A new day, two doctor appointments, making progress. After I posted yesterday, LynnH reminded me, “Alison–you’re ALIVE!”  She was right, and she even got me to laugh over a glitch in the TurboTax software. (When one is trying to enter copyright royalties, do not give the author or artist a screen about rental properties as the next logical step. I’m just sayin’.) Anybody who can make me chuckle over taxes…
…Speaking of which.
Two years after we got married, we knew we had to finish ours early because life was about to get very busy. Richard was preparing to defend his master’s thesis; that was one thing.
When they told him when he was scheduled to do it, he pleaded for an extra month, which they granted him–because Sam was supposed to show up that week. That was the other little thing.
My grandmother had been a concert pianist and had taught music at the University of Utah (before women were even allowed to vote!) Our Sam, at four months old, lay in her baby carrier at Gram’s, waving her arms and legs in perfect time to the piano being played. That’s our girl.
I learned what ipecac is when, at 13 months, she scrambled up a chair when my back was turned and snarfed the tomato plant I had in the window; Poison Control recommended I give her the stuff. I’d never heard of it. In that case, they said, hie thee to the ER, fast.
A week later, I learned how awful it is as a parent to hear your 13-month-old screaming in a room where the parents weren’t allowed in as they x-rayed her fractured skull after she’d climbed up again. She’d fallen backwards onto the concrete floor of our apartment as I’d raced to grab her to get her down. No. You do not climb up on the furniture.
Yes I do, she thought, just watch me.
She was our crash course in handling this stuff.
She taught us we could be wise: she ducked her head suddenly into the tub during a bath one day and came up terrified and screaming. Water was not her friend. That bathtub was her enemy. She fought it with everything she had–till the day, a couple of weeks later, that her daddy put her favorite toys in the tub. And then her.
She screamed and she fought, as we expected, and then–she stopped.
There was no water in the tub.
Oh, okay. That’s cool! And so she played with her toys while I did everything I could to make it the Most Fun Time Ever. After that she had no fear of the tub or water again. Done with that, moved on.
She grew up to be a kid who could handle pretty much anything.
About a year and a half ago, they decided they wanted a cat, and went to their local no-kill rescue center. They fell in love with the cute black kitten; they got asked if they would take this other one also, since they were attached to each other? More on the cats here.
Sam often jokes about what her cats would do if only they had opposable thumbs; opening the can opener would just be the start. Me, I’m thinking I’d teach my grandcats to knit. Anya, though–she’s fast and she’s smart. Give her the taxes to do: the IRS forms would make as much sense to her as anyone.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAM!