Is That The Shirt You're Wearing

by Kristen Brakeman

  Soon after, we made another unfortunate discovery. Chopper had started pooping in his night-time crate. Though we’d clean him up each morning, the kids started to avoid him. They didn’t want to pet a dog that had been sleeping in his own poo. Frankly I couldn’t blame them.

  It seemed inhumane to let him live out his remaining days in such a manner. Something had to be done.

  The vet agreed, and also said that Chopper was clearly in pain. We hadn’t noticed the gradual change, but his constant shaking had indeed gotten worse and the arthritis had spread to his front leg. The vet believed Chopper was almost completely deaf and blind and that the endless pacing he had recently started to do was a sign of dementia.

  We talked to the kids and together we agreed that Chopper deserved to die with dignity. But a few more weeks passed without us taking any action. It was just too hard. Then Chopper developed a tumor on his front leg, making each step incredibly difficult.

  Finally we made the call.

  The little guy must have sensed what was going on because that morning somehow he suddenly managed to hobble about the yard looking like he was game to play. We joked that you could probably remove three of his legs and he’d still find a way.

  Since I wasn’t feeling well that morning, my husband offered to take him in, but I insisted on going. I suggested we should do it quickly like removing a Band-Aid; pay the fee, and not look back.

  The soft-spoken technician took hold of the leash and asked if I needed more time.

  No. No, you don’t understand. He’s not really my dog, I almost explained. But, I petted Chopper goodbye, just the same. “Come on, let’s go get some treats,” the technician said

  as he led him to the back office.

  “Don’t go, Chopper! It’s a trick!” I suddenly wanted to

  yell.

  Then the lady at the counter said those two words

  that messed up my plan - those two words that always make everything worse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I could barely sign my name before I had to turn and run. “Stupid dog,” was all I was able to say.

  We got back home and cleaned out Chopper’s crate, removed the pool fencing, and packed away the bowl that my eldest daughter had made for him so many years ago.

  Life would be easier now, I told myself. No more messes, no more vet trips, no more endless goodnights.

  But the yard looked so empty without his fencing and without his toys and without . . . him.

  Stupid, stupid dog. I guess you were mine all along.

  Week Ten

  School starts tomorrow. Even though we had lots to do this weekend, we made time to go to a welcome reception at Chloe’s college and I’m glad that we did.

  My husband and I had never been to the campus, so after getting our name tags, free license place frame, and iced tea, we ducked away for a self-guided tour. And boy, oh boy, that campus is hilly. Chloe is going to get some much needed exercise!

  First we found our way inside the theater courtesy of some unsuspecting construction workers. It was really impressive. Then we noticed an open door at her dorm and snuck inside there too. The rooms were tiny and there’s no air conditioning, but I guess that’s okay because she’s just sleeping in them, right? At least, she had better be sleeping in them.

  We had spent so much time focusing on whether it was the right decision to let Chloe go to this college, that we hadn’t gotten a chance to think about what it would be like for her once there. Finally being on campus got us both excited. Even though it was virtually empty, there was this energy there, like somehow the enthusiasm and creativity of youth permeated the air. I was so envious of my daughter for being able to spend the next four years in this beautiful oasis, this refuge between the safe, micromanaged days of childhood and the harsh realities of adult life.

  Ah, crap who am I kidding? I don’t envy her. I want to be her, because college was fun and I wish I could do it all over again. Really I’d do it again tomorrow.

  After we got back home, I debated about whether I felt more guilt about neglecting my mom recently, or my youngest child, and Peyton won out. Here it was the last day of summer break and she’s barely gotten to do anything. I decided she should enjoy her last weekend of summer, and damn it, enjoy it she would. I took her to the movies, I played that damn headbangers game, and then I joined her for a swim. I even played Marco Polo, which I’ve never liked, but is now next to impossible because with my eyes closed and my bad hearing, I don’t stand a chance. I kept bumping into the side of the pool and it was really quite painful. But the joy my youngest child got from watching me flailing around made it all worthwhile.

  Afterwards, as we dried off, I was drawn to the nearby sound of tiny birds. Apparently, another set of eggs hatched in that same feces-laden nest above my bedroom window. These babies were truly adorable with their cute chirping sounds and their scruffy little heads poking out.

