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  • Posted on July 1, 2013 at 12:51 pm

Last night, as I was putting Gracie to bed, she asked me, “Mommy, where’s Molly? Is she in the hosp-tal?”  I was just starting to close the door and she saw me tear up and cry.  I turned to Michael and told him, “I can’t do it, Michael.  I can’t tell her.”  I could hear her crying on the other side of the door as Michael went in to console her and, I imagine, tell her where my beloved ten-year-old dilute tortoiseshell calico kitty went.  It broke my heart.

Michael came out a few minutes later and told me that she was crying because she thought she had upset me.  She thought I was crying because she did something wrong.  Oh, that broke my heart even more.

I went back to her room, closing the door softly behind me, and knelt down by her head, brushing her wispy blonde hair away from her forehead.  I planted a kiss on her forehead and told her to that nothing she did upset me but that I was just sad.  She asked me if I was sad and I said yes.  My sweet little girl is very observant and has noticed Molly is missing.

It’s been a week since I had to put my pretty kitty down after she suffered complete renal failure.  She must have waited until we returned from Monterey, because within four days of our return, she was gone.  I am thankful that she waited and didn’t deteriorate so quickly while we were gone.  But, I am guilt-ridden that I didn’t see the signs she was having trouble until it was too late.

I thought about her passing last night (it’s been hard to keep it out of my mind, unfortunately… I have replayed that moment in my head over and over this past week) and noticed how quiet she was.  Macky, my sweet boy cat who had liver failure almost four years ago, was in huge amounts of distress and the toxins had ravaged his body, affecting his brain.  He didn’t even recognize me, I don’t think.  This is incredibly painful to talk about.  After losing Benjamin, I haven’t had any experience with death since his passing.  And now, I have a curious three year old who knows that Molly went to the hospital in the hopes she would get better, but she never came home.  And, now, her mommy has moments where she’s really sad and cries.

A little cat with lots of short hair that got all over the damn place, who loved to burrow under the covers, slept on my head when it was just the two of us in a big house, chased bugs, played with her white poofballs, bird-watched in the window, stood up and placed her paws on my chest for scritches, head-butted me for pets, curled up in my chair whenever she got the chance, and raced me down the hall, her tail standing up like an upside-down question mark, her little voice trilling her happiness… these  are all moments in time I will keep with me forever.

Molly was just getting to the point of allowing Gracie to pet her on occasion.  Gracie would sit on the other side of the gate and ask Molly, “What’s wrong, Molly?  What’s wrong?” when Molly wouldn’t get too close.  It wasn’t that Molly was sick at the time, it was just that Molly was incredibly wary of Gracie, who in her cat mind, was too unpredictable.  Gracie started being a little less unpredictable, which is why Molly started to be a little more receptive to her.  I just wish Molly didn’t get dealt a bum hand.

I miss her.  Missing her makes me more aware of how fragile life is and how we lost Benjamin so quickly.  Every time tragedy strikes, I’m doubly reminded of the fact that Benjamin isn’t physically with us.  Gracie knows she has a brother and his name is Benjamin.  The next time we go to visit him, I know Gracie will be more aware of where we are and there will be lots of questions.  Gracie is very aware of feelings right now.  She expresses how happy or sad she is and notices how others around her react with different types of emotions.

I am blessed with a beautiful and compassionate little girl.


This little kitty chewed a hole right through my wedding veil. She loved her some tulle.

Sometimes, Life Gets a Little Busy…

  • Posted on April 1, 2013 at 5:36 pm

It’s been over a year since I posted anything.  I write whole blog posts in my head, but when I actually have the time to sit down and write, I end up doing other things.

Gracie is almost three years old now.  For 2013, I decided to take a picture of her every day.  I was planning on posting a monthly grouping of pictures here, but haven’t even gotten around to doing that.  But, I want to… and I will.  She went up to stay with grandma for almost a week, so I’ll have to cheat a little when it comes to her pictures, since I don’t think grandma and grandpa took any pictures of her each day.

I’ve had a lot of stress in my life, too.  I teach high school students and coach a swim team.  I love coaching my swim team, even if it is a lot of work, but lately, I’ve been finding myself wondering more and more if teaching is really what I should be doing with my life.  I’m stressed out more days than not and have no desire to really care as much as I used to.  I can’t be an effective teacher to my students if the district thinks it’s OK to shove 44 students into one room.  How am I to be effective to them when there are that many students?  Not only that, but the pressure from the district to hold teachers accountable for student achievement on tests is frightening.  I have several students who are failing all their classes and have been for years.   Their failure will now be a part of my evaluation.  Not only that, but state testing has become the norm and all we do is teach students to take a test.  Forget reading literature, learning how to write research papers, or how to analyze poetry.  It’s all drill and kill now… teach to a test.  What kind of education is that?  And, the icing on the cake, so to speak, is that most students aren’t ready for college-level writing when they get there.  Why?  I don’t have the time to teach them writing like I used to.  Why?  Because the district has been chomping at the bit to reconstitute our school and to keep them at bay, we wrote up a plan to show them we were trying to fix what was wrong.  In the plan, we’re expected to teach an extra class with the same amount of pay, with a ridiculously wacky schedule.  Every day, I have to mentally prepare for an hour-long class in the morning, and then after an eight minute passing period, I have a block-scheduled class come in.  I do that four times a week.  It’s insane.  It makes my head  hurt just thinking about it.  I am constantly running out of time with the curriculum I used to teach.

Maybe I should just stick to posting pictures of my daughter.  She’s cuter, anyway.  😉

2013-03-30 15.04.40

I don’t know of anyone who even reads this blog anymore, so if I start writing about my dad, I hope people don’t mind.  I need to get things off my chest about him, too.  If anything, I wish my dad wasn’t such a manipulative, narcissistic, and “it’s all about me” kind of person.  He has missed the last two years of my daughter’s young life because of his behavior.  It just saddens me.  I feel like an orphan a lot of the time.

Gotta go pick up the munchkin.