Oh, Lido...

Lido missed the boat that day
He left the shack
But that was all he missed
And he ain't comin' back

Dear Lido,

A little over five years ago, there was a great buzz going around the hospital where I worked that the feral cat who lived in the courtyard had given birth to the cutest kittens.  Slowly, many of the kittens disappeared and even the mama cat was nowhere to be found - but, you remained.  My friend and co-worker at the time would sneak out and find your tiny little self hiding in the bushes or laying out in the sun and would send me pictures.

"You need to adopt this cat."

I was convinced that I was not a cat person and in truth, that I wasn't a pet person in general.  Shortly before we were married, we adopted a puppy.  The dog was needy and didn't sleep and was not a good fit for a home with two working owners.  We were able to find her a new home with family members, but I still look at our decision to adopt the dog as one of my biggest failures in life.  The entire situation made me terrified that I would never be able to be a good mother if I couldn't even care for a silly animal.

So, with that history I told my friend I would never adopt you because I didn't want another shot to fail at pet ownership.

And yet a few days later (and against all good judgment), I somehow had you sitting in my front seat in an old copy paper box with holes cut out so you could breathe, waiting to come home with us.  You hissed and spit and refused to eat for the first few days we had you.  We thought you were just nervous, but we soon learned that this fiery personality was pretty much uniquely you. 

We named you by putting my playlist on shuffle until we heard a name we liked.
And that song was "Lido Shuffle."

There were times that people didn't even know we owned a cat because we had to put you away when guests came over. Unlike normal cats, instead of running and hiding under beds when you were nervous, you would stalk our guests and slap them with your paws.  You'd hiss and growl and even bit a few people.  You were kind of a jerk, Lido.  But, you were our jerk.

When we brought The Incredible Hulk home, you didn't go near me for 8 months.  You seemed to hold me personally responsible for this new family member cramping your style.

But, you eventually figured out that he was here to stay and for the most part, you accepted that.
You also accepted that we liked him a little bit more than you.

You got a lot of second chances with us, Lido.  This must be why people say cats have nine lives.
I hope you know that we tried to keep you.

You hissed at my pregnant belly when I used cocoa butter because you didn't like the smell. You meowed anytime anyone closed a bathroom door to you, only to have us open it up so you could walk away. Affection was mostly on your terms, but when you did cuddle, you were actually kind of great at it.  (Even though you insisted on licking us constantly because you clearly you thought we didn't bathe enough.)  You loved pepperoni, a fact we discovered when we had to put you on Prozac to improve your mood and hiding it in the pepperoni was the only way to get you to take it.  (You totally knew we were drugging you, thanks for only spitting on the meds sometimes.)  You loved to sit in front of open windows and meow incessantly.  I told you to be quiet a lot, but I want you to know that I really loved that sound because it told me how happy you were.  You made us into the cat people we never really thought we'd be.

I hope you know we wish it could be any other way.

I hope you know we wanted to ignore the two doctors who told us this week that we shouldn't keep you as a pet anymore.

I hope you know this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I hope you know that I'll never know for sure if I did the right thing or not.

I hope you know that every day since, I've walked into the house expecting to hear your obnoxious meowing and feeling desperately sad when I all I hear is silence.

I texted the friend who helped me take you home to tell her you were gone, to tell her about the terrible decision we had to make, to tell her "Thank you" for convincing me to adopt you five years ago.  Because, Lido...it was a really great five years.  

You were a crazy cat. But, you were our crazy cat.

She told me "Don't forget, Amanda.  You saved him."

She's halfway right.  Yes, we saved you from the courtyard where no one was around to feed you and you were likely going to meet the fate of your mom and all of your brothers/sisters.

But, Lido?  You saved me too.  Saved me from the feeling that I was a failure and could never take care of another living being.  Saved me from the crippling self-doubt I'd experienced.  Saved me from the selfish person I once was.

Lido, you made me a mama and I love you for it.

You weren't perfect.  But, you were ours.

I hope that when you get to where you're going that there's a pepperoni buffet and open windows for you to sit by for all eternity.  When we meet again, I know you'll probably purr and sit right on top of me, but bite me if I try to pet you.

And that's okay, because that's how I'll know it's you.

Lido will be runnin'
Havin' great big fun
Until he got the note
Saying tow the line or blow it
And that was all he wrote

I love you, Kitten Man.

One more for the road...

I don't quite know how to say how I feel...

