Sometimes it's ok to quit.

Last summer our spunky 12-year-old almost lost her life to the desert heat. Worst experience our family has ever survived for obvious reasons, and in fact it's hard to think about even long enough to type this post. I'm sure I still need therapy. We were blessed with strangers who kept her cells alive with their skilled knowledge of CPR, paramedics who acted quickly, and the hand of God touching her little body with the breath of life. Jason and I spent a week in the ICU while sweet Brynna fought for life after being cooked in the hot sand under the scorching July sun, lost on a bike that she was supposedly riding up to the next cul-de-sac. 

   

 Here's the link to her story if you want to be depressed with me: 

http://www.azfamily.com/news/local/Girl-almost-dies-of-heat-stroke-on-hottest-day-of-the-year-162826986.html

    I was so overwhelmingly happy that she was alive! And that's how I got swindled into buying kittens. One day her tiny voice quiveringly asked from the hospital bed, "Mommy, if I'm ok and don't die, can I have two kittens when I get home?" She was so tiny, so frail, a sunburned jumble of skinny legs and arms sprinkled with golden freckles and topped with a messy blonde bun, a tangle of IV's and monitors cocooning her. 

    I know that lots of people love cats, and I love to visit their cats. But I had childhood asthma and can't breathe within a mile of a cat, and I was preparing for surgery too and had a long road ahead of me that Fall. But, oh the cute freckles, and the heart monitors! Who could say no?

"Princess Buttercup."

    Thus we bought two kittens from an animal adoption agency a few weeks later. They were so sweet, so fluffy, so huggable. Kittens really are delightful...when you aren't on narcotics recovering from a month of hospitalization while raising 4 kids in a new house with white carpet and a litter box that must have been doused in kitten repellant, a lot of it. My life came to be literally ruled by walking fluff balls full of pee (and poo). (and barf). I would wait for my painkillers to kick in in the mornings so I could drag myself into the living room and see how many piles of kitty compost there were. It was hard to bend over because of my fresh abdominal scars, so I would grab a bucket and my cleaning supplies, snap on rubber gloves, press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I would scrub and cry and sometimes even say borderline bad words in my head, and think to myself that those kitties were the straw that was breaking the camel's back. But Brynna loved them! She always wanted kitties! We had pledged to the animal adoption people that we would love and support their sweet kittens for life, and I believe in commitment, and we are a responsible family and it wouldn't be a good example of endurance or dedication if I drove them back to the shelter after a few short weeks. Have you ever read a book entitled "Just Quit"? No, of course not. Neither have I.

     But may I be the first to tell you that sometimes it's ok to quit. We take on so many extra responsibilities, and there's no reason to let them to negate our happiness. Those cute kitties were two things too many in my life, and I had to recognize that I had done my best and it was time to STOP. They sold on Craigslist the minute I posted these fluffy pictures. I did have a mini panic attack when my husband told me later that the couple who came to get them looked like COLLEGE KIDS driving a ratty sedan who said they didn't know what probiotics were or where to buy organic kitty food or raw goat milk, but they showed great excitement about the cuteness of Brynna's soon to be ex-kittens. I never regretted that bold decision to sell the kitties. Life looked better the next day. Be brave enough to know when to quit. 

Brynna got to keep the money and a month's worth of memories.