The girls were just talking to Uncle Chuck on the phone, and I noticed that Jack and Penny were conspicuously absent from the vicinity. I got suspicious, and walked toward the bathroom.
The first thing I noticed was that Penny was standing in the bathroom staring at the bathtub. The second thing I noticed was that both the shower doors were shut.
I opened the shower doors to find Jack, sitting alone in the bathtub in the dark, holding the toy that we had just filled up with Beggin' Strips. The baby was hiding out in the bathtub eating dog treats. DOG TREATS.
We win at parenting!
Showing posts with label My Dog Will Eat You. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Dog Will Eat You. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Holy Moley!
.png) |
| Wikimedia Commons |
"Yeah, right," I thought.
We live near the ravine that runs down to the river, our neighbors' yards back up to it but since we're on the corner ours doesn't. We have all kinds of wildlife in this neighborhood. This mole has been screwing up our yard for a couple of years, now. We tried solar repellers like this
, back when we still cared about being humane. BJ finally got serious and bought a mole guillotine
, and we thought we'd killed the little bastard. Until yesterday.
Penny has dug up half the yard, especially around the edges of the patio and the house, trying to get at the stupid mole, so I was dubious that she had actually managed to catch it as I walked outside (wearing a dress and sandals and with nothing in or on my hands to catch the mole with, because I'm an idiot). But sure enough, there she was, carrying an enormous mole around in her mouth.
I screamed. The kids screamed. Monica screamed, "What do I do? What do I do?" and I was like, "I don't know!" because no one said anything about this in any of the parenting classes we took at the hospital. There really are many topics they could cover, including, "How to Not Traumatize Your Kids With Wildlife."
I called BJ, but he had ridden his bike to work that day so it would've taken him 20 minutes to get home. As I was calling him, Penny was trotting proudly around the yard with the mole hanging out of her mouth. The kids were still screaming, and I was still hysterical, so it took him a while to figure out what was happening. He agreed to come home. I told him I'd try to catch the mole in the meantime.
I went into the garage and got a shovel and a plastic bucket. These tools were grossly inadequate. My first idea was to try to get Penny to drop the mole into the bucket. That didn't work at all. Then she put it down I tried covering the mole with the bucket, but I quickly realized that the mole would just dig into the ground and continue to destroy our yard if I did that. I would have just bashed its head in with the shovel, except for the seven kids in the yard who would have thought I was a monster and had nightmares for the rest of their lives if I had. That, and I was still wearing sandals and I didn't really want mole guts on my feet. Also, I'm a wimp.
Penny continued to toy with the mole, I think she's part cat, dropping it and picking it back up. She'd let it start to burrow into the ground and she'd grab it by the butt and trot around some more with it in her mouth. I kept hoping that she'd shake her head and break its neck. A couple of times it went stiff and I thought she had killed it, but no such luck.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, she dropped it near the patio and let it get away. We spent some time encouraging her to get him back, but no such luck The mole was gone.
I called BJ to let him know we'd missed the chance to kill the mole. Then I called the vet to see if I could get a ringworm preventative, because Cinders (the dog we had before kids) had gotten ringworm from sticking his nose in mole holes, but the vet said there was nothing we could do, other than wait and treat it if she comes down with it. Eeeww.
Of course, the first thing she did when I finally let her back in the house last night was lick me. Ugh.
I couldn't write about this until now because I went to bed right after dinner last night. I'd had enough, and I have a sinus infection which makes breathing a lot of work. I guess I snored like a tractor all night long. BJ's a lucky guy.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Pet's Ten Commandments
I found this among the adoption papers for Penny. I thought it was good enough to share.
A Pet's Ten Commandments by Stan Rawlinson
1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old and weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You, too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.
***
*sniff*
Confidential to Rocko - poop, baby, poop! You can do it, buddy. And for God's sake, quit eating rocks.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Newest Pretty Baby
I'll bet you didn't even know we were expecting! Here is our newest pretty baby. She came with the name Jessie, but we might change it to Penny, or Rose, or Little Lady, depending on who wins. She's a German Shepherd mix. She and her brother and her mom were surrendered to a kill shelter in Illinois, and the outstanding group Magnificent Mutts rescued them. Her brother went home yesterday to live with a 9 year old boy and his family, and she came home to us today. Hooray for happy tales (tails?)!
