the miniature (matchbox sized) cars for most of the drivers in the Sprint Cup and he knows them by driver, sponsor, or number. Each year, he has to update his collection to keep up with the drivers who have changed either teams (and therefore have a new number,) or sponsors (and therefore have a new color scheme). I explain this only to help you understand the complicated conversation that follows.

Today we were waiting for Jen, Dave and Zachary's homecoming from the hospital. While we waited, my responsibility was to help Nicholas prepare for today's Nationwide race (similar drivers, but different teams and therefore different numbers). He has had a busy couple of days, and today he rode his bicycle to the park. At lunch he looked tired.

Me: After lunch I want you to take a short rest in your room, before the race.
N:   I have to set up my cars first.
Me: You can do that after your race.
N:   No. They have to be ready when the race begins. Do you know the order?
Me: No, but when the race starts we can get the line-up and line up your cars then.
N:   NO! They have to be READY when the race starts. You have to go to the computer and print it out.
Me: Oh... OK.

I get my laptop out and look up the race. Meanwhile, Nicholas has to move his cars from the kitchen to the family room. I discover this means he has to put them in the truck hauler, and drive the hauler to the rug/race track. Once there, he proceeds to get all of his cars out. I check the list on the laptop and help him line them up.

Me: Danica has the pole.
N:   The 10?
Me: No, that's for tomorrow's race. She's driving the 7 today. (We continue through the line-up.)
Me: Dale Jr. is next. (Nicholas reaches for the 88.)
Me: Dale's driving the 5.
N:   Where's Kasey Kahne? 
             (Kasey drives the 5 in the Sprint Cup, but last year it was Mark Martin. Nicholas has already made the switch.   Isn't he only 4, I wonder?)
Me: Kasey Kahne is driving the 38 in this race.
N:  I don't have a 38. We'll use this car and just pretend. (He hands me the 17.)

And so it goes. Finally...

Me: Ok. They are all lined up. You go rest and I'll call you when the race starts.
N: Ok, but you have to sing the National Anthem because I don't know all the words.

RIGHT!

The race comes on. The announcers call the race as I watch the cars go around. I listen, but it's hard to hear what's going on. Instead I hear the race going on in the room. Nicholas moves his cars around his track. Some days he is the 'Spotter' on the roof talking to the driver.  "Green! Green! Green!" (meaning Go go go!) "Outside! Outside! Outside! Down low, down low stay low!" Nicholas warns the drivers of cars coming up to pass. He pushes his cars around the track....all 30+ of them....in groups, keeping up a running dialogue.

Today he isn't the spotter. He is the In-Car camera.

"Vrooooooooom........oooooooommmmm......ooooooommmm...."

Through the entire race.....

I'm glad I have aspirin. I feel a headache coming on.

A Flicker of Light

The seed for this blog post was planted on Christmas Eve. I realize we have just celebrated Valentine's Day, but seeds take a while to germinate.

One of my favorite parts of Christmas Eve is the Candlelight service. At the end of the service all the lights are dimmed. The candle is passed from person to person lighting their candles and gradually illuminating the room. At most of the churches I've been to the congregation sings "Silent Night". It is a beautiful, peaceful way to end a service.

In spite of the fact I've gone to these all my life, I think this year was the first time I really grasped the message. As a member of the choir, I get a birds eye view of the passing of the light. I watched as the light went down each row, illuminating each person's face. As it got to the back of the room the light reached into the darkest corners. How often have I noticed that one candle might not make much difference, but a whole church full of candles lights up a room? Well, this year, I saw it from a different perspective.

I am a volunteer. It is in my DNA. I like helping where needed. I don't want compensation. I just want to make a difference. Reality reminds me I am NOT Mother Theresa, neither by circumstance, nor by personality. I am just me.

I volunteer at the Center for Hope in Ambridge. I help there because I am so impressed by the heart and the organization of the Director, Sue Otto. She's not Mother Theresa either, but she is much closer than I will ever be. Her motto is "A hand up, not a hand out". Her method is to look closely at her clients and see what they need and then try to provide it. I go one day a month, because it is a bit of a drive for me. I help out in the Food Pantry on distribution day.

Too often, lately, I have found myself wondering if I do enough. Could I do more? Where? The questions nag at my conscience. Really, volunteering one morning a month is nothing in a world where the need is great. Does it make a difference?

Christmas Eve: the room is dark. One candle is lit. The face behind it lights up. Another candle is lit. Another face lights up. One candle, plus one candle, plus one candle..... the darkest corners are lit up.

I think of Sue. She runs a center that provides education for adults, cooking classes for teens, clothes closet for those in need, tax services, assistance with electric bills, after school activities for kids.... the list goes on. She has a handful of employees. How does she do it all?

With volunteers.

One at a time.

The Missions team at my church has an unofficial slogan: Small acts can make a big Impact. I've realized it is more than just a slogan.

I don't do much, but the truth is Sue couldn't do it without 'me' and the dozens of other "me's" that show up one day a month. I'm just a little flicker of light. But my flicker...with all those other flickers... really does light up the world.

Yoga: It's Not For Sissies!

 I love my yoga class...usually. It's a great way to start the day. The stretches feel wonderful. Most of the core strengthening is empowering. And at my age, working on that flexibility is a must. But sometimes it's just a joke.

YOGA INSTRUCTOR: Such a soothing voice... the music provides a quiet, rhythmic background...

"Cross your left leg behind your right leg... Slowly lower yourself to the ground with your left leg tucked under your body, bending your right leg... Inhale slowly ...as you wrap your left arm around your right leg and hug it to your body... Right hand on your back hip... Slowly twist to the right.  Exhale gently... Extend right arm behind you, palm up. ...."

Me: You had me at "hug it to your body".

YOGA INSTRUCTOR: Always spoken in such gentle, encouraging and hopeful tones...

"Sit in an upright position, extending both legs out in front of you... Arms raised, extend your body forward. Exhale... Left hand touches your toes, as you reach your right hand under across your body under your left, hand up. Pivot your body to the left...."

HUH???

Note to self: Never play twister with a Yoga Instructor!