le fin de Noel

Don't you think there should be a song for this? There is that one from Christmas Eve on Sesame Street -- about keeping Christmas with you all through the year, but it doesn't quite convey the sentiment of a very real ending. For me le fin de Noel came today and it was a bit of a jolt.

There was a sudden shift in weather overnight. Already when leaving my daughter's house last night I had to use the ice scraper on the windshield. By this morning, there's snow on the ground. Not a lot mind you, but the wind gusts are blowing it into mounds that suddenly grow to be higher than your snow shoes. 

Henry is ecstatic!

My beautiful, spirited pup. In a sweater once again.

 

I am so glad doggie daycare opens up again today. He'll love the romp in their fenced play area. 

But first -- breakfast. A wee one for me, as I'll be piling it in during brunch. Somehow when I prepare meals for the ten or eleven of us, I either eat too little or too much. Brunch leans toward the too much end of the continuum. So many great things to munch on with a milky coffee! So, just a light snack in the early morning.

 

 

 

I linger for just a few minutes with Henry...

And then I ask him -- Henry, do you want to go to doggie daycare?

Does he ever! He's by the door in a flash, jumping up at me to express his joy, scratching my face in the process. I don't care -- I love my pup's exuberance!

After dropping him off, I pop into Clasen's bakery to pick up some bread product for the brunch at the Edge. As some may know, this is a tradition that I have loved with all my heart for a long time now: the two young families coming over to my place (wherever that may be!) for brunch before everyone returns to their home and their everyday.  In the past, I've been ambitious, baking and cooking up dishes that required time and thought. Shakshukas, frittatas, snack cakes, muffins. These days, I simply pile on a variety of known favorites. Breads, croissants, and soft pretzels, bacon and eggs, salmon and lots and lots of fruits. And the sweet stuff -- my stollen, the panettone yeast cake with cherries from Eataly, gingerbread hearts from Poland (thank you, Bee!), Hearts moons and stars and sugared cookies from Clasens, and yes, I still had the fruit pâtes that I had purchased back in France for Thanksgiving, except there had been no brunch that weekend, because the snow had cancelled out half the family for me.

 

 

The younger family comes over first, because we have saved the gift exchange for this morning.

 

Can you believe my sweatshirt? Henry, embroidered from a photo!

When all five kids are here, they sequester themselves in the play/guest room. They have formed a cousins club and they are forever planning its future activities.

 

 

 

For brunch I decided to create a kids table, and to have the rest of us eat on our laps or side tables. More room, more movement, more fun to watch the younger set engage in games, sneaking more treats as if we weren't there to remind them that those come after the savory foods.

It is a glorious day! Absolutely wonderful, all the more so since at the Edge, the kitchen is part of the living room space, so I never have to let go of their conversation, their stories, their teasing when I prepare the foods.

 

They leave. I dont rush to tidy up. I need an hour to sit and think about it all. The love. The beauty of every moment. The worries that were ill founded, the joys that were often unexpected. 

Typically I don't suffer a post Christmas letdown. So often I've been relieved that "we pulled it off!" There would be the contentment of having the added memories in my storehouse of the best of the best. But this year it seems Christmas preparation lasted longer, was more intense, and then, too, there was Henry -- a new presence to bring into the holiday fold. And so as dusk set in, I kept coming back to this -- I can't believe that tomorrow, the holidays, the days with my pack of kids and grandkids would be... well, done. I see the Madison family often, and I see the Chicago family on a regular basis, year round. But the times when I have them in the same place, at the same time, are more rare. I'm fine with that. I'm lucky enough that we live as close as we do to each other. Though when a gathering of the whole lot of them comes to an end, I let go of a wistful sigh.

 

I pick up a tired but loud Henry. Every stranger gets to hear his woof. It's okay -- you were quiet when you needed to be quiet. We'll rest together, my boy. Hop up and put your head on my lap. There we go...

with so much love... 

 

just a little more...

 ... just a little more celebrating, gathering, eating, watching the grands laugh at their own antics. Today, tomorrow, then we return to normal until the next time they're all here, together, with me.

To those of you who have kids, young enough still to be under your wing, let me assure you, there will come a time when you will be excited to see them. When you think that having them all together at a table is nothing short of sublime. Hard to imagine? I promise you, that day is just a breath away. And when they disperse to get back to their daily lives, you will be sad, but in a good way, knowing that they have their own worlds of friends and of routines and habits that they have cultivated on their own, without your insights, advice, guidance, or "wisdom."

Celebrations bring all that out into the open: them, you in their lives, their lives apart and away from you. I love it all.