If you're nearby and you're looking for a new dog, I can't recommend Magnificent Mutts (out of Hillside, IL) enough. They've been wonderful to work with.
The girls are madly in love. They've been very good with her - keeping an eye on her in the house, giving her treats, playing with her, and taking her for walks They're going to be excellent dog-moms someday.
When Max died, I felt like our house lost its soul. It was so strange to come back to an empty, quiet house. Aside from when I lived in the dorms, this has been the longest I've ever lived without a pet. We've missed Max so much, and I have missed the security of having a dog more than I ever thought I would. I'll happily trade clean floors for the peace of mind that comes with knowing that someone with keen hearing and sharp teeth is looking out for us. Of course, she won't be much of a home security system for a few months. I think she'll be between 50 and 60 pounds when she's grown (heh, that's what they told us about Max, too, and she topped out at 90!).
So many people have cautioned me that we can't replace Max, and I know that, I really do. But there are so many great things about Shepherds, and so many great things about mutts, I can't imagine having any other kind of dog. My last three cars have all been Hondas. I tend to stick with what works, once I find it. It's honestly a coincidence that she looks so much like Max. I had already agreed to her before I saw a picture, based on the description of her from the lady with the rescue organization.
She asserted her individuality tonight when I gave her a pill (I think it's a dewormer - it gave her terrible gas!) in peanut butter, and she refused to take it. It was as if she was telling me, "I'm a new dog, Mom, and your old tricks won't necessarily fly." Tomorrow we'll try cheese.
I know that Max would be glad that we're welcoming a new dog into our family - particularly because she doesn't have to put up with her. Max was never much of a dog-lover. She greatly preferred the company of people.
, She's been sleeping on my legs as I've written this post. It would be very cozy if she would quit farting.
She is not a replacement, but she's a very welcome addition. Our house feels like home again.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Your Daily Cry
I promise I'm not going to beat the story of the dog into the ground, but just one more heartwarming thing, and I swear I'll stop making you all cry, ok?
I got home tonight and BJ was already here. I hate that he came home to a completely empty house, and I had tried to beat him home, but I didn't make it. When I walked in he was standing at the kitchen counter looking exceptionally sad.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
He gestured at a box on the counter from Purdue. We assumed that it was Max's ashes.
"Oh wow, oh God, that was fast."
I felt AWFUL. I knew it would be hard for him to come home to an empty house, but to come home to an empty house and a box full of... well, that was just horrible. Sometimes there just isn't enough Zoloft, you know?
We talked about whether or not we wanted to scatter them at the airport this weekend, and we decided to wait because we're not sure if we'll want to scatter them all or save some. We've never had custody of any ashes before, so we're not sure what to do. We don't want to regret a decision we make in grief. So we'll wait. After all, Aunt Vicki drove around with her husband's ashes in her trunk for at least a year or two, right? We don't have to decide immediately.
By this point we'd wandered into the laundry room and BJ was changing Jack's diaper. I told BJ I'd take care of the box, and I went back into the kitchen to put the box somewhere where he would not accidentally find it and get all sad again between now and when we decided what to do.
When I picked up the box it felt way too light for what I thought was inside. I remembered that they were sending a metal urn, and this didn't feel at all like metal.
Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I opened the box.
Inside a sympathy card with personal notes and signed by everyone we came into contact with at Purdue, and a clay impression of her paw print! I laughed at us for a second before I started sobbing. To think that I almost put this treasure away without opening the box or looking at it.
People can be so lovely. I continue to be blown away by the kindness that surrounds us.
Lauren, Mike, Kristi, Laura, Brandy, Greg, Rebecca, and Jeff - thank you.
I got home tonight and BJ was already here. I hate that he came home to a completely empty house, and I had tried to beat him home, but I didn't make it. When I walked in he was standing at the kitchen counter looking exceptionally sad.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
He gestured at a box on the counter from Purdue. We assumed that it was Max's ashes.
"Oh wow, oh God, that was fast."
I felt AWFUL. I knew it would be hard for him to come home to an empty house, but to come home to an empty house and a box full of... well, that was just horrible. Sometimes there just isn't enough Zoloft, you know?
We talked about whether or not we wanted to scatter them at the airport this weekend, and we decided to wait because we're not sure if we'll want to scatter them all or save some. We've never had custody of any ashes before, so we're not sure what to do. We don't want to regret a decision we make in grief. So we'll wait. After all, Aunt Vicki drove around with her husband's ashes in her trunk for at least a year or two, right? We don't have to decide immediately.