  And I was glad that new life had taken the place of old, in those repulsive little twigs.

  You Toy With Me

  Peyton’s eleventh birthday was only a few weeks away, and I cleverly convinced her to help me sort through her toys to clear some shelf space for the new things she would receive. But our progress immediately took a hit.

  “Not my SpongeBob Puzzle. You can’t get rid of that one!” she cried.

  Apparently this SpongeBob puzzle occupied a sentimental spot in her heart. “Well, how about the fishbowl one then? Certainly we can donate that,” I said.

  As Peyton walked out of her bedroom carrying the SpongeBob Puzzle she answered, “Yeah, that one’s Samantha’s, so go ahead,”

  “Hey, wait! You’re not getting rid of my fishbowl puzzle,” Samantha yelled from the other room, “I loved that one.”

  “Maybe we move on to some other toys. How about this horse and stable thing? You guys haven’t touched that toy in years.”

  “I guess you can get rid of that,” Samantha said, now hovering in the hall. “But let me set it up one last time before you do.”

  So after only twenty minutes of sorting, my two daughters had completely abandoned me and had relocated to the den where one sat working a toddler puzzle, and the other one was busy recreating the O.K. Corral.

  But I would not give up, partly because half the contents of the closet were now spread out on the bedroom floor, but also because I started having serious concerns that my kids would one day be featured on Hoarders.

  After secretly removing a few items that I knew they wouldn’t miss, I asked for approval on a few others. “You don’t need this big stuffed animal bag anymore. Maybe Chloe could use it as a laundry bag at college?”

  “Oh, please. She’s never going to do laundry,” said Samantha.

  “Yeah, she’s just gonna wallow in her own filth,” Peyton added.

  “Why would you say such a thing about your sister?” “Because it’s true,” answered Samantha.

  I wasn’t sure what was worse – that they thought their

  older sister had the cleanliness habits of a transient, or that they might be right. Regardless, I was starting to realize why our closets were so stuffed with things - because these purge out sessions were always a bust.

  “We’re not making any progress here, people. How about we donate the big bin of Barbies that’s been gathering dust in Samantha’s room?”

  The answer was an emphatic no, which seemed incredibly strange since the girls rarely ever played with Barbies, even though they always wanted so many of them. It actually made me wonder if, besides permanently messing with their body image, there was some sort of brainwashing chemical in that Barbie plastic.

  While our youngest still asked for toys on holidays, it had really been a couple years since she played with them regularly. Our days of frantic late night Christmas Eve assemblies were all but gone. But not playing with toys and actually getting rid of them were two different things, apparently.

  Yet I made one more try.

  �
��Samantha, if we got rid of the Barbies, then once Chloe takes her things you’d have the whole closet to yourself. Aren’t you looking forward to that?”

  “No.”

  Seeing my youngest intently focused on the puzzle and my soon-to-be licensed driver playing with horseys once again, made me realize that while my kids enjoyed the benefits of

  getting older, they weren’t ready to let go of the relics of their past.

  Truthfully, I wasn’t either. I enjoyed watching them spread out on the living room floor, playing with toys like they were young, and I certainly didn’t want to encourage a premature end to their childhood.

  But their nostalgia wore off quickly, and by the end of the day the boxes of puzzles and toys were once again abandoned in favor of electronics and TV. I was about to say something derogatory about the situation when I noticed that Chloe had come home from work and had introduced Samantha to a new game on her phone.

  “Disable Astrovortex! Crew mutiny!” She and Samantha began alternately shouting, among other undecipherable gibberish as they sat together on the couch.

  Then I saw Peyton curled up nearby with my phone playing some game with hungry animated sharks. “I love the sound the bones crunching makes, especially when it eats the humans,” she said through a devilish grin.

  I realized, that even though my kids have more outside interests now, they haven’t completely outgrown toys, or thankfully, each other. It is not the end of an era. They may have grown wiser, older and taller, but their toys have just gotten smaller.

  Middle of Week Ten

  The kids are back in school and my husband is at work for a few days.

