Squig is running a fever.  I wish he could talk.  If he's not better soon, he's going to the vet.  I gave him half of a baby aspirin.  I hope that will do it.

He is totally dependent on me.  It makes me feel bad when I don't know what is wrong.  He didn't want to get out of the bed this morning--which is not the norm.  Usually, he is the one who gets me up.  He hops out of the bed, comes around to my side and stands up leaning two paws on the side of the bed scratching the sheet and making woofing murmurs.  He knows better than to bark!

My children always tease me that when they were growing up, I never let them sleep in.  That I would open the door to their bedrooms saying, "I'm up for the day," in a sing-song manner.  As if my being up for the day had anything to do about them getting up for the day.  They say that when I got up, everyone else had to get up--because you couldn't possibly sleep with all the pans banging and clanging around in the kitchen.

I wasn't that bad.  But now, when some of us get together, Scott--the family clown--may run around with a pan and a metal utensil yelling, "Mom's up for the day."  Or "Mom said she's ready to eat."  Just to irritate me.

You may think that when your children go off to college, or get married, or get a job, that they will be on their own.  Not so.  They are yours forever.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  I actually like my children.  They turned out reasonably okay.  And in some ways, spectacularly okay.

But you will be relegated to the sidelines of their lives.  You are no longer running the show.  Anybody's show.  Which is the way it should be, but it is an adjustment.  You go from being their guide and director, to being...something.  I'm not sure what.  You aren't anything unless they choose to include you.  They call the shots.

But I have Squig.  He also calls all of the shots.  I am no longer in charge of anything.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  It's very peaceful.