That's the good stuff. Now let me turn my attention to the weather. Today promises to be awful. Dense fog, rain, maybe thunder, ominous changes coming tonight. We all have very short distances to navigate so I needn't worry too much about travel. But I am fretting a lot this morning about Henry.

Will my beautiful pooch magically leave his shyness behind when he meets the younger family? They have so little time together! Might he get over the hurdle of that first greeting quickly? 

 

Henry wakes me promptly at 6:30. We set out in this ridiculously thick and damp weather.

Our morning routines are lovely. 

My lap dog and me...

 

Henry, I cannot write this way!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside, the mourning dove is hogging the bird feeder for now, so the whole extended finch family has moved to the table, along with a newcomer -- a cardinal -- all of them creating a mess of all messes.

I cannot leave that for a better day. My family will be here tomorrow for a traditional pre-departure brunch and the sight of the seed debris and bird droppings cant make a good impression. Despite the wetness of it all, I take the vacuum cleaner outside and much to Henry's dismay, turn the thing on and inch by inch I pick the stuff up. Then of course I have to take apart the vacuum cleaner and wash all the components because it's just too disgusting otherwise. Dog hair (I thought his genetic mix gave him 0% chance of shedding!), seeds, shells of seeds (they said it was a "clean mix of seeds -- ha ha ha), bird messes, dust balls from the inside, one big soggy horrible mess. And I have to wonder, why do my projects always lead me down these dreadful paths of added work that somehow were not under consideration when I first embarked on them? [To be fair, it's not the bird feeder that created the problem, it's my impatience with attracting birds, which lead me to purchase the additional brick of seeds, which is responsible for 90% of the litter. I could remove it, but the birds have come to depend on it. I wont do that to them. I'll just keep mopping up what they leave behind.]

 

But then comes the real worry: how do I get Henry to properly exercise on a day of cold rain? Of all our time together thus far, this has to be the poorest day for a lengthy dog run. And without it, Henry is likely to go nuts, like one of those toys released after the tightest wind. There's no two ways about it. I have to take him to a dog park, rain or no rain.

I had sent all the kids and some parents off to the movies. Having looked at the weather forecast, I'd decided this was a good way to get them out of the house for a few hours while I walked Henry. 

So, about that walk...

We go to Prairie Morraine. I may as well be in a park I like -- nothing else about the outing will be fun.

 

 

There is almost no one else here. Would you drive out on a rainy cold day? Without other dogs to chase, I'm a little concerned about the calmness of our walk. And I have another, bigger worry: the two dog families we do pass trigger in him that barking-at-strangers reaction that I wish so much I could manage better. These are dog people in the park, and yet, I see them backing away. Henry can be very loud. And I see him tense up: his hair goes up a little when he is anxious.  I think that he is especially reactive to humans with hoodies. Could it be that these are people who mistreated him in the past? Pure speculation on my part. Of course, since it's raining, most people today do have head covers. Is that why he is barking so much?

During the walk I decide that this afternoon will be the big test for me: if Henry is going to be this anxious around the younger family (whom he will meet for the first time today), then I will have to seek professional help in teaching him to trust strangers. Because surely it would show me that what I am doing on my own is not enough.

Toward the end of the walk Henry finally gets his chase minutes. I'm grateful for that.

 

 

 

 

 

Immediately after, I go to my daughter's house. For the third year in a row, my son-in-law is cooking a traditional Estonian Christmas meal, celebrating the traditions of at least one half of his heritage. 

Initially, only my younger girl and her older daughter, Primrose come over (Juniper is napping under her dad's care). Henry appears to me to be very... normal! Not at all reactive. No barks, no great shyness. He lets my daughter and Primrose reach out to pet him. No problem at all! Is it that he is with Goose and so he is not concerned? Or, do these two humans have a little of my scent? Or, could it be the collar I purchased for him? Camp K9 (where I boarded Henry while I was in Chicago) sent all its clients an email recommending the Zenidog dog calming pheromone collar for stress relief during chaotic holiday festivities. Apparently nursing mother dogs release pheromones to calm their puppies. This collar seems to do the same, letting them know that there's nothing to fear. So, was it that? Well, later, at the Edge, he was still wearing the collar and he barked his usual loud bark at an older gentleman leaving the elevator. So no, not just the collar.

My honest opinion is that it was the whole combination of things: he's trusting my decisions more. If I'm okay with who is here, he will be okay as well. And he was well exercised. And I gave him a hemp dental stick that may have additional calming benefits. And that collar. But let's not discount my words to him. Before we set out for my daughter's place, I asked him really with all my heart to turn on his most friendly behavior toward these guys. I think he listened and understood how important this was to me.

