With all the bad things going on the world right now, it's hard to complain about a bad day. However, it is still possible, and there are some rough parenting days. Maybe the trick is to look at them with a sense of humor...or a really good glass of wine. Seeing as I don't have any of the latter on-hand right now, unless you count the cooking wine, I'll go with humor.
Today I needed to take the boys to Boston for their ENT appointments. I dread these appointments. They usually take a minimum of three hours. First we have to wait for the audiology test, then have the test, then wait to see the doctor, then see the doctor. This doesn't even take into account just trying to find the building in the first place and then driving my CRV through narrow alleys that were probably barely wide enough for one person on horseback in the 18th century.
After a good swim this morning, I came home and brought out the golden bribe. That's right the bribe of all bribes: the portable DVD player. Normally I'm not the type of parent who packs toys and snacks for a doctor's appointment. First of all, I have no interest in doing it. Second, my kids would much rather play with germy office toys than anything I bring, so rather than fight it, I just try to remember to have them use a wipe on their hands when we leave. Before you groan, let me just say that my older son has not been sick at all this year. My younger one hasn't had more than a mild cough. His "sick days" have been for the two times I kept him home from school to go to playdates. My approach to germ management apparently works. Knock on wood big time!
Seeing as ENT appointments are horrific at best, I not only packed the DVD player, I packed lunch as well. Just as I finished up, I heard squeals coming from the bathroom. Hmm..two boys+fighting+laughing+overflowing toilet= squeals. In their defense, the toilet had been acting funny since yesterday. Whether it was a Leggo or a number 2, I know that at least one of them had something to do with it. Unfotunately I didn't have time to do much more than turn off the water and throw down a bunch of towels. Yeah, gross I know. What are blogs though if not true confessions? I shut the door so that the cats wouldn't get in the bathroom.
Off we went to Boston. After a number of traffic jams, pokes, threats, and counts to 3, we made it to Storrow Drive. All of a sudden I saw someone looking right at me. Yes, there was a cyclist riding along side my car. I was so startled I dropped an F bomb derivative. Yes, the boys learned a new vocabulary word today. They seemed impressed. Let's hope that their teachers are as well if they use it. I'm kidding. Let's hope they don't use it.
After getting majorly lost...three times, we made it. The hearing tests went well. Their exams went well. However, when I asked the doctor about OS's "phlegmy noises" he had a blank look on his face. You know, the throat clearing, aheming, coughing, and snorting that I presumed were the result of a serious medical problem? The doctor laughed. He did know exactly what I was talking about and apparently has had more than one parent of a boy come convinced that there surely is something wrong with their son. It was what I had suspected: a bad habit. Apparently my use of the term "gross boy noises" is not medically accurate.
Fortunately that was the boys last visit!! Their ear tubes are gone, and their ears are free of unnatural holes. The doctor in fact commented on how healthy they both were. I beamed with pride. Then I followed his gaze and realized he was eyeing YS who was under the chair, quite possibly licking the floor. Rats! I had hoped he wouldn't notice that. He laughed.
We dropped OS off at school, and then YS and I headed home..where we found our neighbor's dogs chasing cars in the streets. I parked the car in her driveway, and we got the dogs to follow us to her house. Phew. Time to sit down for a minute or two of relaxation. Or so I thought. A different neighbor called asking if she could come over. I furtively looked around my house as if she could see me...um my house was not at it's best. Outside of the boarded up bathroom quite possibly reeking of pee, I hadn't had time to run the dishwasher, wipe the the table or really put anything away. Two minutes later she was in my kitchen. Thankfully she didn't need to use my bathroom.
I did have a nice conversation with her. She didn't seem to care about the state of my house. Then it was time to pick up OS up for school because part of my big time bribe included taking him to NEADS to pet puppies. I almost never pick OS up from school. Apparently it showed. There is a rumor that someone named Balex Melliot may have held up the pick up line because she was confused about where her son was waiting. A teacher may have commented that it was obvious that her son usually takes the bus. I have no idea who this person is!
Playing with the puppies was fantastic! The boys had a great time...alright I probably had the best time of everyone! We came home, I made dinner and then realized that I never delt with the bathroom. Towels were thrown in the wash, the mop came out as did the Clorox. I was convinced that I had gotten stabbed in the foot but realized I had actually stepped on a Leggo in the kitchen. I almost had a repeat of today's word of the day. Since the newly clean but still wet bathroom is the one with the bathtub, I took YS upstairs for his first shower. He actually did pretty well. OS enjoyed his shower as well. Now if only they will fall asleep.
Alex Elliot's Mother-in-Law's Lesson Learned (as shared on Facebook): Now you don't have to worry about what they'll pick up from other kids or on the street. There are times when those are the only appropriate words, as long as they don't just fling them about randomly.
My 6 yr old came home from Catholic school with the F word and the C word. Wanted to know what they meant. I explained what they meant & how to use them in a sentence. They I explained that if any adult heard him use them, he would be in big trouble.
I learned all THOSE words from my dad before kindergarten. I figured letting mine get to first grade with minimal exposure was a step in the right direction.
Hey, all in all, it could have been WAAAAY worse, you know? Just think of all the ways that the little situations could have gone horribly wrong and you'll end up feeling like you've had a really accomplished day!
Last week we got a call saying that Merlin's ashes were ready. Having already been warned that it would be emotionally exhausting to pick them up, the Big Giraffe went instead of me. It was weird seeing this small box and thinking that Merlin was in there. Surely the box for an 84 lb dog with such an outgoing personality would be bigger, right?
Our minister came over today. She was supposed to come later but with snow predicted we asked her if she would mind coming by a couple hours earlier. She said it wasn't a problem. She arrived with a couple dog poems on her Kindle and a small bouquet of roses. We gathered Merlin's container of ashes, and she read a nice poem. Then we went out to Merlin's favorite spot in the backyard where we shared our favorite Merlin stories.
Mine was about that spot. When Merlin was about 6 months old, we couldn't figure out why he was always so eager to go outside. Yes, dogs like to go outside, but Merlin really liked to go out and hang out by the fence. I just assumed he liked the sun. A few weeks after he started doing this I ran into our neighbors. It turns out that they would feed him Cheeze-Its everyday along that fence! They didn't like Cheeze-It's themselves. They had bought a big box of them specifically for Merlin. From then on the Big Giraffe and I always refer to Cheeze-it's as dog treats as in "Hey Dog Treats are on sale at the store!" For the record, we all like them.
After we all had a chance to share, we spread his ashes. The kids did it too. Then our minister gave the kids roses and holly to lay down on the ground. They liked that a lot. Of course both of them did try to "plant" the roses, probably because we had told the kids that Merlin's ashes were going back to the dirt and would help the grass and flowers grow next spring. The ceremony was really a celebration of life. It lasted maybe 10 minutes at most. It was happy, moving and just the way we had wanted it.
It was particularly touching to have our minister perform this small ceremony because we used to dogsit her golden retriever, Bosci, whenever she would travel. Merlin and Bosci spent hours running back and forth in our backyard. At the end of the ceremony, we gave her a check. She tried to refuse it, but we insisted. I know I mentioned in another post about how I had picked out a senior orthopedic dog bed for Merlin a couple days before he got sick. I had earmarked the pages and left on the catalog on the counter with the intention of ordering it in the next week or so. After Merlin died and I came home the catalog was one of the first things I noticed. I hadn't told our minster about this small detail.
We told our minister to use the money however she saw fit. She began to talk about using it for the church. The BG interrupted her and said that because she has always been there for us over the years, we really encouraged her to consider using the money on something for herself, rather than for the church. We were giving the money to her. She paused for a moment and then said that she had really wanted to get her dog a senior orthopedic dog bed.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Merlin's friend should rest peacefully, while Merlin rests in peace.
Yesterday I told the kids to go get socks. Of course this meant that they did everything except going to get socks. However, it is my favorite time of the year. I just love December. No it's not the festive holiday decorations, the food or the gifts. What good be better than gifts? Why good threats of course!
I headed over to them to remind them that Santa could see exactly what they were doing. He has elves everywhere! What I found though was my younger son (YS) with his shirt pulled up and his stuffed animal mouse* on his breast. My older son (OS) promptly informed his brother that he couldn't nurse his mouse. I thought he was going to state the obvious: YS is a boy. However, that's not what he said. He calmly informed YS that mice drink mouse milk not human milk.
"Mouse" is actually a large stuffed animal rat that we got from IKEA a couple weeks ago that YS has named "Mouse."
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Baby mice drink mouse milk.
It's been a week now since Merlin passed away. We're OK. OK of course being said in a hesitant shaky voice. Let's just say the we, more specifically I, have been better. I wrote a little bit about it over at the New England Mamas on Monday.
It's hard to loose a pet and it's also a hard time of year. The kids seem to be alright. My older son came home from school very angry with me on Thursday for not allowing him to give Merlin a goodbye hug which is not true. He then burst into tears. He had another burst of anger and confusion on Friday, but for the most part he seems to be handling it well. His teacher let him bring an album with pictures of Merlin to school and they talked about Merlin in morning meeting. My younger son (YS) is only 3 and doesn't seem to have understood what happened. That's not too surprising. Yesterday he told someone that Merlin had died.
I was talking with a friend who's also an animal lover and she said that she actually thinks it's harder to loose a pet as an adult than as a child. Kids don't process time the same way that we do and they don't tend to have a comprehension of death. They also are always looking forward to the next exciting event. When you're 6 and 3 your whole life is one exciting event after another. I have to agree. I remember being upset when my childhood pets passed away but also being very excited to get another puppy. In fact I was OS's age when my first dog passed away and I remember asking if we could get a girl puppy. It's now as an adult that I really get what a pet's death means.
I find it very quiet around here. Too quiet. I didn't realize how many little rituals Merlin and I had. Like giving him the last bite of a banana or lick of a yogurt when I get back from working out in the morning. When it is just him and me and the whole house is still asleep...was just him and me.
YS was laughing in his sleep the other night. The next morning he said he had dreamed about Merlin. OS said he too had had a nice dream about Merlin. The Big Giraffe said he felt his presence that same night. I didn't have any of those experiences although I really wanted them.
Yesterday though I took YS to the library. Picture meltdown followed by big time parental cave in and you'll have the background. I didn't really want to be there. As we were walking through the parking lot I saw a golden retriever sticking his head out of the car window. The owner was on her cell phone. YS and I went over to pet the him. He was so excited to see me. He licked me and made excited sounds. I scratched his ears and asked how old he was. He was eight. The same age as Merlin. I looked at Doug and could really see the difference between him and how Merlin had been particularly these last couple weeks. He was so energetic and of course full of life. It really had been Merlin's time. I felt a sense of peace and happiness.
