Rewind and unwind

A friend recently asked me what my “word” of the moment was — am I feeling “grateful” or “blessed” or “rejuvenated” or “reflective” or the many other phrases that tend to get thrown out around this time of year?

Well, yes, definitely. But.

I think my word is

S U P P O R T E D.

 

We have had to make some gutsy, difficult changes and decisions this year — from a giant one like moving to a new home in a new town in a new state with nearly no loved ones nearby — to a small but powerful one like saying no to traveling and chaos and squeezing in too many visits with too little time for the holidays. Instead, we’re staying tucked in tight as a family of four to enjoy the first bit of quiet “us” time that we’ve managed since the move. To start some new traditions and just… unwind. And yet, we are supported. Cousins and aunts and uncles “get” it — they know that in a perfect world, we’d most definitely be around their tables and laughing with them, showering the kiddos with chickey kisses and cousin squeezes and a roomful of love. And those same families understood our reasons for our relocation. So many have visited us already and each time there is a knock on that front door, I feel all of that gratitude and blessings. And support.

I’ve had to make some semi-selfish moves individually for my photography business, too. My biggest supporter has been my hubby Scott. He has never once asked me to stop or slow down or reconsider. He hasn’t questioned new lenses or workshops. He has given his support in many ways. Weeks with 60 hours of work have sometimes led to an entire day alone with the kiddos as I photograph a wedding all Saturday and then am a half-zombie uploading previews on a Sunday. Every new wedding booked is met with excitement and patience as I spew details about venues and styles and how they met.

 

Recently, a fantastic opportunity presented itself that merged both my photography and my personal life. I was asked to participate in a photo shoot in New York City with the National Down Syndrome Society featuring more than 50 models of all ages with Down Syndrome. Each model received pampering from our hair and makeup volunteers and got decked out in costumes to look and feel the part of some of the most iconic rockstars. I (along with two other photographers) met my new friends and captured some dance moves, rockstar attitudes and sweet smiles on a cobblestone street in NYC. And as much fun as that was, the best part was talking with their parents and siblings, hearing about their accomplishments, receiving secrets about their dreams and goals. And the BEST hugs and handshakes and laughs imaginable.

Back to support.

No one ever questioned me when I made an impulsive decision to just do this crazy thing — leave home for two days, fly to New York City, edit, share and digest the whole experience. Scott knew I had to do this and he was really, really proud. And my aunt came to watch the kids for us while Scott was at work. It was not an easy time for either of them but they held down the fort so I could scratch something off of my bucket list five hours away.

It was not an easy couple of days. I met families who have had really difficult health issues that we’ve been fortunate enough to avoid so far with Zack. I heard stories from moms who have had to fight for equal treatment, equal education, rights and opportunities.

And I saw a lot of dance parties. I saw siblings completely smitten with their brother or sister, moms who could not have been more proud, teens and adults in college or living on their own.

I’ll be returning to NYC in March to see the NDSS’s annual auction and gala event which will showcase our final images from the photo shoot in large posters at BB Kings’ House of Blues. And to reunite with some of my new friends.

I’m still wrapping my head around the experience.

 

So, with the completion of the NDSS shoot, my photography is all wrapped up for a couple of months. (I’ve even started scheduling some social media posts well in advance so that I can truly take a step back and enjoy some family and me time). I am so excited for the weddings I have on the books already for 2016 and 2017 and all of the couples and families I’m getting to know.

And I’m really relived to finally be able to unwind.

We’re ready for our quiet family Christmas. The kids are not receiving a lot of presents from us (our extended family *might* have gone overboard with the material items!) and are aware of things like “being a good friend” and “baby Jesus’s birthday” and little snippets like “Christmas magic” and “the star that showed them where to go.” All of those things seem much more important than what’s under any wrapping paper, so our holiday has already gotten off to a great start.

We’ve started traditions of watching holiday movies and reading books together more often. We baked two batches of cookies this week. We’re looking for our Elf, Louie, every morning (he might have been hugging a wine bottle today, haha!).

I have some hot cocoa cooling down in the kitchen so we can sing the Polar Express “Hot Chocolate” song together and enjoy a little treat. (Even though, you’re never, ever supposed to let it cool).