 

The afternoon and evening were fabulous! I could not get enough of it all! And without a meal to prepare, I could sit back and just savor every moment.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

When Juniper showed up with her dad, I had another surprise -- the girl really loves dogs and has no fear of them. Even ones that are... so big!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Henry stayed awake for the entire time which, considering his run at the park, was telling.  But this is exactly what he needs: to pay attention and notice that everyone is getting on just fine. No one's hitting, screaming, beating up anyone.

 

 

And the dinner? Well, my son-in-law had another triumph. Perfectly seasoned and prepared roast of pork, potato fritters in addition to the roasted potatoes, and a simply awesome dessert that I especially loved -- a sponge with cream and red currants and meringue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An evening like this always ends with me wanting to do a group photo. The kids were superbly cooperative. As were the grownups. As were the dogs! Of course, Henry is very used to timed self-release photos...

 

(my arms can still embrace them all!) 

 

 

(kids and dogs, getting ready for the big photo)

 

I'll end with this one -- of us all. Ten kids, spouses and grandkids, two dogs. If they only knew how much I love them all!

 

 

 

I came home with Henry: he waited only for me to sit down on the couch. His head rested on my lap and he fell asleep instantly. Henry, thank you.

with so much love! 

days of Christmas

I have before me three more days of Christmas. No no, not the theological ones that are counted toward the meetup of the wise men and baby Jesus. We have nine of those left (until the Epiphany on January 5). Mine are a continuation of our family celebration, this time with both young families here, together. We start on that today. This evening. 

In the morning, Henry and I enjoy the still balmy weather. It's dark, drizzly, March-like stuff, only without any chance of a daffodil breaking ground.

(black dog, black eyes, dark morning) 

Once again I find myself thinking this morning about Henry.

Such a gentle, affectionate dog, but with scars of his past and bit of character traits that are very much in line with his DNA markers. Protective. Not of himself, never of his food, but of his people. My job is to reassure him about this world (Henry, you're not in Dallas anymore!),  and to let him know that if a person is okay by me, they should be okay by him as well. Given his yearning for gentility, this should not be hard, but it does take time. It may seem like I've had Henry forever, but in fact, he's been in a safe home for only a little over two months. He's learned so much in a very brief period of time! But he hasn't learned everything yet. I have to remember that.

(Breakfast)

 

 

My immediate concern though is how to exercise Henry this weekend. Walks in the rain are part of the deal here: you own a dog this size, you need to give him a chance to work those muscles and release some positive hormones every day. Even if it rains. Before getting Henry, I imagined there would be days when I would take my umbrella and head out with him. No problem! I did not realize that this would not be enough -- that he would need more. So... today we go back to a dog park, in what has to be the ickiest kind of a day. Cold, wet, puddly, totally muddy and in places still slick. 

I might as well do the best one -- at least Prairie Morraine has a gravel path that can be the default for me if things get really bad. Off we go.

 

 

Despite everything, the walk for me is always good here. It takes just about an hour to do the full loop and of course, Henry runs at least three times the distance that I put in. 

 

 

 

Today he picked a Greyhound to race so I had a chance to compare the two dogs. My pooch has 0% Greyhound DNA, and indeed, there is nothing similar about the profile of these dogs -- the shape of the Greyhound head looks a bit like that of a possum to me, but don't you think their bodies are awfully alike?  

In general, I'd say Henry behaved like a puppy at the park. I can't put my finger on the defining characteristic that made me see him as so very young still, but I wasn't the only one who recognized it. Another dog owner said it as well -- he's such a pup still! 

And this is something I forget as well. With me a short time and still so very young. Three fourths of one year. He'll be on puppy food all the way until age two. So much to learn and understand in that time! 

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, Henry has to have yet another experience: I drop him off at a dog sitter's house. I still cannot leave him alone and we have our annual holiday dinner out -- with both young families, Ed and me.

I found this sitter on Rover.com and what I liked about her is that she has a fenced yard, lives nearby, and she will have another dog there as well. I figured Henry could manage that, despite the strangeness of the situation.

What I did not anticipate was Henry's reaction to seeing Julie, the sitter, standing there in the doorway, waiting for us. He sat down on the curb and would not budge. No treat, lure, cajoling words, pleadings worked. When Henry plants himself down, he anchors himself to the ground with all his might and I cannot force him to move. Eventually, Julie retreated and suggested I go straight to the back yard, where she then released her two (small) dogs. Henry is great with dogs and hewillingly acquainted himself with the pooches. Eventually they were called in and I went in the back door and he (reluctantly) followed us in.

