life and puppies

No, not for Molly. For me. I think, at my core, I’m a pretty lazy person. I’m pretty content to just stay home all the time. And yet I have this annoying compulsion to sign up for things. All the time. I sign up for things regularly. And then I drop them. Last fall, I signed up for an interior design class and then dropped it before it began. A few years ago I accepted a job as a waitress (during the Great Pumpkin Fiasco of 2007-08) and never went. I’ve analyzed this quality (deficiency) of mine ad nauseum. Am I just flaky? Am I trying to prove something? Do I find it liberating to quit things? Am I a loser? Do I have trouble committing? Am I just annoying? I don’t really know the answers, but I think it’s a combination of not always listening to my instincts/pretending to be someone I’m not/optimism. And then sometimes I think that what I signed up for just turns out not to be what I really wanted it to be.

And that’s where I think I find myself today. Or at least sorta. I knew that when I signed up for a three-hour landscape design class, held in the summer on a weekday evening, that I was sort of setting myself up for failure. It takes a special someone to want to sit in a classroom for three hours after a full day at work on a summer night. But I thought that it would be a good investment for our home. And maybe it would have been. I did learn some interesting things on that first night. But I also learned some very boring things. And some things I have no interest in. So, over the last week, I thought all about whether I would return. For most of the week, I thought I would. I realized today, though, that 90% of the reason that I wanted to go back wasn’t because I wanted to take the class. It was because I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t flaky. Ten percent was because I want a landscape plan. But after just taking a walk through part of our beautiful Marquette neighborhood, and some searching on the Google machine, I’m pretty excited to come up with a landscape plan outside of class. And after talking with GAOOG, I realized that I just don’t want to take the class and that that’s enough of a reason not to take the class. It seems so simple, and if it were anyone else questioning this, I’d tell them to have their head examined. It’s a simple decision! You don’t want to take a totally elective class? Don’t. Take. It. But for some reason, I’ve made this more existential than it ever needed to be.

So, dear reader (and by that I think I just mean my mom because I’m not sure anyone else reads this anymore), I won’t be taking the class. In case I hadn’t already made that abundantly clear. And I’m going to try really hard not to sign up for anything for awhile. I’m currently on two boards of directors and one city commission. I’d like to work on getting our lawn in order and some house projects. And I’d like to have a really nice summer with my family and friends. And that all seems like more than enough for me.

I miss Gracie. A lot. But it’s been over a year since she’s been gone and, for better or worse, I think Phoebe is here to stay. She’s still a lot and I still wouldn’t recommend getting a puppy when you have a two-year-old (or maybe ever), but we do love her. Especially on Friday nights when she’s had the chance to run off her puppy energy in day care. So, I changed the header. It’s been Gracie up there since I started this thing in 2007. I love you, Grace. And welcome, Phoebe.

Heather once told me that, in her experience, each new phase with a kid is better than the last one. But I also know that there’s a debate among parents as to whether having a two-year-old is actually easier than a three-year-old. I’m currently in the Heather Camp, but oy vey is someone being a pistol lately. And I don’t mean AO. Or Phoebe.

Things Molly currently says too frequently, too loudly, too weirdly, or all three:

• “Stop talking!!”
• “Go faster!!” (whether we are in the car or, very annoyingly, when I was running a 5k recently and pushing her in the stroller).
• “I want a different dress!!”
• “I don’t want to go to bed!!”
• “I like this chicken, but not that chicken” when making the exact same gesture with her hands and there is no chicken in sight.
• “That’s too many arms” upon seeing a giant animated spider on the telly in an old Disney short.
• “MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
• “DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
• “Stop it, Phoebe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I was at a conference for most of last week and last night we hosted Bear’s best friend and her parents for dinner. The conference was fine and the dinner was fun, but they’ve both left me spent. Being an introvert leaves me feeling pretty drained after lots of socialization. So, we decided to take today as a day of rest. Or, really, I did. Aaron did some grocery shopping and mowed the lawn. I enjoyed the rain and watching too many episodes of Friends.

Molly seemed pretty tuckered for most of the day, too, but recently pepped up and has spent the last hour or so running in and out of the backyard. Her cheeks are rosy and her smile is large. About two minutes ago, she came running in and said to me, “Where’s Phoebe?” I pointed to the couch. She said to me, “Phoebe’s friend is outside.” Then she walked over to Phoebe and got within inches of her nose and said to her, “Phoebe, your friend is outside!” She then went to the back door, opened it, waited for Phoebe to join her and the two of them went bounding out. Maybe Bear and Phoebe will be pals after all.

I have no idea what in the hell is going on. This morning, I got a ridiculously chipper call from Jennifer that a specialty scheduler would be calling me to schedule my tests. I asked her when she thought this special call would come. She said she imagined that it’d be today, but she couldn’t be sure. Sure. I waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, just a few short moments ago, I steeled myself and called my doctor’s office. I said that while I didn’t know whom I should be talking to about this insanity, I’d been waiting to have tests scheduled for some time and I’d really like to get moving on it. She asked my name and date of birth and then … guess what? She transferred me to neurology and a very competent woman quickly took charge. She got two more people on the phone and within about one minute my EEG was scheduled (May 27) and my follow-up neurology appointment was scheduled, as well (June 3). I have to wait until maybe Monday to get an MRI appointment (something about something that I didn’t understand), but I have more faith in the unknown woman who said that she would call me back about it than I have had in any of these voices on the other end of the phone in sometime.

So, there you have it. Just. Keep. Calling. And calling. And calling.

UPDATE: And then, just because the story has to keep going, the Specialty Scheduler just called and offered me the May 27 appointment for the EEG. When I told her that I had already taken that one, she said, “Oh, they called you!” Uh, no. Definitely not. When she asked if I needed anything else from her, I said, “Well, I think I still need an MRI appointment.” Her response? “Someone else will be calling you about that.”