Tales of a superhero kitty (raccoon) rescuer

Yesterday as Little Berry and I were heading out the door with the dog to take an early afternoon run, I saw a small shadow move under the door of our neighbor’s apartment. I *felt* something-someone? There, and at the same time I hadn’t seen our neighbor come home nor did I hear footsteps as I was listening. I made a big noisy show of locking the apartment (alright Little berry! I’ve got the keys here and let me lock the deadbolt so we can go!!) up tightly in case it was an intruder and then I took off, because I’m chicken brave like that.

As soon as I started jogging though, I realized it was just their cat. I’ve noticed kitty litter boxes stacked outside their door with their recycling a few weeks now and it made purrfect sense. I think she adopted a cat around Christmas. So in the end my fear of the axe bearing intruder was pretty far off.
But the whole thing reminded me of this time when I was a kid, probably about ten, when I thought I saw a cat in a tree on our property one early evening and set out to ‘rescue’ the thing. I grabbed a length of nylon rope and my pet hero rescuer face, and started up the tree. I was a great tree climber, but, come on, it was a big tree, and I wasn’t really as brave as I looked; so by about the time I realized It was a BLOODY RACCOON not a cat, I also realized I was BLOODY STUCK.

Of course, I was not only freaking out about it being a RACCOON I was also now panicking because I was stuck, and too proud to call for help because, let’s face it, that would be quite embarrassing. So I tried to tie the rope off on a branch so I could lower myself down, fashionably at least, but mostly I just used the rope to wave violently at the poor, shivering raccoon and warn it that I was not only ten, but I had fierce extendable wavy rope! So don’t jump on my please, BLOODY RACCOON.
Mostly I just fell out of the tree. There was very little lowering of myself down and pretty much zero fashionable about it, but at the end of the day there was no BLOODY RACCOON attacking me and so I was pretty pleased with my determination to live dangerously and bonus, I got to wear my pet hero rescuer face for an hour. Of course another bonus was a dozen bruises and not being able to ride my bike for a week.

My mom (hi mom!) asked for months why there was rope tied in that tree, but everyone denied having anything to do with it. We never did figure that mystery out :)

The wrong way

Have you ever noticed that going through things together with your significant other either strengthens you as a couple or shows you a side you didn't know existed, or maybe ignored? Pappa Starbucks and I have been through a lot over the past year, good things and unforgettable experiences (like our trip to Europe for two months) and bad things (like graduating from college with no job prospects and coming back from Europe to not have a "home" anymore). Little Berry is a dream, but sometimes I get worn out being with her all day and let's face it, baby's don't measure out what they want from you in little request throughout the day. They want everything, they want it all the time, and they want it right away.
Sometimes I feel like I am failing to teach her patience, and just focusing on teaching her love, how to be happy, that I love her being sweet.
I know there is a balance. And from any outside view, we're doing a great job. But we disagree so intensely on the small issues that the big issues become pushed to the back of our minds. I know this is a recipe for disaster. I know that parenting is hard. Loving her is just the reward, the special reason that being a parent is worth it and the reason we all keep going daily. I have so much that I want for my life, and so much that I want for her life, and so much that I want for Pappa Starbucks' life that I don't know what to do first, where to put my passion. I want to do it all, and all well, but I'm not capable of that.
I take responsibility for other people's dreams and projects and desires, people not in my immediate three- and I do the best I can for them, but at the same time I am afraid I might be letting down the people who DO count on me. I can't be in charge of everyone's happiness and yet I want for us to all be happy. There is perhaps an easier way to say this, but it feels like I am being an underachiever because the only other option is to do everything, for everyone, so I please the people I know I can please, and I let the rest fall by.
I want to please, I have always been eager to make people happy. There are reasons for this, reasons I am just now beginning to understand but not willing to admit. There are consequences to treating myself and my partner and my daughter like we are last on our on list, but I don't know how to begin stripping away all of the problems and commitments that don't make me a better person, who I want to be, who I am, and focus on the ones that do. I am going the wrong way to get to my dreams but I am going to fast to notice it.

From the "archives"

Here are some pictures from this time last year. The first is of Inauguration night at the Governors party. We had just heard that Obama won.

It was so, so loud in that room. Perdue won as well and everyone was laughing, whooping, some crying. It was exciting for us as a family.
This second photo was taken at UNC as Pappa Starbucks picked me up on a friday afternoon. Have you been there in the fall before? It is so beautiful. Springtime, too.

Do you see this precious purple face?
We were struggling so hard with thrush and a cranky baby those days. Today she's well and instead of purple gentian violet stain...


Toothies.

