A Milestone

Today I took Little Sprout on an excursion to the Como Zoo and Conservatory. We went, not because it was a beautiful day and I thought it would be fun (as true as that might be), but because I had reconnected with an old friend through Facebook who also has small children, and we had set a playdate. It was to be the first time we spent time together since the 9th grade.

I have talked and talked about my depression, my anxiety, and my hermit-like behaviors. What all that blather means in real-world talk is that leaving my home - my sanctuary - without the benefit of meds or the safety blanket of my husband or parents to meet up with someone who (regardless of any history we have together) is a virtual stranger.... well, it was terrifying. Not just a little scary, not something that made me just a little nervous... terrifying.

I was going to be in a strange place. I had to get there on my own. There were going to be all sorts of people there I didn't know. What if I said something stupid? What if she did? What if we didn't talk at all? What if I got lost? What if I didn't? What if Little Sprout threw fits? What if she did something more embarrassing than that? What if.... what if.... what if????

Yeah, I got that it sounds rather stupid. You really have to be inside my head to have it make sense, and sometimes even then it is baffling. That doesn't make it any less real, though.

So I got up this morning and had myself a nice little anxiety attack. I didn't know what to wear (since my uniform of sweatpants and a grubby T-shirt were out), I couldn't get Little Sprout to cooperate with things, I couldn't find the cooler I wanted for bringing our picnic stuff.... Oh, it was fun!

Then came the drive down there. We got started late, thanks to Little Sprout's constant worrying about her clothing and accessories (c'mon child! Noone cares which shoes you wear!) and general foot-dragging. Then I missed my turn on the way down there, causing us to be just a tad bit later.

I was not a happy camper by the time we pulled into the parking lot 15 minutes late. To start with, I hate being late. Really, really hate it. On top of that, I was flustered, I was scared, I was just all in all done with the whole thing.

Then the funniest thing happened.

I took a deep breath and walked into the visitor center. We met up with my old friend. The two 3 yr olds took off to look around, and the mothers chased after the kids.

And everything was okay.

I had fun. I really, really had fun! I didn't do anything terribly embarrassing, my friend was fun to talk to. We wandered around the zoo, looking at the animals. We wandered through the conservatory, looking at flowers. We talked. It felt.....normal. The girls got along great, and the baby even let me hold his hand (little littles usually don't like me much) while he walked along. We laughed, we got caught up, we generally enjoyed the day.

Today, I realised that I can get out and socialise. I discovered that I don't necessarily need my meds to overcome my issues. I finally figured out that I don't have to let my anxiety be a prison.

Most of all, I just enjoyed myself.

Facebook is Frightening

Yeah, so I am behind on the times. I don't MySpace, and until today I didn't Facebook either. I just never really wanted to get involved in that whole thing, thinking that I couldn't always keep up on my blog, so why get into one more thing that could be a potential addiction.

I finally caved, though, after yet another Facebook friend request came through on my email. I went in and set myself up, ok'd a couple of friend requests, and then - just for giggles - searched for folks from my High School.

Oh. My. Golly. The names and faces that jumped out at me! The memories (many of them that should have remained safely buried) that floated to the surface of my mind. To think that all these folks are out there, living their lives......it just seems wrong. Shouldn't the folks from your past just stay two dimensional characters that never move beyond that time in your life? It is so hard for me to think of the skinny-minnie cheerleader as that chubby soccer mom I see in the picture. Or the buff football star as that (obviously drunk) balding man.

And they have kids! And spouses! Yikes.

So now I wonder....do I really want to contact them and find out what their lives have become? Or would I rather just leave things as they are?

The Most Wonderful Day

I spent today Scrapbooking with my good friend Sunny. Oh, what joy!

I have been making all sorts of resolutions to myself just lately.

I plan to take better care of myself by eating better, exercising more, and taking time to do things I really enjoy.

I am also planning to get back on track with the household chores. I am sick of living in a pig sty. (oh, gosh, I sound just like my folks!)

So today was a great start to that. I spent a day doing something I like, with someone I enjoy spending time with, and I feel wonderful.

That's all.

It's a Celebration!

Today we celebrated Little Sprout's 2nd birthday. We gorged on hot ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit, veggies and dip, and chips. Then I cracked out the cake. Obviously, Little Sprout had had about enough of the food thing...

Little Sprout got quite a few amazing gifts. There were lots of books (we are a reading family), adorable beaded socks, movies, a couple toys (thankfully not too many), and her favorite: a flashlight looking thing that has little colored lights inside. When you push the button, the lights spin at high speed, creating really cool patterns. Little Sprout loves that one best so far.

After everyone left (well, Dad was still hanging around) the neighbor boys came over and played in our leaf pile with the Sprouts. Oh! It was so funny to watch them. The boys would bury themselves, and Little Sprout would yell "Oh, No!" and quickly uncover their faces.


She even helped rake up some more leaves. Everyone wanted that pile as big as they could get it.

Big Sprout had a blast hiding in the leaves. It is a family tradition every year for my Mom and the Sprouts to get together and play in the leaves. This year the Sprouts got TWO days of leaf fun! They went to the folks' place yesterday to play with Grandma, and then today they got to play at our house.


Really, it was the most amazing of all days. The sun was out, it was warm, and there were loved ones all around. Too bad Little Sprout is too young to remember it...

