I'm learning that too much freedom now quickly feels self-indulgent and boring after a couple of days. I am learning that I actually enjoy my busy, toys-everywhere, constantly tending to the needs of my children, make-upless, hair-in-a-ponytail, low-key day to day more than I think I do sometimes.
This being said, 5 days in Vegas is too long a stint to be there. For us at least. By the last night, Tay and I were back in our room ready to crash by 11 p.m., and found our inner developing old Geezers coming out after having to call and complain to the front desk that the lounge 30 floors above us was bumping their club music too loudly and we couldn't sleep- this after calling to complain that the room next door to us was blasting their awful Guido, fist-pumping music too loudly and we couldn't sleep. This had probably been happening since the first night we got there- in fact we have vivid memories of hearing similar ruckus before, but it had been around 3 a.m. when we'd returned to the room far too intoxicated to really notice or care.
The concierge brought us earplugs and comped our room for the night. I finally got to sleep and Taylor of course ended up back down at the craps table- but only until about 3ish a.m. instead of his usual 6 or 7 a.m. mind you. His stamina for gambling is far better than his stamina for drinking, let's just say.
This trip made me realize that something is happening, something is changing and something will never be the same again- and this is my desire to go out, get wild and my tolerance for the environment in which to do it in. I wouldn't say that it is a dramatic change, but I definitely felt a drop in gusto for it all. But all in all- fun was had and everything I wanted to get out of my system got out.
The dressing up to go out part is probably my favorite part about Vegas. I don't get to do it much- I find no reason to and very VERY rare occasions to do so at home- but when I get to, it sure does feel nice to feel a little glamorous and, well, dare I say it? Hot and sexxxxxy. Yup! My feet don't like it, but that's what Fast Flats are for, God bless 'em.
I don't make it outside much in Vegas during the day. Even with a fantastic pool at The Hotel at the Mandalay, where we stayed, I turn into a vampire- hiding from the sun as much as possible. I've stopped caring about being tan because the looming fear of getting skin cancer has become more prevalent on my list of "Things to Be Afraid of About Aging'- which is stupid to think and speak of considering how many cigarettes I smoked while there. But Vegas is a place to be stupid and throw caution to the wind.
Hangovers are just so much worse under direct sunlight, surrounded by loud tourists and bad music at a casino resort. That's just my opinion.
Returning home has been fun. I was craving my children like something fierce. It's amazing how much time and energy you can spend talking about your children even while on vacation. I spent 80% of my shopping excursions on them and countless buzzes chattering away about them with Taylor. Fist-pumping club music sparked new dorky songs that incorporated their names and silly new dance moves were invented to teach them once we got home.
"That's it!" we declared one night after too many Vodka and Red Bulls. "We are reinstating after-dinner dance hour when we get back! Even if they don't dance with us, they will watch us and learn to LOVE it!"
Well- watch Taylor at least. He's got the moves, whereas it takes too many Vodka and Red Bulls for me, and since I don't drink at home, it looks like I'll just have to get out my pom poms and cheer them all on from the sidelines.
Getting home late Monday night-1 a.m.ish- was hard. It was our first return back to the house after vacation without Gretchen at the door about to piss herself with excitement because we were home.
It's been a little over a month since we lost her and I still think about her countless times throughout my days. I can't cry anymore- I literally cried every tear I had in me the week she first left- but my heart still hurts every day. She's Angel Bear now. Taylor and I talk about her at least once or twice a day. Jude brings her up at least once a day.
Our big fat cat D'Arcy has started coming around more- following Jude around and sleeping in his bed at night. She was always putting her toe in the social water at home when Gretchen was alive, wanting to hang out (we call her Hostess Kitty- she loves people)- but Gretchen would always chase her away or pester her to the point of having to leave the room out of sheer frustration. Now that she is gone, D'Arcy is reveling in the attention, letting Jude roughhouse with her as much as any cat can handle.