New rooms

We struggled very hard for a long time this past year. Though we were both intelligent college grads, the market was inundated by people who were intelligent college grads AND who had years of experience. Our hopes for TFA were deflated after Pappa Starbucks spent months, literally almost 6 of them, on a wait list. We moved on finally and took our scholarship money and explored Europe. I had never been in an airplane, my reality was skewed highly by the idyllic American mantras I had been fed for years and years. It was very, very good for me. I fell in love with London and felt my pulse finally beat as though announcing my existence to the stars as we stood for an afternoon on the side of the world in beautiful, breathtaking Howth: a coastal fisher-man's town tucked into a seemingly eternal embrace with the sea, the waves curl around and whisper sweet songs, Ireland laughs at them ever heartily and lends her beautiful birds to keep company, harmony even, with those waves. That day I saw myself actually falling in love with the culture, the people, the history of that side of the Earth, and I hope to spend a more extensive amount of time there some day.
I am so, so glad we went.

Why I hate hamsters

When I was in high school, I would make money by nannying, and working on a horse ranch. Coincidentally, the family who owned the horses lived right next to the family I nannied for, so at times I was doing both at once. The kids I nannied for were old enough to take care of themselves but not to be left alone for days. They needed help getting to school, picking up after themselves, fixing dinner, that sort of thing. The horse farm had 23 horses (7 in stalls, the rest were in pasture) and a herd of longhorn steer. Don't ask how many of those fella's there were because I kept away.

The family I nannied for usually hired me for extended periods while the parents were away on trips, so I would spend say four days with the kids getting them to school, fixing their lunches, taking them to sports games, that sort of thing. In the mornings I would get up super early and go over to the horse farm and feed, water all the animals, and then clean stalls and make sure everything was OK for the day. This was mostly while the lady who owned the animals was out of town as she liked to go to rodeo events in Texas every few weeks. Then I would go back to the kids' house, shower, fix breakfast and get them to school, after which I took myself to the community nursing home where I was doing clinical rotations for my CNA certification as part of a dual enrollment. After that, I went to school myself.

FYI, on the mornings that I didn't nanny beforehand, I went to school smelling like I'd cleaned up a barn. This was of course, very pleasant.

During one particularly long stay with the children and caring for the animals at the horse ranch, I took the girls out to eat for dinner one night. At this time, I drove an OLD one of these The previous owner was my youngest brother, who is notorious for being bad on cars. Anyway, the girls and I piled into my car and went to a local pizza place It's known for its buffet style (which in photos will always be shown filled to the brim) and for its breadsticks.

Unbeknownst to me, the middle girl had been given hamsters for her birthday present a few weeks before, and she snuck the little critter into her pocket before we left for dinner. This is the part of the story I will never understand. Her motivation could not have been anything but the 'cutsey' factor, but she clearly knew we were going to dinner. And yet.

I'm sure at this point in the story you think you know what happens, right?

Wrong.

About halfway to the restaurant, I felt something under my foot. As in the foot that was pressing the gas pedal and controlling the brake, because at this time I hadn't had a baby
and therefore could get my leg up there thought it was cool to drive with one foot propped up on the driver's seat. And one on the pedals. Imagine my surprise, then, when something MOVED under my foot. (This was akin to the time I felt a spider on me in the shower which is a really scary story I will save for some other time).

When I screamed, hit my breaks and pulled the car over the girls all began panicking. I thought at this point there was a wild (and therefore potentially rabid) squirrel, mouse, rat, or something else living in my car. I knew this was possible because months earlier, one had built a nest under my never opened hood and chewed almost all the way through my power steering belts, so they broke while I was going down the road.

During the chaos, I hear the middle girl start squealing. "Honey! Where is Honey! I can't find Honey!!! Where is she!!!" And immediately put two and two together. "You brought your Hamster? What on earth were you thinking?? We're going to DINNER. Not to the PET STORE. A HAMSTER has no business in a RESTAURANT!!!!"

Dinner was ruined. She cried the whole time, even though I called her parents and we talked about what had happened. Of course she was distraught. She had lost her new, beloved hamster and her parents would not buy her another one. She was miserable, thinking about how the critter had probably crawled out of the car and would never be seen again, to be eaten by some feral cat or die of starvation. I tried to reassure her by saying that Honey would probably be living near the restaurant, and eating all the leftovers that got tossed. She could even 'sort-of' visit Honey by coming to eat here.

I thought it was over, and I felt really terrible about the poor creature. I wanted to buy her another one, but as the weeks went by her parents continued to refuse to let me, on the grounds that her actions were irresponsible.

About a month later, I went out one morning and my car wouldn't start. I tried everything, and finally gave up, chalking it up to a dead battery or just an old, worn out car. We had it towed, and I dreaded the bills. I only had the car because my parents refused to drive me to school and insisted I have a car- the bills on it were ridiculous and I was wore out from working just to have it. They ran some scans and determined that it was an issue with the car's security system, that it had been triggered and therefore would not start as a safety mechanism.

They took the dashboard apart and lo and behold, in a tangle of chewed through wires found the cute little Honey. My bill from them read as follows:

Removed Dashboard. Found Hamster living there. Security trigger mechanism found. Replaced wires.

Total bill to completely replace my security system? Over $3000. And that is why I nominate Honey as the America's most expensive hamster.