There is more time to be spontaneous with hide-and-seek requests and sought-after snuggles, too. Life is pretty good. We are supported and we are supporting each other.

 

Some updates:

Zack is still not in school. We had some mix-ups with paperwork and school district communication. (We’ve since taken care of it while not always using our nice voice and words). He has a tutor that comes to the house every day for an hour for coloring, letters, shapes, etc. We then have two days of evaluations the first week of January. Once that’s complete, we’re just a transition meeting away from finding him a good place to learn and play.

He’s still a lovebug most of the time, although he’s getting too old for Momma’s constant hug and smooch requests. I know not to pull away from a squeeze first. He has had some issues with being a little rough and not knowing his boundaries, but we’re hoping the return of some therapists in the new year will help considerably. His speech has improved quite a bit recently. He’ll do back-and-forth dialogues very well and on a good day, surprises his tutor with the letters, words, numbers and colors he can identify.

Z-Man is currently obsessed with PopEye (“Spinach”) and does the best impression of the old sailor. He also loves Buzz Lightyear, reading, playing imagination games with little toys and eating.

 

Addie is still our ornery, dramatic, princess-loving little girl. Her favorite color is still purple and we seem to be over the phase where ALL she would wear were skirts. She loves dancing and singing made-up songs (very loudly). She says “for” instead of “or.” “Do you want red for blue?” She is still very, very witty, too, and has some pretty funny one-liners and responses.

She has an entire imaginary persona named Square-ta. Who has glitter. And she stores her glitter in a yellow box under her bed. The yellow box has a squeaky lid, and, according to recent Addie reports, “it just keeps getting squeakier every day.” (There is nothing under her bed, FYI).

Last night at a restaurant, the waitress called Addie “sweetie.” Addie stopped coloring, looked up and in a very sassy manner said, “I have a name, you know.” (Zack, meanwhile, started making smoochey faces and waved his hand toward the restaurant exclaiming, “Come here, I want to kiss you.”)

 

We are about to start our couple of quiet Christmas-y days and we wish you and yours time with family and loved ones, a little bit of relaxation, a lot of love.

(And lots more blog posts in 2016!).

 

You can view a recap of my NDSS photo shoot experience HERE.

You can learn more about the March gala and other NDSS events HERE.

You can view my photography page and see some of this year’s weddings and engagements HERE.

Our photo shoot was featured on TheMighty.com — you can see our story HERE.

 

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I see you…

You’re over there, pushing the cutest little blond boy on the red swing. He’s smiling a sleepy, peaceful smile that gets bigger when you surprise him with a tickle up his legs.

I see you twist around anxiously to watch a ponytailed three-year-old hop up fearlessly to the top of the tall slide, the one you think she’s too small for, but can’t convince her otherwise. I can actually see you hold your breath as you let her have this independent moment and try to keep it cool for the giggling boy next to you.

I see you.

You’re glancing at the little boy’s almond eyes with such a mix of love, compassion, worry, fear, hope, I can almost feel the heaviness in your shoulders. My gosh, that love. The pride you have when he makes a statement third-person about “Zacky” wanting to swing or needing a drink. You love those muffled words, those little phrases that you understand better than anyone else and that have taken hours upon hours of therapies and practices.

You’ve scooped up Miss Ponytail, twirling her and brushing back the fine strands that never stay in place. Her laughter inspires your laughter and Big Brother travels over to join the fun.

I see you.

Your embarrassment over the tantrum that was much worse to you than anyone else.

The mix of fear and exhaustion when he runs away, not understanding danger. You understand it too well.

I can imagine you holding a dance party in your living room. Some CCR on Pandora and four little hands mimicking your shakes.

I see you when she jumps up in bed at 5:45a.m., full of energy and questions. Your mind hasn’t woken up yet so its all about pulling her in close and smelling her hair and squeezing her tight.

I can imagine the way you internally jump for joy when, instead of his usual “No Kiss-a Me,” he asks you to stay with him in bed at nighttime and you pet his hair and caress the freckle behind his right ear and sing his favorite song.

I see your hands. That push swings for contented boys and steady brave little girls. That wipe tears and create imaginary pixie dust in different colors to solve different problems. That pick up strewn toys and flatten PlayDoh.