The first night she slept on Gretchen's spot on Jude's bed, Jude was excited initially- then burst into tears and begged for Gretchen- bawling that he missed her and loved her and that if he went outside and yelled loud enough for her, she'd come home.
KNIFE IN MY HEART. Omigod moments like that murder my insides.
Later before bed, I went up to his room like I always do before I crash- and found D'Arcy sleeping up next to him by his pillow. I instinctively expected to see Gretchen's head perk up from her spot at the end of the bed, her pointy bat ears all alert and sleepy at the same time. But it was fat D'Arcy and it was bittersweet and I loved that cat even more since then and missed my dog even worse, if that makes any sense at all.
I can't bring myself to move Gretchen's bed still. From time to time, I curl up in it (it's huge) and I can feel her. Her collar has been transferred from her bed to hanging in my closet on my jewelry tree, where I keep my most cherished accessories. Her biggest happiest open-dog-mouthed photo is on the wall in the laundry room where we can see it right when we walk in, next to where she would be waiting for us. She had been playing a killer game of ball at Lake Hefner that day and is the poster-dog for happy Dog Day in it. It brings me joy on the upteenth level.
Over time, the remnants of her fur is being vacuumed from carpets and it's causing the house to smell different. The air is different since she's been gone. I refuse still to Windex her nose and paw prints off the glass on the back sliding glass door- although I know someday it must be done. We've had several get togethers in the backyard since her death and the vibe is not the same, of course. Being in the backyard for anything will never be the same, but this warm sunny weather is the hardest. Summertime will be the hardest, without her swimming laps in the pool or pacing around the gates surrounding it with her ball in her mouth, itching to get back in.
I haven't gone on a walk since our last walk together. I just don't think I can do it yet. Her ghost is everywhere in this neighborhood- I see it when I drive through it. I see myself walking her and pushing Jude as an infant in a stroller around in it. I see myself walking her and pushing Viv around in a stroller in it. I see my big beautiful German Shepherd pulling me down the street with such intense joy and enthusiasm to be outside and with me and the babies- to be alive and breathing and appreciating her dog life- and I just can't bring myself to walk the streets again without her with me.
We briefly toyed with the idea of getting another puppy before we left for Vegas. At the time, this vulnerable, desperate part of me was anxious and thought it might be a good idea. Then I realized that not only am I not ready- but my family isn't ready. A puppy would only be a flimsy band-aid to a gaping wound in our collective hearts right now. We all have our vulnerable moments, and even the slightest hint of animal drama has sent me reeling back into the safety of my own apprehension of loving another canine again for awhile. Maybe Christmastime. Who knows.
Closure comes in spurts. I plan on getting a very small black diamond tattoo on the outside of my left foot, up in the soft spot between my ankle bone and the ridge, in tribute to her. To some that might sound silly- I may have thought the idea was a little wacky before I lost my dog- but I'm excited to do it. Gretchen had a perfectly shaped black diamond on the top of her head. We loved that diamond. We called her Diamond Head Dog (amongst an endless list of other names). It's the spot I used to give her countless kisses. It's a tiny scrap of priceless closure that I feel in my bones I need.
On a happier note (lighter note?), Mochi is walking. Mochi is weened. Mochi is one year old. I wonder to myself daily what I ever did without her in my life before. I think the same about Jude. I think about them both and wonder how I ever lived without them? Then I realize that everything in my life prior to them was all just build up and preparation and anticipation for their arrival and existence in my life.
I think the same thing about Taylor. Our Vegas trip was exactly what we needed to reconnect- because becoming parents is the hardest thing in the world, especially to your relationship with your spouse. Vegas is our ideal outlet to reconnect- where we can be the crazy, carefree, drinking/smoking/gambling/dancing/super fun couple we were when we first met. Then by the end of the trip we realize who we've become and all of this wonderful gratefulness and acceptance and harmonious reconnecting happens, and we come home as better parents and spouses.
So Thank You Las Vegas. See you again- probably not for a nice chunk of time- but we'll see you again, in a room further away from the fist-pumping Guido music-playing nightclub at the top of the hotel.
