Free to good home. Or whatever. Just don’t eat him.

Loving miniature pincher mix enjoys long walks in the grass, barking at birds and *such

sleeping on pillows

getting eye boogers

Perfectly housetrained.

Some grooming required:

Comes with older chaperone.

Call soon to avoid paying taxidermy fees.

ps- not a joke.

*horses, muppets, chickens and computer generated gargoyles on the television

don’t say sh*t, kids…

 

If you give a dog some goat cheese, he’s going to shit on your floor. 

When he shits on your floor, you’ll probably be making lunch in the kitchen, so your toddler will “handle” it.

When your toddler “handles” the dog shit, he really handles (and foot-les and um… mouth-les) it.

When he handles, footles, and mouthles, the dog shit, you’re going to want to carry him at arms length and grab your computer on the way to the bathtub so you can google “oh shit my kid ate dog shit what the shit do i do??????”

While you’re bleaching soaping up your kid in the tub and googling what the shit to do with my shit taster, you’re going to want to scream at the other two kids in the house to stay in their room because you said so that’s why.

If you tell these two other children to stay in the room because you said so, they are naturally going to come out and ask you “what smells like poop” a dozen times.

While they come out and ask you “what smells like poop” a dozen times, you’re going to scream over your shoulder that anyone who comes out of the room again will not get the lunch that’s burning in the oven and you’re bound to forget to put a diaper on the bathed toddler before you trap him in his own room with a baby gate to commence the de-shitting of aforementioned shit-room.

While you’re cooling burnt pizzas and lysol-wiping poop off of the floor (ice-skating style), you’re going to want to heat up your steam mop and put the shitting dog outside to…well… shit some more outside.

While the shitter is shitting outside, you’re going to steam mop the  whole floor and sob-sing the lyrics to “rainy days and mondays always get me down”.  (Through clenched teeth.)

While you’re singing, the kids are going to come out to ask for their burnt pizza and the toddler is going to pee on his carpet.

If the toddler pees on his carpet, you’re going to want to blot that. 

While you’re blotting, kids are eating blackened pizza and  asking what is for snack.

While you’re blotting and telling the kids that they can eat each other’s arms for snack, your toddler is stirring the toilet with a wii remote.

If your toddler stirs the toilet with a wii remote, you’re going to want to blow dry the remote and practice your shocked and surprised face for when your husband discovers it smells like toilet and may not be working.

If you’re blow drying your wii remote, you’re going to want to turn the dryer on your toddler to dry up some of that snot and drool.

Once that snot and drool is dry, you’re going to want to kiss him because he doesn’t know that dog shit’s gross or that toilet water is not for stirring with game system remotes.

While you’re kissing him, you’re going to notice some dog shit in his ear… and on the freshly mopped floor.

 

 

ps- felicia bond, if you’re reading this… i love your books. 

who’s comin with me?

Everyone who has school-aged children raise your hand if you’re ready for summer to be over!  Nobody needs to know.  We’re all friends here.  Just be honest and raise your friggin hand.  C’mon DO IT. 

Is that everyone?  With the exception of my sis-in-law who is a teacher and has every right to want summer to keep going on and on and on for an eternity, you should all be raising your hands.

Okay. That’s everyone. Now. Everyone else who might be feeling judgy or {*tskY} today can just go away because I’m not talking to you and I really don’t need you reading this and shaking your head at me and feeling bad for my kids. 

I’m a good mom. <------   it is written and so it must beeee.

I’m just kind of over the can I have?? and the where’s my….? and the you never….!  Don’t get me wrong.  These aren’t heat-induced behaviors.  In the fall we get some i don’t wanna’s and especially some who moved my stuff’s, but those are all squished neatly into predictable timeframes that I can wrap my coffee-ripened head around and deal with somewhat patiently.  And since Kindergarten I’m loving the eight hour stretch of question-free living.  Peppered, of course, with toothy requests from the little dude.

I know. Summer is not new to me.  I mean. We just finished Kindergarten, so it seems like I’d be fine with summer having survived about five of them (since being a mom) before this whole school thing started.  But now there are two kids.  And sometimes THREE.   Mind you, one of them is particularly hilarious and makes me pee-pants on a daily basis…

 

But as a whole group, they can be quite overwhelming and patience-depleting. 

**side note/question: Does anyone else have an issue with three o’clock? In the pm?  Because I certainly can feel three o’clock happening around here.  Something about the teeth grinding redness about the face tips me off.

I guess this is all part of my growing as a parent.  Learning to adapt. Letting go of the less important things certainly has helped, but looking forward to the new school year is what’s going to get me through these next three weeks without too many meltdowns.  Because I still have those.   More often than the children, quite frankly.  It’s just still going on.  Is it just me?  It can’t be.

You raised your hand, didn’t you?  Tell me about it.  I’d love knowing it’s not just me.

squeezing the last dollop out of summer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can you believe it’s almost over?  I’m secretly lusting for autumn colors and a new hoodie. Don’t tell anybody. 

Picture Pages

I didn’t want to title this post wordless Wednesday because I knew I wouldn’t be able to just put up and shut up.   Here’s my photo.

Her: Can I stay up late?

Me: You can stay up late as long as you’re in your bed.

Her: awwww.