The hips that have held infants then toddlers and now 40-pound kiddos. They handle bouncing camera bags and your treasured DSLR.

Eyes that pore over chromosome diagrams and research papers and photo editing. That attempt the stack of neglected magazines.

I see you. Doing your best and trying so hard. You do your best when you don’t even try at all, when you just let it be, let it happen.

I see you. Do you see yourself?

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Normalcy and the foyer

The other day, Zack returned to school after missing an entire week of school due to snowdays and a cold. It marked the EIGHTH week in a ROW that he didn’t go to his Pre-K program all four scheduled days in a week.

We did the best we could do with cabin fever and crafts, coughs and lots of coffee.

But there’s something about rounding that corner, you know? Everyone has their corner. For a tired, exhausted, overwhelmed mom of two cranky and bored kids in a miserably cold winter, that corner was the bus pulling in front of the house Monday morning and a smile creeping across both my face and Zack’s.

Even better than that bus pulling away and the calming sense of routine returning, was its return a few hours later.

Zack was smiling when I opened the door and yelled, “Call Uncle Brick!” which made me laugh so hard. He insisted on walking to the door, not being carried, and wanted to open the mailbox to check for “Momma letters”, too. I was so giddy with happiness. And it was in the high 40s that day, too! Hooray!

Addie was at the front door, blowing raspberries against the glass. Zack met her on the other side and blew drool all over the window, too. (Note to self: You still haven’t cleaned all those prints, oops!)

We opened the door and she squealed a thousand exclamations.

“Zack, you’re home!”

“I’m so glad you’re home!”

“Come into my playroom.”

And then, she grabbed the zipper on his coat, which he had been struggling with, and said, “I help you?”

He smiled and nodded, leaned over and kissed her forehead.

I froze.

The newspaper in my hand, only one boot off.

She pulled the zipper down, he tore the red and black jacket off and threw it across the room. They both laughed. I couldn’t help but giggle, too. And then he wrapped his arms around her.

“Home, Addie.”

Turned to me: “Schnack, Momma, please!” (Typical, haha)

And she returned the hug. A little ten-second bear squeeze. I still only have one boot on.

And she held out her hand, which he grabbed. And they marched into the living room and sat down at the couch together.

I heard Addie ask him if he was a good boy at school and that laughter from my throat made me take the other boot off, grab the backpack and the thrown jacket and walk back into normalcy, happiness and the appreciation of the little things.

‘Love is who we are… “

I am listening to Sara Bareilles’ “Love is Christmas” and “Winter Song” on repeat with giggles in the air and assorted play food on the floor. My daughter offers me a “teapot” and my son is singing random words to the song with a smile on his face.

We are preparing for a wintery coating and a couple of days without Daddy. My heart is content despite the shoveling and the missing I’m about to do.

“I don’t care if it’s gonna rain, our little room is warm and stable…”

*
We shared an amazing belated Thanksgiving celebration with 10 of the best loved ones. Giggles and good smells and gifts and delicious food. People who traveled far and wide just for a few hours in our new home.

We were cramped and it was loud but my gosh, was there love. In chickey kisses and hand pats and camera clicks and bites of yumminess.

“I don’t care if the house is packed or the strings of light are broken…”

*
One of my bestest friends and my favorite 2014 bride, Kacey (the Caboose!) and her hubby Drew came to our house on Saturday for a visit and again, full heart. They trekked up the TurnPike in a torrential downpour but arrived with smiles and excitement. We shared coffee and local pizza and silly games with the kids. We played adult games after bedtime for babies and even shared a glass or two of wine. We watched their wedding video and laughed over how I messed up the bouquet not once, but twice! Addie thought Kacey was a princess and both kids were attached to Drew the entire time. (The cat, too!)

I am so constantly grateful for loved ones who make the effort and sacrifice just for some time in our world.

“All we need is your best my love; that’s all anyone ever wanted…”

*On Sunday, we went to a fun Breakfast with Santa event. I finally located the local Down Syndrome support group, PODS of NEPA, and we were invited to their event this weekend.

We weren’t sure to expect, and honestly, I had to do some convincing to get Scott excited about it at all, but boy, were we surprised.

