Social Ties

I just got a note, via Facebook, from an old friend. Actually, an old friend of my sister's, and that's what made it so cool. I have received personal notes from my siblings' friends, my parents' friends, old family friends, childhood rivals-now-friends, vaguely remembered classmates, ex-boyfriends, one ex-husband, a long-lost spiritual advisor, current priests and church friends, work associates, favorite clients, a crazy former boss, favorite college professors, current and former neighbors, and of course, my dearest old friends I never see and new friends I see all the time. And that's just the start of it! My family uses it as a primary source of sharing news, photos and joyful moments, and now I don't know how we'd live without it.

Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, blogging...they are all ways for me to both express myself (to be known) and to engage with others (to know them). It's profoundly rewarding most of the time, annoying once in a while (who invented all those stupid quizzes?!?), and most of all amazing.

I am astounded by the time it takes to really connect with people, but I don't begrudge that time. I consider it a gift. Because of the "social networking" options available I am able to truly connect with people who are relevant today, who are part of my past, and are likely to be important in the future. And look, you're reading this blog, so you fall in at least one of those groups!

Being a Sweet means being grateful for the social ties that bind us all, and recognizing that the work that goes into maintaining them is always worth it in the end.

Can I have a pet?

Every parent is asked this question at some point: "Can I have a pet?"

I have been asked this question at least twice a week by our now-4-year-old Tate since he was 2. My response has always been this: "Daddy is allergic to fur. Do you want Daddy to sneeze every day, or not be able to breathe?" Of course, the guilt applied here worked effectively until Tate went to pre-K and learned that there are plenty of pets that do not have fur.

We decided that we would investigate a pet when Tate turned 5. We would consider a non-furry, hypo-allergenic pet that could be cared for by a kindergarten-age kid with a lot of motivation. I had plenty of pets growing up: a dog who lived to be 16, several cats, hampsters and gerbils, fish etc. My brother also had a bunch of other pets that we barely knew about; he hid quite a few of them in his room. Hubby had pets, too, and we agree that having a pet is a really important and wonderful part of childhood. We just wanted it to be about the kids taking care of it, not us. (I know, wishful thinking...)

We selected age 5 because, at the time, it seemed far off enough to deflect most requests. It also seemed like the easiest way to allow us time to investigate options.

"Mommy, can I pleeeeeeeeeeeeease have a pet?" (Cue adorable face and sad eyes.)

"Tate, are you 5 yet?"

"Mommy, pets don't care if I'm 5 yet. They neeeeeeed me." (He does have a point.)

So this summer we have been deluged by requests to adopt other people's pets. These owners with lovable, older pets -- all moving away to places where the pets would not be allowed or happy -- each assured us theirs would be a "good first pet." So I did some research.

• Cats have fur, are decidedly not hypo-allergenic and hubby really dislikes them. = OUT
• Turtles require lots of space, wet and dry, and adults have to clean the cage regularly. = OUT
• Fish and frogs are just kind of boring, slimy, and you can't "hug" them they way Tate would like. = OUT
• Ferrets are nocturnal, back into a corner and pee (which therefore makes them somewhat smelly), and like to "hide," sometimes for days at a time. = OUT
• Hampsters are not very friendly and can bite. = OUT
• Rats....?

Wait. Did you say rats, like the kind we have to exterminate in the alley? As a pet? You've got to be kidding. Oh, whew, you meant a "fancy rat," like in "Ratatouille," with refined tastes, love for his family and amazing skills. But people are still scared of rats, right? I mean, won't our friends and family all be freaked out by our pet if we get one?

It turns out that rats are almost the ideal first pet: smaller and friendlier than a guinea pig, cleaner than cats, smarter than dogs, and more loving and bonded to their owners than ferrets. That being the case, I thought, "Maybe we should just check to see if there are any rats for adoption in the area..." and lo and behold, I found one.

Remy. Just like the main character from the adorable, Disney/Pixar animated film. So we are going to his "foster home" to meet this 3-4 month old little guy and see if he is a good fit for our family. If he is the chosen one, we will need to get him a friend, because rats, like most small pets, need companionship. So if we get one, it will probably be two.

I am excited and a bit nervous and wondering if I'm on the precipice of Tate's Menagerie... But it's gotta start somewhere, and maybe with this rat.

Being OK with who you are

I am not a camper. I grew up in the Black Hills, and I love hiking, and all the things that go along with being a nature lover. I love the wilderness, staying at our family's cabin and lying all night in the hammock. I know what to do when an animal crosses your path in the woods, and I appreciate them from a safe distance. I love campfires and making s'mores. I love all of this in small doses. Small, perfect doses that are followed by a shower and a latte and a return to civilization, where I can recount the beautiful hikes and wonderful time spent in the fresh air. People love to do these little trips to the cabin with me, because I make it fun. I am really, really into this when I know what it will be like, and I know when it ends. I have control, and I use that control to ensure that everyone has a great time: perfectly timed hikes, with snacks at the scenic overlook, meals on the picnic table, a creek to fish in, dessert by firelight... You get the picture.

I have always politely declined when friends have asked us to join them on their 3-day camping trips in the wilds of Wisconsin, state parks with crazy names, necessitating long drives, too much planning, and far too many horror stories for my liking. I have been OK with refusing these outdoor adventures, but my husband has not been. He has been secretly pining away for a chance to camp.

So I went camping. I went because when I threatened to stay home after an argument with my husband about my slowness at packing, my almost 7-year-old son looked at me with teary eyes and said, "Mommy, it won't be any fun at all if you don't go. Please come, Mommy...Please!" And so, of course, I went. I could not bear to leave him to the deep, dark forest alone. He might need me. And I might need him. Plus, I do like nature, and how bad could it really be? My husband promised, after apologizing for his packing freak-out, that if it was terrible we would go to a hotel, find a children's museum and farmer's market, and everyone would be happy. So I put on my brave face, shoved the last item into the front seat of the car (with my laptop!) and we headed for Wisconsin.

I won't bore you with the details of camping. I mean, it was camping, with a tent, and sleeping bags, and two blow-up mattresses for the 4 people who would sleep in the tent. Our little family was taking its first camping trip together! And yes, just like it should in the middle of Wisconsin in the summertime, it was humid, and it rained. Overnight. A lot. Everything was wet. But I just rolled with it. I mean, what could we do? No one complained, no one. Not the kids (who slept through the raging thunderstorm, I might add), not my husband, and certainly not me. There were no mosquitos to speak of, which was a shock. We had food, we had fresh air and trees, we had plenty of alcohol to drink, we had s'mores around the campfire. The kids could run around in the woods, all sweaty and dirty, just like little boys are supposed to do. They could pee on a tree anytime they felt like it. They could have juice boxes and Gatorade and chocolate milk, anytime they wanted. They were in kid heaven. So there was no reason for me to complain.

But I have determined, that I am not going to try and BE a camper. We don't need to buy camping equipment and go whole hog. I am who I am, a city girl who just happens to love nature. In doses. I don't have to pretend to be all granola-y just to be cool. Camping once or twice a year would be fine with me, and I think it will be. Because I know who I am, and I'm OK with it. And being a Sweet means learning to be OK with who you are.