Taking the girl's to their annual physical, which were scheduled together to save me a trip. Which is super helpful when they decide to be naughty together.
Lanie as we wait for the doctor,"you know what would be a good idea? To hide from the doctor and pretend we're not here."
Vivian, "yes!"
They jump off the table and hide despite multiple requests for them to get up. The pediatrican actually walked in and said, "are they here?"
Always good to know what my kids are up to. Interestingly we have an actual (mostly finished) treehouse that Chris built last year during lockdown. But apparently the neighbor's tree is more interesting.
Other than the demise of the guinea pigs, Jack and Mika have kept things interesting. Jack escapes from the house less and barks a little less due to a new collar. However, she has decided not to use her litter box and for a while only used the bathroom in various potted plants.
Now the indoor potted plants have stones and orange peels in them to deter her. Which works. So she has decided to use the entire basement in nooks, crannies, and crawl spaces to relieve herself. So the entire basement reeks.
I finally addressed it with the vet who suggested prescription cat food only to determine whether its a gastrointestinal issue. Meanwhile she eats more of Jack's food than he does. So that has to get put out of the way if she gets into it.
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| No more Fancy Feast for this one. |
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| Fancy new litter box that offered privacy, but did not solve the problem. |
Easter this year:
Sadly, it ended with the news of the second guinea pig dying. Piggie Pig, later know as Disco Steve, passed away. He was recently relocated to their Dad's apartment when I broke my hand and couldn't take care of him. Chris had to come and dig a hole as I realized that I couldn't do that with a healing hand. Vivian decorated his headstone and he was quickly buried as I realized I had a new sitter starting the next day and couldn't quite leave a dead pet for her to help bury.
The kids went away with Chris and came back with a freshly laid egg. Which I didn't know about right away. When I discovered it (Vivian tearing into the kitchen at top speed, yelling, "it's cracked! I think it's hatching!"), we set up a spot for it, where I can keep an eye on it.
After a few texts to my brother who has actually raised chickens, it's doubtful it will hatch. Which is fine, since I really don't need a chicken, or duck, or goose, because they are all possibilities.
The unclear part is what happened to the eggs that Lanie and Sam had, but I don't think they ever even made it to the car, so I'm not worry about them.
So Chris and I are getting divorced. It's been a long time coming, accelerated in some ways like everything probably, by Covid and the quarantine. Obviously it's not where I want to be, or how I want my kids to be raised, and is not an easy conclusion to come to, but here we are.
It's been a hard year and I'm now going at it solo, at least for the time being. Emotions have been running high, the kids are all handling things differently, between personalities and ages. Being in a place where they can only socialize minimally has made it more isolating and a lot more challenging. Sam has his friends more, as they are older and local, and independent in different ways. Vivian switched schools in September, to be in person as oppose to mostly remonte, and it has been a lot of changes for a little girl. Lanie is steadfast but needs reassurance and is figuring it out. She told me yesterday I couldn't have anymore birthdays because she needed me to never die (but that's a secret).
We've all, meaning the kids, myself, and three animals, been plugging along trying to maintain. Mostly things seems reasonable and calm, and then all hell breaks loose. We've done lots of meltdowns, some hiding, a minor sledding accident, losing my keys, losing a kid here and there, even managed to poke Vivian's eye with the Christmas tree while taking it down. Or when Santa tried to enter Vivian's window on Christmas Eve, when a wild windstorm actually blew the top sash down, and I didn't notice for 3 days. Even after Vivian wouldn't sleep in her room because it was "too rattlely." We've done vet appointments, kid infections, and lots of corresponding with teachers. Mostly they've been super awesome at clogging toilets. Like every few days. Because really, I guess it's not a good bathroom experience unless you clog a toilet. Just for the record, baking soda and vinegar are purportedly helpful in breaking down human feces, but a plunger is really just more effective and efficient. The amount of toilet paper is also starting to get rationed, because I am also no longer pulling wads out.
It's been a ride.
Thankfully my parents and sister have been around for emergencies and non-emergencies alike. For continuity, normalcy, and always food, and for the children, and some home repairs.
Basically what I've come to conclude is that this experience is kind of like a clogged toilet. Unpredictable and messy and really crappy. It's also taught me how amazing my kids and family are. And how the children are little human beings who need their family in whatever shape or form that is, and how our blessings come in many ways.
It's been a rough run, but these kids keep me going. Thank god for their sense of humor and for being able to turn around and catch the silly things in between the fights, laundry, cleaning and all the emotions.
When I can't actually get to Lanie because they've created a fort that I am not allowed to pass.
