Houses In All The Towns

I often have mom-moments when I’m incredibly proud of something the girls do or say. It’s fascinating to see their little personalities come out and for them to have certain reactions and responses to things that happen in their lives without my prompting.

Chubs is still on a meat strike because she doesn’t want the animals to die. She cries when she sees an elderly person struggling to get around. I’m impressed she was able to develop such compassion at 5 years old for animals and the elderly.

When Chubs gets hurt, Princess Roundhead quickly collects Chubs’s blankie, an ice pack and her favorite stuffie du jour. It’s very sweet to see, and it makes me feel for a fleeting moment like I’ve done something right.

Where I end up stunned at the depth of my pride is when they do something that I know is a direct result of what we’re teaching them. It’s no secret we are animal lovers. In the last two months, we’ve rescued a paralyzed squirrel, saved a mouse in the house with a humane trap and now, we can add yet another animal to our list.

The other evening Princess Roundhead ran into the house yelling, “We need a towel and a box or something to put a bird in!” I said, “What’s going on?” She said there was a bird with a broken wing that was under my car.

Christ. I was busy. I have two listings that hit the market this week, one coming up in a couple weeks that I’m preparing, two that have been on the market and several new buyers looking for homes. I was like, Mama don’t got time to save an injured bird.

I sighed, put the laptop down and began the bird rescue process. It didn’t look good, definitely a broken wing at the very least but the bird was in peril. We called the Wildlife people and they came to collect him. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Just like with the squirrel. Princess Roundhead was late for her gymnastics class so she could save the bird and yes, I was very proud of her.

I mean, until the next morning when they woke us up like this.

Mama’s no longer proud. She’s pissed off.

Mama’s no longer proud. She’s pissed off.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the neighborhood animals have meetings where they spread the word – when it’s time for medical assistance, stumble, hop or drag yourself down to the house with the flamingos in the front and the child body chalk outlines on the front patio.

“Chirp chirp, it’s those suckers over there who run the wild animal infirmary! C’mon! There’s an Amazon box in that house with MY NAME on it.”