I’m not really here, I’m still on hiatus. It just seems that when you get used to documenting the (mundane) life that you lead, it’s hard to take a break. So, just pretend like you didn’t see me today.

Things I Know to be True:

1. The difference between a fourth-grade boy and a fifth-grade boy is that you have to shop in the men’s department for his shoes.
2. When your car won’t start in the parking lot of the bank and you have to pay to have it towed and pay to put in a new battery (the old one so dead it wouldn’t even jump start) and the total comes to an unexpected $200 on your Tuesday morning, you will be so incredibly grateful that this did NOT occur on the Ohio turnpike the day before that you will willingly and gleefully pay your local mechanic for the repairs.
3. Hanging out with Little Bird and George can help to suppress and distract from the agony of giving your dog away but upon arriving home, the sight of dog slobber on the wall can produce enough tears to drown in.
4. When you read the school supply list, where it says “no trapper keepers” you will find yourself lost in memories in the office supply aisle of Target, remembering how you used to spend hours at your best friend’s house rearranging your organizational system within your very own and much coveted, Trapper Keeper.
5. If your son uses pipe cleaners to make his yearly school sign (a sign that tells what grade he’s in that he holds up in his first day photo every year) the cats will think the pipe cleaners are there for the taking and will rip the paper apart in the night.
6. Without a dog in the house, you will remember that you do, in fact, have two cats who will now demand your attention.
7. If you allow your ten year old son to accompany you to the grocery store and invite him to help decide what you will stock the house with, you will need more than just a basket as you’ve grown accustomed to, and your total bill will quadruple.
8. If you simply want to add an “emergency phone” for use in your house (since you currently only have a cell phone) Verizon will charge you no less than DOUBLE your current bill to do so. Even if it’s a kid’s line. Even if the phone can’t dial more than 4 pre-programmed numbers. Even if you only want it in case he needs to dial 9-1-1. Even if.
9. If the U.S. Open is rain delayed and you continue to watch previous days’ play on the DVR, when you stop the recording you may freak out to see Agassi on Center Court playing James Blake – “wasn’t he just playing, but maybe that was two days ago…wasn’t he supposed to play Bagdadis next? How can this be the quarterfinals? They just played the first rounds….” Only to come to your senses and realize they are under rain delay AGAIN and are showing last year’s Open.
10. Sitting on side-by-side bar stools at the counter, with sloppy joes and baked beans for dinner, after Grace is said and you’re going through the highs and lows of the day with your son, you’ll realize once and again, there’s no place like home. And there’s no feeling in the world like being a mother.
11. Already relating to your new single-mom, mother of two, so recently divorced the ink isn’t yet dry neighbor, you will agree without pause or question to watch her six year old daughter in the mornings before school so the mom doesn’t have to drive all the way across town for day care and then try to hustle all the way back across and to the next town to get to work on time. You will agree to all of this, adamantly, without doubt, long before you register her words telling you that she will bring her daughter over at 7:20am. That’s AM. That’s BEFORE school. That’s before you’re normally out of the shower. Everyday. Way to go, Ames.

P.S. Here’s my unsolicited, completely shameless promotion for my latest most favorite find: Listerine Agent Blue Mouthwash stuff. I saw the commercial. I bought the product. It works like a dream. Your child swishes it like mouthwash BEFORE they brush and the blue sticks to plaque. Then they brush to get the blue OFF. It’s AWESOME!! With $2K worth of metal in his mouth and $5-6K more to go, there’s no way I’m letting this kid be a lazy brusher!

K. I’m done. I feel better now. I’ll be back in a week or two.

I didn’t understand God’s plan. I had thoroughly researched the breed prior to acceptance and had complete confidence that a mastiff would be perfect for my family. I dedicated time and finances to thorough training to address issues that were important to our situation. We had, by all accounts, been good, dedicated, concerned and responsible dog owners. But despite all of this, when I prayed for a solution, when I prayed for guidance on what to do now, the only answer that came was to “let him go.” God spoke to me through my breeder. She had sent a couple emails from people who were interested in a mastiff puppy but might consider a rescue instead. She was the one responsible for sending me the information I could not ignore. Reading about a family with four kids and six acres of land who had already rescued a previously abused and now people-shy mastiff, I couldn’t help but feel led to the conclusion that this is what God wanted me to do. This was the solution. Yet, driving with my much-loved pet and my saddened son to Indiana, I had trouble believing that this was truly the right decision. Surely I must have not done something right along the way and if I could just remedy that, then we could keep Gabe and all would be well.

We met the family without much impression. They were fine, not a thing wrong with the situation, nothing to scream at us that this was perfect or ideal, either. All that we felt for Gabe left us numbed to feeling anything about this new home. It could have been a dog’s heaven and I wouldn’t have wanted to leave him. As I unloaded Gabe’s blankets, dog bowls and food from the car, I had to keep pulling him back out of it. He was afraid, as he had been for the entire drive over, that he would be left. He hadn’t gone far from me or the car at any of the rest stops and was trying to secure his place on the return trip by staying firmly in the back seat.

When we left we didn’t look back. Eyes filled to the brim with tears, we weren’t out of their driveway before LM and I both were sobbing. I drove as fast as I could away from the home and out to the highway, eager to get to my sister’s to be distracted and supported. I tried to regain my composure to help show strength and confidence to LM. I started talking about a moment that I had with the mother, a moment that might help to explain God’s plan. The mother had shared with me the story of how they had come to having their cat, Stormy. Their Persian had passed away and she was not at all eager for another cat. But this grey cat showed up as a stray and made itself at home in their yard. They had been outside with their daughter one evening and the cat just came right over and jumped into Megan’s lap and made himself comfortable. The mother had explained that her daughter is very tactile, she loves animals and this was especially meaningful to have this cat take to her so well. Stormy became part of the family. As I relayed this information to LM, thinking that perhaps the daughter we didn’t get a chance to meet might be especially fond of Gabe, LM immediately jumped in with information he had learned when he had gone inside briefly. “She’s handicap, Mom. She’s in a wheelchair, one of those special motorized ones, like she won’t get out of it.”

Mastiffs are often trained to be therapy dogs because of their gentle demeanor and size. It’s easy for them to sit right next to a wheelchair and be within reach. They can place their head right into your lap, and they are very happy to sit that way for hours if you’ll just rub their heads or talk lovingly to them.

A thirty miles north of Fort Wayne, Indiana, a half hour after leaving a dog we both loved more than seems reasonable, LM and I were able to see the reason why, perhaps, God had led us to this family’s door. They weren’t the sort of people to actually put energy into training a dog. They might not even realize the impact a gentle, sweet, lovable mastiff might have with their daughter. But we think God does. We think it’s very clear why we had Gabe for the past two and a half years. Why we were so committed to his training, so dedicated to making sure he was obedient and gentle and well socialized around people and dogs. We just didn’t realize we were training a therapy dog for Megan.

When LM was a toddler, my dad came to visit bringing a 5-disc cd player for us to use. Before we could even get it hooked up, LM took hold of the audio cables and walked around the house with them, talking on one end as if it was a phone and sometimes using the other end as a writing implement. Some of his favorite toys at that age were unused telephones. His love for electronic gadgets only got worse as he grew older. I have mentioned his loft, full of keyboards and miscellaneous computer cables and cords. I mentioned long ago about his fascination with an old word processor. If you knew his father, you’d understand where these genes originated. There is no doubt that this computer-geeky child is his father’s son.

Despite the stretch marks, photographs and painful memories, there was, for a time however, a question of who was his real mother.

Now, when I think about LM and all the things I miss about him, I realize how much we are alike. We’re both rather serious people when you first meet us. We’re social, sure, but we tend to have a more serious look on our face and it takes more to get us to laugh out loud than some lighter folks. We care about things deeply and for that, our feelings are apt to get hurt a hundred times a day. We’re both stubborn and independent. We don’t yell when we are angry but we tend to sulk quietly about transgressions done to us. We share a sarcastic sense of humor and a desire to infiltrate our conversations with big words we’ve read but might mispronounce. A book is a treasure to both of us and spending time curled up under a blanket together sharing a story is a mutually enjoyable evening.

