Mothering; it doesn't always come from the one it's "supposed" to!

I recently was out at my Mother-in-law's farm. It's my "run-to" place for comfort; there's something amazingly peaceful about the land out there and my MIL, Lori, and I have a terrific friendship & I love and respect her for the incredible, protective, insightful and giving woman and mother that she is. Quite often her advice is beyond valuable...she's one of those rare people who can often clearly see right to the heart of whatever issue is bothering you. It's a gift beyond words, beyond price, just like our relationship. I've had the "evil mother-in-law from heck", and all that did was make me value Lori even more.

She really is an incredible mom...and you see, for me that's a big deal. Why? Because I didn't (and don't) have one. Actually, to be precise, funnily enough technically I "have" two 'mothers' - my birthmonster  (Carole) & my adoptive mother (Patricia) whom I, regardless of everything. do honestly consider "my mother". Not a very good one, or particularly pleasant one, but mother nevertheless. The other one merely pushed me into the world. My mother and I no longer communicate, by my choice. I finally accepted that she is how she is, I am how I am and never the two shall meet. I love her but I do not like her. I think that feeling's mutual.

The birthmonster showed back up into my life when I was in my late 30's, oh joy. It was an experience I could've quite happily done without, to put that mildly. And because this is about positive parenting not psychotic pretence, that's about all I'll say about her in this post. It's a long, sad, depressing & downright scary story for another time. 'Nuff said.

 Back to my MIL. (A much happier subject). When you think of the word, "Mom", who comes to your mind? For me it always now conjures up the image of Lori. She adores her two boys & all of the grandchildren & great-grandchildren. I wish I'd had her as a mom growing up...except that would make Chris my brother; no thank you! Eww. Seriously though, that woman gives the best advice. She's fiercely protective too, btw. That is NOT someone you want to cross. She's got this ability to accept you for you that just blows my mind. In my family, love was very conditional...and sadly, I rarely fit those conditions, so to be blessed with this woman is a gift beyond price.

I'm not at all good with asking for help, as many of my friends & family would attest to. I learned the hard way at a very young age not to trust and to stand on my own two feet, period. Lori is slowly changing that. I've learned through experience that she can be trusted to be there if needed. Just recently she came with me to the vet clinic to be there with me as my beloved but very sick elderly dog Kylie, was put to sleep. I had planned on doing that alone, just Kylie & myself, but after much thought late into the night before the appointment for it I'd chickened out and called Lori to see if she could come into town...basically to hold my hand as I witnessed the death of my best friend of 13 years. Her reply was immediate. She would be there. Most amazing to me was that I actually trusted that she would be. There'd be no last-minute phone call to back out of witnessing a emotionally charged & raw situation or some appointment she'd forgotten, or a health crisis of some kind (all excuses I've heard far too many times from so called "family" or "friends"). She said she'd be there and she was. To me? That simple fact is something to be treasured. Until Lori, that sort of love & caring was beyond my ken.

There's many other examples I could give, but two in particular stand out in my memory. Both were highly emotionally charged situations - the first was the time she was coming to "save" me from a verbal attack from the birthmonster. Carole & I both saw Lori charging towards us, but before I could say or do anything, Carole took off like a scalded cat, *Hiss...Poof!*. Quite honestly? If I'd have seen Lori coming at me with that look on her face I'd have ran too!

The second example is the time I was bitten by a brown recluse spider & had a severe allergic reaction to the bite...which in a way was a good thing, because the bite was horrendously infected and I didn't want to see a doctor. Yeah, I'm kinda dumb that way. I detest doctor's offices - thanks to the health issues, I've spent far too much of my time in them, so I'll put off making an appointment as long as possible.

I was bitten on a friday night, and by Monday morning I was in the beginning stages of kidney failure and my left leg was completely paralized, the right leg paralized as well, but only up as far as my knee. Due to the kidney issues I was also blown up like a puffer fish, and because of the raging infection at the bite I was also extremely feverish to the point of slight delerium!