  Hurray! Finally the house to myself. Well, sort of. Chloe is still here. She leaves for college next Friday. I start a new job on Monday. I’m working on a Cancer fundraiser telethon. It’s nice to have a job I can feel good about, and what’s even better is that when I tell people I’m working on a Cancer fundraiser, they think I’m quite altruistic, which is always a nice bonus.

  In truth I’m not working on the Cancer fundraiser because I’m altruistic. Like our friend Barry, who was forced to give up his idyllic life of perpetual unemployment, I’m working on this show because we need the money. We need to pay for Chloe’s fancy-ass college.

  When her acceptance emails came in, I was really excited for her. But then, when the schools offered little or no financial aid, I was so disappointed. I guess I had been living in a fantasy world, thinking that one of them might say, “Our school is desperate for theater majors. Here’s a free ride!”

  Back when our kids were young, I assumed that their college costs would be $50,000 or $60,000 in total, not that much per year. I mean, who could afford that?

  It turns out, the colleges believed we were the very people who could afford that. My husband lobbied hard for Chloe to go to community college and transfer in as a junior. It was the financially logical thing to do. But I kept thinking, why did she work so hard in high school then? She might as well have goofed off.

  My husband did the two-year transfer thing so he couldn’t understand why Chloe wouldn’t want to do it too. Even though I agreed with him in theory, my heart wanted her to have that four-year experience. I wanted her to have what I had.

  It was the first time in our marriage that we disagreed about something, you know, besides the small stuff like my “illogical” loading of the dishwasher or his annoying habit of not knowing what I’m thinking. On the big issues, we’ve always been on the same page.

  Then Chloe came to us with this chart that she made that showed, with a perfect combination of student loans and magic, how we could financially make it work.

  We said okay, you can go to that fancy-ass college. But we’ve questioned that decision every day since.

  Facebook Parent Group Gone Wrong

  Sheila Haynes Rasmusen: Hi CCHS Parents! It’s Sheila Rasmusen, new PTA president, letting you know about the Varsity Football fundraiser this Saturday! 1PM - 6PM Car wash, bake sale, raffle & FUN!! Support our varsity boys! GO TIGER FOOTBALL!!

  Like · Comment

  Jenny Barnes: The Barnes will be there! Wondering - will there be gluten free items at the bake sale? Lucas is gluten sensitive. Hate to have him feel left out.

  Like · Reply - 58 mins

  Rick Anderson: We‘re new in town. What football opportunities are there for my 9-year-old twin boys?

  Like · Reply - 56 mins

  Sheila Haynes Rasmusen: Jenny Barnes I will bring some gluten free items. Rick Anderson I’ll send you a link w/ youth football info. Go Tigers!!

  Like · Reply - 55 mins

  Jill Wainstock: A car wash - Really? Isn’t there still a drought here in Calldale? Seems pretty irresponsible. Lame.

  Like · Reply - 50 mins

  George Stel: FACT: Gluten sensitivity is HOGWASH!

  Like · Reply - 45 mins

  Rachel Davidson: Rick Anderson Welcome to Calldale! You’re going to love it here. Not to judge, but why would you let your young boys play football? Have you read the stats on head injuries? Do your research. I happen to care about my kids so I’d never let them play.

  Like · Reply – 38 mins

  Tiffany Archuletta: I don’t get the carwash thing either. Who thought that was a good idea? Also, what about nuts? Will the bake sale items be nut-free? And my kid’s best friend can’t eat dairy.

  Like · Reply - 35 mins

  Mary Henderson: I had 3 boys play football for CCHS and they turned out just fine.

  Like · Reply - 34 mins

  Mary Henderson: And my 3 boys ate nuts and gluten and dairy and they turned out perfectly fine. Eldest two are married and have kids of their own.

  Like · Reply - 33 mins

  Sheila Haynes Rasmusen: Okay, just trying to support the team here! In keeping with school policy all items will be nut free. I’ll bring a plate of gluten free, and dairy free, and I spoke with the park maintenance man, about the water. He said he’ll turn off the sprinklers this week to offset the water usage. Thanks all!!! See you Saturday!!!!! Go Tigers!!!

  Like · Reply - 32 mins

  George Stel: FACT - concussions aren’t any worse now than they were 30 years ago. Would you rather kids sit at home all day playing video games?

  Like · Reply - 29 mins

  Colleen Wader: Is a bake sale really a good idea considering child obesity rates? Come on folks. Can’t we get a little more creative!

  Like · Reply - 21 mins

  Natalie Pasamonte: Totally agree Colleen Wader. We should do what Pointview Academy does and auction off parking line spots.

  Like · Reply - 20 mins

  Sharon Davis: Considering it was Pointview parents that recently got cited for serving alcohol to minors, we shouldn’t hold Pointview Academy up as an example. Let’s be leaders, not followers.

  Like · Reply - 18 mins

  Rhonda McCartan: Good point Sharon. In my family we have a rule, and that’s don’t be a follower, be a leader. That’s why I don’t like Common Core.

  Like · Reply - 17 mins

  Colleen Wader: I’m glad you brought up Common Core Rhonda. Have you seen the latest studies on teen suicide? There must be a direct correlation.

  Like · Reply - 16 mins

  Sheila Haynes Rasmusen: Seems like we’re getting a little off track. Lots of ideas here, but maybe now just focus on the football fundraiser? See you at the car wash - the drought conscious, gluten free, dairy free car wash. This Saturday!! Go Tigers.

  Like · Reply - 14 mins

  George Stel: FACT: Common Core was created by a bunch of idiots who want our kids to be stupid so they have to use computers to do everything for them – computers they happen to sell.

  Like · Reply - 13 mins

  Mary Henderson: My 3 boys were taught the old-fashioned way and they turned out just fine.

  Like · Reply - 11 mins

  Jill Wainstock: A raffle - Seriously? What is this, Vegas? We

  shouldn’t be teaching our kids
about gambling. Also lame.

  Like · Reply - 9 mins

  Tiffany Archuletta: Glad baked items are nut-free, but now I’m questioning this fundraiser. What about girls’ soccer? Why are we only raising money for the boys’ teams?

  Like · Reply - 8 mins

  Ron Rodriguez: Now it’s about sexism. Hold your own fundraiser if you want to. No one is forcing you to come to this one.

  Like · Reply - 7 mins

  George Stel: FACT: If the schools didn’t waste so much money on Title IX sports no one cares about, we wouldn’t even need fundraisers.

  Like · Reply - 6 mins

  Sheila Haynes Rasmusen: OKAY FINE. THERE WON’T BE ANY F’ING NUTS OR F’ING GLUTEN OR F’ING DAIRY OR A F’ING RAFFLE! WE’LL WASH THE F’ING CARS WITH F’ING DRY RAGS AND NO F’ING WATER!!! AND GEORGE, HERE’S ANOTHER FACT FOR YOU -- MARY’S PERFECT SONS? THE OLDEST ONE CHEATED ON HIS WIFE, THE MIDDLE ONE IS UNDER INVESTIGATION BY THE IRS, AND THE YOUNGEST IS SELLING WEED FROM THE ROOM HE STILL LIVES IN OVER MARY’S GARAGE!!!!! See

  you Saturday. Go Tigers.

  Like · Reply - 5 mins

  Debbie Shulmann: Hi everyone. Sorry to say the CCHS Football fundraiser has been canceled. Also, the PTA will be holding an emergency election for a new president. PM me if you want to throw your name in the ring!

  Like · Reply - 1 min

  Christie Sellers: What time is the football fundraiser?

  Like · Reply – Just now

  End of Week Eleven

  She’s gone.

  My first-born child is gone.

  The dorm move in day went fine. We helped Chloe unload, hung around the campus for a couple hours, and then took off. She didn’t need us there. It’s her thing.

  As we left I thought, well that wasn’t so bad. There was no embarrassing goodbye scene. I think because I was so happy for her, and she was excited to finally be there, that it made it all completely and totally fine. Really.

  When I got back home I cleaned up the tornado-like damage in the bedroom she left behind. As I tidied, her two sisters picked through her remaining things. “Can I have this shirt? She must not want it if she left it here. Right?” Samantha asked.