This week has been one of the hardest I’ve endured in years. We are both trying to be strong but while we know we’re making the right decision for Gabe, it hurts more than we know how to bear. Tomorrow was to be our celebration of being back together, Day 54 that we’ve been waiting on all summer. And while it will be that, it is looking as if it will also be the day that we say goodbye to Gabe. I will be picking up LM on my way across Pennsylvania, giving him a few hours to say goodbye (to have the dog another week while knowing he was going just seemed too excruciating to bear). My sister will meet us in northern Indiana as LM doesn’t at this point want to go to the house where Gabe will live (he can always change his mind). I will take Gabe the rest of the way and meet up with my sister later. We’ll spend the night and perhaps Sunday, too, at my sister’s putting off the inevitable return home to a dog-less house.

We will get through this. It isn’t the end of the world, I know. We are doing the right thing and down the road I am confident we will feel good about the choice we made. We just have to get through it first.

I’m taking a hiatus. A sabbatical if you will, of unknown duration from blogging. My gratitude runs deep for all the thoughts and prayers that all of you have bestowed upon me and my family this summer and through this process. Enjoy the last bit of August. Celebrate the time with the people (and animals) that you love. Hug each other. I’ll be back soon.

It seems so appropos that I spoke yesterday of LM’s tender heart. We’ve had a hard night, but we talked again and while we still fight tears I think we both know we’re doing the right thing. I don’t have any idea how I will actually bring myself to drive my dog there and hand him over but God will give me the strength I need.

Last night was quite a reminder of how much I miss LM’s companionship. Being a single mom and having an only child we have a direct one-on-one relationship with very open lines of communication. I recognize the need to not try to be my child’s best friend, and to maintain a healthy parent-child relationship but ours is particularly close I suppose, because of the circumstances. It was difficult last night to not be able to sit and hug my child as he was crying. It was hard to go to bed not being able to check in on him and make sure he fell asleep. It was hard for me, to sit alone with such a feeling of loss and sadness. I just missed his company.

We have just two days left apart. I know that some of the enthusiasm about returning home is diminished when we’re aware that it also means we’re that much closer to saying goodbye to our dog, but before the conversation ended last night, LM said, “I’m glad I have you for a mom, Mom.” I said, “I can’t imagine a better son than you, LM.”

Two more days.

I have often felt that an answer to prayer needs to come with a “what to do now” booklet. The breeder we got Gabe from referred me to several people looking for a mastiff. One was a family in Indiana who already has one mastiff they have taken in as a rescue dog. I sent them an email with information about our situation, detailing the positives as well as the challenges of Gabe. The father emailed me back almost immediately with information about his family, his home, the dog they currently have and one they had to give up to a rescue years ago. Four kids, 9 acres of property and a mastiff they already adore, I knew this was a great match for what Gabe needs.

But the difficulty was having to talk with LM. I didn’t feel like I could go pick him up on Saturday and bring him home like everything was fine and then suddenly tell him that this was an option. I felt like he has ownership of this decision and he needs to know where matters stand before he comes home and sees his dog.

I spoke with my ex first, and he talked with his mom (where LM is currently staying) and then she and I talked out of earshot of LM so that she might understand the situation and could provide support for LM once we finished talking about it. I called LM a couple hours later. I didn’t want to cry, I wanted to be strong and reassuring but I sobbed. And he sobbed. And while I truly feel like this is the best decision we can make for Gabe it didn’t make it hurt any less.

And I told LM it’s just like when I let him go to his grandparents for the summer. It isn’t because I don’t love him, quite the contrary. It’s because I love him that I let him go. I know he will have a great time. I know he will be loved and have fun and learn new things. And for this same reason, I feel like we need to let Gabe go. We need to let him go where he can be happiest. I explained that it didn’t mean we wouldn’t miss him, but we had to look beyond the pain we feel and make a decision that is best for the dog. He wasn’t able to say much but at one point, in between sobs, he said, “I want to do what is best for Gabe.”

I assured him I wouldn’t make a decision without him. And that I wouldn’t do anything he was uncomfortable with. I told him to think about it, pray about it and see how his heart felt in the morning. That I would call and talk with him again and then we’d decide what to tell this family.

Some days I just don’t know how to love without causing pain. I don’t know how to let go of a dog that I love, and I don’t know how to make a decision that I know will hurt my son. But I also know that we need to do something about the situation we’re in and that perhaps in the long run, we’ll all be better for it. Perhaps.