By this point we'd wandered into the laundry room and BJ was changing Jack's diaper. I told BJ I'd take care of the box, and I went back into the kitchen to put the box somewhere where he would not accidentally find it and get all sad again between now and when we decided what to do.
When I picked up the box it felt way too light for what I thought was inside. I remembered that they were sending a metal urn, and this didn't feel at all like metal.
Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I opened the box.
Inside a sympathy card with personal notes and signed by everyone we came into contact with at Purdue, and a clay impression of her paw print! I laughed at us for a second before I started sobbing. To think that I almost put this treasure away without opening the box or looking at it.
People can be so lovely. I continue to be blown away by the kindness that surrounds us.
Lauren, Mike, Kristi, Laura, Brandy, Greg, Rebecca, and Jeff - thank you.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thank you
All of the support that you have shown our family this week means so much. We've received so many calls, texts, emails, comments, and cards. So many of you have offered your love and support. It truly touches our hearts to know that Max was loved by so many of our friends and family, too.
I wanted to share a couple of special stories...
Our neighbor, J, is 11. He and his parents and his baby sister live two doors down. He mowed our lawn for us while we were gone last weekend, and with everything that happened, BJ and I both forgot to pay him. I called him after school yesterday and said, "When the storm is over, come down so I can pay you. I'm so sorry we forgot."
J's mom came down after work and told me that J had asked her if, instead of paying him to mow the lawn, if it would be ok if he asked us to donate the money to the Humane Society in Max's memory, instead. And his little sister, who is 3, told her mommy that she's going to grow up and be a vet so she can make Max strong and healthy again.
What wonderful kids, and what a lovely family.
Other friends of ours have also made donations in Max's memory. It just blows me away. I've never been on the receiving end of memorial donations, before. I had no idea how much it would mean to me. What a beautiful thing to do.
Our vet, Dr. Miller, called me last night to check on us. We spent 15 minutes on the phone, with her reassuring me that we had done the right thing, that we couldn't have known any earlier that anything was wrong with Max, and that even if we had known, there was nothing we could have done to fix it. It really helped ease my mind, because I had started to question whether or not we had done the right thing, whether or not it was really painless when we let her be euthanized, and whether or not we missed some sign in the last month or two that something was wrong. I'd spent a good part of yesterday Googling. Google is sometimes not my friend.
BJ and I are surrounded by such loving, wonderful, generous people - from our family to our neighbors to our friends and colleagues to the professionals we've chosen to work with our family (teachers, doctors, dentists, vets, insurance agents, accountants...) - we are truly, truly blessed. Thank you so much for loving us so well.
I wanted to share a couple of special stories...
Our neighbor, J, is 11. He and his parents and his baby sister live two doors down. He mowed our lawn for us while we were gone last weekend, and with everything that happened, BJ and I both forgot to pay him. I called him after school yesterday and said, "When the storm is over, come down so I can pay you. I'm so sorry we forgot."
J's mom came down after work and told me that J had asked her if, instead of paying him to mow the lawn, if it would be ok if he asked us to donate the money to the Humane Society in Max's memory, instead. And his little sister, who is 3, told her mommy that she's going to grow up and be a vet so she can make Max strong and healthy again.
What wonderful kids, and what a lovely family.
Other friends of ours have also made donations in Max's memory. It just blows me away. I've never been on the receiving end of memorial donations, before. I had no idea how much it would mean to me. What a beautiful thing to do.
Our vet, Dr. Miller, called me last night to check on us. We spent 15 minutes on the phone, with her reassuring me that we had done the right thing, that we couldn't have known any earlier that anything was wrong with Max, and that even if we had known, there was nothing we could have done to fix it. It really helped ease my mind, because I had started to question whether or not we had done the right thing, whether or not it was really painless when we let her be euthanized, and whether or not we missed some sign in the last month or two that something was wrong. I'd spent a good part of yesterday Googling. Google is sometimes not my friend.