We walked through the doors of a catering hall 40 minutes north of us and before we spotted the beautiful decorations and centerpieces, the magnets and other 3-21 giveaway items, the kindness of strangers, we noticed hundreds of people. At least 50 families who “get it” or “got it” or are “getting it” just like us.

Babies with almond eyes and adults with kind smiles; verbal and nonverbal kiddos of all ages; talk of aides and school and independent living.

We sat with a family of four — a nine-year-old boy with DS, his 12-year-old big brother and their mom and dad. By the end of the morning, with coats on, we were celebrating their son’s bravery in finally trusting Santa’s lap and exchanging business cards and well wishes and promises of friendship.

I just kept looking around, whispering “Look at this, my love,” to the toddler on my lap.

I watched little Alex stroke his Mom’s cheek with a piece of hair he pulled from behind her ear and told her how Z-Man does the same thing to me. We shared one of my favorite smiles and a nod.

And while Zack was quite happy to meet Santa, Addie was not so pleased — at least not until the snowman character picked her up for a few minutes. Sorry for crashing your photos, other kids! She tells us on repeat still:

“Addie cried… I just wanted to see Snowman… Snowman said ‘hi’ to me…”

Even after five goodbyes, when I spotted Alex’s mom in the lobby on our way to the car, I went in for the sort-of-creepy-mom-who-needs-to-get-out-more hug. And she hugged me back tightly. And Scott and I both keep saying how we feel much less alone now.

“I’ll be your harvester of light and send it out tonight so we can start again…”

I think as I get older, it’s not that I realize what’s truly important — it’s simply that I appreciate it all — the good, the bad, the easy, the hard, the dreams and the surprises.

Even something as simple as a makeshift tea party with a snowman-phobic little girl and her hair-petting big brother is an absolute treasure.

We have more Christmas carols to sing, snuggles to snuggle and traditions to turn into memories.

My life is very good. My life is filled with love.

Reconnecting

It’s a cyclical thing, me and reconnecting. Every three months or so, I find myself in what should be a very happy moment just paralyzed and overwhelmed with stress or worry or the Grumpy Gloomies. And it’s almost always because I’ve become disconnected. From the things I love or from seeing what’s right in front of me.

So I’m reconnecting. Slowly but surely. I need to find a way to make sure I stay connected — that’s the tricky part.

Despite being a stay-at-home-mom for the better part of nine-and-half months already, it’s still a title I wear with difficulty some days. I find it hard to believe that one year ago, I was juggling a 70-hour work week with wife and mom and house duties, all the while attempting my photography business on the side. Something always suffered.

Now, I can say that most days, I’m rocking it all.
I’m putting down the phone and picking up the blocks or cars. I’m learning to tolerate Elmo’s World and a side of two-year-old temper tantrums when I decide Elmo is a once-a-day activity. (Not five or nine). I make the most of nap times. The phone comes out, the computer cranks on and I amaze myself with how productive I can be in 2.5 hours.

I feel like I know my kids better and better. I feel like they know me, and you know, maybe even appreciate me. I hope that they know that becoming a SAHM was the best job title I ever gained and that I am forever grateful I can reinforce Zack’s school lessons each week and pick out clever items for Show-and-Tell. I’m happy that I am there when Addie wakes up crying or tells me she has a boo-boo on her teeth (She’s teething some God-awful molar, we think). I’m there. I’m grateful I’m there.

It’s Down Syndrome Awareness Month (Please learn more about DS here!) and I am amazed at what DS means to us nowadays. It means an incredible school and some free diapers, but really, it means so little. Because Zack is our son. He is the smile and reaching hand under his door after nap time as I creep up the stairs for giggles. He is the unsolicited slobbery kiss when you least expect it. He is sometimes a troublemaker and sometimes, he pushes his sister. (She usually deserves it) He is a flirt with the girl that sits next to him on the bus. He screeches “SCHNACK!” as soon as he wakes up and then proceeds to eat out of his sister’s bowl when she’s not looking. He is not DS.

I’m reconnecting with Scott, and him with me. He comes home to a dinner that at least smells good from the kitchen door (I promise nothing comparable in taste). I take care of the dishes so that he can enjoy the only hour or so he gets with the kids some days.