Last month I got to see my little sister marry the love of her life.  The minute she asked me to be her matron of honor, I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her in her toast.  I thought I'd share it with you all today.  Enjoy.

I'm an ugly crier.

For those who don’t know, I am Andrea’s sister Amanda.  You know, I’ve been in a lot of weddings (though this is my first time being the matron of honor) and I have to tell you, mostly matrons of honor tell the story the first time they met the groom.  So, I guess that means I’m supposed to tell you that story and tell you that I immediately knew that Ricky was perfect for Andrea and all of that.  Truth be told, I had no idea if he was perfect for Andrea that night or not.  I do know that when my son stuck his entire hand in Ricky’s pumpkin beer, Ricky didn’t even flinch and went immediately and bought himself another one.  No questions asked.  No hard feelings whatsoever.  So whether or not Andrea liked him, as far as my husband and I were concerned, we were going to keep Ricky around for awhile.

Actually, the story I really want to tell tonight is one that happened several years before Andrea and Ricky even knew one another.  Back in January 2006, our family took a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona.  We stayed at a resort on a golf course which had about every available amenity you can think of including, in the center of the resort, a beautiful pool that was gorgeously landscaped, huge, had tons of lounge chairs, fluffy white towels, and a huge water slide that made it look like it had been carved out of a mountain.  As St. Louisans are wont to do at the opportunity to swim in the middle of January, we decided to spend an afternoon poolside and all made our way down there as a group.  Well, everyone except for Andrea, who told us she needed to “get ready” before she met us down there.

I settled myself in on a lounger and opened my book, reading only for a little while before I noticed my sister making her way across the pool deck.  Let me tell you - she was decked. out.  Every inch of her was styled to perfection - from her bathing suit coverup to her flip flops to her sunglasses to her beach bag - everything matched, everything looked great on her, and everything looked perfectly together.  She took the chair next to me, settled in, pulled out a magazine, and leisurely began to flip the pages.  

About three minutes passed when she tossed aside the magazine and announced loudly, “I’m bored.”  She stood up.  Threw off the sunglasses.  Kicked off the flip flops.  And made a beeline straight for the water slide.  Where, she entertained herself by going down the water slide, SQUEALING with delight the entire time.  This went on for about an hour until she got bored with that and dragged me across the pool deck and made me go down about twenty or thirty times.

I tell this story here today, not only because I cannot pass an opportunity to tell a funny Andrea story, but also because I think it perfectly encapsulates Andrea.  It’s pretty normal for a little sister to look up to her big sister, but I am here to say that, though she may be my crazy little sister - I have always looked up to Andrea.

She is 100% able to pull herself together.  She’s graceful and poised and truly makes it all look effortless.  However, she also knows when to throw that all off and just have a really good time. 

And here’s the good news - though I haven’t known him quite as long as I’ve known her - I can say with some certainty that Ricky possesses these same qualities.  (Which is mostly convenient because Andrea needs someone to go down the water slide with her.)

Marriage - I’ve found in my long 5 and a half years - is a little bit like that.  You need to be able to be serious.  To pull yourselves together and remain poised when the occasion calls for it.  But, also, you have to know when to shake it all off, have a great time, and go down the water slide together.

If today is any indication of the joy you will share in the life you spend together, I think you guys are going to be just fine.  And so, I lift my glass to you and to your joy on this day and in all the days that follow.  I love you both.  Congratulations.

Somethings just make sense and one of those is you and I...

For a short period in my early twenties, I engaged in a brief, but serious, relationship with a man who was about 6 years older than me.  I ignored the fact that we were completely wrong for each other while we spent our every waking moment together for about 5 months.  One night, we were hanging out in his apartment and I somehow managed to knock a glass of water and it broke all over his wood floors.  Thinking it was no big deal, I ran to get towels and a broom to clean it up and when I got back I could see that he was visibly pissed.  Evidently, the glass came from a bar in a city he once lived in.  The bar and the glass and the city had a significance that I could not, would not understand and he was really disappointed in me for breaking it and acting like it was no big deal.  (Looking back, I realize he often had this way of making me feel like I was an idiotic teenager rather than an intelligent adult with a college education.)

As it turns out, this particular bar had closed and there was actually no way of replacing this glass that I had (carelessly) broken.  I apologized profusely for breaking the glass (I'm a pretty sentimental person so I understood his feelings, even though he was being sort of a D about it) and even offered to try to do some research to see if I could replace it.