BJ and I are surrounded by such loving, wonderful, generous people - from our family to our neighbors to our friends and colleagues to the professionals we've chosen to work with our family (teachers, doctors, dentists, vets, insurance agents, accountants...) - we are truly, truly blessed. Thank you so much for loving us so well.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Max
Max was breathing funny today when BJ came home for lunch. We talked about it a bit, and gave her a pain pill. Since we had an appointment at Purdue scheduled for this coming Wednesday (for her leg surgery) and since I knew they wouldn't be able to operate if she was sick, and since it's a lot cheaper to find out she's sick at our usual vet than it is at Purdue, I called to get her an appointment.
I knew it was bad when I took her outside to get her in the car, and when I said, "You wanna go for a ride, girl?" she just laid down in the grass.
Somehow I got all 3 kids and the dog into the car and to the vet. On the way I reached back to pat her and tell her it was ok.
We got to the vet and I got her inside, but when I checked her in she laid down and she wouldn't get up. "I'm not sure I'll be able to get her back there by myself," I told them. They called back for someone to come help.
We got her to walk to the exam room, we even got her to stand on the scale, sweet girl. They took us back. The vet tech was very concerned, but she wouldn't guess at what was wrong. I fussed at the kids to be quiet. The vet came in.
I knew it was bad from the look on Dr. Miller's face.
Dr. Miller was the same vet we saw when we first brought Max to them as a puppy. She had just seen Max a month ago. She could tell that something was really wrong.
She checked, and Max's gums were almost white, indicating severe blood loss. Since she obviously wasn't bleeding on the outside, that meant it was internal. She was panting, doing that "abdominal breathing," and she was so weak. They had to bring a gurney in to take her back for an x-ray.
I knew it was bad when they brought the kids cookies and juice, and asked me if I wanted coffee. In 11 years, they'd never done that before.
The x-ray showed a tumor on her spleen. Dr. Miller said it was life threatening. She said she could die tonight. The tumor was bleeding into her abdominal cavity. She said there was a 75% chance that it was malignant, and a 25% chance that it was benign. Purdue could do surgery to remove her spleen, and it might be ok.
I asked, "What if we just take her home and let nature take its course?" and she said, compassionately but firmly, "She'll die. She'll die in front of your kids. You don't want that." I asked her what she would do if Max belonged to her, and she said she'd consider euthanasia.
I called my dad to come get the kids, and BJ to meet me at the vet. I wasn't making any decisions alone.
BJ arrived and Dr. Miller explained it to him. He wanted to do the surgery. I told him he was crazy. It would be at least $5000. He didn't care. She had a 25% chance at being ok. I told him that I wasn't going to try to talk him out of it, because I didn't want him to blame me. We agreed to take Max to Purdue. They had to wheel her to the car on a gurney. She was too weak to walk.
Dad took the girls, BJ took the dog, I took the baby. We got to Purdue in record time. They brought a gurney out to get her. I can't tell you how strange it was that our strong girl, who used to run so fast, couldn't walk. She didn't like it either.
They took her in the emergency entrance and we went into the waiting room. A tech came and got our history.
I knew it was bad when they gave us a private waiting room.
We waited for about an hour while they did an ultrasound. Not only was the cancer on her spleen, it had metastasized to her chest, somewhere, and she was bleeding into her chest cavity, too. Her lungs had collapsed. Even with the surgery, they said, we were looking at 3 months at most.
We didn't want her to die alone on an operating table. We didn't want her to spend her last days sick and in pain. She was too good a dog to let her suffer. They took us to the grieving room. They brought her to us. They brought a student to hold Jack in the hall. We waited.
Edited to add - I forgot something important. As they brought her in, even though she was having trouble breathing, even though she was weak, even though she was dying, when she saw us Max wagged her tail.
I can't describe what it was like to say goodbye to her. She was still panting and obviously uncomfortable. We cried into her fur and we told her how lucky we were that she was ours. We remembered a few of our favorite stories about her. We thanked her for taking such good care of us, of our kids. We told her that we would make it stop hurting.
"Go home, Max. We'll meet you at home," I said.
We told them we were ready. Well, I opened the door and they said, "Are you ready?" and I sobbed, "No," but they came in anyway. It was quick. She didn't suffer.
We held her and loved her through it, and now she's gone. And the house is so empty and so quiet.
Telling the kids broke my heart. When I told Mary Grace that we let the vet give Max "a chemical" to help her die, she said, "How could you DO that?" I said, "It was so hard, it was the hardest thing, but it was the right thing to do. We didn't want Max to suffer. Are you angry with me?" "No, Mommy, I'm not angry, but I'm trying to understand," she said. She's so mature. She's decided that in addition to growing up and owning the Princess Cafe, she's going to cure cancer. You know, in her free time. I looked her right in the eye and said, "You can do anything, and I think that would be wonderful."