All weekend I'd managed to put off going to the hospital, even though the bite was unbelieveably painful (as in, holy-crap-this-freaking-HURTS!) and I'd convinced both Chris and myself that the weakness & all the other symptoms would improve on their own in time. (Yeah...I'm not the brightest bulb in the box at times: did I forget to mention that earlier?). The paralasis occurred sometime in my sleep Sunday night, and I hadn't gotten up when Chris was getting ready for work Monday morning, so neither of us realized that it had happened. I found out after he left for work; I realized it pretty damn fast though. I went to get up to go to the bathroom & promptly fell flat on my face when my legs gave completely out underneath me.

I managed to drag myself to the phone, but was unable to reach Chris. Being too bull-headed to phone an ambulance (and not willing to admit shit was going downhill at an alarming rate!), I called my MIL. When she answered the phone, I asked her if she was coming to town that morning. She replied that she was actually already in town at the Post office, about 6 blocks from our house. She immediately knew something was very wrong, even though I tried to make light of the situation & hadn't told her just how bad it was, what with the legs not working and all.

I asked her if there was any way she could stop by, realizing that I obviously wasn't able to drive myself to the doctor's office...although I must shamefully admit, the thought had occurred, lol. If I coulda, I woulda!

Lori said she'd be there right away & hung up. I swear, she must've flown over, as I'd barely managed to drag my sorry carcass downstairs by the time she arrived! I called for her to come in when she knocked...I obviously wasn't going to be able to answer the door. She walked in, took one look at me and before I could even blink she was on the phone to the hospital. Apparently I wasn't looking the greatest.

Once we arrived at the emergency, she then turned into a momma bear, demanding that the doctor see me immediately and that the staff get their butts in gear & help me. I honestly thought that little woman was going to blow a gasket when there was a computer error in the lab and my paperwork was lost in the system for a short while. The doc had ordered some bloodtests to be done, but until the form showed up on the lab computer there was nothing they could do.

I kid you not, Lori - my normally sweet, docile & loving little MIL turned into a raging, slavering grizzly bear in full-on protection mode. I actually felt sorry for the staff. But I also have to admit, although I was pretty out of it at the time, watching her stomp about yelling at the staff and muttering under her breathe about "incompetent jerkoff's" warmed me to my soul. Literally. That dark, unhappy little place that hides all my insecurities and yearnings to be loved was lightened up quite a bit that day...and more importantly, it's stayed a lot less dark ever since.

Eventually it all got sorted and they took me in to draw blood. But then to add insult to injury, due to my blood pressure being so bottomed out the lab tech couldn't find a vein and I was doing a rather good imitation of a pin cushion by the time they were done. Once again, little momma bear had a few choice words for the beleagured & harrassed lab & hospital staff! I swear that entire place heaved a huge sigh of relief when hubby finally arrived and she was finally able to return home (Chris of course had been called to come down "immediately" by his mother; she then rang a peal over his head on arrival. It took both of us to convince her that he'd had no idea just how bad it was when he left for work that morning!).

I had to stay in the hospital for about a week on I.V. antibiotics & other medications, and the kidney issues & paralasis eventually went away over the next couple of months. As you've probably guessed, Lori came to see me each day I was in the hospital, and kept a very keen eye on me during the rest of my recovery. Now, I realize all of this may sound like pretty standard stuff to others out there. But for me, having never actually HAD a momma bear experience before, it was not something I'll soon forget.

So...as to myself, I try to stay out of trouble's way and keep the stress in my life to a minimum; but when it does occur, I can usually be found with my other dog Hendrix, hot-footin' it out to Lori's farm.

Gotta git me some of that Momma-bear love!

Thinking about dogs...

   Today has been a "Dog" day. I own (am owned by?) two dogs - Kylie, aka "Lady Shedsalot", aka "Lady K". is my little old lady at age 13 or 14. I adopted her back in June of 2000 from the local Animal Shelter in North Battleford, SK. Because she was a rescue, we've never been 100% sure of her breeds but I think she's a Jack Russell Terrier/Border Collie cross...with perhaps some Whippet thrown in there somewhere. She's always been such a sweet tempered little dog, although she always has been very protective of her people if she gets an "iffie" vibe from someone. For the record, she's never been wrong on that vibe thing. I wish I had her common sense, lol. 

