The Tough Decisions.

Being an adult blows sometimes. But along with those crap moments, it's peppered with moments that make me revel in the freedom and maturity that adulthood brings. I get to appreciate things that I wouldn't have understood as a child. I get to taste and savor moments of severe contentment, and have them logged in my memory to access as I need them.

Paul and I have made the very-adult decision of finding a new home for our first child, our puppy, our little dog Violet. It was brought on by several factors, the two most prominent being that she was not getting the active lifestyle that she needed with us, as we were overwhelmed with taking care of the kids, let alone a dog (who, really, was another child). Also, she's in such a good home right now, with a doggie friend and a loving and willing family that has agreed to take her in as their own.

Some people can juggle the kids, the dog, the house, the cooking. I am not one of those people. I really wish I was. Maybe I will continue to grow into my role as a stay-at-home mom, and will be able, in the future, to take on more tasks without losing my mind. But right now, the kids have all of my attention, all of my energy, and it just wasn't fair to Violet.

It makes me sad. Paul had to deliver the news, as I was curled in on myself with my fist shoved in my mouth, willing myself not to jump in a say "Nevermind! Nevermind! We want her back!" It was not the hardest decision I've made in my life. I've known for some time now that she would do better with a family who was able to give her the attention she needed. But it WAS the hardest decision I've ever had to follow through on. Knowing something is right does not make it easy to do.

I am happy for her, that she has this new home and new family to run around with. I am sad for us, that we've lost what was possibly the best dog ever to grace this earth. If we get another dog in the future, when things have settled down a bit, it will have some big paws to fill, as anyone who has met Violet would agree. There's a little empty space in our family right now, but it will be alright. We've done what's best for Violet.

We will miss you, girl.

No, I've never smoked Weed.

There are things that are different here in the UK. People drive on the wrong side of the road, they say lorry instead of truck. I'm pretty sure that if I told someone I liked their pants, they would walk away thinking that I just complimented them on their underwear. Just little things. Also, if I give someone the peace sign with my palm facing in, I might get punched. These things I knew about when we moved here. I had experienced them for a little while when Paul and I first married.

There's one thing, though, that has taken me by surprise this time around.

I was at the park with the kids today, enjoying some of the sweet sun that has infiltrated this cloudy country. The park is adjacent to a church, and within walking distance of our pimp-pad here in Cambridge (this latest temporary housing is so streamlined and sweet... therefore so inappropriate and frustrating with two toddlers). There are two little caged-in play areas (LOVE them for caging in the play areas. LOVE THEM), and a seemingly misplaced skate ramp. I was in the bigger of the two areas, enjoying myself while my youngest was learning the ropes and finally understanding why it's always best to go feet first, and my oldest had made a friend and was joyfully running around, enjoying the freedom. My back was facing the skate ramp, but I was aware of two older guys (well, older than my 2 year old... they were probably my age) that were doing some type of training with their bikes. Alex had just taken it upon herself to run out of the cage (why they put the gate so you push to get out, instead of pull, I'll never know), yelling BIKE BIKE BIKE. I quickly grabbed her, told her it was too early to start chasing boys, and brought her back inside. As she set about playing with her friend again, I caught a scent in the air that was striking me as vaguely familiar. It was a sweet, a little cloying. I tried to sift through my memories and place the smell. I glanced around to see if I could see the source and my eyes caught the guys, who were now perched on top of the ramp, apparently taking a break. And there in one of their hands was a little cigarette. Nay, a joint. Suddenly, I was in high school, feeling very uncomfortable as my old friend's new (and mildly, ok, really weird) boyfriend pulled over his car that we were driving in, pulled off the face of the steering wheel, and continued to roll a joint and smoke it, with the windows up. Oh my gosh, they're smoking weed on a playground. Why are they smoking weed on a playground?! Why are my children getting their first taste of weed at the ages of OOONNNEE and TWWWOOO?? I was trying to figure out what I should do, but was left with the option of staying put when they finished up and went on their way.

When Paul got home, I quickly told him what happened, laughing at the absurdity of it. And do you know what he said? That it's LEGAL.

Now, I haven't done any research, so I don't know if he's mistaken or not... but if he's not? GOOD TO KNOW.