BJ has a business trip tomorrow and Wednesday, and I don't know what's sadder - that he has to go and try to pretend his heart isn't breaking and be "professional," or that I have to stay here in this quiet, empty house and try to calmly field the endless barrage of death questions from the kids (again, for the second time in a year. "Is kitty still died?" "Yes, Claire, kitty is still died.")
When we got home, my eyes automatically went to the spot in the window where she always looked out, waiting for us, and I broke down again. I gathered up all her stuff, just so I wouldn't keep tripping over it, but it upset BJ so I stopped.
We're lucky that it happened fast and she didn't have a long, drawn out illness with lots of suffering. We're lucky that I was able to get her and the kids to the vet before she lost the ability to walk. We're lucky that she didn't die at home alone. We're lucky that she didn't die while we were gone this past weekend. We're lucky that we could even afford to consider a $5000 surgery. We're lucky to live close to a place that could do such a surgery, if it had been a humane option. We're lucky that we got to spend the last 11 years with her. We're lucky that we got to give her a loving, dignified passage into the next world.
She was just the best dog. Smart, gentle, loyal, protective - everything a dog should be, and more. She was such a good friend.
Go home, Max. We'll meet you there. Go on home.
I knew it was bad when I took her outside to get her in the car, and when I said, "You wanna go for a ride, girl?" she just laid down in the grass.
Somehow I got all 3 kids and the dog into the car and to the vet. On the way I reached back to pat her and tell her it was ok.
We got to the vet and I got her inside, but when I checked her in she laid down and she wouldn't get up. "I'm not sure I'll be able to get her back there by myself," I told them. They called back for someone to come help.
We got her to walk to the exam room, we even got her to stand on the scale, sweet girl. They took us back. The vet tech was very concerned, but she wouldn't guess at what was wrong. I fussed at the kids to be quiet. The vet came in.
I knew it was bad from the look on Dr. Miller's face.
Dr. Miller was the same vet we saw when we first brought Max to them as a puppy. She had just seen Max a month ago. She could tell that something was really wrong.
She checked, and Max's gums were almost white, indicating severe blood loss. Since she obviously wasn't bleeding on the outside, that meant it was internal. She was panting, doing that "abdominal breathing," and she was so weak. They had to bring a gurney in to take her back for an x-ray.
I knew it was bad when they brought the kids cookies and juice, and asked me if I wanted coffee. In 11 years, they'd never done that before.
The x-ray showed a tumor on her spleen. Dr. Miller said it was life threatening. She said she could die tonight. The tumor was bleeding into her abdominal cavity. She said there was a 75% chance that it was malignant, and a 25% chance that it was benign. Purdue could do surgery to remove her spleen, and it might be ok.
I asked, "What if we just take her home and let nature take its course?" and she said, compassionately but firmly, "She'll die. She'll die in front of your kids. You don't want that." I asked her what she would do if Max belonged to her, and she said she'd consider euthanasia.
I called my dad to come get the kids, and BJ to meet me at the vet. I wasn't making any decisions alone.
BJ arrived and Dr. Miller explained it to him. He wanted to do the surgery. I told him he was crazy. It would be at least $5000. He didn't care. She had a 25% chance at being ok. I told him that I wasn't going to try to talk him out of it, because I didn't want him to blame me. We agreed to take Max to Purdue. They had to wheel her to the car on a gurney. She was too weak to walk.
Dad took the girls, BJ took the dog, I took the baby. We got to Purdue in record time. They brought a gurney out to get her. I can't tell you how strange it was that our strong girl, who used to run so fast, couldn't walk. She didn't like it either.
They took her in the emergency entrance and we went into the waiting room. A tech came and got our history.
I knew it was bad when they gave us a private waiting room.
We waited for about an hour while they did an ultrasound. Not only was the cancer on her spleen, it had metastasized to her chest, somewhere, and she was bleeding into her chest cavity, too. Her lungs had collapsed. Even with the surgery, they said, we were looking at 3 months at most.
We didn't want her to die alone on an operating table. We didn't want her to spend her last days sick and in pain. She was too good a dog to let her suffer. They took us to the grieving room. They brought her to us. They brought a student to hold Jack in the hall. We waited.