I know there are people who can wonder why I can be so upset over losing a pet. To me, it's a member of my family. A family member who I saw every single day and was always excited to see me. He was there when I needed him and my life was so much better for having him in it. To those people I say that this Thanksgiving when they're around the uncle that says something obnoxious, the great aunt that comments on their weight, and any other relatives that upset them I leave them this lesson learned:
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: You can't pet your relatives, but you can pick your pets.
Merlin was a good doggie. I remember the first time I visited you in MA when he slept on the floor in the guest bedroom. You warned me that I might hear something that sounded like burglars were breaking into the house but it would just be Merlin running in his sleep on the hardwood floor:) Anytime I think about losing Benny, I get teary-eyed and have to stop and catch my breath. I'm so glad to hear that the kids are having nice dreams about Merlin and that Brian could bring photos to school. Just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you... -Steph
Hoping to recreate another dog party, the boys and I took our 8 year golden retriever for a walk this morning before waiting at the bus stop. Merlin stopped and squatted to pee. Yes, he is a male, but he has always squatted. As he did so, his hind leg slipped on a small stack of slippery leaves, and he fell forward. He seemed alright though and we continued on our way.
When we got back, he went to lie down on his side for a morning rest. I noticed a little bit of bright yellow urine on his fur. I got some wipes and did my best to clean him up. I then gave him his breakfast and had to coax him into it. That was a little off, but often times Merlin goes on food strikes. Still, something just seemed not quite right. I had thought so for a couple days and even yesterday had gone to buy Moist and Meaty which is like the Cheetos of dog food.
I had a meeting so I filled his bowl with water and left. I got back about an hour later and the bowl was dry. Something wasn't right. I opened a brand-new pack of Moist and Meaty and gave it to him. He wouldn't touch it. I checked his ears to see if maybe he had an ear infection, but they were nice and clean. I had to rush out to take my younger son (YS) to preschool.
When I got back, Merlin was sleeping peacefully. I went to make a phone call. While I was waiting to be called back, I checked on Merlin. I could see some more of that bright yellow urine stained fur. I got a pair of scissors and cut it. Then I did a more thorough search. He had bright orange urine all over his belly. I immediately called the vet to see if this was a side effect from the Rimadyl he started taking in September and brought him there.
By the time we got to the waiting room, the inside flaps of his ears, his gums and his tongue were all yellow. The vet said it was probably hemolytic anemia and sent us to the animal hospital where he was admitted. There they did an x-ray and found lumps on his chest. Blood test revealed internal bleeding. It was most likely lymphomoa.
Needless to say, I'm not doing too well. I miss him and I'm so worried about him. What if this is it? I thought I had at least two more years. My older son (OS) immediately noticed that Merlin did not greet him at the bus this afternoon. How do you talk to a 6 year old about this? Every picture he has drawn in school has a picture of Merlin on it. His teacher even commented on how much he obviously loves him. His dog is having a dog party at the bus stop in the morning and in the afternoon is so sick he is hospitalized and may not ever come home? I don't even understand that.
We talked to the vet a short while ago and Merlin does seem to be in good spirits despite being so sick. Right now we have a wait and see approach. Merlin is such an important member of our family, and he is only 8. If the outlook looks good for chemo then we will do it. However, if it will just buy him a short amount of time and more importantly if it affects his quality of life, then we will not.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Dignity and grace in dying. Dignity and grace.
I have a serious problem with son's kindergarten curriculum. This week's class letter described how the kids had learned to draw turkeys. I was pretty impressed, since I was having trouble envisioning how I would draw turkey. Trying not to be too enthusiastic, I asked OS if he had drawn any pictures of turkeys today. OS looked surprised. I could see the wheels turning in his little mind. He had been so careful not to divulge any details of the day? How could I possibly have known about the turkey? He practically shrugged his shoulders in an "oh well" gesture and pulled out a drawing from his backpack.
It was really good! I practically puffed up my chest and strutted my feathers. I exclaimed over his drawing and praised it. Then I looked at it a little closer. What was on its head? Why did it have long brown curly hair? Was it a turkey in a Halloween costume? "No, Mommy. That's you as a turkey."
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Sometimes you are better off not knowing what your kids are doing in school.
Just hope that OS doesn't talk about home life in school. I've had many teachers say "don't believe what they tell you happens at school and I won't believe what they say happens at home".
In the years since I have declined your acceptance, I have been working on my skills to reapply in the future. In addition to working on my gag reflex by changing countless diapers, cleaning up vomit, and tasting food that has been in my children's mouths, and probably for that matter rubbed on a filthy floor in an infrequently cleaned McDonald's, I have also been working on non-verbal communication. I believe communicating with my children through interpretative dance will help me understand animals' conditions better. Why in fact just the other day I was able to determine that my dog did not in fact defecate on the dining room floor despite my younger son's garbled claim to the contrary because the dog was in fact asleep in the other room. Plus the tire tracks on my son's legs offered solid evidence sticking him to the crime.
More importantly though, I have been working on my animal surgical skills. A couple days ago my friend Suzanne and her hubby gave my older son (OS) a Playmobile Horse Shower. Not only did this give me more exposure to horses, but it allowed me to practice being in an operating room. Well perhaps my dining room room isn't exactly an operating room per se, but how hard could surgical reconstruction of a cat be now that I have spent hours putting together a microscopic horse shower? What's repairing a dog's knee after putting together the that shower with directions that only have drawings and no words? What's neutering a rabbit after putting together that shower that is so microscopic that only the specific mini-screw driver that comes with the set can be used to put it together? The true miracle is not that the shower was eventually put together, but that the screwdriver actually came with the directions. Unfortunately I did not discover it until half of the "screws" were already place. Much like how one abnormality can look like another, the screws resembled small red blocks.
Lest you think these have been the only areas of professional growth, let me highlight another important skill set: legal recourse. I am well aware that vets are sometimes sued and thus have malpractice insurance. Although I fortunately have never been sued (knock on wood), I have almost had the opportunity to seek legal recourse thanks to that horse shower. When the shower squirted water out of the tank, instead of the hose, and splashed all over me, despite the fact that I placed it in a jelly lip sheet, I had planned on calling Playmobile and asking for their toy Farmhouse to compensate me for my injuries to my...pride. However, Suzanne wisely pointed out that I could instead demand that they replace my entire house, since the malfunctioning horse shower may cause a mold infestation in my current house.
Oh, and in case someone in the admission's office does not know what a jelly lip sheet is, I am happy to further demonstrate the knowledge I have picked up since declining vet school. My friend Betty introduced me to the jelly lip sheet, which is a cookie sheet with an edge around it.
In summary, when I do reapply to vet school I will have had years of practicing all of these skills.
Best, Alex Elliot
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: There are many ways to build the skills needed to become a veterinarian.
For the record, the boys absolutely love the horse shower and seeing as it keeps them occupied for hours at a time, I give it a high rating as well.
I haven't been able to be brave enough to try Playmobil yet. I've heard only horror stories about putting them together! Glad it seems worth the hassle though!
A) Glad the boys enjoy the horse shower. B) Glad that it did not destroy your home or your sanity. C) Glad that you are still talking to me after purchasing such a item.
You'll do well in vet school, as clearly you've mastered the virtue of patience.
Other than the time our golden retriever, Gandalph, stole a pot roast off the table and the time he ate a baby wipe used to wipe off our older son's (OS) hands after he ate some of a different pot roast a few weeks later, Gandalph has left food on our table alone. Until recently that is.
In the past few weeks, Gandalph has been helping himself to our plates regardless of whether or not we are sitting at the table. In fact yesterday he accidentaly got my finger as I was throwing out some old nan in his haste to intercept it before it hit the trash. I figured it probably had to do with his new dog food, but I gave the vet a call just in case. She called me back yesterday evening.
Vet: I'm sorry to call you so late. Gandalph is such a great dog. It sounds to me like he's just really hungry. Alex Elliot (AE): Thanks for calling! I was up anyway (scrounging around in the kitchen for a snack). That's what I was figuring. Vet: He's probably hungry all the time and it's probably making him irritable and uncomfortable. AE: I completely understand. I feel that way too. Vet: It's probably all he's thinking about.' AE: (me clanking around the dishes in preparation for an evening snack of toast). Vet: It sounds like a really good solution would be to increase his dog food 30%-50%. It might make him slightly heavier, but it's about quality of life. Being heavier correlates with some health problems, but it doesn't necessarily cause them. AE: (Can you be my doctor! I want someone to tell me that I need to increase my food intake 30-50% and tell me it's about me being happy!) So I shouldn't go back to his old dog food? He really didn't seem to like it though. Vet: No, the new food is good, and he obviously likes it. AE: (Trying to pretend that my high fiber whole wheat toast with a touch of Smart Balance is a donut or better yet a thick slice of fudge cake.) Yes, it's much better when you enjoy what you're eating. Vet: It's probably a good idea to not have him in the room when the kids are eating until he's not so hungry. AE: (Alright seriously can you be my doctor?! I would love to have my doctor tell me that I shouldn't be in the same room as my kids when eating. No whining, no complaining about what I've made, no telling me that I'm mean, etc. etc.) Yes, I've been separating them. Vet: Also, you should keep the kids away from him when he's eating. AE: (Do you accept Blue Cross Blue Shield of MA? Can I have you write a prescription stating that I too need to be away from my kids when I eat because maybe then my insurance would cover a sitter for them. Maybe just maybe I would be able to finish a meal when it is still hot. At the very least I might be able to have enough time to taste it and better yet enjoy it. ) Yes, we already do that. We're also trying to give him some extra attention. Vet: Everybody needs extra attention. It's important because it lets the mother dog know that she's he's appreciated and can help make up for the fact that her kids told her that they wished that the lady at the grocery store was their mother...(Whoops! That was me substituing myself every time Gandalph's name came up.) Vet: If this still doesn't work then there's a great drug out there that supresses the dog's appetiate. It's expensive but works well. AE: You know I'm hungry all the time too.....(do you know how expensive my Y membership is. Hmmm...you wouldn't be chance know if that med is sold to humans under a different name like other vet meds are? Better yet, have there been any studies on humans taking that pill because I would be happy to volunteer myself.) AE: So to summarize, I need to increase Gandalph's food 30%-50%, let him eat in the comfort of his own space and privacy, keep him away from any kids mealtimes which inevitably involve whining, crying and meltdowns and give him love and attention. I have just one question: Can I be my dog?
The Big Giraffe gave a bemused look when I recounted this conversation to him and reminded me that we have an extra dog dish if I need it. I did not appreciate that.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Some dogs have all the luck.
Sunday the Big Giraffe and I took the boys out for breakfast. There was a little bit of a wait, and the boys were tired and cranky. I could sense that a meltdown was about to ensue. Because I didn't want to yell in a restaurant full of people wanted to be the calm, cool and creative parent, I quickly racked my brains for a good distraction. Instantly I had it! Tis the season to be jolly! I played the Santa card.