We have a happy little routine and I’m even building up both of my businesses (shameless plug for Wendy Zook Photography and my Mary Kay business). I’m working on an advancement training program with MK once a week and I’ve booked several photo sessions for 2015 already.

I’m crocheting up a storm, which is always a relaxing go-to for my hands and mind. And this week alone, I’ve gotten through six(!) magazines from my Leaning Tower of Haven’t Read These Yet.

Yet — perhaps it’s the selfish part of me — I still want more. Is it just a Me thing? Or a Woman thing? I always feel like if I stray the least bit from what I “should” be doing, I’m a huge letdown. If I decide ordering a pizza is worth sneaking in a DVR’d Dancing With the Stars some Tuesday afternoon, am I lazy or smart? I need my sanity, right? But then Scott’s taking a detour on his way home and there’s certainly no heavenly meaty scent wafting through the kitchen when he enters.

I’ve yet to make any friends in the area, and I know that will come in time (Working on it, I promise!), but meanwhile, it can make for an isolating experience some days. But I’m finding myself and reconnecting to myself. That’s a worthwhile experience.

Before my ‘gemela’ and I became nearly inseparable in our Argentina adventures (some cough, NINE, cough years ago), I remember spending my first couple of weeks learning not only a dialect and a land, but learning of a young woman who I’d never taken the time to know. I stared longer at laugh lines and grey flecks in eyes. I roamed cobblestone streets alone and loved every second of it — the people watching and the thoughts in my mind that made me smile. I stared out at a harbor for the better part of an hour, thinking and not thinking all at the same time.

I’ve spent this past year watching my dear friend Kacey, the true-friend-true-person kind of lady, plan her wedding. I’ve loved being on this journey with her. We have, without a doubt, become closer, and I know that won’t change after this weekend. I love that her engagement chapter has reminded me not to pause when I want to share a picture or send a just-because Hello. That a stamp is well worth the pay-out of a smile 300 miles away.

I’ve reconnected with old friends and acquaintances, too, and playdates are planned and mini-reunions on the books! It’s funny how time and life change who you need to be around and who makes you happy. The people who let you know, sometimes indirectly, that you’re doing a mighty fine job. At all of it.

I feel as though I’m returning to that mindset by the South American harbor and to that way of living every moment; feeling every moment. Not staring at water for an hour uninterrupted, of course. But learning what makes me tick and what makes me better. And sometimes that’s sacrificing.
And sometimes it’s just reconnecting.

Snippets — On “new”

There’s a lot of “new” among us nowadays.
We spent a lot of time in our “old” planning for this New but really, we had no idea and yes, yes it was worth every minute of excruciating, stressful waiting.

Here’s a peek.

On Our Home
I love this place.
I could end the blurb right there, but let me tell you — I love it so much and for a thousand reasons.
This place is our home already, not just a house. I have such a large kitchen that I am constantly feeling like I get a workout walking from the stove to the sink and back to the stove. It’s just a terrible problem to have, geesh. But seriously, it’s exciting to cook dinners here and bake desserts. It’s the location of our back door, so the hubby walks through it every night just as the kids are getting on my last tiny, itty-bitty nerve and only milliseconds after I have somehow managed to put the house back together again after we’ve spent all day tearing it apart together.

I have my own (giant) laundry room with two brand-new appliances that sing songs when they’re done with a cycle and calculate via a little Robot Dance how dirty those clothes really are — it’s the little things, I tell you.

When I was in the house those first few days cleaning and prepping for boxes and furniture, I CONSTANTLY got lost upstairs. No, seriously. I would walk out of Addie’s room and turn left when I should turn right. And at least twice I nearly toppled down the stairs after a wrong turn.

So what that both bathrooms are set up in such a way that you have to sit sideways on the toilet when you pee so your knees don’t hit radiators — we have two full bathrooms!

I have an office to work out of, even if it’s become the last room to unpack. I may or may not be typing this with my feet propped up on a box of Mary Kay products.

Since Zack has begun school, Addie and I have started a routine of waiting for his bus on our enclosed front porch. I sip my coffee or guzzle some water, she reads her Elmo book in her Dora chair and a light breeze comes through the windows as I gaze about our street, taking in the neighbors and cars and houses and all that.

