'Cause one is not enough

Well, we’ve upset the cats again. Of course, that’s ridiculously easy. They’re cats. They think they rule the household and when we do something that gives them the slightest hint that that might not be the case, they tend to get upset. Like when we have the NERVE to leave town without their permission. They’re a little testy and standoffish when we get back. Just to prove we’re not the boss of them.

When the kids and I got back from our spring break vacation and I returned to work, there were copies of an e-mail posted in all of the kitchens. An e-mail with pictures of an adorable beagle who was in need of a new home. My daughter and I looked at those pictures for nearly a week before I caved and told my husband about them. He thought about it for all of a day before caving. He’s an even softer touch than I am when it comes to beagles, apparently. So the cats, who were JUST getting used to having Gus in the house, now have to put up with this:

They are not amused.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming

Working with my daughter is fun:

From: Daughter
To: Mom
Subject: What's my name, again?

So far, it’s “Sharonsdaughter”, “Whatsername”, and “David”. Should I start wearing a nametag?

From: Mom
To: Daughter
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

I vote for "Whatsyrname." The unique spelling gives it some panache.

From: Daughter
To: Mom
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

Is that easier to spell than Kaitlin Kaitlyn Caitlyn Catelyn Caitlin? How about Siobhan? LOL

From: Mom

To: Daughter
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

Hey, I got your name from Christmas party invitations I was doing for the firm I worked for when I was pregnant with you. Just thank your lucky stars that Siobhan was not on that list or you might have had to deal with that moniker your whole life. At least you only have to spell your name for people, not pronounce it.

From: Daughter
To: Mom
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

So who am I named after? A cool, badass lady-attorney’s friend? Or someone’s grandma? Either is fine, I wouldn’t change it. Everyone else must conform to my non-conformity! >)

Good point… I’ll probably end up with a last name I have to pronounce for people… I mean, you know, another unpronounceable last name.

Yeah… how much would it suck for the beginning of every school year to be, “See-oh-buh-han? Soy-bann? Nope, I’m just not even gonna try…”

From: Mom
To: Daughter
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

Someone near and dear to some architect. And I don't even know which of the 7 or so architects was inviting a Caitlin. So, it could have been someone near and dear to a fuddy duddy older guy or someone near and dear to an alternative rockin' younger dude. Who knows after all these years.

At least an unpronounceable last name won't be anything new for you. We have prepared you well, young master - er, young mistress.

From: Daughter
To: Mom
Subject: RE: What's my name, again?

“Young master” is fine. People still walk into my copy room and call me David before they peek around the corner and see, “Oh, hey, Whatsyrface is sitting there.”

Nuthin' funny here

Long time no post, I know.

Went on a Spring Break vacation and was busy the week prior getting ready for the trip. So, that explains two weeks’ absence. The other two are a little harder to talk about.

My dad has had some health issues for the past couple of years. First the doctors would say it was cancer, then all the tests would come out negative and we’d be convinced it wasn’t. After a major surgery 20 months ago, we hoped he was on the road to recovery. When the road was a lot bumpier than expected, he decided to go to the Mayo Clinic to find out once and for all what the heck was wrong. Well, it turns out he has pancreatic cancer.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to come to grips with the diagnosis. It’s not easy and I don’t think I’m there yet.

I have a kind of convoluted family history. I like to say I have a family forest rather than a family tree. Dad and my mom lived in wedded bliss for a grand total of 56 days. And they’re not even celebrities. My dad moved around a lot due to his job and decided that since my mom remarried when I was an infant, it would be better for me not to be confused by having two dads and being bounced around between them. He allowed my mom’s second husband to adopt me when I was in 3^rd grade. When I was 19, I decided to track him down. I had no idea how I’d be received. Maybe he’d hang up in horror. Maybe he’d be distant. Maybe he’d let me know he wanted no further contact from a part of his past he regretted. I was a nervous wreck.

I’ll never forget that first phone call. I called him at work and introduced myself, thinking he might recognize the name. Not surprisingly, he didn’t (my maiden name was a very common name). I clarified, saying I was [mother’s maiden name]’s daughter. There was no hesitation. No feeling like I was a not-very-pleasant interruption. He just started talking to me like we’d seen each other moments before. I learned that I had two sisters and a brother and that, unlike my mom (for whom the third time was the charm), his second marriage was still going strong.

