two years

I started blogging two years ago this week.

It's been a hell of a ride. Thank you all for sharing it with me.

This is not my swan song, nor is it a retrospective.

If you've been following me for any length of time, you know that if one thing happens in my life, that several things will follow in short order. It's been a calm and peaceful few months, and I've been grateful for that. But things are a-stirring again.

My new puppy was a bit too much dog for a small townhouse, so I found him a great adoptive home. Two days after he left me, I rescued a tiny kitten who was crying under the bushes outside my work(a day care center). Her name is Jake.  The kids at the day care wanted the same name as the day care and this was a compromise. She's a female ginger tabby - most ginger tabbies are male, which is why she ended up being called Jake. I refuse to change it. She'll be gender-neutral very soon anyways. And the name suits her - she's a combination of purr monster and little hellion.

Last weekend (Victoria Day weekend in Canada, fondly known as May 2-4), the girl and I took on a smallish project in the house and started painting the two rooms I hadn't painted before I moved in. The object, in part, was to create a better writing space for me, but also to give Emily a larger, brighter room. She's 6. Ergo, the room is pink. It took longer than we thought. We ran out of paint and couldn't get more because of the holiday. While the painting is done, my bedroom still holds the contents (considerable) of my office bookshelves and various paraphernalia that does not yet have a home.

 In the middle of our painting weekend, Emily decided that it was time to get the chicken pox. Trauma. And spots and itching, and sore throat and sleepless nights. I was reminded that shared custody does not always translate to shared responsibility, as the ex was adamant that he would not care for her during his oh-so-precious working hours. Apparently my working hours are less important. On the day in question, my oldest was taking a first aid course, and I was scheduled for my weekly ten-hour day. The ex was working at home that day. I ended up taking most of the day off- I was tired of arguing, and I want what`s best for Emily. The simple fact that she is sick and needs someone to look after her seemed to escape her father.

The day I was home with Emily was the day my grandmother passed away. She was almost 99. She had a long, full, and wonderful life. I am grateful to have shared so much time with her, but I am sad that she is gone.

My rooms are unfinished, my kid is still scratching, and there are sad funeral plans for this weekend. I was supposed to go to Michigan for Ferron`s birthday weekend - obviously that won`t be happening, and it`s okay. I`ll be at the Fen another time. Instead, I will be surrounded by family and rememberances.

And on Sunday The Girl is whisking me away for a little day trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake. It`s exactly what I need.