I even like our tiny yard and am grateful for the tiny amount of time it takes to mow now — and am so, so grateful there are no hills or steep slopes. I am planning next year’s herb garden and am on the hunt for some Autumn mums for our front.

There are New House cards on the counter, a new welcome mat with our last name leading out to the front porch and new coffee K-cups in the cupboard. Thanks, y’all.

Pat the Neighbor

On the night of our official move in to the house, we thought our cat Rocky got out of the house somehow. I was so upset and was trying so hard to not let it put a damper on such a special day. Scott and dog Izzie and I finally took off on a dusk walk around the neighborhood. About three houses up the one street, and a pleasant middle-aged, hard-working-and-you-can-tell-by-looking-at-him man named Pat introduced himself to us, helped look for the cat (which turned up inside the house, hmrph!) and spent several minutes talking to Scott about the neighborhood and neighbors and his time (35-plus years) here.
A night or two later while returning from the nearby park with the kids and there was Pat, waving to us and saying hello to us by name.
I was struggling with an old-school push mower my Dad gave us the other afternoon and Pat came out in his Steelers jersey, shook his head and wheeled his personal mower down to me.
“This will be easier,” he said. “Game’s on; I gotta go.”

For being only a few miles down the highway from Wilkes-Barre, a relatively large city in Northeastern PA, we feel like we are in quiet suburbia. Dogs are walked and kids go to the park and bicycles whizz past the house and the mailman walks down the street and makes sure your front door is latched every time she drops off a package. It’s relatively quiet and our location is incredibly convenient. We’ve discovered a handful of parks and attractions and events and are so excited to continue our exploration of the area.

Zack’s (second) First Day and Addie’s Still Crazy
Z-Man started at his new school this week and of course, did not disappoint with his adaptability and strength. He gets picked up in front of the house in a van with anywhere from four to eight other kids already on board and gets whisked away to his school, only a five-minute drive from our house. His school is a reverse inclusion classroom-type program (half special needs children and half “typical” children) and is the perfect blend of the two programs he was in last year. There are therapists on site, a new sensory program, focus on his IEP and a foundation based off of Montessori teachings.
On his second day, he grabbed his backpack on the front porch and said, “Momma, school bus!” and we marched to the white vehicle. I opened the door and he hugged my legs for just a few seconds, looked up at me with a smile and hopped inside with his friends. When he came home, I asked how school was and he kept saying the words “happy” and “friends.”

His time at school gives me and Addie some “Girl Time” and I am enjoying that, too. She’s talking so much and coming up with the most hysterical comebacks and responses. She just keeps me laughing so much of the time. And shaking my head.

We can’t keep her hair looking good for the life of us. She’s always rolling and running and braids fall out and ponytails sink down and bangs are constantly in her face. She makes a face when I put her in a dress and yet sprints to the nearest person and says, “Look, ___, Addie so pretty!”

She requests “Elmo” (Sesame Street) almost daily now, and happy to relive my childhood, happily DVR episodes for her. Every time, she points at the TV during the credits and yells “Where Elmo go?” even though she knows very well he rides in on his tricycle about ten seconds later.

She has become our pickier eater, or perhaps Zack has just started eating so much more now, but either way, dinner is always an adventure.

Him
I’m more in love with my Scott when he’s in his Daddy Zone than any other time or place or circumstance.
He walks in the door from work and I basically shoo him into the living room to play with the kiddos. They are instantly all over him, giving hugs, offering “teapot” (Addie’s version of a tea party) and requesting books to read and wrestling together.
But it’s his bedtime rituals with the kiddos I adore most.
Last night, I hovered around a corner in the hallway, two sippie cups and two diapers in my hands, frozen. I had been coming out of the laundry room when I heard him in Addie’s room, doing a role call of all of her animals.
“And who’s this?,” he asks her.
With a giggle, she tells him.
They go back and forth like this through all eight or nine creatures.
He does this to make her feel comfortable and to let her know she is surrounded by love as she goes to sleep. But she doesn’t need any of the Guppies or the bear or even the puppy blanket. Her Daddy showers her (and Zack) with love.