Julie is on the older mellower slower-moving end of the continuum (like me??) and I was glad that he did not bark at her. Her home is small and full of stuff, but Henry was not interested in any of it. I think the dogs made him less anxious because Julie reported that he did just fine, albeit he placed himself by the door and waited the entire time for my return.

Meanwhile, the eleven of us celebrated the holidays at Vintage Brewing Company. 

 

I've said this before -- these gatherings are totally beautiful. I could sit and listen, and watch, and occasionally add something that's probably regarded as very ancient, for a long while. There was a time when the kids were babes and we'd go out anyway, but our attention was all on keeping the babes quiet and still. Not anymore. And tonight they really were all laughter and hugs and secret messages. The big people in the room still offered a lap or a word of encouragement to the youngest, but really, everyone was just grand! I sat at the head of the table and beamed at them all!

And then came the photo that I so love to take, which the kids arranged with their own sense of style and pazzazz.

 

 

 

I brought home a tired Henry. My pooch doesn't sleep when on alert. This evening, at home, he exhaled and fell asleep next to me on the couch. I am so so hoping that he will relax quickly with the Chicago family tomorrow. Of course, he's still the youngest of the animals and indeed of us all, so I need to adjust my expectations. Or offer a lap. Or a word of encouragement.

with so much love... 

 

the day after

In Poland, I understand this is the Second Day of Christmas. Always a holiday. A continuation of celebrations. And of course, it's Boxing Day in Great Britain -- a day when the wealthy give boxes of stuff to the lower class folk. Sort of like Scrooge waking up after Christmas and feeling the guilt. Here, in the U.S., for most Christmas loving people, the 26th is just the day after. This year, as it falls on a Friday, many businesses did choose to close, turning it into (unheard of here!) a five day vacation for its employees, just for Christmas. My doggie daycare, for instance, is closed today. 

 

Henry wakes a whole hour later. Thanks, I needed that!

It's foggy and gray and it feels wet outside. Henry doesn't mind. I suppose it seems toasty after days of Arctic air. We're to have just a couple of days above freezing. We'll plunge down again next week.

The squirrels, missing in action on the coldest days, are up and running this morning. My pooch is thrilled.

(this from our second morning walk, in daylight now)

 

 

It's ridiculous to wrap presents the day after Christmas, but this is indeed what I have to do. For the other young family. I am so grateful that all items are small! I get to it soon after breakfast.

 

 

 

Henry is doing a lot of napping. With a delicate snore that is totally adorable. Yesterday was intense for him. For all of us!

 

(a quick hug first...) 

But I know he can't have a day of this. In the afternoon I take him to Penni Klein dog park, where we meet up with Goose and his family for a good romp. 

It is not an easy walk for us, and it is one messy run for the dogs. There is ice, there are puddles, there is mud. 

I always thought that the users of this park were less scrupulous in keeping it clean, probably because it is so underused and so you can get away with not picking up after your dog. This was certainly evident today. Still, we persevered. Henry was getting very antsy at the Edge, even though I played chase the ball with him in the apartment for quite a while (the game had me crawling to retrieve his ball from under the couch, under the bed, under the table... fun!). The run with Goose is exactly what he needs.

We survive it all. Even the barreling dogs who run toward us nearly toppling the humans again and again. As we finally head toward the exit, I can see that both pooches are muddy and sweaty and one big mess, but nothing that they can't shake off as they dry. (I hope.)

 

 

 

The three kids come over to my apartment after the park adventure, for a visit while their mom goes home to get their place straightened up. 

(Waiting for Sandpiper to be dropped off at the Edge, the kids learn that -- according to the Edge management -- December 26th is candy-cane day!)

 

 

In many ways, my apartment is just not great for three kids of varying interests, ages, and play habits, especially when there is also a large, concerned dog in their midst, one who never has had to deal with people here. Still, sharing this space with others is high on my list of things to work on with Henry. Might as well start today. The one I am most watchful of is Sandpiper, who can still make Henry jumpy. The little boy's sudden movements scare him and so he barks, at the same time that Henry's barks scare Sandpiper. 

But in fact, Henry is splendidly tolerant of the chaos. And I should say, it's not that much of a chaos.

The kids know to keep it down to a dull roar! Henry is tired, but he wont sleep. He doesn't quite trust that his world wont turn upside down if he dozes off. But he is quiet. And accepting. And that absolutely thrills me.

(Sparrow takes over my camera)

 

 

And boom! Day is done. However does that happen? Wasn't it morning just minutes ago?

My dog rests most of the evening. 

 

 

 

Another full day! More to come tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after!

with so much love...