That brings us to Hendrix, our other dog. Hendrix is a purebred English Springer Spaniel (Bench). He's a very handsome 4 1/2 year old fellow who is kind of a dufus. He came to us via my daughter Erin & her family in Edmonton; she'd adopted him from his original owners, and boy oh boy...did he have a LOT of issues. He is a "piddler" and when we first got him, all you had to do was look at him & he'd pee. He was quite passive-aggressive, but within a month or so of having him neutered, he was almost a totally different dog. He's still a total goof-ball of a dog, but just minus the aggression issues. Because he hadn't been raised with children, I've had to work hard with him to overcome his fear of them...fear that had lead him to nip my grandchildren in the past, which is how we ended up with him in the first place. Hendrix is totally unlike Kylie in that I must work with him daily to keep up his training. With Kylie, it's train once, remember forever. Hendrix? Not so much. He also likes to push the boundaries at least a few times a week..."Is mom still the Pack Leader? Whoops, yup! Never mind". It's an ongoing thing with him...but I must say, it's never boring with him around!

   Speaking of Hendrix, he's taught himself a new trick; and it's one that has me less than amused! He's suddenly discovered that he can "cruise" the counters in the kitchen. Not really a huge issues, if you don't mind dog slobber & missing food...which I do! Now, I know quite a few tricks to train this nasty habit out of a dog, but Hendrix is being very sneaky about it. In order to discourage him from counter surfing, I have to be able to catch him at it...and other than once the other day, I just haven't been able to quite catch him at it in time, arugh! Because of his personality, my plan is to try the "Can of Pennies" trick on him. Basically, it's just a matter of hiding out of his sight and when he goes to surf the counter, I shake the hell out of the can of pennies! It's worked for me many times before in the past, but to do it, I have to be able to catch him at it...which I have thus far been unable to do other than the one time. Hopefully that one dose of the noisy can will be enough, but I somehow doubt it. He's far, far too smart for that, I'm afraid.
   I made a point the last couple of days of making sure he had some chew toys available, to discourage him from looking elsewhere for mental stimulation...which is all this new behavior is, really. I haven't been feeling terribly well this week, so he hasn't been getting his daily walks that he normally gets. Because of that, he's got an excess of energy, and that's what gets doggies in trouble. This doggy in particular! He's been working hard on a rawhide chew toy for the past two days, so he's sort of left the counters alone...but I doubt that's permanent. The moment that chew-toy is gone, counters here we come! Ah well...if nothing else, he keeps me on my toes. One cannot truly say that life is boring with Hendrix around, lol.
   I deeply enjoy working with my dogs...it's very rewarding for me, and it's important to me to have a safe, well trained and people friendly dog. I've seen far too many animals with irresponsible owners out there! Case in point? One of our next door neighbors. They have two dogs, and one of them just drives me totally batshit crazy! All this little fur-ball does is bark...all day, every day. Now, on one level I know that the critter is just bored out of it's mind which is why it barks the way it does. Nobody seems to ever do anything with it, never mind actually walk or train him! He gets almost zero interaction with his own people (they both work), and although there's another dog for company, the other is a very old fellow. Now that one? He's got manners, I have to give him that! You hardly ever hear anything out of the yappy one's companion....other than his complaining at the squirrels that seem to live to torment him, poor old guy. Other that the occasional yip or two at the squirrels, or perhaps the garbageman on Wednesday mornings, you never hear from him. I actually feel sorry for the poor old guy...all that barking's got to get on his nerves too!
   I really don't know exactly what to do. I've spoken at length with both the owners quite a few times about the problem, but they just don't seem to either care or be willing to put any work into their dog. I've even gone so far as to offer to work with their dog for them for free, (not something I normally ever do), but they've refused. And yes...I put it nicely (I can just hear my kids asking that question, lol). Short of complaining to the town about the noise, I don't know what else to do! 
...I'm beginning to wonder if that dog is the reason the lady that we bought this house from moved! She suffered from migraine headaches, same as I do, and I must say...the incessant, "Bark-bark-bark-bark" from next door is SO not helpful when in the grip of a migraine! Hmmm...no wonder we got this place so cheap!

