Not A Dog Person

The twelve year old me would be horrified to hear me say this, but I'm absolutely not a dog person.  At least, not a person who wants a dog to live in her home.  I don't mind other people's dogs that I'm not required to live with, but I want no part of living with a dog, particularly Oscar.

Dogs are like living with the most irritating toddler you can find, only it smells really bad and it's parents never come to take it home.  Dog smells, dog hair and even the smell of dog food are all offensive to me.  The sound of a barking dog sets my nerves on edge.  When people tell me about their small dog that lived for more than a decade I start to panic that I could be stuck with this dog for more than another year or two.

Today Oscar decided to remind me of why I despise living with him.  Instead of barking at the door to go outside, like he normally would, he decided to pee on the kitchen floor.  Ellie sat next it it and didn't notice.  I kept asking if anyone knew what the awful smell was in the kitchen and no one knew anything.  Then Katie went to throw something in the trash and the poor kid stepped in the massive puddle of pee and slipped.  She ended up being covered in it and needed an immediate bath.

I'm not a dog person because I can't stand the smells and sounds associated with having a dog.  But my children shouldn't be dog people because the animal they claim they love so much is something they can't be bothered to feed or let outside at regular intervals.

Someday this misery of dog ownership will end and I'm going to celebrate like I never have before.  I long for the day when I can live in a pet free house.

Theme Thursday: Animals

Well look at that, Mr. Furkins is getting a post all about him since this week's theme for Theme Thursday is animals.

Oscar isn't always original.  Sometimes he steals costume ideas from the people and then gets yelled at for copying.

He's notorious for photobombing.  I'm convinced he knows what he's doing.

He thinks he's sophisticated, but when you can't fancy yourself as such when you chase your own tail and gnaw on your hind quarters.

He'll happily wear anything that he perceives to be people clothes.

Oh, and he likes to play on the slide.  He races up the ladder and then slides and prances down the slide.

Oh and in case you're wondering why Oscar has two names, there's a perfectly logical reason.  He thinks he's dignified, but if you look at him you can tell he's anything but.  Of course, I humored him and decided that this goofy dog needed a nick name that reflected his distorted self perception.  Since he has furry skin I decided to call him Mr. Furkins.  I think the name suits him.

Visit Clan Donaldson for more Theme Thursday pictures.

Outsmarting Mr. Furkins

For as often as I refer to Oscar as a dumb dog or "stupid Mr. Furkins" he's really not a dumb dog in terms of intellect.  He is a stupid dog that does dumb dog things that irritate me, but he's a smart stupid dog.

I don't wear shoes in the house, so when he sees me put shoes on he knows I must be leaving and will go into his crate so someone can lock him in.  Same scenario if I pull out the keys to my car.  He just knows the drill and saves me the trouble of having to yell "Crate!"

I can tell him to "go to the bathroom," and he will run out into the back yard and take care of business.  If I tell him he smells, he will walk away from me.  He will also leave the room if I sternly say "out."

Bryan, who has lived with dogs his whole life, says he's amazed at how many words and phrases he understands.  He's even more amazed by the dogs ability to distinguish between regular clothing and bathing suits.

Oscar is a nervous Nellie and pain in the rear when it comes to the pool.  If he sees us in bathing suits he's instantly excited and wants to go out to the pool, too.  When he's denied access, he will bark and carry on from the moment we head out until we're back inside.  It's annoying and it makes the prospect of going swimming while Katie naps impossible.

Last week I decided that I would start spelling pool since he knows the word and what it means.  I told the girls that we were going to go in the P-O-O-L while Katie napped and we would have to take Oscar down to Bryan's office in the basement.  Spelling worked, and he was content to hang with Bryan in the office while we swam.

This past weekend we realized that spelling it out didn't do much when he started barking right away as soon as we took he down to an empty office.  Then Bryan got the genius idea of telling the girls that we were going to the store.  Oscar knows what that means--time to go in his crate!  I didn't think it would work since he would still see us in bathing suits so Bryan tossed a blanket over the front of his crate so he couldn't see us.  To further convince the dog that we were really going out, we exited through the garage and closed the garage door behind us.