Edited to add - I forgot something important. As they brought her in, even though she was having trouble breathing, even though she was weak, even though she was dying, when she saw us Max wagged her tail.
I can't describe what it was like to say goodbye to her. She was still panting and obviously uncomfortable. We cried into her fur and we told her how lucky we were that she was ours. We remembered a few of our favorite stories about her. We thanked her for taking such good care of us, of our kids. We told her that we would make it stop hurting.
"Go home, Max. We'll meet you at home," I said.
We told them we were ready. Well, I opened the door and they said, "Are you ready?" and I sobbed, "No," but they came in anyway. It was quick. She didn't suffer.
We held her and loved her through it, and now she's gone. And the house is so empty and so quiet.
Telling the kids broke my heart. When I told Mary Grace that we let the vet give Max "a chemical" to help her die, she said, "How could you DO that?" I said, "It was so hard, it was the hardest thing, but it was the right thing to do. We didn't want Max to suffer. Are you angry with me?" "No, Mommy, I'm not angry, but I'm trying to understand," she said. She's so mature. She's decided that in addition to growing up and owning the Princess Cafe, she's going to cure cancer. You know, in her free time. I looked her right in the eye and said, "You can do anything, and I think that would be wonderful."
BJ has a business trip tomorrow and Wednesday, and I don't know what's sadder - that he has to go and try to pretend his heart isn't breaking and be "professional," or that I have to stay here in this quiet, empty house and try to calmly field the endless barrage of death questions from the kids (again, for the second time in a year. "Is kitty still died?" "Yes, Claire, kitty is still died.")
When we got home, my eyes automatically went to the spot in the window where she always looked out, waiting for us, and I broke down again. I gathered up all her stuff, just so I wouldn't keep tripping over it, but it upset BJ so I stopped.
We're lucky that it happened fast and she didn't have a long, drawn out illness with lots of suffering. We're lucky that I was able to get her and the kids to the vet before she lost the ability to walk. We're lucky that she didn't die at home alone. We're lucky that she didn't die while we were gone this past weekend. We're lucky that we could even afford to consider a $5000 surgery. We're lucky to live close to a place that could do such a surgery, if it had been a humane option. We're lucky that we got to spend the last 11 years with her. We're lucky that we got to give her a loving, dignified passage into the next world.
She was just the best dog. Smart, gentle, loyal, protective - everything a dog should be, and more. She was such a good friend.
Go home, Max. We'll meet you there. Go on home.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Follow Up on Dogs Not Being Kids
Well, I'm sure glad I didn't raise a stink! I was back at the doctor for Claire's four year check up today (it's official, she is four, and checks out just fine) and I mentioned to the woman at the front desk that I was surprised by the dog, and she confirmed that he was a therapy dog. I said something about how I had recently learned that small dogs can sometimes alert people when they're about to have a seizure, and isn't that interesting, and she gave an almost imperceptible little eye roll as she said, "Yeah, and sometimes they're just for anxiety."
"I would think that a woobie would be more hygienic and easier to take out in public!" I said, and the women behind the desk laughed.
So it was probably a Woobie Dog. And I would have felt terrible if I had said anything and embarrassed the poor guy, so PHEW!
In other medical news, Jack weighs 13 pounds, 3 ounces and he'll be 3 months old in 2 days. That seems huge to me, but it's only the 30th percentile. It's astonishing that they can gain almost 6 pounds in 3 months - he's almost doubled his birth weight (what was it, 7 pounds 9 ounces? The girls were both 7 pounds 3 ounces... Ummm... No, he was 7 pounds 7 ounces, and that is why I blog - so I can google that kind of thing when it comes up!). I'll bet by his 4 month check up he will have doubled. Crazy.
In other dog news, Max slept in this morning until 8:15. I went in and woke her up because I was worried about her (she's 11, after all), and was relieved when she was just fine. Then she sort of fell (like Bambi in the scene on the frozen pond) on the kitchen floor and I thought she was having a seizure, but she's just clumsy on slick floors, I guess, because once she got on her feet she was fine. Dumb dog, giving me two heart attacks in 30 minutes.
Hey, HEY. I've been treated for anxiety. How do I sign Max up to be my Woobie dog? Maybe I can get her one of those doggie backpacks
and then I wouldn't have to carry a diaper bag!! Awesome!