And we begin...

To blog, or not to blog...that is the question! And boy...is it ever. I've often wondered if anything I had to say, think, share, etc. would be interesting enough for other people to read. Due to low self-esteem, I didn't think it was really something I'd ever do: who on earth would read it, after all?! But I've come to realize, thanks to much love and support by my beloved family & friends that maybe, just maybe I might actually have something to say that people would actually want to read! Wow!

So! I've decided to give this whole 'blog' thing a try. Don't know if I'll ever have anything interesting enough for anyone else to bother reading, but if nothing else it'll give me something to do to fill the hours, right? Right! Why the name, you ask? Trust me...when you get to know my life, you'll get it. Until then let's just say "it works" and leave it at that for now.

I guess perhaps some introductions are in order? I'm Wendy...a 43 year old Canadian woman of Irish/Scots roots. I'm engaged to be married to a pretty terrific guy, my very own 6 foot Redneck, whom I call "Old Guy" or "O.G.". Old Guy & I have known each other most of our entire lives. The first memory of each other that stands out for both of us happened when I was just 6 years old...and O.G. rescued me. You see, I was being harassed & picked on by the neighborhood bully - he was 9 or 10 years old, and at least a foot taller then I. Now, I was a pretty tough kid: the youngest child in my family, with 2 older brothers (who also loved to pick on me!), so I had learned how to cope. For the most part.

Regardless of all that, it seems that particular day I was having an "off" day. In a nutshell? It'd sucked. Don't remember why exactly, just remember that this bully just topped off a really cruddy day. So...there I was, being taunted & pushed around by this big, obnoxious kid. He was really giving me the gears...and was apparently having a ball pushing me down on the cement sidewalk just up the block from our house. I remember trying so hard not to cry, but fear was making that quite difficult. I was literally terrified! I couldn't get my feet under me, each time I tried to get up he'd just push me right back down. The cement was hot & dry under me, and I remember how rough it felt. My hands were quite badly scraped up, as were both my knees.

Just when I'd about given up & was ready to just lie down and have a really good cry, I suddenly heard this voice saying, "So...you like to pick on little girls do you?". And without any warning, the bully was abruptly flat on his face on the ground next to me! I stared at the bully, my mouth agape and then this hand was thrust in front of my face, "C'mere hon, let me help you up". He picked me up off the ground & dusted me off carefully. I remember thinking, "WOW! He's TALL!". O.G. did a quick check of my hands & knees; he got this really angry look on his face. I was a little nervous, thinking perhaps I'd done something wrong (bleed on him or something?!), but he quickly assured me he wasn't upset with me, and that perhaps I'd best run along the rest of the way home. I didn't need to be told twice. I was on my way in a flash, but about half-way down the block I stopped to take a quick peek behind me.

All I could see was O.G. repeatedly pushing the bully down onto the sidewalk. He kept saying, "So you like to push down little girls do you? How do YOU like it? Huh? How do YOU like to be pushed around? Is it fun? Are you going to do that to her again?!". And that was it...I had a serious case of hero worship for him for many years afterwards.

Life took us both down our own paths, and eventually we lost track of each other. We reconnected following the tragic & unexpected death of his wife. With both of us now single, (and him totally lost as a single dad with a 5 year old daughter & teenage son) eventually the inevitable happened...after some serious chasing of me on his part that is, lol. I'd two failed marriages under my belt by then, and was quite happily single. Had been for many years...I'd dated on and off over the previous 8 years, but hadn't gotten into anything terribly serious, and was most certainly not looking for husband #3! But, he was quite persistent...one thing about this fellow: once he's made up his mind, that's it. And apparently I was "it", lol.

...and guess what? He was still my hero...and initially, he was still rescuing me. But more on that part another time.

We've been engaged now for almost 9 years....yeah, I know: Long engagement. That's my fault - I've still got some commitment issues I'm working though. Luckily, he's a patient man. He's also very accepting...which is good, considering the fact that I'm not just a commitment-phobe....I'm also a Psychic. Yes, honestly...psychic.

Got your attention now, don't I?!