I'll be honest, I never thought Oscar would buy it, but he has.  What amazes me is the dog is aware that we're "leaving Katie behind" and doesn't seem to find that very odd.  He was whimpering one afternoon when Bryan came back in the house for something, but not enough to disturb Katie's nap.

We don't want him to catch on to the "going to the store" ruse, so we changed it to "going to the library" a couple days ago.  The problem with "going to the store" is Madeline and Ellie have gotten confused a few times.  They know we almost never go to the library, so it's easier to convey the message that we mean "let's go swimming" and not what we're actually saying.

When I think about it, it's actually quite comical the lengths we have to go to in order to trick the dog.

A Story of Two Baths

Bathing babies is high on my list of things I'd rather not do.  Up until Katie was able to sit up on her own I did my best to avoid bathing her at all.  I'd ask Bryan to do it while pretending it was his turn.  A few months into this little ruse Bryan asked when I last bathed her.  He wasn't happy to hear that it had been more than a few days.  Of my three kids, Katie has been the toughest baby to wash for some unknown reason.

Now that she sits up very nicely, I don't mind washing her all that much.  I've got a convenient little set up going with the garden tub in my bathroom.  Katie's happy with her kiddie pool sized bath, Bryan's happy that I'm not hitting him up to wash the baby, and I'm happy that I'm not getting saturated like I was when she was in the baby tub.

This morning I was determined to get her washed as soon as we came home from dropping Ellie off at school.  My plan was to get it done and out of the way so I wouldn't have to wash her on my birthday tomorrow.  Everything went swimmingly and I spent the better portion of the day quite pleased with myself and my sweet smelling baby.

A hectic afternoon of running here and there to pick the girls up from school put an end to that nice smelling baby.  Katie napped while I spent about 45 minutes doing kid retrieval.  In that short amount of time she decided to do some multitasking.  Pooping while buckled into a car seat is apparently a recipe for  for a huge mess which ultimately required a second bath less than seven hours after the first.

I was blindsided by the mess.   I changed Katie in the family room and discovered as I was wiping her that we had one of those up the back messes.  At that point I realized that I needed to run her upstairs for a bath.  I sent Madeline outside to toss the diaper, and explicitly told Ellie to keep the dog out of the family room.  I suspected that he would be very interested in the poopy clothes.

In my haste, I placed Katie in the tub and then started the water.  As soon as the cold water hit her she freaked out and looked at me like I had lost my mind.  So I placed the wet baby on the floor and brought the water to a reasonable temperature.  The bath went well after that.

Once we got back downstairs, Ellie proudly tells me that she's keeping the dog away from the clothes.  This statement is quickly followed up by her telling me that she wasn't watching the dog at first, but decided to do so after he had licked Katie's poo-covered onesie a bit.  Eww!  This is precisely why the dog is not allowed to lick us. Ick!

It's amazing how quickly an afternoon can descend into chaos.  On the bright side, I still managed to get Madeline's dinner together in enough time for her to eat and get to her soccer tryout on time.  It's amazing what you can get done with under an hour of turnaround time.

Diabolical Mr. Furkins Strikes Again!

Last year the bunnies who inhabited our back yard made their own personal exit to our front yard under our fence.  When Mr. Furkins discovered that his bunny friends were able to gain access to the great wide world while he was left behind in the back yard, he tried to make their little hole bigger.  He was caught trying to escape and Bryan placed a 22 pound retainer wall stone in the way.  That stone has worked  quite well in keeping the dog in the yard.

This afternoon Ellie, Oscar and I went into the back yard.  Ellie and the dog were playing and running all over while I read a book and then picked strawberries.  I needed to put the berries inside so I popped into the house for a minute.  The next thing I know Ellie is at the sliding glass door telling me she can't find the dog.  I went out, called for him and he never came.  Then I looked around and Ellie tells me she doesn't think he's in the yard.  Of course he's in the yard!  She can't reach the latch on the fence and it's too high for him to jump so he must be in the yard.  Turns out she was right.  The stone was moved and a hole large enough for Oscar's body now existed.