I pointed out to my older son (OS) that there was an elf in the parking lot taking notes to report back to Santa. OS immediately went to the door to peer out in the parking lot and excitedly looked for the elf. Then our table was called. I tried to shepherd the boys over to our table. Tried being the key world. Our younger son (YS) began crying that he wanted to see the "elephant". Apparently he mistook my saying "elf" for "elephant". Of course then OS started protesting that he didn't get a chance to see an elephant in the parking lot either. My little plan to quiet down the kids completely backfired.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: An imaginary elephant is as difficult to find as an imaginary elf.
Last night as I was reading blogs, I heard a bunch of yelps and meows. Alarmed I sat up and looked around me. It was our younger cat (Mouser 2). She was having a nightmare. Since my cats snore and from time to time even fart, I'm not sure why I was so surprised by this. Other people always seem surprised by the former which surprises me because they have a nasal cavity and GI track too. Then again, as a kid I was always impressed that they had belly buttons.
Mouser 2 looked startled for a moment and then got up to reposition herself to fall back into a nice deep sleep. Within moments she was dreaming peacefully. It was just as well because I needed to call my mom. When I was on the phone with her I heard those horribly retching sound. Let me back up and say that earlier in the day, the boys had gone over to Sally HP's house. She made them homemade playdough which they loved. In fact, she even has the recipe up on her blog. They happily took the playdough home with them where the played with it for a long time with occasionally reminders from me not to eat it. I totally remember do that as a kid!
Do you know where this is going? As I heard the noise, I had a vague recollection of my older son (OS) exclaiming that the dog was eating the playdough. I assumed that he meant that the dog was licking small crumbs of playdough off the floor like he does every once in a while. It's like he forgets that he doesn't like it so he needs to try it every so often to remind himself much like me and Twizzlers.
I looked over and there was a pile of vomit. In the center was a huge chunk of playdough. In case you're wondering, the food coloring all moves to the center and pools. Nice, huh? I quickly got off the phone and grabbed a bunch of paper towels and then began what I think should be a new sport in the Olympics: chasing vomited up playdough across the floor. The thing was slimly and I just couldn't grasp it. This was particularly challenging because the longer this went on, the closer I was becomming to contributing to this pile.
Finally everything was under control. The boys went to bed and only woke up once at 2 am when for YS was cold and cried out and thus woke his brother who also cried. For reasons I don't understand, YS insists on taking off his PJ top at night. I remember OS going through this at the same age. The PJ top was re-instated and both boys were soothed back to sleep. I fell back asleep until about 3:30 when I heard the rush of water. I bleary looked around wondering which boy had turned on the sink so that I could yell at them to go back to bed quickly gently lead him back to bed. Did you look at Sally HP's recipe? It calls for a half cup of salt. All evening I had given the dog more and more water because he was so thirsty from the playdough. I kept on letting him out too. However, it finally caught up with him and our dog who never has accidents peed all over the bedroom floor. You want to know the worst part, after seeing him wag his tail, I turned over and went back to sleep.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If it's not one thing, it's another; at some point you just have roll over and go back to sleep.
Today at playgroup we celebrated my older son's (OS) 5th birthday for the first of three planned times this year. Of course he just loved it. I'm of the mindset that part of childhood is being able to celebrate your birthday as many times as possible. In fact, if I could figure out how to extend my own birthday celebrations over multiple days, believe me I would. Parties, presents, not to mention cake. What's not to love?
I took care of baking the cake (slight pause for that shocker to sink in) and fulfilling my other playgroup hostess responsibilities. I thought the Big Giraffe was in charge of making sure there was no evidence of our golden retriever, Gandalph, in the backyard. The Big Giraffe merely thought he was in charge of removing a specific type of evidence that Gandalph leaves around the yard. A lawyer might call it...solid evidence. I'm sure you know what that evidence is.
Our friends arrived, and we went into our backyard. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a whole bunch of white fluff. I went off to start picking it up, but there was just way too much of it. While I discussed it with one friend, I decided to just hope that none of the kids and none of the other adults would notice it. The one friend in the know and I couldn't decide if Gandalph had destroyed a stuffed animal, or if the Big Giraffe had accidentally run it over with the lawn mower.
After the party ended, I went back outside to finish cleaning up and to put the cover back on the sandbox. That's when I almost had a heart attack. As I picked up the nylon cover, something rolled out of it and stopped. Did I just see an eye looking at me? Sure enough it was. Right next to the sandbox was the head of a stuffed animal gopher that had been cleanly severed from it's body. It looked like Gandalph had started to destroy it, before the Big Giraffe decapitated it. Or maybe just an alternate ending to Caddy Shack. Let's just hope that none of the kids saw it. I would not want children's dreams of parties, presents and cake to include chopped up stuffed animals.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Clear expectations avoid misunderstandings.
Seriously? I thought you were going to say it was a shredded sanitary napkin. My own childhood dog had a tendency to dig through the garbage and chew them up behind the recliner, so that our boyfriends could get a good look at them when we cuddled on the couch. Nice, eh?
I haven't been feeling too great this week. I think it was a combination of being run down and being around the wrong germs at the right time. Nothing serious...just a light cough and cold. Ironically I was just talking with Sally HP about how it's been over a year since my younger son (YS) has had a fever. Wouldn't you know he came down with one this evening. How's that for irony?
That wasn't the only surprise in our house though this week. Our dog has never been, how should I say this nicely, too bright. In fact he frequently becomes aggressive and growls at other dogs and animals on TV. The GE elephant commercial was his arch enemy. Our vet said it could be a sign of intelligence with the key words being could be rather than is. Poor Gandalph!
Gandalph rarely successfully steals food off the table, except for a notable pot roast a few years ago. When he does mount the table to snag some leftovers, he gets into trouble. He sometimes tries to intercept food between the dining room table and the kitchen. OS is now big enough to protect his plate, and he is in charge of bringing his plate to the sink or dishwasher. YS is neither tall nor sturdy enough, so the Big Giraffe or I handle the delivery. We usually clean YS up beforehand, since YS is usually covered with at least some part of his meal and I would rather not risk it being all over our couch as well.
Recently I noticed far less food on the kids plates then they claimed to have left. Alright so OS knows how to lie, but YS still remains innocent! As I was helping the kids out of the bathroom after washing up I realized what was happening: Gandalph was eating some scraps off the plates, but leaving enough left behind to avoid being caught. I'm not making this up. I told the Big Giraffe who said, "Wow! I guess he isn't an idiot after all." Until...that is...he tried that maneuver again with YS's plate while both the Big Giraffe and I were sitting right at the table. I guess you could say it was another sign of intelligence.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Intelligence is hard to measure.
Yesterday I wrote a post over at Just Cause about Doggie Diets. This reminded me of the doggie diet that Gandalf went on about 5 years ago. I came up with the idea based on my experience in childbirth class. Must have been a great class, you think? Well, I have to admit that it was not as great as I hoped it would be. I had visions finding the perfect solution for pain and making life long friends with other families about to have children. 30 years later, we would be sitting together celebrating our kids' engagement and reflecting back to the time we were pregnant with them. I struck out on both counts. Alright, there is a a good solution for pain: epidural. However, when you've been in labor for over 24 hours and aren't progressing, they still won't let you have one.
One of my few specific, remaining memories from the class is that the nurse stated that if you exercised regularly, you were more likely to have your water break on its own. One of my biggest fears was that I might not realize when I went into labor. Well, that wasn't actually my biggest fear. My biggest fear was that I might not realize that I was in labor and would end up giving birth at the mall in front of a small audience. I had seen something like that happen before. One day when I was swimming for the Y in 6th grade, a woman gave birth in the lobby. The nurse's exercise advice offered the perfect solution! Who better to accompany me than my golden retriever? Every day we went on really long walks.
Gandalf and I exercised daily together for a couple of months. Then two things happened: 1) I gave birth. 2) Within a few days of OS's birth, Gandalf ate a pacifier and needed to go to the vet. During that visit, I noticed that the vet was running a Biggest Loser contest. More focused on his inability to eat, I didn't give it much thought. I was therefore very surprised a few months later to see a posterboard with a picture of Gandalf on it in the vet's office. The picture was captioned with the words "Gandalph Elliot is the Biggest Loser." This still cracks me up. To this day, he hasn't put back any of the weight. And yes, for the record, my water did break spontaneously while I was sleeping.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If a pregnant woman walks her dog frequently enough, she will eventually give birth. (If she does not walk her dog every day, she will probably still give birth.)
Ha! I find this extra humourous because I was the most inactive pregnant woman EVER and my water broke spontaneously when I was going to bed one night.
:-)
Gandolf was the biggest loser! Yay for Gandolf... hee hee.
When I got home Friday morning after working out, there were a lot of hysterics coming from the boys' room. I'm not quite sure what happened, but it involved my older son (OS), our golden retriever, my younger son (YS) and a beluga whale. Alright, a stuffed beluga whale. I mean, a stuffed animal beluga whale. From the amount of racket, I would have believed that a real beluga whale was involved in whatever was happening. After calming everyone down, I decided to hold off on my shower until after breakfast. By the time everyone finished breakfast, I was hearing more coherent sobs explaining how OS had taken the whale from YS and given it to the dog who ran around with it. Despite the sobs, it was time to get the boys dressed to leave for preschool. The dog did get the last laugh look...I believe he may have had a triumphant expression on his face as the wailing started up again as we walked out the door.
When YS and I returned, I jumped in the shower while YS was playing with his trucks in the bathroom. When I finished the shower, I was surprised to find YS sitting on a potty chair! That's right, there was unauthorized potty training going on in our house! I didn't even know he knew what it was. We had just never bothered to put it back in the basement after my older son (OS) had graduated to a real toilet. I'm sensing a theme here about not rushing. For the rest of the morning, he insisted on trying the potty, instead of having us go to the grocery store or on any of our other planned errands.
This experience reminded me of why I'm a big fan of waiting until a child is three to be potty-trained. At three they'll potty train in a couple of days, and their bladders are large enough that you'll never have to abandon a shopping cart of frozen foods to explore the scary bathrooms in the bowels of the grocery store while hoping that the creepy teenage sales clerk who's lurking around will go back to playing with his...iPod. Not that parents of young children don't get to enjoy the memorable grocery store bathroom experience for other reasons, such as pregnancy or when shopping after a workout in which you have drunk an entire large sports bottle of water. Potty-training is even better if you wait until children are 8 because they can do their own laundry. So maybe I'm kidding about the last part.