Sure hurts like hell right now, though. And Gabe hates it when I cry.

I know I’m boring some of you with my wistful thinking about my Little Man. I saw this over at Behind the Stove today and thought I’d at least try to entertain you with some book thought.

1. A book that changed your life.
The Five People You’ll Meet in Heaven, The Chosen, The Bible. The Five Love Languages.

2. A book you’ve read more than once.
Possession. The Notebook. Plainsong. The Chosen. Love Medicine. Where the Red Fern Grows. The Road Less Traveled.

3. A book you’d want on a desert island.
Possession. (long, romantic, complicated and with great words!)

4. A book that made you giddy.
I’m not sure ‘giddy’ is the right word, but last book I swooned over? Time Traveler’s Wife. Original and well written.

5. A book that you wish had been written.
The Bible The New New Testament

6. A book that wracked you with sobs.
Almost all of Nicholas Sparks’ novels, starting with The Notebook. Also, Deep End of the Ocean, Where the Red Fern Grows (LM and I cried together)

7. A book you wish had never been written.
Sophie’s Choice. Hated this book.

8. A book you are currently reading.
Jane Smiley’s “Moo”

9. A book you’ve been meaning to read.
Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (I’ve requested it at the library, but so far it’s not in).

Three days!! Three days!! (Sorry, I’m seriously starting to get giddy about seeing my boy again.) Another thing I’ve missed about LM:

LM can be a very serious child. His sense of humor tends towards the sarcastic and his conversations are filled with the vocabulary of an adult. He doesn’t tend to be silly, or full of the giggles or even childish but his soft heart is truly unmistakable. While he was down in Tennessee this summer, he was at the pool one day with his cousin. Little Bird quickly found friends to play with but there wasn’t anyone LM knew there. That didn’t stop him from making friends with a child with Downs Syndrome. The child, according to my stepmom, was floating on a raft around the pool and LM asked his parents if he could pull the child around the pool while he floated, to give him a “ride”. The child loved the ride, and eventually started to throw the rings into the pool for LM to fetch. It never bothered LM that this child was “different” or “strange” and he didn’t get upset when the boy couldn’t swim with him or play like any other kid. He adapted his way of playing to accommodate this boy’s needs. I’ve seen it time and time again with LM. When we were choosing a charity, as we watched a video sent to us from World Vision, I will never forget how LM looked at me at the end and said, “Call Mom. Just call.” In such simple ways, LM touches my heart every single day. He shows such sweetness under all that seriousness. Can’t wait for one big hug.

A third thing I miss about LM is his carefree attitude about “fitting in”. With little interest in sports and a healthy aversion to girls (they still have cooties) he’d rather pretend to be Anakin Skywalker than Mr. Joe Cool. His favorite clothes include anything comfortable and red, it doesn’t matter what name is on the tag or how much it cost. It didn’t phase him to get glasses and it was only at my insistence that we had the red spots on his face lasered off. (We had another spot removed just before he left for the summer and I have asked from time to time if it has stayed gone, or if it came back. Last weekend, when asked, LM’s response to me was an exasperated, “MOM, I don’t look in the mirror. I’m not preoccupied with my image!”) The kids in our neighborhood come and go and LM is quick to meet someone new and takes it in stride when the neighborhood bullies pick on him. That’s not to say he isn’t sensitive, sometimes overly so, but in general, he tends to take life as it comes and doesn’t get bogged down by peer pressure to be one of the ‘in’ crowd.

5 days left and counting (see prior post):

The second thing I miss about LM is his imagination. I built him a loft for his room when he was four. He never had an interest to put his bed in it, but instead has collected spare electronics to create his own “Command Center”. He has a DJ’s sound board, three keyboards, a Sega game system, a word processor, cords, plugs, old phones, anything he can use for his cockpit he will find a use for. He also has a huge Rubbermaid box of K’nex (for those without kids, they are the legos of today) that he will create space ships, fighter jets and hover craft with. It takes him twenty minutes to explain all the parts and pieces of one of his creations. LM has a shelf in the closet for old paper towel and toilet paper rolls, masking tape, egg cartons and the like. He has built contraptions since he was very small and continues to explore his creative side with the most basic of resources. Truly recycling at its best!