I Cannot Tell a Lie

Well, maybe that isn’t the most truthful post title I’ve ever written. I mean I believe lying is wrong and everything, but um…

You see, um, it’s just that SOMETIMES your kids catch you off guard. And they don’t give you enough TIME to think of a nice way to put the truth. OR, maybe you don’t KNOW exactly what the truth IS.

Or maybe, you just want to shield their precious, tender feelings. The other day I read this post by Michelle at 937 Moms who is now practically living a double-life that started with a pet-related “little white lie”. Ah, the moral depravity our children drive us to! Michelle’s post got me thinking about a little pet-related, um, half-truth of my own that I must confess I sold to Joshua recently.

You see, our cat Molly has not been quite right for about three weeks. She’s eating, drinking, peeing and pooping in the right places, grooming herself, and still trying to lay on me 24 hours a day – but she doesn’t quite have her balance anymore. She kind of falls over sideways sometimes when she jumps up on the couch and she can no longer jump over the kitchen gate.

Joshua L-O-V-E-S Molly so he has been a little concerned about her. A week or so ago, he was petting her as she slept (which she does 95% of the time) and then all of a sudden he turned to me with tears in his eyes and said, “Mommy, is Molly going to die?”

My heart dropped to my stomach as one of those big fat tears rolled down his cheek. “No, honey, no, Molly is going to be just fine,” I reassured him.

Of course what I was thinking, was, “Unless she gets worse. Because there is no way in H-E-L-L your daddy and I are spending hundreds of dollars to find out what’s wrong with her. So if she gets worse, she IS going to die. Because we will have her put to sleep.”

But you know, I just couldn’t quite bring myself to say that to my five-year-old.

Apparently it doesn’t matter too much, though, because about a week later, when he was once again petting a sleeping Molly, the same tender-hearted little boy looked at me and said, “You know, Mommy, I was just thinking, if Molly dies, we can just get a new kitty.”

Poor Molly. He didn’t even cover her ears when he said it!

This time, I told another half-truth.

“We’re not going to get another kitty, Joshua. I think we’re going to have Molly for a long time.”

Translation: There is no way we are ever getting a new cat when our cats kick the bucket. And I have no idea when that will be.

But ya know. Not gonna say that to a five-year-old either. I figure we’ll cross that shallow grave when we come to it.

Post to Twitter

Well, this is it.

It’s just after midnight, and the very last day of my twenties has officially begun. I am really feeling pretty good about the whole birthday thing, but it is kind of strange to think about the end of an era. I’ve been thinking tonight about all the things that have happened since my 20th birthday. Since then, I…

… got engaged.

… graduated from college.

… got married.

… watched the towers fall.

… got a job.

… bought a house.

readafewhundredbooks.

… traveled to San Diego and Denver, New York City and Cooperstown, Orlando and Houston, Cedar Rapids and St. Louis, Nashville and Louisville, Cleveland and Indianapolis.

… got another job.

… had a baby.

… made, kept and lost really good friends.

… listened to some really good music.

… bought another house.

… rediscovered the joy of trick-or-treating.

… started a blog.

… wrestled a snake.

… had another baby.

… discovered Facebook. Then Twitter.

… started graduate school.

witnessed history.

… went to Disney World. Four times.

… sacrificed my dignity in the name of a good blog post.

… went to baseball games and zoos and museums and parks.

… woke up each morning.

… and kissed my babies goodnight.

All and all, it was a pretty good decade.

Post to Twitter

And Now it’s the Last Day of Preschool.

On September 4, 2007, I wrote this extremely neurotic post detailing the events of that morning – Kate’s first day of preschool.

We were both nervous about taking this new step.

And here we are, not quite two years later, and it’s her last day of preschool. Ever.

She’s happy and excited for today’s end-of-the-year picnic (which my sister has graciously agreed to attend while I am working), and she’s anxious to move on to the next thing, to be done with “baby school,” and to start kindergarten.

I would have thought I’d be wistful and sad about today, and I suppose I’ve had my moments, but really I am just so proud of this girl, and so grateful to see her grow and learn and mature and become even more amazing than she already is.

Watch out, world. Here she comes.

Post to Twitter