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lucy goose

My first baby.

Peanut butter lover.

Licker of feet.

My running buddy for years and years and years.



I wish I would have let her have a litter of her own. She would have been a great Mama.

13 years old.

Hard of hearing.

Ice cream cone devotee.

Car riding adventure going.

Sweet as pie.

Kept me company many nights when I was alone, and even though I knew she’d welcome an axe murderer right into the house, she still made me feel safe. We were in it together, after all.

Hated her dog house. Hated me for crawling inside to get her to crawl inside. Sigh.

I’ll never forget her puppy breath.

(Or her hot adult breath, for that matter.)

She has gotten to be an old lady.

Her vision, hearing, and finally … her hips have given out.

Unable to get up most of the time, and in obvious pain when trying, it became obvious it wast time to say goodbye.

On the way to the vet this morning, I silently made Wayne promise that he would be waiting for her.

And I have no doubt as soon as she got there, she was greeted with the familiar, “Bad Dawg” nickname that he gave her.

You are in good hands, I have no doubt.

Love you always.

Rest in Peace my sweet, sweet girl.


expectations … and lack there of

Love is the ability and willingness to allow those you care for, to be what they choose for themselves, without the insistence that they satisfy you.

(W. Dyer) – who is a self-help author … ha ha

She comes home with a behavior chart every day after school.

Starting the day at green – and moving up to blue and pink – or down to yellow, etc.

Her color is the first thing out of her mouth when she runs to me at pick up.

“I got yellow. No idea why…except I got in trouble for talking.”

“Yellow. I wasn’t following the rules. I colored in blue on accident on my chart.” – I rewarded her honesty.

“Green. But I WAS yellow this morning – I moved up!”

“Blue!” – which we celebrated heavily!



On our yellow days, we talked about expectations and personal space and staying on task and NOT talking to Riley every second of the day.

Riley is her friend that she plays with on the playground. They make silly sounds and walk around.

And her choice of play toy at home revolve around squishy lizards.

And I wish I was the mom who laughed it all off and applied the mantra of “kids will be kids – or, that’s just claire for you!”

I’m the mom who emails her teacher, talks about her late into the night at home, who texts mom and dad to ask for advice.

Worried that perhaps I should have held her back due to maturity (lack there of), and worried her attention span needs a bit of fine tuning before 1st grade.

Why does she have trouble playing in groups?

Why are her friends always boys?

Why lizards and not dolls??

Her teacher says that Claire is sweet and doesn’t mean to be naughty. Tried to talk me down a bit as I am sure she could tell I was anxious and worried and wanting to FIX Claire.

Rylan tells me nothing would have changed had we held her back. She would talk too much no matter what grade she was in. Academically she shines.

This is what Mom and Dad (and Mimi) all think, too.

She is who she is, and why do I struggle with that?

It’s exactly like Cade – not wanting to play sports anymore, and me pressing him to do so, and worried he is going to be lost as an adolescent if he doesn’t get into the mix now.

(I still firmly believe this. We live in a small community and trouble finds those who aren’t involved … especially boys.)

I want him to shine! Be busy! Find pride and self esteem in belonging and in enjoying something active. Understand what teamwork feels like. WANT to thrive at something sports-oriented.

I. Worry. Constantly.

(Maybe because I was dating his father when we were in High School and I know what Caeden will be capable of in his adolescent years. haha)


I’m hard on the kids. Pressing them and trying to guide them to be … more in the image I have for them.

I don’t want them to miss out or fall behind. I worry that if I am not like this, it is my fault because I know better for them.

Is this my role as a parent or isn’t it?

I saw the quote (listed above the picture) and it made me stop in my tracks.

What I am expecting from them is … to please me.

I want Claire to be studious. More Serious. Belong to a circle of girlfriends.

I want Cade to be athletic.

If they aren’t these things, then something is wrong.

Or. Maybe I am the one who is wrong.

What a bitter pill it is to swallow when I realize how way off base I am.

Just love them. Accept them for who they are.

Not a novel concept by any means, but one I need to practice.

I need to be better.


Humbled (but still worried – this never goes away, does it?) Mom


a world that exists in septembers

a good routine

no technology during the week means we have time for things like this:

peach cobbler (with oatmeal cookie crumble) and vanilla ice cream

Fresh corn and potato chowder (all from mom and dad’s garden)

spelling words


sitting around talking

playing outside

just BEING

showers and teeth brushing and story time

bedtime that doesn’t get negotiated

i love a good routine and honestly, so do they.