My Heart Just Can't Take This

Well, I worked the awake overnight shift last night. On the way home from work, I stopped off at my folks' place to pick up the 5 (yes, that is 5) grocery bags full of tomatoes that my Dad picked for me. I headed out to the garden and picked cabbage (5, I think), jalapeno peppers, green and red bell peppers, a few onions, and a couple potatoes. Quite the haul for a seriously neglected garden, if you ask me.

Mom came with me to Barefoot Manor and watched the Sprouts while I whipped up fresh salsa, tomato~basil salad, baked cabbage, and prepped to make hobo meals (venison hamb, potatoes, onions, carrots all wrapped up in foil and grilled/baked/cooked on an open fire). It was a BLAST! I had so much fun putting together that meal! We had corn and venison wieners, chips and dip, I don't even remember it all.

We had quite the crowd by the time the food was already. Mr. Barefoot's Mom, Sister and BIL, Cousin, DD, and Grand~Sprout came, as did my folks and Bro. Everyone ate massive amounts of food and had a great time visiting. I was tired and a little cranky, but it was so worth it to have the whole family hanging out at MY HOUSE.

At about 3pm, Mom and I headed off to pick up.....dun~duh~DAH! our new cat!!!! I was so excited to finally be able to bring home a pet. Callie (the cat) is a very pretty calico that I have been told is very cuddly and sweet. After chit~chatting with her former owners for a bit, we headed back to my folks' place to drop Mom off before taking Callie to her new home.

Poor Callie cried almost the whole way home. She really did not like the car ride, and I felt so bad for her. Excitement mounted as I neared Barefoot Manor. I could hardly wait to see the joy in the Sprouts' faces when they saw our new kitty. The pet~less years of apt living had been hard on all of us, and I knew that the addition of this frightened little bundle of fur would make our house a true home. Visions of sitting in my comfy chair with a cuddly cat in my lap danced through my head, taking turns with warm fuzzy thoughts of how happy it would make Big Sprout if Callie decided to sleep in bed with her.

When I brought Callie into the house, I set the carrier down in the middle of the living room and opened the door so that she could get out. I expected her to be shy, but she hopped right out and began exploring her new surroundings. I had warned Big Sprout that when Callie arrived she might not feel like socializing. In order to distract Big Sprout, I enlisted her to help with the unloading of all the cat accessories that Callie's former owners had sent with her.

About 15 minutes went by while I set everything up for the new cat, and when I looked around I didn't see her. I figured she was just hiding somewhere, but started looking for her so that I could keep an eye on her to see how she was adjusting.

I couldn't find the cat.

Really, I couldn't find the cat.

Anywhere.

I started in the basement, knowing that the basement had the best hiding places for a nervous feline. I slowly worked my way up through the main level of the house and all the way to Big Sprout's bedroom which was the only room with an open door on the second floor. As I was checking in Big Sprout's playroom, I noticed the window was open. No problem, I thought, there is a storm window in place. Upon further inspection, however, I noticed that the bottom of the storm window had come free of the window and the entire thing was literally blowing in the breeze.

Oh, no! Could the cat have gotten out onto the roof? Where in the world could it be?! At this point I started to panic. Big Sprout ran outside to get a look at the roof, and I ran downstairs to let Mr. Barefoot know that the cat was apparently missing. We all looked everywhere. In the bathrooms, in the cupboards, under furniture....basically any place that looked like a cat could fit we checked. At some point during all this, Little Sprout woke from her (late and too short) nap and began crying. I checked on her and, finding no blood or broken bones, cheerfully shut her back in her room with some toys while the search continued. The sounds of her indignant screams echoed through the house, causing even more anxiety.

Soon, we moved our search outside. Big Sprout took her bike around the block, looking for any sign of our fat little cat. I ran up and down the street and through neighbor's yards in my bare feet hoping for any glimpse of her. Mr. Barefoot wandered the yard and the house searching. I was near tears.

How, oh, how could I let this woman (a friend of my mother's) know that I had lost the cat that she cried over when she gave it up to me within an hour of getting it into it's new home?! What would she think of me? What was I going to do? The cat is totally de~clawed, so there was no hope that she would be able to hunt or defend herself. Did the cat (Incredible Journey style) begin the long trek back to her former home?

I kept telling myself that this was a fat cat. One obviously used to a comfortable life and lots of spoiling. The likelihood that she would go very far or be gone for very long was slim. Things would be fine. We would find her.

But I didn't believe it.

I was heartbroken.

Big Sprout, in a last ditch effort to coax the cat back to our loving arms, decided to take a double handful of cat food out into the yard and call for her. Mr. Barefoot and I went to the living room to discuss the next step in our cat recovery efforts.

Mr. Barefoot, in a moment of pure genius, decided to rock our couch a bit. We had looked under and behind it already and seen nothing (the sofa is really low to the ground), but when he did that, the cat came out from behind the couch and stood in the middle of the living room looking for all the world like she couldn't figure out what was wrong with us humans that we were rushing around so.

Sweet relief! I called in Big Sprout, Mr. Barefoot rescued Little Sprout (who never did get over being cranky), and Callie decided that we were all nuts and went back behind the couch.

I think Callie is too nice of a name for a cat that could carelessly cause so much concern. Her new name?

That Damn Cat.