After a brief period of diaper wearing to pickup OS from preschool, the unauthorized potty training continued for the rest of the day, and OS and I abandoned our plans for the park. Could potty training really be this easy? Was my child a genius? Well, of course I think he is, regardless of when he gets potty trained! Visions without diapers filled my mind. These images were shattered when I heard an ear piercing shriek followed by two boys crying. I won't go into the details, but let's just say that something happened involving two boys, mardi gras beads, hanging out under a kitchen table, and a major accident. By major accident, I don't mean that someone stubbed their toe. I was surprised that the dog wasn't there, but that was because he was outside. YS has shown no further interest in potty training since then. Phew. The dog on the other hand showed a lot of interest in hanging out under the table when I let him come back inside after I cleaned up the mess.
I am back to my plan of holding off on potty training until YS turns three or hires an attorney to convince me that he was ready. I may have seen a movement, but I have not yet seen any "motions."
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Kids do things on their own schedules.
The one thing I am positive about when it comes to potty-training is that there is NO good time to do it and truly? There is no "one size fits all" method.
My boys? Started DS1 at 2 and it took him until age 4 to get FIRMLY get it. Started DS2 at 3 and it took him until age 4 to get it...
My daughter? Decided at barely age 2 to potty-train HERSELF in 1 day. And I will say that she has the strongest bladder of all of my kids. She's even been NIGHT trained for several months now!
There were quite a few times in the 4.5 years since my older son (OS) was born, that I thought that I had hit the absolute worst part of parenting- sleepless nights, temper tantrums, the 4 year old attitude. Maybe that's a tad bit of an exaggeration; playing in the toilet was by far the worst. Then last week I thought I had found something even worse that "potty play" - administering eyedrops.
Giving my older son (OS) eye drops was similar to putting the cats in their carriers.
Putting Cats in their Carriers
Administering Eye Drops to OS
Perform a "cat scan" to find the cat(s). It works best if they are sleeping.
Close any doors to the room.
With the carrier in my hand, creep up on them in a James Bond-like fashion and then pounce.
Some hissing and scratching ensues.
While trying to avoid being bitten, wrestle the cat into the carrier.
Feel exhausted while receiving dirty looks, a hiss, and a look of betrayal.
Scan for OS. It works best if he is sleeping.
Close any doors to the room.
With the eye dropper in my hand, creep up on him in a James Bond-like fashion and then pounce.
Much hissing and scratching ensues.
While trying to avoid being bitten, wrestle OS into a position where I can pry his eyes open and administer the drops.
Feel exhausted while receiving dirty looks, a hiss, and a look of betrayal.
Neither cats nor boy were interested in hearing that I really didn't want to do this. Whenever the Big Giraffe is around, it at least goes a little easier.
During the follow-up visit to check on the progress of OS's alleged pink eye, I happened to tell the nurse practitioner how traumatic I found administering eye drops. She shared a fantastic tip that works for children and even for adults. Have your child close his eyes and tilt his head back. Put two drops in the corner of each eye. When the child opens his eyes the drops will fall right in without the trauma of seeing something aimed right at his eye and without requiring a wrestling match. You can do the same thing for yourself. If your child is really young, wait until right before he wakes up in the morning or from nap time and apply the drops in the corner. For the night time dosing, you're on your own.
I cannot emphasize enough how well this little trick worked with OS. He became far more comfortable with the process. Eye drops ceased to be a huge trauma, leaving me with a happier child and with more energy to deal with other traumas such as keeping OS calm when he wants to sit in supplant my younger son (YS) from sitting in the stroller. Unfortunately, I have not found an equivalent tip for putting my cats in the carrier without hissing, scratching, biting and whining. Hmmm...maybe not the last one.
Nurse Practitioner's Lesson Learned: Administering eye drops to a child or adult with eyes closed averts a lot of discomfort, wrestling matches, hissing, scratching, biting, and whining.
I had a similar issue with ear drops when my son was having a lot of infections. I finally figured out I could do one ear while he was nursing. Then I would wait until he was asleep to do the other ear. Which only worked if he happened to fall asleep with the proper ear facing up.
Wow! That's great advise, wish I'd known that when my kids were younger and I went through the wrestling (kicking, scratching, crying)! Actually, I may still employee this technique the next time my husband needs eye drops for any reason, he is actually a bigger baby about it than my kids! He scratched his cornea once and had to put in antibiotic drops, I literally had to sit on his arms and put them in for him, wussy! :o)
Real life cat carrier tip: when you put your cat into the carrier, put him/her in tail-end first. It's not easy - but it's easier. (The cat can't see it's going into a confined space until it's too late -- it's a tip I got from my vet, and it's worked like a charm for me.)
Wijvenweek post #2. Since my post yesterday, I got the link to all of the other participants. While most of the participants in Wijvenweek appear to be Belgian, there are posts in a number of languages. Today's topic is about men.
Where to begin? Not with a stereotype. My husband's favorite color is purple. He loves decor with flowers on it. In fact our quilt is purple with darker purple flowers on it. He loves watching Army Wives and Lipstick Jungle even though he claims he would never admit it. He's the one who set the season passes though on Tivo. He'll mumble and grumble when I say I'm putting on a Lifetime Television for Women movie, yet he'll sit down and watch the whole thing with me and discuss it with me during commercial breaks. (Yes, fellow New Englanders, he was listening to the Red Sox game on the radio on the way to work this morning, and he swears he wasn't rooting against the Sox, but was neutral, despite being a Yankees fan.) My sons like playing with train sets and Matchbox cars, but also like to play with dolls and My Little Pony. Not to mention the toy whales and dolphins they bathe in the bathroom every day, usually in the sink or bathtub.
When I was a little girl and thought about being a mom, I always pictured a house of males to be crazy with testosterone-filled activities. For the most part, that hasn't been the case. However, as the only female in a house full of male people and a male dog, there is one aspect of being male that I just can't ignore: the pee splash. Nothing a little cleaning doesn't take care of though...particularly when they're the ones cleaning the bathroom.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Men can't be stereotyped, any more than woman can be stereotyped.
I now look forward to potty training a little boy. Oh dear. I like Wijvenweek. Not the least of all because I get to put those three semesters of Dutch I did to good use.
ewww... pee splash. Although (veering into the TMI category) I noticed that recently I have not been so great at peeing while squatting, so I can't really cast the first stone here.
haha, there were a lot of Wijvenweek participants who actually came to the conclusion that the differences between men and women are greatly exaggerated.
Thanks for particpating once again (as you notice, I am greatly behind in reading my feeds :p...but trying to catch-up)
At 4 am this morning, I woke up with a huge migraine in my right eye. It hurt to even blink and I knew if I even moved my head an inch, I would throw up. After lying there for what some like forever, I finally mustered up the will to call out to the Big Giraffe that I needed my migraine medicine. After a little bit, the medicine kicked in, and I felt better enough to be able to fall asleep. However, when it was time to get up, my head still hurt, although not quite as much, and I felt kind of...crappy. The Big Giraffe took the day off from work to stay home with the boys.
While I was dozing upstairs, the Big Giraffe had quite the morning. First, our older son (OS) had a gigantic accident in his bed. More crap to deal with. Well, technically not crap, but, pee nonetheless. The Big Giraffe got the pleasure of cleaning up the bedclothes and giving both boys a bath. (It was just apparently more convenient to have both in the tub.) In the meantime, the veterinarian had put our golden retriever, Gandalf, on another week of limited activity, because he is still not recovered from his surgery, so the Big Giraffe couldn't just open up the back door and let him out into the yard like we usually do. Instead he needed to be walked...apparently as soon as everyone was awake. During the baths, Gandalf had an accident. More crap for the Big Giraffe to handle. Yes, this time it was crap. Plus the Big Giraffe got to manage the usual antics of two small kids.
I would say that this gave the Big Giraffe a whole new understanding of what I do all day except that the Big Giraffe has always firmly believed that being a stay at home parent is very demanding. Personally, I think today I was better off with the migraine.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Parenting can involve a lot of crap.
Mega points to the Big Giraffe for understanding that staying home is not easy. It seems that all too many parents who don't stay at home think that tending children all day is just easy.
Hope the migraine is better.... or maybe not, you know, so you get the rest of the day off. lol
Our dog Gandalf is not allowed to run in the yard by himself until he is healed from his surgery. Our vet also warned us that he would be "backed up" for a few days after the surgery. The Big Giraffe was happy to report Gandalf's first "delivery" yesterday, but we were not convinced that he was all clear. The Big Giraffe even did a couple extra laps around the yard with Gandalf this morning in the hopes that there would be more to follow. In the end, he gave up, leaving the boys (canine and human), the girls (feline only), and me to our Thursday routine.
Thursdays tend to be our days to catch up around the house. Fun times over at the Giraffe household! I started upstairs by cleaning the bathroom, even putting out a newly cleaned bathmat. Then I undertook the role of Sherlock Holmes in order to solve the mystery of my missing lap suit. I like to call the suit "Grimace" because with it's eggplant purple in color, so I feel like Grimace from McDonald's when I wear it. My suspects were two small boys who are constantly taking things out of my gym bag no matter where I hide it. I searched the house high and low for Grimace, but it was nowhere to be find. The boys were working on puzzles up in their room. I decided to go check in the basement to see if Grimace had been caught in the dirty laundry pile.
I wasn't down there for more than a few minutes. I remember hearing the toilet lid upstairs fall twice and calling up and asking my older son (OS) if everything was alright. He said it was, so I proceeded to make lunch for the boys. When I went upstairs and picked up my younger son (YS), his clothes felt slightly damp to me. I asked OS if he was playing in the sink. He said no. I had just washed my hands so I figured I must not have dried them all the way, and didn't think any further about YS's clothes. I should have.
After lunch we went upstairs for quiet time, and I saw a giant wet spot on OS's bed. I asked him the obvious question: did he have an accident. He said it was water. Oh, alright. What water? Water from the sink? Silly, mommy. Of course it wasn't water from the sink, he told me. Sigh of relief. It was water from the toilet! Trying not to lose it, I asked the obvious question in a strangled I'm trying not to yell at the top of my lungs voice. How did it get there? I figured they used a cup or their hands. It was worse than I thought. After careful cross-examination, I learned that they had bathed OS's cloth doll in the toilet. While I'm pretty sure that the toilet water was clean, OS did mention that he had also used the toilet.
I am baffled why they did this. We have a stool in the downstairs bathroom so that they can fill the sink and bathe their toys. OS does this at least once a day. There was also a stool in the bathroom sink upstairs that they could have used. OS is 4.5 and has been potty trained for a year. He knows what goes in a toilet.
Of course the worst was still yet to come. When asked, OS told me he didn't know what happened to the doll. I was in complete disbelief at this point. How hard is it to find a sopping wet doll? I was worried that she was buried under a couch cushion. We finally found her on the dining room bench. She had been sitting next to OS during lunch! Let's not dwell on that one too much or I may see my dinner again.