We spoke on the phone many times over the next 8 years and I corresponded frequently with one sister and occasionally with the other. I also corresponded with my paternal grandmother and aunt. In 1987, while on a trip back East, I arranged to spend a week of my vacation with Dad and meet my brother and sisters. When I got married and moved back East, we made regular trips to visit my “new” family. Dad and my newest mom were among the first visitors when I had my daughter, and New-Mom stayed with us for a week to take care of my daughter when I had my son.

In retrospect, I think that contacting Dad was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I feel incredibly close to that side of my family and, in fact, am much more like those sisters than I am like the ones I was raised with. Nature apparently trumped nurture big time in my case. Not only did I gain a great father, but I gained another incredible mother. And a fun bunch of siblings. Dad and New-Mom were instrumental in making sure their 10 grandkids grew up with close relationships to one another. Something I’ll be eternally grateful for.

I’ve only had Dad in my life for 20 years and I’m not ready to lose him. So far, he’s beaten the odds by surviving 20 months with his cancer (most folks live 3 to 18 months). Although we know it’s a long shot, I’m clinging to the belief that he’ll be his doctor’s longest-lived pancreatic cancer patient. I just can’t accept that he won’t.

Driving and cars

Conversation in the car on the way to school/work:

Son: Cover the brake, cover the brake.

Me: What?

Son: You’re going downhill and there’s a light – cover the brake.

Me: My foot is fast. I don’t have to cover the brake.

Son and daughter in unison, sounding horrified: YOU DON’T COVER THE BRAKE?!?!?!

I love driving lessons from my kids. By the way, the light was green and there were no cars in front of me for quite a ways. I think I was relatively safe not covering the brake at that particular moment.

While walking to the parking lot at the end of the day, my daughter and I saw the strangest little car. I have no idea what it was, but it looked like a roller skate with a large man stuffed inside. It was TINY. I’m sure it was an environmentally friendly electrical car or something, but I’d be scared of being SMASHED LIKE A BUG in an accident (and not from lack of brake covering). My daughter and I determined that the car must belong to the man’s wife. Not only was it teeny tiny and funny looking, but the license plate read: SO CUTE. Yeah, no guy would have that license plate.

And speaking of license plates, what is this one all about?

BBYBNZ

Yummy baby bones? Soft baby buns? Any guesses? ‘Cause it’s driving me crazy.

Women and their closets

I’ll let you in on a little secret. Women are rarely happy with the way they look. At least the women I know. They all want to be thinner or in better shape. And they NEVER get rid of any clothes that ever fit them when they WERE thinner or in better shape. NEVER.

So I, for instance, have a closet FULL of clothes that don’t fit me. Because I hate to buy clothes in a size I don’t want to be.

It’s been about ten years since I have been anywhere near a size that I actually wanted to be. Which means there are lots of clothes in my closet that haven’t seen the light of day in a very long time.

But do I get rid of them? NO. Why? Because SOMEDAY I WILL BE THAT SIZE AGAIN!

Strangely enough, I’m very quick to unload clothes that are too big for me. So when I did the Phen-Fenn “I don’t care if I EVER eat” diet and lost the most weight I ever lost as an adult, I was happy to offload my “big” clothes on someone else who could wear them.

Yeah, that made it even harder to deal with when I gained all that weight back and not only did I have to look at myself in the mirror every day and bemoan my lack of self control in the food department, but I also had next to nothing to wear.

Did I get rid of any of my “small” clothes? HECK NO. I have clothes whose styles will not come back for another 20 years (because eventually every bad clothing idea comes back). But I refuse to donate them to a thrift store. There is a minuscule chance that SOME DAY I’ll wear them again.

You notice that, even with a track history of gaining lost weight back, I still got rid of the big clothes.

And that’s why right now, I have the pants of Sharon’s past - recent enough past that I haven't had a chance to get rid of them yet. When I wear them, I need a belt to ensure I don’t resemble the teenage guys who seem to want to share their underwear with everyone.

And I have the pants of Sharon’s future, which I can manage to squeeze my ass into if I really try. But just because a person can get a pair of pants zipped that in no way means they should actually inflict them on the public.

The pants of Sharon’s present? Nowhere to be found.