"I would think that a woobie would be more hygienic and easier to take out in public!" I said, and the women behind the desk laughed.
So it was probably a Woobie Dog. And I would have felt terrible if I had said anything and embarrassed the poor guy, so PHEW!
In other medical news, Jack weighs 13 pounds, 3 ounces and he'll be 3 months old in 2 days. That seems huge to me, but it's only the 30th percentile. It's astonishing that they can gain almost 6 pounds in 3 months - he's almost doubled his birth weight (what was it, 7 pounds 9 ounces? The girls were both 7 pounds 3 ounces... Ummm... No, he was 7 pounds 7 ounces, and that is why I blog - so I can google that kind of thing when it comes up!). I'll bet by his 4 month check up he will have doubled. Crazy.
In other dog news, Max slept in this morning until 8:15. I went in and woke her up because I was worried about her (she's 11, after all), and was relieved when she was just fine. Then she sort of fell (like Bambi in the scene on the frozen pond) on the kitchen floor and I thought she was having a seizure, but she's just clumsy on slick floors, I guess, because once she got on her feet she was fine. Dumb dog, giving me two heart attacks in 30 minutes.
Hey, HEY. I've been treated for anxiety. How do I sign Max up to be my Woobie dog? Maybe I can get her one of those doggie backpacks
 | ||
| Got wipes? |
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Good thing...
It's a good thing that "blog every day" wasn't my New Years' resolution this year. Jeez.
One of the hard things about having kids is that just when you start to figure it out, things change. You get your legs back under you after having one to begin with, and the little bugger learns to crawl, or needs to eat solid food, or starts sleeping once a day instead of twice, or not at all instead of once. My kids are 4.5 and almost-3, and the constant changes still haven't stopped. We just get our fall schedule figured out, and it's winter break. We just get in a good bedtime routine and Daddy has a business trip and we have to start over. We just sort out who needs what when, and then someone gets the flu and our whole routine is turned on its ear. It's just life, and it's fine, but sometimes I think I'd like to stay in a groove where I feel like, yeah, I've got this, for more than 24 hours.
This constant state of change reminds me to be flexible. It reminds me to be humble (because most of the time, I so haven't got this). It reminds me that life keeps moving forward all the time, no matter what.
Right now, for the first time since Mary Grace was born, I feel like I have a little time in the daily routine to work on myself. That's a nice feeling. I kind of missed myself. Sometimes as a new mom you feel like you spend all of your time taking care of everyone else, and you wonder, "When is it my turn?" Well, the answer appears to be roughly when the littlest one is two and a half. When they can be trusted to sit and watch a movie while you take a shower, when they can entertain themselves the entire time it takes to make dinner, when you don't have to cart a diaper bag the size of the earth around with you everywhere, when getting out the door isn't a 20 minute process... that's when it gets significantly easier. Finally, I have time to take a breath in and let it out again without someone needing something (although while I was writing that, I had to get up and yell at Max for trying to go through the front window at a neighbor, whose mother brought the dog along while selling Girl Scout cookies to the neighborhood - and how good are we for not buying any??).
I'm thinking of my friend who just had her first baby, and wondering if she's thinking, as I did, "Will it always be this hard?" And I guess the answer is, "Yes and no." Yes, it's always going to be challenging, because your child is constantly going to develop and change - s/he'll keep you on your toes and you'll always be working on improving and responding to her needs. But no, it won't always be as hard as it is when they're new. It gets a tiny bit easier every day. And it appears to get a lot easier when they're about two and a half. That's the answer I wish I'd had when my kids were brand new.
I wish I could go back and tell myself.
PS - Happy Birthday Kelly! The girlies and I left you a voicemail at your parents' house - I couldn't find your cell phone number.
One of the hard things about having kids is that just when you start to figure it out, things change. You get your legs back under you after having one to begin with, and the little bugger learns to crawl, or needs to eat solid food, or starts sleeping once a day instead of twice, or not at all instead of once. My kids are 4.5 and almost-3, and the constant changes still haven't stopped. We just get our fall schedule figured out, and it's winter break. We just get in a good bedtime routine and Daddy has a business trip and we have to start over. We just sort out who needs what when, and then someone gets the flu and our whole routine is turned on its ear. It's just life, and it's fine, but sometimes I think I'd like to stay in a groove where I feel like, yeah, I've got this, for more than 24 hours.