I confiscated the doll and we all went back upstairs to clean the bathroom. Yes, the one which I had just cleaned earlier that morning. It looked like a monsoon hit! Even the shower was wet with toilet water. The not yet used bathmat was sopping wet.
After bringing order to the chaos, I went back downstairs to try not to hyperventilate. That's when I got hit with the second surprise. Gandalf had apparently cleared the rest of his backlog...right in the middle of the hallway.
As for OS, I told him he wasn't allowed to use the upstairs bathroom for the rest of the day. It was soaked from both the monsoon and the post-monsoon clean-up. I believe he thought it was a punishment, which is not what I had intended. It actually had way more of an effect than taking away the dolls and other toilet bathing accoutrements that I found.
The Big Giraffe brought me home dinner.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: It never rains, but it pours...toilet water.
My OS puked and cried most of the day yesterday, and while it was awful for him to be ill, I'm glad I didn't have to clean toilet water from all over my house! Here's hoping your OS doesn't tell my OS about toilet bathing of toys or we'll have pirate playwear in the trash!
Um,..well, I guess you can be relieved that they didn't attempt to flush the doll DOWN the toilet? (trying to look on the bright side :o) ) I almost thought you were going to say they had flushed your suit!
Back when Gandalf got sick in December, we were told that there was an 85% chance that he could have another GDV. In order to prevent it, he would need to have a staple put in to keep his stomach from twisting. However, the vet said that we should do it the next time Gandalf was going to be under rather than scheduling a separate surgery for him. He had been due for a teeth cleaning since last year, but honestly with a newborn, we forgot to take care of it. His breath was pretty foul, so between our offended noses, the need for the stomach staple, and the bonus fact that in January and February our veterinarian's office has a sale on teeth cleaning (I swear I'm not making that one up), it seemed like a clear sign that this was the time do it.
Then my great aunt's death required me to be in Chicago over when the surgery was scheduled. I freaked out calmly questioned the vet about Gandalf's chances of having another GDV in the next five minutes interim. She pointed out that there was an 85% chance of recurrence in his lifetime, not within the next month. After breathing into a paper bag, or at least calming down a bit, I was ready to reschedule. The vet's office was even nice enough to lock in the original price.
Today was the big day. Gandalf was a real trooper. Of course he had no idea what he was in for and was just happy to be going to one of his favorite places in the world...the vet's office. No, I'm not making that up either. He loves going there. The surgery was a success. Now he's home peacefully resting on his dog bed with his e-collar on his neck. He's still pretty groggy from the anesthesia.
Before we had human children, we thought handling our pets' recovery from surgery was difficult. When the cats were spayed, we struggled to keep their e-collars on them so that they wouldn't lick their sutures. It was the same for Gandalf when he was a puppy. Now the challenge is a little more complex: keep the kids from taking off the e-collar, or worse wearing it themselves, so that Gandalf leaves the sutures and the kids alone.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Having kids can put a twist on events that you wouldn't even dream of before parenthood.
I swear I'm living with a 14 year-old instead of a 4 year-old. My older son (OS) has replaced temper tantrums with surly remarks. One of my friends pointed out today that a real teenager would go stomping off to his room. I could only wish for that today. Instead I had surliness, stalking, whining, and stomping. Let me clarify that when I say "stalking" I mean that OS follows me from room to room whining and stomping.
Today he began his new session of swim lessons. Last session, the class included four other boys. The boys really made the instructor work hard. At any given time, a child or two was trying to run around the pool. Unfortunately, OS tried once too. I often thought that the instructor looked like she could use a stiff drink after the lessons. Sometimes I even felt like having a stiff drink watching her teach the boys. Thus, even though the class is on the same day and at the same time as his prior session, I am not surprised that there is a different teacher. His old teacher is now the lifeguard during the class. As I was leaving the deck to go to the viewing area, I asked her why she wasn't teaching. After stuttering for a minute, she said that the time did not work for her because she gets together with friends every Thursday. I am convinced she was originally going to say that on Thursdays she meets her friends for a drinks.
The day wasn't entirely filled with challenges. I found an extra-special excursion that made them very happy. Going to the vets office to drop off the cats' fecal sample in its special vial was a treat beyond dreams for them. Their excitement was so palpable, that the office staff were laughing. I'm not sure whether they were more excited about having the cat poop in the car with us or getting to hand it over in a special vial.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: While poop may seem vile, it offers entertainment to kids when it is placed in a vial.
Oh oh OH I know what you mean! I've got a 7-year-old who sneers "whatever" at me, nearly causing me to break on highways demanding apologies, and a 3-year-old who yells when I tell her to wear snow boots with tights and a dress "I can't wear THAT! It's embarrassing!!"
EMBARRASSING?!?! To a THREE YEAR OLD?!?!? Good goodness - when do they turn 18 and go to college?
Because we spend a lot time discussing the birds and the bees these days in our house, we had yet another sex conversation today. Except that today I seriously needed my parenting instruction manual that I just know that they must have forgotten to give me at the hospital...twice now. I even double checked under the couch, in the hall closet, in my husband's closet and any other place we stash things right before guests come over to our house. No luck. I checked on-line to see if perhaps the hospital had an electronic copy that I could download. No luck there. I really needed help on this one. I just know in that instruction manual that surely came with my baby there was a section explaining how to find the location of merfolk genitalia . Isn't it obvious? I mean that should be right after how to change the baby's diaper. I'm sure the writers would be able to foresee the following type of conversation that I had with my older son (OS) today:
OS: Mommy, Ariel is a girl! Me: Yes, she is. OS: That means she has a gina! (We're working on getting the "va" in there) Me: Yes, she does. OS: Where is it? Me: (Feeling under pressure here as I know nothing about the gentalia of merfolk because apparently my anatomy pre-med course I took left that one out). I'm not sure...(based on numerous parenting articles saying it's fine to admit you don't know as well as a personal stall tactic for me), but I think it would be on the back of her tail. OS: That's right! It's just like the cats' ginas! Me: That's right. (Eyes darting back and forth performing a catscan to make sure unsuspecting cats were in a safe location before any "veterinary examinations" occured.) OS: I like cookies in preschool.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Pre-med anatomy may not be sufficient for answering preschoolers' anatomy questions.
You are too funny! Kami, don't feel bad, I didn't catch on to the "merfolk" thing right away, either. I thought perhaps Ariele was a friend from school! LOL
Just wait, Alex! The questions get much more interesting as they get older! (I don't want to tell you too much, it would scare the begeebers out of ya!) :0 If only there was such a manual, being a parent would be soooo much easier!
I like cookies, too. Excellent how he can move from one topic to another with such ease.
If you do ever learn about the genitalia of merfolk, let me know if they have pubic hair. I was never curious about that until now, but since you brought up the topic, it strikes me as interesting. Scales and hair seem sort of messy.
Did you see Liz's post at Mom-101 today? She went to a toy show, and there were a series of anatomically correct multi-cultural dolls. Maybe they need to add merfolk!
I think the last line of that conversation about summed up the attention span of a preschooler. For you, sex is a tricky topic. For him, it is about as noteworthy as cookies. It's too funny.
Interesting.. I had a conversation like that yesterday. My OS said Mom, you have a vagina, right? And you sit to pee, and I have a penis, and boys stand. I said that some boys sit to pee, and that's ok too. Then he said that he was going to "wrap a vagina around" his penis... so he could sit to pee? I don't know... I was truly flabbergasted. I said that he couldn't really do that, boys just have penises and girls have vaginas, and people don't have both. Merfolk on the other hand, just may!
Back to the vet's office on Friday. Yes, I know from the amount of times I've mentioned it, it would seem that I spent several days there and perhaps it's the place to go to have epiphanies. Really it was just about 45 minutes,but I subsequently had a big realization. When I was there with the cats and my younger son (YS) several vet techs commented on the slight scratch on YS's nose. However, before you assume that they were concerned about YS, you have to keep in mind that we were at the vet's office so the conversation went something like this:
Tech: Did he get scratched by the cat? (while giving me an accusatory look for being a bad cat owner and allowing my son to terrorize the cat). Alex Elliot: Actually I think he scratched himself. He has very hard nails. No matter how short they are cut, he still scratches himself every once in a blue moon
Then later on when I picked up my older son (OS) from preschool, they also noticed the scratch on YS. Before you assume that the conversation was identical, you have to keep in mind that we were at a school, so the conversation went something like this: Teacher: Did he get scratched by the cat? (while giving me an accusatory look for being a bad parent and allowing the cat to terrorize my son.) Alex Elliot: Actually I think he scratched himself. He has very hard nails. No matter how short they are cut, he still scratches himself every once in a blue moon.
I drove away feeling a tad bit frustrated. I just couldn't win. Then I thought of something that made me even more frustrated. I bet if the Big Giraffe had run those errands, everyone would have felt sympathy for the poor daddy whose son got scratched by the cat. Then he would be a hero for running the errands whereas human or feline, I'm just a bad mom. Nice.
Oh, you're not a bad mom, Alex! I used to hate that when my kids were at the "clunk your forehead on everything" stage. People would see the big knot or bruise on their little foreheads and gasp and say, "Oh, how did he get THAT?" I wanted to say, "Yeah, I took a baseball bat to him yesterday!"
You're right, too. If your husband had been there they probably wouldn't have asked!
Seriously, a scratch on the nose is not any cause for alarm, and is certainly not indicative of neglect (feline or human)...now, if his entire face was mauled, I may be asking some questions :)
You are so right. I just had one of these conversations today with a woman who has a Ph.D. in chemistry, home schools three children and is a master teacher in her own right. She had to go to a school conference about a program that her daughter is involved with and had to bring her carpenter husband so she'd be treated with respect. It's so unbelievably stupid!
Not that her husband may not be as strongly self-taught as she has been taught by institutions, but you know what I'm saying? Just in general, why are we deemed the incompetent ones?
Parenthood brings many surprises, some of which are fantastic and others are ...well...let's just say not as fantastic. In the four years I've been a mom, I've turned around many to,es to find one of my kids performing some amazing accomplishment. Today I carefully searched the house performing what the Big Giraffe and I like to call a catscan; I was trying to locate the cats in the house. Then I gathered their cages and pounced on each unsuspecting cat so to speak. After burning more calories herding cats than I did working out this morning, I realized that my younger son (YS) was suspiciously quiet and also not where he had been just moments before. I heard laughing. I was naive and believed that he was finding great pleasure in a toy. He was definitely finding great pleasure all right; he had lifted up the lid and the seat of the toilet and was happily scooping water out of it. I was genuinely stunned. He later amazed me by chasing one of the cats under the bench in the exam room at the vet's office, providing me with the opportunity to rearrange the furniture to find and reclaim the angry cat.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: I don't believe that children should be seen and not heard; keeping them in sight is important, but if you can't hear them, it usually means they are up to no good.
i was trying to figure out why on earth you would be putting cats into cages... but ah! the vet. eek. already you know it's going to be a rough day! ;)
I remember when a boss of mine had his second baby. I asked if the older one liked his new sister. Wow was I naive! Anyhow, he replied that actually he was way more interested in the cat. Now I understand that statement. In our zoo house, we have two cats and a large golden retriever. The boys love them. In fact given the choice between playing with the most exciting toy in the world for an hour or petting one of the cats for 1.3 seconds before she bolts, they'll choose the latter. The cats are very mysterious. They dart in and out of rooms and are always going to exciting places like on top the refrigerator or under a bed.