Me: Reading.

Her: Yay!

 

Yay is right.

So I wrote this in May. Whadda you care?

There was a time in my life when I could get in my car, alone, with just my keys and a wallet and drive somewhere.  Far or near.  My only worry was if I had enough gas money to get me somewhere good because who really cares about getting back when there's a just a cruddy apartment and a shoddy burrito joint awaiting  my return? 

If I got in my car alone today, I'd be leaving my children somewhere.  If we assume Ladybug is at school and I add a baby to the backseat, that's more like it.  And there's a baby, so that must mean at least a diaper. (Because you can't leave home without at least a diaper when you have a baby.) And if he poops you need wipes.  Like a ton, because you don't want to get poop-fingers.  And you certainly don’t want this scenario on your hands.

So now we have baby, diapers, wipes.  Oh, and something for the baby to eat or drink because this baby I'm talking about is always hungry.

Try carrying the baby to the car with your keys, a diaper, some wipes, and some sort of nourishment for the baby all in your hands. 

*You're good.

Now open the door.

HA!  Gotcha.  Go get a bag for the stuffs.  It doesn't matter. A plastic grocery bag works, but I'm partial to a tote bag since I have plenty hanging around.  And while you're in there, might as well grab a granola bar and a diet coke for yourself since you'll get hungry watching the baby eat Cheerios whenever you get where you're going. 

Ooh. And go find your MP3 player, too.  For the car.  And shades.  It's totally sunny today.

Okay, let's go.

Wait. You have to pee.  You could put everything down somewhere, including the baby, but then he'll just go trying to climb into the bath tub or rifle through the bag you just chucked everything into, so maybe just hold him while you pee. (Don't worry, I do it all the time. It's fine.  Babies love these little bonding moments.)

So pee, wipe, flush and wash your hands holding the baby and then scoop the bag with the junk up and we're ON OUR WAYYYYY!

Ooooh. You forgot your phone.  See. In the nineties, we didn't need to take a phone with us everywhere because there were these things called pay phones for emergencies.  And if someone needed you, they called your home phone- which was connected to the house with a cord- and if you weren't there they would leave a message on a tape in a machine meant for this.  You'd have to wait until you got home to see if someone loves you or needs you to give them a ride to the airport this weekend.  It's just how it was.

But now I feel naked without my phone because what if my car breaks down and I need a tow truck, but the nearest pay phone is blocks away and/or (but probably and) has diseases?  What if he does something cute and I need to record it on my phone camera and send it to everyone I know?  What if?

Unless you’re going to walk to the mailbox.  You’re going to need stuff.

Ugh. I despise stuff. Who's with me on this?

A million tears.

I can hold what I believe of God and Jesus and religion in a thimble.  And still have room for my finger.  But last week, I was given a chance to understand what God does for people.   And really understand a little about His power myself.  Here’s a letter I wrote to a friend about our vacation…  since I don’t think I can write much more than I have already.

…On our second day in Baltimore, we had a great time. Went on this pirate ship tour of the inner harbor and the kids and family all had a blast. Later that night, though, my sister-in-law went to the hospital because she felt something was wrong. She ended up losing her baby that night and had to deliver it the next day. Six weeks from her due date. The cord had tangled and cut off support to the baby.
Needless to say, the holiday was cut short by this devastating accident and we all kind of took our places huddled around Jed's brother and his wife as they grieved and as we grieved.
We managed to steal away to VA to see my sister and her two kids for a few nights. Mostly to finally meet her husband and kids since I hadn't seen her since my dad's funeral ten years ago...but also to give Ian and Elaine their house back for a few nights.
Nobody went to sleep with a dry eye during the rest of my trip.  A million tears.
And then there was a memorial. Ian, Elaine and Jed's parents had all been able to hold little Amelia after her delivery. We all touched a plaster cast footprint- tiny and HUGE all at the same time. We sat huddled together in clumps on hard pews in a tiny chapel. Our individual families mixed up and comforting one another. Jed tried to get through a letter he wrote to Amelia, and I had to come to his aid so it could be read in its entirety. Words never tasted like those. Never sounded like those.
I've heard of babies dying, but after this baby was conceived (years in the works), it was my baby, too. It was Jed's and Jenny's and Jeff's and ours. And our tears were different from theirs, but they came from the same bottomless place of sadness and hurt and confusion.
You know me, I'm not a religious person. But I can see how those who are can be comforted by a higher power in charge. Someone's decision and purpose that's deeper than we can understand here on earth.
I don't believe in Jesus saving my soul. I don't believe God has any intentions for me. But on July 2nd, 2010... I believed, if only for a moment, that HE was wrapping himself around this tiny baby and keeping her safe. Because it's the very least I could do- to believe for her sake.
I'm so sad, Nicole. Why does this happen to people?
Hope you're okay.

 

Cadence asked me why we keep talking about baby Amelia if it makes us so sad.  The only thing I can think to tell her is that we have to talk about her.  Not because there’s a danger of ever forgetting her, but because we just have to. For us.   And because she was here. 

{this is a re-post: this one’s for the people who blinked and missed it the first time. i wanted to get my brother-in-law’s blessing to publish. thanks for the sweet emails and comments, those of you who happened to catch it the first time.}