This constant state of change reminds me to be flexible. It reminds me to be humble (because most of the time, I so haven't got this). It reminds me that life keeps moving forward all the time, no matter what.
Right now, for the first time since Mary Grace was born, I feel like I have a little time in the daily routine to work on myself. That's a nice feeling. I kind of missed myself. Sometimes as a new mom you feel like you spend all of your time taking care of everyone else, and you wonder, "When is it my turn?" Well, the answer appears to be roughly when the littlest one is two and a half. When they can be trusted to sit and watch a movie while you take a shower, when they can entertain themselves the entire time it takes to make dinner, when you don't have to cart a diaper bag the size of the earth around with you everywhere, when getting out the door isn't a 20 minute process... that's when it gets significantly easier. Finally, I have time to take a breath in and let it out again without someone needing something (although while I was writing that, I had to get up and yell at Max for trying to go through the front window at a neighbor, whose mother brought the dog along while selling Girl Scout cookies to the neighborhood - and how good are we for not buying any??).
I'm thinking of my friend who just had her first baby, and wondering if she's thinking, as I did, "Will it always be this hard?" And I guess the answer is, "Yes and no." Yes, it's always going to be challenging, because your child is constantly going to develop and change - s/he'll keep you on your toes and you'll always be working on improving and responding to her needs. But no, it won't always be as hard as it is when they're new. It gets a tiny bit easier every day. And it appears to get a lot easier when they're about two and a half. That's the answer I wish I'd had when my kids were brand new.
I wish I could go back and tell myself.
PS - Happy Birthday Kelly! The girlies and I left you a voicemail at your parents' house - I couldn't find your cell phone number.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
.jpg)
I'm sorry!
I know I've been heavy on the pictures and a little short on words, lately. Sorry! I'm getting ready for Christmas and working hard at losing weight (14 # to date - woo hoo!! I'm at my pre-baby weight for the first time since November of 2004!!). There's a ton going on right now, and it's just overwhelming. You should see the toy room. Ugh, not pretty. Anyway, I've been a very bad blogger and I'm sorry.
I need to get a great big curtain to hang between the toy room and the rest of the house (it's an 8 foot opening, so a door would cost a fortune) so I don't have to look at it. Actually, the kids would probably have a lot of fun with a big red velvet curtain. It could be their stage or their puppet show... Hmmmm....
I woke up with a migraine, but in spite of it I got up and dressed and got the girls up and ready for school. I need to refill my Imitrex. I thought I had two left, but they've disappeared. I'm sure I'll find them about 20 minutes after they expire. I also need to go to the grocery store. We have like no food here. It's a little desperate.
BJ's on a business trip. (Check out my home security system!! She eats thieves, kidnappers, and rapists for breakfast!!!) The kids are all sad. It's really pathetic. Having him gone this morning really made me appreciate how much he does around here. He gets up with and feeds the kids, gets them dressed while I'm in the shower, makes our coffee, takes out the trash on Tuesdays and the recycling on Wednesdays... Mornings are a lot more work when he's gone! I had to come home after dropping the kids at school to get the trash out, and I got sucked into my e-mail. Whoops. Now I need to hit the store and pick the kids up. Busy day!!
I need to get a great big curtain to hang between the toy room and the rest of the house (it's an 8 foot opening, so a door would cost a fortune) so I don't have to look at it. Actually, the kids would probably have a lot of fun with a big red velvet curtain. It could be their stage or their puppet show... Hmmmm....
I woke up with a migraine, but in spite of it I got up and dressed and got the girls up and ready for school. I need to refill my Imitrex. I thought I had two left, but they've disappeared. I'm sure I'll find them about 20 minutes after they expire. I also need to go to the grocery store. We have like no food here. It's a little desperate.
BJ's on a business trip. (Check out my home security system!! She eats thieves, kidnappers, and rapists for breakfast!!!) The kids are all sad. It's really pathetic. Having him gone this morning really made me appreciate how much he does around here. He gets up with and feeds the kids, gets them dressed while I'm in the shower, makes our coffee, takes out the trash on Tuesdays and the recycling on Wednesdays... Mornings are a lot more work when he's gone! I had to come home after dropping the kids at school to get the trash out, and I got sucked into my e-mail. Whoops. Now I need to hit the store and pick the kids up. Busy day!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)