My parents have two golden retrievers and a cat. The boys love the cat because, for reasons I don't understand, he is completely immune to their petting and unfortunately poking. Personally if I were the cat, I would run away from home or at the very least develop completely nocturnal habits that involved my sleeping in the basement where the boys wouldn't find me. If anything, the cat seems to seek them out. Then whenever we've come back from an outing, we've found him practically comatose in his cat bed. There has been way more excitement for him in the past couple days than he's had in his whole life.
The boys like the dogs, but aren't nearly as thrilled with them. They're not as mysterious. They also have way more energy than our dog. We taught the boys to say "No, Juliette" or "No, Nicholas" in strong voices if the dogs are getting too close. The dogs are responding pretty well, but we did notice one thing. My younger son never say "No, Juliette." Instead he says, "No, Boo." which is the name he has chosen for her. No, my kids haven't seen Monsters, Inc. The name actually seems to suit her.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: When you have kids your whole life turns so upside down that not even the dog's name is safe.
This is too funny. What is it about babies and cats? MJ will chase our cats around all day long. Poor Eleanor is the only one who can't handle it and, of course, she is the object of the most attention. The two boys are pretty fat and lazy so they'll sit there and take the abuse for a little while before getting fed up and moving on. MJ likes my mother's dogs but will just push them around when they're in her way. She doesn't seek them out.
At this very moment I'm sitting with a cat on my chest trying desperately to teach my daughter to STOP PULLING THE CAT'S TAIL. It's going well. But i know in three seconds she'll slap the cat on the head.
The dogs? Eh, they're big and slobbery. But they're great for playing ball with.
I guess Juliette was just too formal a name, Boo must have seemed more fitting! :)
I think it's great that your boys are being exposed to both cats and dogs, it's good for them. I always feel bad for kids that are frightened by them because they've never been with an animal before.
Hey, if you get a minute, stop over by my blog, I have something for you! Take care!
Yesterday the Big Giraffe, the boys and I all went to the New England Aquarium. We finally made it to the bottom floor of the jellyfish exhibit. Attempts during previous visits had always failed due to the lure of the penguins in the other part of the aquarium. Armed with an even better line than "Because I said so" (which in all honesty I've been trying albeit not always successfully not to say as both the Big Giraffe and I hated that line as kids,), I declared "Because it's my birthday" to get a sulky older son (OS) to reluctantly come into the exhibit with me. Then we had to drag him out because he enjoyed it so much.
OS has been excited for a long while about my birthday cake. At some point he decided that I needed to have a Little Mermaid cake for my birthday. Seeing as I've never had a Little Mermaid cake before, and it was so important to OS, I thought it was a fabulous idea. After dinner, OS could barely contain his excitement. With some help from the Big Giraffe, OS carefully placed each plastic princess on the cake (Ariel was one of four princesses). OS made sure to keep me updated on the progress of the princess placement. Finally the big moment came. All three giraffes sang to me, and I blew out the candles. I could see both boys gazing at the princesses. I gave one to each of them and they acted like it was the best gift. Then they proceeded to use the princess, who were hollow under their skirts to scoop up their cake and eat it.
The princesses also came on the ride to preschool today, but waited in the car. They subsequently had quite a make believe story with the various plastic sharks, whales, squids, and other sea creatures that we have acquired ever since OS became obsessed with ocean life this past summer. My concern about these trendy kids cakes has been that after the candles are blown out, the overpriced cheap plastic toys on the cake are discarded. Not a problem in my house. These princesses are one of the boys' favorite gifts these past fews months. That and the free dog leash from the vet.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: As a parent, you may not choose your birthday cake, but you can choose to keep the last piece.
I absolutely loved this post, Alex. I sense what a real joy you get from parenting. And I love the idea of the kids scooping up their cake with the princesses.
I have a favorite memory from the N.E. Aquarium, too. When I was in grad school in Boston, my DH (who was then my BF) took a friend and I there soon after I had arrived. It was my first big "evening out" in Boston. My friend was from Japan and it was her first big evening out, too. So... as we were discussing the fish, the discussion turned to sushi, and we ended up having a wonderful sushi dinner, with everything chosen by my friend. It was great fun, if a little weird (having just seen them swimming and all).
And now I feel compelled to have a princess cake for my birthday in a month or two, when I will turn *gasp* 42 and become officially a decade older than you! Will you come for my party?
What a great day and the jelly fish exhibit sounds fantastic. We have nothing like an aquarium here so that sounds like a great thing to be able to do regularly.
The cake story is priceless. Keep this story for a great one to tell at their weddings!
at is the most hilarious 32nd birthday cake ever. I wish I had been there to eat it with you. Glad you had a wonderful, jellyfish and Disney princess filled birthday!
You are going to have to read a long way through before the title of this post makes sense, but it isn't false advertising. I also promise this is going to be my last post about my dog...for now. However, this was a big deal to me. Hey, it's my blog anyhow!
I have a secret confession. Actually anyone who knows me would laugh to think I claim this is a secret. It's probably pretty obvious. Here it goes: I've never been entirely comfortable with my decision to decline my veterinary school acceptance. Alright in all honesty, I'm very uncomfortable with it. I know it was the right decision at the time, but it was hard. It still is.
One of the ways this discomfort has manifested itself has been my avoidance of Tufts. I volunteered there for over two years. It is the school that I would love to attend school day. Getting in there was a huge honor to me, and it still is. It therefore seems kind of funny, that it is such a big deal for me to consider volunteering there again or at the very least to donate unneeded linens. For the record, I do the latter, but as a drop and run. My stomach always starts to feel really funny, because every time I see the students, I think about what it would have been like and where I would be in my veterinary career if I had gone. I have never wavered on my desire to be a vet.
In addition to my difficulty in dealing with Gandalf's illness, I had all this extra baggage when I took him to the ICU. One of the veterinary students who attended to him went to my college and is a 4th year student just like I would have been. It was hard for me not to feel jealous and, okay I'll admit it, a little intimidated by her. However, spending time at Tufts four days straight has helped me overcome my fear and discomfort. I brought Gandalf back to Tufts today for an ultrasound, and when we left I realized how comfortable I felt there and how much I still really want to be part of it some day. There weren't any GI issues (for Gandalf or me).
Of course that didn't mean that there weren't other challenges with the trip. While my older son (OS) was in preschool when I dropped Gandalf off this morning, I took my younger son (YS) with me. He had a complete meltdown because I wouldn't let him eat the dog treats on the counter. After calming him down, I was left with a dilemma. I had Gandalf's leash in one hand, my non-walking son in my other arm, and I needed to sign papers. At the same time, Gandalf and two other dogs were doing Christmas caroling; at least their barking fest sounded like the dog version of Jingle Bells that I occasionally hear on the radio, with the exception that the dogs on the radio bark on-key. YS thought this was hilarious. (He was right.) This led me to believe I could safely put YS down on the floor for a split second to sign the papers. Almost as if he had been waiting for this moment, Gandalf stepped on YS, who acted as if both his arms and legs had been broken. He put up such a fuss that people came to see what was wrong. A very nice vet offered to hold "him" while I signed the papers. I wasn't sure if she was referring to the dog or the baby. I gave her Gandalf. Like my decision on vet school, I struggled with the decision. Unlike my decision on vet school, I am not sure that I made the right choice. However, it allowed me to complete the paperwork, leave the dog, and take the boys back to the car.
Speaking of questionable choices, I took both boys with me when I went to pick Gandalf up. Fortunately, they were very well behaved. OS even wore his Oscar the Grouch shirt from Suzanne and her hubby especially for the trip. OS was very impressed by the Gandalf's veterinarian. He was also intrigued by the temporary leash on Gandalf. It's one of those free ones that all animal clinics have. He started to ask a few questions. The vet asked him if he would like to have the leash. His eyes got wide and a huge smile broke out on his face. So yes, out of all of OS's holiday gifts (we distribute as he gets them from relatives), this is his very favorite gift. While it is not unusual for him to pretend to be a vet, he is now walking his stuffed animal patients (and in a few cases, Gandalf before I intercepted him) into our living room "waiting room" to meet their owners.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: The best gifts are free.
That's very cute and I'm glad he likes the shirt. I'm actually sending the kids a book tomorrow, assuming I survive a trip to a New York City post office during the holiday season. :) Glad things are looking up!
Gandalf is resting safe and sound at home. I was able to pick him up late this afternoon. Fortunately, a friend of mine watched the boys for me. I had visions of a beautiful reunion in the lobby of the animal hospital. The boys and I would be waiting with our arms extended to hug Gandalf as he came running into our arms. It would be in slow motion and the theme from Chariots of Fire would be playing in the background. Then I remembered the last time I took both kids to the vet with me and I felt like I needed a stiff drink afterwards or at the very least a prescription from the vet for a sedative for myself. Plus, today I also ended up with a surprise 25 lb bag of prescription dog food. There's no way I could handle an 85 lb golden retriever, a 25 pound of food, a 20 plus pound 17 month old who still isn't walking and a 4 year old who would inevitably have a temper tantrum and need to be carried.
Our happy reunion occurred at home. Then all three boys promptly watched Finding Nemo. OS requested it, and I thought that it would give Gandalf sometime to get readjusted before the boys started chasing him around the house. Sure enough, I soon heard OS practicing his imitation of the whale sounds from the whale in Finding Nemo. Then I realized I really was hearing the whale in the movie; OS was sound asleep. This isn't much of a surprise considering that both boys were up last night arguing at 2 am. After the Big Giraffe staggered back to bed, having failed to mediate the dispute, I got up and asked OS to explain why he was mad at YS. "YS is sleeping loudly, Mommy" OS announced in an outraged voice.