However, the damage was done (not just to the glass - to our relationship, in general - when I really think about it) and that night I went home feeling pretty crummy emotionally, but also noticing that I had a shooting pain on the bottom of my heel every time I stepped on it.

I was positive I had a shard of glass in my foot.  I looked and looked but I could never turn my foot over all the way enough to see it and I just assumed that it was a weird coincidence and that the pain would go away eventually.  I walked on it like that for almost a week, but could never see for sure if there was a splinter of glass in my foot.  On my way to a long shift at the bookstore I was working for at the time, I stopped to get a pedicure.  When she used the pumice over my affected heel, it caught the supposed splinter of glass and pushed it up into my heel. (I've given birth and I'm still sure this is in the top 5 most painful things I've ever had happen to me).  I yelped in pain and asked the woman (who didn't speak a word outside of her functional English) if she could see anything.  She responded, "It tickle?  I stop."

I proceeded to work a long closing shift at the bookstore and then headed straight for my boyfriend's house where I limped in, stripped off my shoe and sock, handed him a pair of tweezers, and said "There is a splinter in my foot from the glass I broke here last week and I need you to get it out."  I will never forget how annoyed and put off he was put by the thought of pulling a piece of glass out of my foot.  And I realized, it wasn't really because of what I was asking him to do - it was because he was still mad about that damn glass.

He did help me that night.  After rolling his eyes and generally acting very annoyed, he unsympathetically wielded the tweezers, confirmed he could see a piece of glass, and was able to work it out enough that I could eventually see it and pull it out myself.  My foot throbbed for awhile after that (I mean, I walked with this thing jabbing me in the heel for almost a week) and yet he was still being quite cold to me about how badly it hurt because, in his own (joking...ish) words, I "kind of deserved it for breaking the glass."

The relationship ended for good not long after that and though it truly broke my heart at the time, I eventually learned that life goes on (and did so in the arms of the man who would eventually become my husband.)


I share this (non sequitur) story here, because tonight, I sat at the kitchen table while my husband painstakingly worked a small splinter out of our son's palm.  He used a needle with the precision of a surgeon, all the while reassuring The Incredible Hulk (who winced and whimpered through the whole procedure) that he would be okay. While I rubbed TIH's back and marveled over my husband's steady hands, I looked over my son's head at him and said a silent prayer of thanks for that night back in 2006 where I learned I was really never going to get what I needed out of that relationship.

I now know that I needed the person I chose to share my life with to be the nurturing type.  The type that can kiss a "boo boo" and be reassuring and show compassion even for the most "deserved" trips and tumbles.  And I'm pinching myself now to think I was lucky enough to find it.

Tonight, in a little boy's palm, I glimpsed the long future of parenting I have ahead of me with the man of my dreams - and it's looking very bright.

Photo credit: Stephanie Rosser

How's it gonna be...

To all of the high school/college graduates out there struggling right now:

I know that the least effective thing to say to you right now is "Welcome to the Real World."

That said?

Welcome to the Real World.

The thing I can promise you is this: it gets better.

You will struggle with balance your entire life. Work vs. play. Family vs. friends. Being a wife vs. being a mom. Being productive vs. being a couch potato. And that's okay. Learning to find the balance, living with these oppositional forces is what makes life beautiful and what makes life whole.

Soon, you will get used to this new schedule. Get used to the idea of early bed and early rising. Get used to the idea of not having summers off, of not really having a whole lot of any time off. Also? Your internship is a great way to prepare you for a career, but it is in no way what your career has to be like. My internship was insanity (I worked 40 hours a week, woke up every morning at FIVE THIRTY and STILL held SEVERAL part time jobs before and after my internship and throughout the entire weekend. And I had to walk both ways. Uphill. In the snow. Barefoot.)

But, once you have a "real" job - this is not going to be your life. Your schedule will even out. You'll learn to find new joys in life both in work and at home. You'll even find ways to be social with the people you work with so that you even feel like you're playing when you're working.

Then you'll have kids and you'll have to figure it all out again.

Trust the process.
Know that this is ALL worth it in the end.
Find the simple joys in life.
RELISH AND ENJOY YOUR WEEKENDS AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.
Start drinking caffinated beverages (if you already do this...get a double shot instead of a single...if you get a double already, start a central line of coffee straight to your bloodstream.)
Call us whenever you need a laugh and we'll tell you our latest parenting fail.
Believe in yourself.
We do already.

Love,
NMOTB