In the history of all hamsters, I don't know if one has ever lived longer than "Cupcake".  When we got him, the man at the pet store said he would only live for around two years...which was about a hundred years ago.  
​    Cupcake was our daughter's birthday gift when she was little - and we naively assumed he would be a cute and cuddly pet. 

    We couldn't have been more wrong.  He was the meanest, angriest, rabid little thing that would bite your finger off when given the chance.  He spent his nights spinning in his maniacal little wheel, planning and plotting his very next move.
​     Our daughter would put gloves on to try and pet him, but he'd still bite right through, being that he was from Satan himself.
​     We lost Cupcake once, like, literally lost him for over a week and I knew the furry little thing would bite our faces off while we slept.  
​      Our daughter lovingly put pieces of fruit and hamster food out each night, hoping he would find his way back, while my husband and I knew he would never survive. 
​      Sure enough...he did.
​      That was years ago and for whatever reason, she loved him still.  She adored and cared for him even when we secretly hoped after family vacations he would be "taking a nap" by the time we came home.   
​     He was too mean to die and I honestly began to think we'd one day send him off to college with her, chewing his way through her textbooks.
​    Then, it happened.  Yesterday morning, I went to check on his food and water, but he wasn't glaring at me.  He looked, peaceful. 
​    Thinking something was wrong, I cautiously opened his cage to see what he'd do, but he didn't move to attack.  No biting, no jumping...he just sat.  His eyes were open and he looked at me, but he barely moved. 
​     Calling my husband, we gathered the kids and told them to spend some time with him because something seemed to be off.  They each did, but we all kept the sense everything would be okay.
     When school was over though, there he was.  Motionless and still.
​      The level of disdain I'd held for this ball of anger melted into pain.  He was so small and delicate and I couldn't believe he was gone.
​     Our daughter wept.  She cried so hard she almost made herself sick as my mind raced with what to do.  She'd never lost a pet and kept wanting to hold him, wishing he were alive. 
​     We had a funeral, said our good byes and wondered how she would be from then on.  

     It's hard to believe he's gone.  No squeaks of the hamster wheel spinning constantly throughout the night, no crunches of food while he eats his snacks at 3:00 in the morning.
​     We know our daughter will get better in time, but it's a learning process that'll never be easy.  
​      I never thought I'd miss that little fuzzball, but I actually do. One thing's for sure though, I feel better knowing he had a very long, looooong hamster life.
​      Rest in Peace, Cupcake.  We Love You. 

   Waking up with our noses pressed to the windows, resulted in another hollow blow with not a snowflake in sight.  Growing up in Ohio, I often find myself wishing for snowy days for my kids like the ones I grew up with, but raising them in North Carolina typically doesn't lend itself to such luck.
​   School was called off last night with the potential of snow, (a huge perk of living in the south) but when we all rushed to see how much had fallen this morning, there. was. nothing.  Not even a speck.  
​   "At least we didn't have to go to school", one of the kids mumbled - but then - a few hours later, grumbles were replaced with an eight year old scream heard 'round the world.
​     "IT'S SNOWING!!!"
​    Rushing back to the windows, sure enough it was.  Little by little...then a lot by a lot...snow began to fall.  It's still coming down as I write and I don't know if we've ever seen this much since we've lived here.
​     I'm sure there are people in the south that hate the very thought of this day, but for an Ohio girl and everyone else in the house, it couldn't be better...even if it only lasts for a minute.
​                *+*HAPPY SNOW DAY!!!*+* 

    I work with a student who's obsessed with dinosaurs.  Obsessed.  He tells me about one of his favorites being the Velociraptor with the fascination of a young mind in how he thinks a Velociraptor worked.  "He targets something, while another Velociraptor swings in to take care of business."
   It made me think - sometimes parents approach child rearing in a "good cop - bad cop" kind of way with one being passive while the other, more the authoritarian.  In our family however, my husband, well, my husband is my Velociraptor.  He swoops in from the side of things when I'm having the worst kind of day, then handles the situation quickly and effectively, before things get out of control.
​    Take last week.  It was his birthday and our eight and ten year olds were arguing over who would get to hold and carry his cake.  Fussing to light the candles, I informed them how neither would be carrying the sheet cake of flames and they could walk in with me while we all sang instead. My parents and the other kids were waiting in the dining room with Adam, while we three bickered over the bearer of the sugary torch.  
​    Upon carefully balancing the cake with one hand and trying to record with my phone in the other, I quickly realized it might actually be safer for one of the kids to hold the cake, rather than attempting to text and sing.
​     Our son was already in the dining room, so I apprehensively handed the now flaming ball of icing to our eight year old and hurried her along.  
​     She couldn't be happier.  Beaming from ear to ear, she was beyond excited to have the honor of carrying her first cake to her Daddy.  
​      Cue the singing, cue the angered ten year old brother who now sees his little sister rounding the corner with the cake...and cue the family dog our daughter didn't realize was lying across the floor while she ventured in from the kitchen.  
​     "Happy birthday to you" suddenly became a tumbling eight year old releasing a flying, flaming blaze of forty some years followed by a gasp from everyone in the room.  My mom yells about the dog, our son yells, "I KNEW IT!" furious after he'd already announced his little sister would drop the cake if she carried it by herself.  Before I could scream at the entire situation altogether, enter, my Velociraptor of a husband - swooping in from the side.  
​      Grabbing the cake (that somehow landed upright), he quickly high fived our daughter telling her "nice save", gave a smile as we confusingly began singing again - while the family dog remained undaunted and unmoved.
​       How were there no injuries to child or dog, no explosions of trajectory cake and icing for days, not to mention zero instantaneous combustions of flaming curtains?  One may never know.  
​       What I do know is, my husband is my Velociraptor.  The one I can count on to unexpectedly come in and attack the everyday crazy situations in this jungle we call life.  Every single cake flying, fire flaming, dog tripping impossible adventure.
​      We Love You, Adam.  Happy Birthday!  XO