In honor of the birthday of my cousin Jennifer who said I must have been acting like a crazy cat lady in the animal hospital, and Gandalf's return, I thought I would share a crazy dog story. I actually hadn't thought about this in at least a year until Gandalf got sick. After completing my organic chemistry final exam as part of my post-BA program a few years ago, I was thrilled. If I could have set off fireworks, I would have. If you've ever taken orgo, you probably know what I'm talking about. Instead, I headed home to celebrate. Unfortunately, it was during the middle of the day and no one was around. Even worse, there was no evening celebration on tap, because the Big Giraffe was out of town. I was also honestly too exhausted for a real celebration. I thought the perfect thing would be to get carryout and rent a couple movies with a friend. Mrs. Chicky, if you're reading this, do not read this next part. I swear this is the only time I've done this. I went to Blockbuster and rented a few movies. Gandalf came with me and waited in the car. Then the two of us went to a restaurant by my house and I got carryout. Maybe that doesn't sound too weird. I had ordered myself a gyros and fries platter...and I ordered a platter for Gandalph too. I know! I know! Then Gandalf and I went home, popped in one the DVDs (I did, not Gandalf), curled up on the couch, and ate our sandwiches. We each had our own Styrofoam container. It really was a fabulous celebration. The irony of me feeding my dog gyros and fries was that I was taking organic chemistry as a prerequisite to applying for veterinary school. Hey they say the shoemakers' kids never have shoes. Maybe the veterinarians' dogs never have healthy dog food?
Now I'm off to change my name, appearance and move to an undisclosed part of the country since I can clearly no longer hold my head up high if I run into anyone I know in my real life. It was totally worth it though.
Yay for Gandolf being home and better! And I was laughing out loud picturing you picking him up at the vet with the kids and the 25lb bag of food... glad you left the kids alone because it was funny only because it didn't happen :-)
Vet or no vet, dogs get to eat junk food too! Sounds like a great buddy to celebrate with too, he wouldn never steal your thunder!
Maybe YS and Gandalf can switch the rooms that they sleep in. I am cracking up thinking about that argument, but you better believe that I am glad that I didn't have to mediate it. Fortunately, Theo sleeps quietly so Husband has no complaints.
Thanks to a very generous friend in my playgroup, the Big Giraffe and I just got back from visiting Gandalf sans kids. Originally I had planned to bring our older son (OS), but as soon as the thought formed in my mind, I banished it. The last time he and I had to leave one of our cats at the vet for tests, I thought that the vet was going to have to give OS a sedative to get him out of the animal clinic. He was completely hysterical that the cat wasn't coming home with us for a couple of hours. I can't imagine his reaction to an overnight stay.
Gandalf is doing much better. He's still over at the vet school where they're monitoring him. He's scheduled for an ultrasound on Wednesday, but we hope he can do that as an outpatient. When we saw him this evening, he was back to his usual self. He even checked out the garbage can, and for some reason the printer in the visiting room. He also delivered several hearty barks to the cats who were carried passed the door. It looks like he did have a partial GDV that untwisted itself. The vet said that no one will never know for sure. However, when she compared the x-rays at the animal clinic to the x-rays at the hospital, that was her best explanation for the difference. I'm really hoping that he'll be able to come home tomorrow evening. It's lonely here without him. I'm used to him following me everywhere. Plus now I have to actually sweep the crumbs off of the floor.
Thank you all for your comments and emails. I really appreciate them. For those of you who I know in my real life, I appreciated the phone calls as well.
Of course there were almost 24 hours of mayhem between my post last night and our visit to Gandalf. Last night, right after posting, I got a call from my cousin with whom I hadn't spoken in months. She was part my childhood posse who used to eat breakfast with Santa Claus. Apparently she and my aunt were nostalgic for those times, so this past weekend they went and ate breakfast with Santa again. It wasn't as much fun as they remembered, probably since they didn't have anyone under the age of 27 with them. I thought it was interesting that we were all thinking about it.
I told my cousin all about being homesick and obviously about our dog. We had a nice conversation. However she did point out that a sobbing woman all by herself in a vet hospital with her own stretcher means one thing: crazy cat lady. Looking back on it, she's totally right. We had a good laugh over that one. The people had no idea that I was there with a dog since he was being treated. The thought of what the other patrons must have thought when I was holding my own stretcher still makes me laugh. Who the heck owns their own veterinary stretcher? I must have looked like a nut.
Feeling totally drained from yesterday's events and battling the onset of a cold for the past few days, I decided to take a Tylenol PM and call it a night after getting off the phone. I didn't even bother to try and make my crack of dawn spinning class this morning. I went instead to the later class. I figured a bit of extra rest might help me to present a more sane appearance. As we were waiting for the door to the spinning room to be unlocked, I realized that not only had I not changed into my gym socks, but I was wearing bright Halloween socks. With my biking shorts, it was pretty obvious. Of course I had to run into three people I knew too. I guess there's a little bit of crazy cat lady in us all. At least that's what I would like to believe. OK please don't tell me if I'm wrong! It's been a rough couple days.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Sleep does not cause sanity.
Glad your dog is on the mend. Hope you can fend off the cold. A hot toddy always does the trick for me. And if I do end up getting the cold, I just keep the hot drinks flowing.
I'm so glad Gandalf is doing well! I have done the sobbing drive from vet office to vet school with the hours and hours of sobbing waiting room time. Mine did not end well, but I'm so glad yours did!
When I was a kid, I used to love the entire Christmas season, from the moment the first holiday song came on the radio. To me the holidays have never been about exchanging gifts (ok maybe a little bit), but about being with family and friends and doing all sorts of holiday-related things. When I was growing up, my extended family always got together for different holiday activities like breakfast with Santa or windowshopping at the decorated stores in downtown Chicago. My friends would get together for holiday shopping trips, particularly last minute holiday shopping trips. We would often catch a movie or go to a local restaurant and dessert place called Bakers Square afterwards. It was a ton of fun. Good conversations, cheesy Christmas decorations and festive music made it something that I looked forward to every year. When I went off to college and subsequently moved to the New York City area, I still came home around the holidays and met up with family and friends to do these things.
The holiday season has seemed a lot less festive since I moved to MA. I am not surrounded by the family and friends with whom I shared my holiday traditions. Breakfast with Santa was just a small affair with my husband, the Big Giraffe, and kids - no extended family. Last minute shopping trips are also on my own, and they are something I rush through, not something that I find to be fun. And there are never enough opportunities to go out for dessert. I know I should be really grateful. I have a wonderful family, we're all healthy, and we can afford to exchange gifts and have a nice Christmas. What more should I really want? I want to not feel homesick for those childhood experiences.
When I woke up this morning, I just couldn't seem to shake a feeling of self-absorption and self-pity. I was trying hard to find my "inner happiness" and to be in control of my own happiness, but really, I just wanted to go to my childhood home. This led to a "what the heck am I doing out here" conversation with a bewildered Big Giraffe that ended with me bursting into tears. Then I progressed down my normal emotional journey through the land of upset to a point where I brought up every person who I felt had wronged me in the past couple weeks my lifetime, including the couple who blew us off for Christmas dinner last year at the last minute because they had a better offer. (Even after calming down, that one still makes me mad.)
As I was really getting worked up, Gandalf vomited. He hadn't been acting like himself for most of yesterday, and by last night he had started getting sick. I was a little bit concerned, but he's a golden retriever, so he's always eating things that aren't fit for canine consumption. However, the vomiting continued and it started to smell. Even worse, Gandalf suddenly looked terrible. Minor concern turned to real worry. While the Big Giraffe stayed home with the boys, I took Gandalf to the vet for an emergency appointment. Gandalf walked to the car and from the car into the vet's office, but once he was there, he couldn't walk anymore.
The vet immediately gave him x-rays and put Gandalf on IV fluids. He told me he would give me a call when he had more info. I didn't even make it home before he called my cell phone. The test results suggested that Gandalf had a GDV. His best chance for survival was to get to the local veterinary hospital (at Tufts vet school) and, if the diagnosis were confirmed, have immediate, emergency surgery. I burst into tears as I drove back to the vet's office. The staff brought Gandalf out in a stretcher and loaded him back in my car. The tears continued to flow as I drove Gandalf to the vet school from which I once was supposed to graduate this May.
At the school, the veterinary students rushed out to take him from my car and put him on a gurney. Then I got to wait. It was agony and I felt incredibly guilty for being so self-centered this morning. Truth be told, Gandalf is one of my best friends. He's always happy to see me and spend time with me no matter what. He would never pass up time with me at the last minute for a better offer; in fact I bet he would just love to go out for dessert with me.
I sat in the hospital crying and wiping my nose with soggy, well-used tissues. Everyone else was there with someone else. No one would sit next to me, or the weird guy who was there with his dog. Even the weird guy was giving me looks. I tried to make small talk with a couple sitting next to me, but after a few terse answers, they got up and moved. Nice. No, they weren't there for an emergency. I tried to distract myself by reading a magazine, but my only choices were AARP or an August issue of People.
After eight hours one hour, the vet came out. She wanted to do more x-rays before the surgery. More time passed. I wondered how people with loved ones in surgery can handle the waiting. I made a mental note to myself that if I ever know someone who's sitting in the waiting room of a hospital (animal or human) that I will definitely go over and sit with them if they're by themselves. At the very least I will bring them a sandwich and a better magazine.
The vet finally returned with good news. Although the x-rays looked troubling, just as they were about to prep for the surgery, Gandalph started to walk. He was improving. The vet was very positively surprised. I felt like I had just won a million dollars
As the vet went back to perform additional tests, I was finally able to relax in the waiting room. I even located a box of kleenex. When a vet tech came out to return Gandalf's vet's stretcher, I even tried to make small talk with the weird guy, joking about my pleasure that the stretcher had not been lost. He reacted similarly to the couple; he inched away from me. Even he couldn't quash my happy spirits. To be fair, after observing my arrival with my own stretcher and my sob fest, he may be describing me on a blog somewhere as the "weird woman".
In addition to caring for the boys, the Big Giraffe had undertaken two missions. He had been scheduled to deliver the weekly welcome and announcements at church, so he needed to find a fellow church board member to cover. I had committed to babysitting for the daughter of a friend through the babysitting co-op, so that she and her husband could see a show. The Big Giraffe needed to find a replacement co-op member to cover. When I called the Big Giraffe to share the good news, he was ecstatic that Gandalf was recovering. He was also able to share good wishes from the church friend and the many babysitting co-op friends with whom he spoke during the day. When I got home, I received a very nice email from a friend in my playgroup. My parents were also very concerned and generously offered to foot the vet bills. If you have pets, you know what a big offer that is.
Gandalf is out of the woods, but he still needs to remain in the hospital for at least 24 hours. He still may end up needing surgery, but it looks like he will be fine. I'm ending the day feeling very lucky. Lucky and exhausted.
I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I'm glad to hear Doggie is getting better, and I'm sending super positive thoughts your way that he will make a full recovery soon. <3
Speedy recovery wishes to Gandalf. And I don't think you should feel bad for feeling lost earlier in the day. We all go through it. Incidentally, for many of the reasons you gave, the rate of people suffering from depression increases dramatically during the holidays, especially women. Hugs!!!
