Third Grandchild!

I like to tell people that I really hit the jackpot on grandchildren, given that I only had one child myself! I imagine my own grandmothers were less amazed, with their (seemingly) dozens of grandkids, because they had (seemingly) dozens of kids. Yet Grandma Holdaway always sent us all a $2 bill with each birthday card.

Peter Thomas Stuart Reynolds was born August 4th, right on his due date, after having been expected to be early since June. Here he is, being fawned over by his siblings, who so far have welcomed him. He's a quiet, serious little baby, concentrating on eating. He's been packing on a pound a week so far, and already weighs about twelve and a half pounds, at one month. The little guy was holding his head up right after birth and has already flipped himself over from stomach to back repeatedly. His fingers are long, his feet big, he's destined to be tall. His hair has so far been darker than that of the other kids; we imagine we can see a reddish cast to it. I think his brows look like Colin, Dave's brother, and my friend Paige says that this one looks more Reynolds than the other two, who look more like Maydans (i.e., Mike or me).

We expected that he would be named Thomas, as Tom was the only one of the grandparents yet to be honoured, but the name Peter was a surprise. Apparently it was to his parents, who decided that their predetermined options didn't fit this fellow and that he looked like a Peter. We can't help thinking of him already as "Little Petey". The "Stuart" is for Ruth's maiden name. Being Scottish, it fits with Reynolds.

Waiting for Another Baby and Memories of Ruth

July 12 was Orangeman's Day for some (Irish Protestants), commemorating the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. As my Dad said, "Tell you what kind of Irish I am: if you bring me a white horse, I'll ride it!"

My mother-in-law, Ruth, was born on this date in 1925; she would be 86 if she were alive today (sadly, she developed Alzheimer's and died August 15, 2006). My daughter is expecting her third baby on August 4, 2011, but she has had her first two children early. She has also been getting contractions off and on since June. I had wished that the new baby might be born on Ruth's birthday, but we're still waiting.

Ruth raised her four kids mostly alone. She went to Library College in Toronto and became a children's librarian back in the days when few married women did such crazy things. She was the first librarian at the new St. Vital library in Winnipeg. Later in life, she separated from her husband and moved the kids to Sudbury, Ontario, where they all went to Lasalle high school eventually. She was the librarian at Garson school, and was later forced to teach English, which she hated. She retired and moved back to Winnipeg where all her children had moved. She loved spending summers at the family Cottage on the north shore of Clear Lake. She lost the use of the cottage when it was stolen by her shady brother-in-law, Bill Knowles (AKA Kobus) for a dollar!. Ruth's mother had left the cottage equally to her two daughters, but had left her son-in-law as the executor, seeing that he was the only "man" of the family. Without telling Ruth, he paid each sister $1 and bought it outright, selling it for a profit of about $60,000 back in those days. This betrayal hurt Ruth and her family deeply. She never spoke to her sister again.

Ruth loved the summers spent with her mother at the lake, and books, and dogs. In fact, that is the epitaph that I suggested to Mike: "Summers. Dogs. Books." It describes her so well. She was a great mother-in-law and a wonderful, exciting and youthful grandmother to our daughter.

When Ruth first started forgetting to return calls, ignoring birthdays or telling us the same thing twice in a row, we were not too concerned, although sometimes it hurt our feelings or made us angry. When we realized that something was physically wrong, it made us more understanding but more heartbroken. It became hard to remember her as she was - yet when she died, it was as if the ill Ruth was replaced by the young and optimistic woman I remember. My friend Barbara was so amazed at how very attractive Ruth was in her 60s and 70s. They both shared a love of dogs and the softer blues like Wedgwood, turquoise and periwinkle.

Ruth was a joy to shop for; her clothes always looked so becoming. She was an indefatigable traveler and fun on road trips. Her sense of humour rarely failed her; she enjoyed most English comedies and the Giles series of daily cartoons, as well as the Far Side.

I Loved Lucy

On February 2, Groundhog Day, we had to put dear old Lucy to sleep, on the advice of her vet. I felt very badly about it because I had made an appointment with the vet in December for Lucy to have a check-up January 5. I was at the vet's picking up Lucy's special low-protein cat food and it occurred to me that Lucy hadn't had a check-up in some time.

Lucy went in twice; the second time was to get blood and urine samples. She apparently had a "mild" bladder infection and came back with all kinds of medicines: an antibiotic, some blood pressure powder and some Omega-3 oils to help her coat and joints.

She had a lot of trouble with the antibiotic and started not eating, even after we stopped it a bit early. She became confused, staggering when she got up, and wasting away. Even her favourite, bacon, wouldn't tempt her, although she licked a bit of another favourite, sour cream, off my fingers. She drank a lot of water, as cats with failing kidneys do, and mostly made it to the litter box. She even jumped up to the window seat one sunny morning (via the chair we leave there for her to make it easier).

I feel like my decision to have her checked speeded her demise. She was 19 years old, poor girl. She had a good long life, but there's a hole in our lives now, where a sweet gentle cat used to be. She was always very gentle -- never bit or scratched anyone. She missed her companion, Daisy, after Daisy passed at the age of 14, but seemed to perk up a bit after the little dog came on the scene last year. She never quite figured out what the heck that was: some kind of weird cat? Lucy still had 3 pounds on the dog!This picture of Lucy was taken January 3, 2011, just two days before her first vet appointment. Andrew took the picture. As you can see she had jumped up on the bed, which is fairly high.

Lucy's friend Deb, of "Just Cats" cat-sitting service, posted a lovely farewell to Lucy, with nice pictures of Lucy in the sun room and on the window seat. Deb is a delightful woman in a nearby town who not only looks after cats while you are away, but updates you on their progress via email and blog. She also volunteers with shelters and fosters.