My alarm clock went off at 5:45 this morning for the first time since last Thursday, and verily, I didst think Very Bad Words Indeed. In a discussion with some friends (okay, FINE; it was a thread on Facebook, because we all know I never actually talk to people face-to-face anymore), I realized just how LONG of a day the kids have, for no discernible reason. I mean, okay; Monkey is gone by 7:15 but is generally home before 3:00, which just seems like a long day for a little guy. It's not beyond the norm, I suppose, although the schools are always bitching about how they don't have time to...
I just whacked my head. Twice. Really hard. Because I'm all graceful and stuff. The good news is that I am feeling better, if still somewhat run-over-by-a-truck-ish. The bad news is that it's raining again and lest you think I'm just randomly whining about a few sprinkles, our pool is actually overflowing. This is not rain so much as WRATH OF A VERY SOGGY GOD. So I was trying to drain some water from the pool via the big filter thingie under the porch, and I whacked my head on the way in (because I was wearing a jacket with the hood up, on account of the rain, and my vision was obscured and...
I had a small breakdown, last week. Not a big one. Nothing dramatic, I don't think, nor dangerous or even particularly noteworthy to anyone except ME. To me it was clear that the Mir Pressure Release System had malfunctioned somewhere along the line, allowing stress to build to Code Red levels and ultimately result in Unhealthy Things. Sooooooo I blew up at one two all of the members of my family, had a few good cries, spent many a late night wrestling with my old pal, insomnia, and then got over it. Kind of. Over it enough to keep on keepin' on, as we say, in any event. I may have something...
... of the puke. That's pretty much dog ownership (or parenthood) in a nutshell, right? When Monkey was a baby, we made up a song about him to the tune of Daisy Bell. I'm deeply aggrieved this morning that I can't remember the whole thing, but I know it included, "You're so sweet / When you chew on your feet," and that THAT was the important part. The kid munched on his own toes for hours, and he was round like a little Buddha, so it was endlessly entertaining to watch him do so. Toddler Chickadee used to run over, grab one of his legs, and cram his foot into his mouth FOR him, if she was...
One of the (few) things I miss about the winter weather in New England is the handy excuse to stay in and do nothing for an entire day. The kids and I used to do "blizzard days" where everyone was allowed to stay in their jammies, watch as much television as they liked, and generally withdraw from polite society for the day. Cheerios by the handful? Sure! Build a giant couch fort? Why not! Learn to be a hermit like your mother? OKAY! We don't have weather like that, here. Plus I have this husband who believes in accomplishing things and hanging out with people and stuff, so lazy days can be...
I'm trying really hard not to turn this into a place where all I ever do is talk about how smitten I am with my dog. I mean, I know she's the cutest animal ever to grace the planet and everything, but there comes a point where even fellow animal lovers start to go: "We get it. She's adorable and you like her. Congratulations! You DO realize that she can't walk on water but can and does lick her own ass every chance she gets, right?" There has to be a line, is what I guess I'm saying. On the other hand: 1) MAH NEW BABY! and 2) She's the only family member I can write about with abandon and...
Every so often I get an email asking me if we've finally resolved Chickadee's skin issues and seeing a specialist, and my response is generally "Ummm... mumble mumble oh look, something shiny! She's fine, thanks," because---just like last year---as soon as the weather started to cool off, her skin healed up. Just like that. And I'm left trying to figure out if if makes sense to go see a specialist while she's perfectly fine. I do gesture a lot when I talk, so maybe I can convey the full horror of the height of the Creeping Crud days, but still. I just don't know whether that's the thing to...
I'm starting a training class tonight for Licorice, except that it's really a class to train ME, which I know, but still strikes me as amusing. I mean, I've got this book all about training your pet and I'm still trying to decide if I want to train her to ring a bell to go outside, because it's apparently a fairly easy thing to train and the idea cracks me up. Not that I don't totally enjoy her just dancing around and jumping on me when she remembers she has to pee.... Of course, the problem with the bell is that the dog may then ring just to go outside and play, which is fine and dandy, I...
So I took Licorice to the new vet today. I wanted to get her checked out, establish care, and in general just make sure that my little snuzzy wuzzy snookums was doing okay. Because Licorice came from a local rescue organization, she is "fully vetted" already, which means she'd been to their vet (who is fine, but is not the vet we chose) and dewormed and everything. Of course, AFTER I made her an appointment with the NEW vet, her foster mom mailed to say that, Oops! She needs another set of booster shots! And she can get those for free at the old vet, they will cover it! After some...