Boy, that post made me really, really nervous and a little teary there in the middle. I'm sending good vibes to Gandalf. Some to you, too. You have a right to your feelings, and it's okay to be self-absorbed somtimes.
Whew... Glad he's recovering. And the vet bills being covered is a huge present! Seems to me that even though you're far away, your family is still involved in your life... and that you have friends that consider you family... take care.
I'm so glad that Gandalf is okay. I hope that he comes home soon. And I hope that you aren't too hard on yourself for what were very legitimate feelings earlier in the day.
Oh, poor puppy! What a miserable day, but I'm thrilled you got good news in the end.
My parents have never been pet people but when our dpg had some mysterious seizures earlier this year, my mother called me almost daily to check on her. It was very sweet.
Reading an email today from a friend reminded me of the time that my older son (OS) did something that made me want the earth to swallow me up right on the spot. Maybe I should clarify that by saying that it was one of the top 3 things he's done that have made me feel like that. OS went through this phase for about 15 years over a year where he would poke my stomach and chest. I'm sure it started out as natural curiosity, but then presumably after getting a reaction from me, it turned into a power struggle.
Two weeks before I gave birth to my younger son (YS), we were at parent/child swim lessons. Admittedly my swim suit was a bit snug on top, but I didn't want to go buy a new one for two more swim lessons. Even though OS normally loved swim lessons, he spent the entire ride to the Y making it very clear that he did not want to go on that day. When I was in the water with him, he clung to me like a second swim suit. I'm not sure whether it was an accident, but after one of his proclamations of displeasure, he poked me and managed to pull down the top of one side of my swim suit. A few dads were standing right next to me. I was mortified. The next week I wore a shirt over my suit. Now OS takes group swim lessons, and I get to sit behind the glass window and watch him. No swim suits are required for me.
Unfortunately, I don't need to be in the pool to be embarrassed at swim lessons. Today I was super organized and caught up on a bunch of things that I needed to get done. However, I never attended to one minor detail: dressing YS. YS was thrilled, of course, but before I knew it, it was time to leave for OS's swim lessons. I scooped up a pajamaed YS and off we went to the Y. Yes, I was that mom who let her kid crawl (I would say walk but he's still not walking yet) around in public in his pjs. In my defense, it eliminated the need to deal with socks, slippers and a coat for him. On the other hand, he had been climbing all over our golden retriever while wearing his fleece pjs. Fleece is like a fur magnet. It occurred to me while in the lobby of the Y, that he resembled a golden retriever puppy. Hey, he was happy and more importantly no one in the lobby knew who I was!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If no one you know is there to witness an embarrassing moment, then it didn't really happen. Similarly if parents witness an embarrassing moment, they'll be too tired to remember it the next day so it's basically like it never happened.
You just gave me a really good idea - I will start bringing my dogs with me everywhere, and when someone tells me no dogs are allowed, I'll just say, "It's my child who has been rolling around with my dogs!" :p
This Thanksgiving, I'm truly grateful for my family, friends, health, and the fact we have a warm house to live in and plenty to eat. I thought I would share some other spoken and unspoken thoughts of gratitude that were expressed today. A couple of them were shared when we did warm fuzzies at the dinner table where everyone had to say one nice thing about everyone else and one nice thing about themselves. I realize that you might be rolling your eyes, particularly if you are the Big Giraffe, but hey if we spent all this time preparing this meal, I wanted our boys to at least be aware that this holiday is about gratitude. Picture a stern look going along with that last sentence. Our younger son (YS) and our pets were exempt. The Big Giraffe was not even though he tried.
I am thankful that I was able to do a decent job managing my stress level and did not cry at any point today. This is a huge improvement over past holidays. This was my warm fuzzy.
The Big Giraffe stated that he was thankful that he did not react to my "micromanagement" and did not storm out to spend Thanksgiving at Walgreens*. That was his warm fuzzy. I took issue with this: there are no cold fuzzies, indirect or direct, allowed during warm fuzzy time.
The Big Giraffe should be grateful that I didn't encounter any divorce lawyers looking for new clients today.
Our dog appeared grateful that I somehow missed removing the neck from the turkey. I could not believe the amount of extra stuffing, and yes I did make my own, that wouldn't fit in the turkey. The dog got the leftovers
I am grateful that we didn't have the fire department visiting us. Despite the fact the the turkey cooked with the neck in it, it came out great. It was nice and moist. (Even the Big Giraffe agreed, in between big bites.)
I am grateful that somehow the Pretty n Pink soundtrack which just happened to be on sale at Borders made its way into my shopping cart last night. I have no idea how that happened. It made for some great music while we were preparing food.
Our Older son (OS) stated that he was grateful that we turned the music off when we had dinner. No I'm not making that up. It wasn't technically part of his warm fuzzy, but as we sat down he said "Thank you Mommy for turning off the music."
OS should be grateful that we, by which I mean "I", did not comment on the fact that all he ate at our Thanksgiving feast was a corn muffin. I made turkey, stuffing and cheddar mashed potatoes. The Big Giraffe made corn muffins and a broccoli casserole.
YS appeared grateful that no one commented on OS's eating, since it averted an OS holiday meltdown, which likely would have been followed by poking his brother.
YS appeared grateful for the food that was served. He ate everything, including the canned cranberries.
I am grateful that the Big Giraffe brought home good wine last night for today as well as a very nice center piece which he surprised me with. Technically, he told me the centerpiece was for the table, but the bouquet of flowers was for me.
We are grateful that our kids actually took a nap this afternoon so we could have some alone time...
I am grateful that no one spent Thanksgiving at Walgreens even though I might not have felt that way at certain points during the day.
Our cats appear grateful that everyone else was occupied with the Thanskgiving Day fights festivities and left them completely alone
We were all grateful that we were invited to a friend's house for dessert. We had a really great time.
We are both grateful that we have an honest marriage: we both admitted that we hate watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV. We both thought that it was important to the other one. The Big Giraffe only likes it in person, and I could do without it altogether.
I am grateful that OS's teachers send home little projects containing the feelings expressed by the children in the class. It's a great way to see what's going on in OS's mind. On Monday, the teachers sent home a list of class gratitudes. "Suzy" was grateful for her parents, "Johnny" was grateful for his parents and his brother, "Sam" was grateful for meat, and OS was grateful for turkey bologna and grapes
OS stated that he was grateful that Christmas was today. That was his warm fuzzy.
*I may just possibly have forgotten to pick up enough frozen broccoli for a casserole leading into a small debate about what Thanksgiving was really about: honoring the very first Thanksgiving where the men brought home the meat and the women cooked or a complete reversal of Mothers' Day where women are in charge of everything including both the shopping and the cooking. The words "misogynistic holiday" may have been uttered once or twice. The Big Giraffe went to Walgreens since it was one of the only places open to see if they had any frozen broccoli. He reported back that it was a hopping place, but unfortunately it did not sell frozen vegetables. CVS was also open, also did not have frozen vegetables, but apparently lacked the same energy level among its customers.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: There is a lot to be thankful for.
My kindergartener was thankful for Pokemon cards. Oh, and MY OS didn't eat anything at the dinner table. In fact, not a single thing (not even the chicken strips I spent an HOUR cooking prior, just for HIM) graced his plate.
But my 2 yr old ate everything. I figure, if 1 out of 3 kids eat, that's not too shabby...
Hilarious! I think it's great to focus on what you have to be thankful for, nice way to remind your kids the day is not just about dinner. Maybe next year you can divvy up the dishes a little more equally between you and the hubby ; )
This one is for you Big Giraffe's Little Brother and sister-in-law. Just do me a favor and keep it on the down low.
My mother-in-law decided to make a trip cross-country. She left from Colorado on the 3rd and set out to see us before traveling onto KY to visit my BIL and SIL. The boys have been thrilled that she's here. I am enjoying her company too. I have to say that she is extremely respectful of me as a mother. She frequently talks about how much work I do as a stay at home mom, and she has encouraged me to take advantage of her presence to go off and do things on my own. Yesterday I got stuck in a black hole the grocery store. I spent a long time talking to a friend whom I ran into unexpectedly carefully selecting groceries. She also watched the boys for me in the evening so I could go to the gym. She spent some one-on-one time with my younger son (YS) this morning while my older son (OS) was in preschool so that I could go to spinning class and then this afternoon she played with OS in the backyard so that YS could nap and I could also nap read my book for book club.
So what's the deal with the post then? My MIL did something that keeps making me laugh. Even though I normally don't post about family, today is an exception, much to the Big Giraffe's chagrin. Apparently right before my MIL left for her trip, she bought a whole bunch of eggs. Not wanting them to go bad, she boiled them and them put them in a cooler to take on her trip. She also placed a a selection of cheeses in the cooler. The cross-country drive did not deplete her stash, so she arrived holding a grocery bag filled with eggs and cheese. Every time I see it, I laugh because it is just so random. I don't want to suggest that she has been unwilling to eat in our home. Even though she's eaten her eggs and cheese for most of her meals, she usually takes a piece of bread from our refrigerator as well.
Here's the really funny part: three members of the family are acting as if this is a gourmet feast. Unfortunately, the Big Giraffe refuses to do research for my blog, so I'm not sure whether or not there was ice in the cooler. There are some things that you just can't ask your MIL and the history of eggs in a cooler is one them. My boys are acting like this is the best thing since use of sliced bread so to speak. It doesn't matter what I'm cooking; they would much rather eat the hard boiled eggs from a week ago than anything I put on the table.
So who's the third? No, the Big Giraffe has not touched an egg. However, this fascination with eggs and cheese has also extended to the dog who for the first time in his life is ignoring whatever I make and grabbing any hard boiled egg bits that happen to fall on the floor. I realize this post may not enhance your opinion of my cooking. I'm honestly not that bad of cook. I would like to say for the record that whenever I make hardboiled eggs, the boys refuse to eat them, and it's pretty hard to mess up a hardboiled egg.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Colorado eggs are eggcellent excellent.
hahahahahaha! How very random indeed. I absolutely love this post. Love it!
I have had a chance this morning to read through some of the stuff I have missed recently and may I just tell you again how much I enjoy your blog? I do. Immensely.
Professional Mom of two cats, a dog, an ant farm, and oh yeah...two boys: a 6 year old and a 3 year old. Also found in my house is my husband who is known on this blog as The Big Giraffe.
For those of us who didn't get an instruction manual with our babies and for whom parenting hasn't always gone as planned. On a more serious note this blog is about supporting a woman's ability to make her own choices about parenting including the choice, for whatever reason, to bottle feed her babies formula.
you are amazing if the boys have not heard the F bomb until now? I'm sure it'll be part of my children's early vocabulary.