Scott and I are better than ever. It’s back to basics.
Hand holding and driving adventures and silly jokes and showing the other person you care.
He’s been patient with my need-this-for-the-house list and has put up shelves, hooked up electronics and nearly singlehandedly moved large furniture.

I’m happy for where we are, literally but also this very figurative place, too.

We are in a happy place that needs no address.

A GREYt friend

I said goodbye today to a sweet, loyal companion.

Amidst the chaos of moving, packing, buying, selling, we have realized that our adopted Greyhound, Fuzz Face “Proud Man”, could not possibly make the move as well. There are many reasons for this — more out of concern for his well-being than anything having to do with us and our new home. He’s 11 years old and starting to become more and more lethargic.

No one else wanted to make the decision. It was up to me.

It was my idea to adopt a greyhound just weeks after we purchased this home. I grew up with a good friend whose family had an adopted Greyhound and I loved him and remembered him for years and years. We added Proud to our little zoo and he fit in right away.

Adopting a greyhound is an intense process. There are pages and pages of paperwork and referrals and pretty much a background check! They asked us questions about our lifestyle, current pets, future plans, house layout and favorite colors (OK, no, not really). They brought out three greyhounds that seemed to match us best on paper for a little in-person meet up. Proud was one of those three and it was immediately clear that he was the one. Even our little Yorkie Izzie liked him — she led him around the yard and showed him her favorite places to piddle. When the agency reps pulled out of our driveway, I cried and told Scott that our dog was in that car.

And soon he was ours.

Proud (Originally Fuzz Face Proud of the Fuzz Face racing family) was unique in how long he raced for — much longer than the average greyhound — and how good he was — finishing almost at the very top level and winning about one-quarter of all races he entered. What we will never know is his how badly he was treated. He likely was kept in a small crate with no food or water while not on the racetrack. And judging from his skittish personality, he was probably either abused or neglected or both.

 

On one of our first nights with him, I watched Scott try to teach Proud to sit on command for nearly an hour while I perused a new Greyhound manual book. Suddenly, Chapter Five told me that the hip structure on greyhounds prevented them from sitting.

“STOP!” I screamed at Scott, who by now was doing funky aerobics with the dog in his attempt to train him. We still laugh about that.

 

If you’ve never seen a greyhound run, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen magic in motion, at least as far as animals are concerned. We found a large old, fenced-in tennis court nearby on a walk one day and brought Izzie and Proud in to run freely. It was the closest to feeling like a proud Momma I ever felt before my kids were born. Proud just ran back and forth for the longest time. All legs up in the air, a graceful posture and quick turnaround, his jowls pushed back into a funny grin. He was joyful.

 

Proud’s previous neglect took years to undo. First there was the need to put on some weight. His ribs were all visible when we first adopted him. That was the easy fix. There’s no such thing as a thin animal in our house.

The emotional scars took much more time. It’s only been in the last year or so that he has spent time with us at the same time downstairs or on the same floor. Previously, he would go upstairs when we came downstairs or vice versa. He would eat his dinner when we went to bed. But recently, he’s been so close. He lays on a blanket on the living room floor at the foot of the couch while we watch TV or read books with the kids. He tolerates their random, sometimes-rough hugs and their running around in circles.

 

He jumps if you drop something on the floor or slam a door. And he’d rather pace for 20 minutes than deal with a cat on his blanket.

 

And he’s a lover. Pet his head and rub his long neck and you are a forever friend.

He greets you at the door and stretches those long legs in front of him, sticking his butt up in the air.

 

He has the worst breath and he’s at the perfect height to steal a good steak off of your plate, but he’s been a really, really good friend.

 

Proud got scared at the door one day while I was taking him out and pulled the leash out of my hand. He ran in all his graceful, majestic glory and in spite of the shock and fright of losing him, I couldn’t help but watch him run. He’s so beautiful when he is in motion. I always feel at peace when I watch him run.

 

So, he’s going back with one of the co-owners of the adoption agency. (Please check them out here). He may be there only temporarily or it may be his forever now home. She has a couple of other greyhounds and a large, fenced-in yard.

He can run. Often and with friends.

In that beautiful form, smiling in the breeze.

 

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