It was a close to 10 minute ordeal finding and capturing the fugitive dog.  Just when I thought he was actually going to listen and come inside he decided to bolt after a pick up truck and vanish around the corner.  We finally caught up with him at our neighbor's house out back.  Ellie got a leash from them while I captured the muddy dog.

Bryan is not pleased that his beloved pet ran away.  I'm just very annoyed that he decided to run away once again.  Every time I wind up in hot pursuit of this animal I find myself wondering why I even bother to look for him.  I guess the bottom line is I know my husband and the girls would be devastated if I didn't find him.  I for one, could be perfectly content living in a pet free home.   I like house plants.  They never try to roam from home.

Any guesses how a 19 pound dog moved a 22 pound stone?  Mr. Furkins isn't talking.

My Heroic Deed

Ok, maybe heroic is a little inflated, but I did help Oscar out in a big way today.  I noticed that my four footed adversary had a weird looking red spot on his inner meaty hind leg thigh.  (You're loving my description of the dog's leg, aren't you?)  At first, I figured it wasn't worth me walking over to him to investigate.  Then he laid down and I noticed that his red spot looked more like a misplaced 13th nipple.  Yes, I have counted how many nipples the dog has.  I use this knowledge to hurtle insults at the dog, like "Why don't you and your 12 nipples go somewhere else?" when he's bothering me.  I don't think he cares. So back to the 13th nipple.  It was a new development so I realized at this point that I was probably obligated to take a look.  At first glance, I though maybe it was some sort of melanoma.  Then I saw the wriggling legs.  It was a tick.

If you grew up in my house, then you might be like me and freak out at the mere thought of a tick in your home.  My mom always went on about ticks like they were one of the worst things that could happen to you.  Cancer?  No problem.  Get some chemo and radiation and you're good.  Ticks? You're pretty much dead.  Better get your affairs in order.  So when I discovered the tick my first instinct was to freak out and get away from the dog.  Then I felt duty bound to alert Bryan to the situation.  He's really tolerant of the furry freeloader (probably because he supports me and our two spawns, Madeline and Ellie).  I knew the dreaded question was coming so I hastened to add on the IM that I wasn't willing to engage in tick extraction.  That's when he asked for a picture. Ugh.  Taking the picture made me realize that this parasite was lodged pretty well into the dog, which made me feel a little bad for him.

Oscar uses a product called Frontline that is supposed to kill any fleas and ticks that bite him.  Since it's been cold out for a while, Bryan hadn't been putting it on Mr. Furkins for a few months.  Last night he decided to put it on him since it's warming up outside.  In theory, I could have probably left the tick embedded in the dog and all would have been well, but I began to worry.  After a quick call to Bryan discussing tick removal and my strong desire not to get clawed by Oscar or come in bodily contact with a tick, I decided I'd give it one shot.  A co-worker told Bryan that I should use tweezers and twist, not pull, the tick out.  I assumed that twisting the tick would be nice and simple.  My assumption was wrong.  Apparently, ticks are pretty tenacious.  It took multiple attempts before I got the twisting technique right. I had to twist the little sucker (pun intended) three times before it released.  And, despite being told not to pull, I don't think the tick was aware of this key piece of information.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one pulling, but there was some definite pulling going on.  Oscar was shockingly a very good patient.  I guess he was aware that I was helping him.  I'm fairly certain the extraction hurt since it looked like it was painful, but Oscar didn't flinch, yelp or try to scratch me.

So for today, I think I'm Oscar's hero.  Mr. Tick, who is currently residing in a ziplock bag is probably thinking I'm more of a meddling menace than a hero.  He's still alive and awaiting his final judgement when Bryan comes home.  I saved him so Bryan could make sure I got all of it out.  I'm guessing since the tick is still alive that I got all of it.

Starving Mr. Furkins

If Mr. Furkins could blog, he'd tell you all about how I'm starving him.  How I've stripped him of his right to beg for food at the kitchen table, and how I've banished him from hanging out at my feet while I prepare food.  I'm sure he'd wax on about how inhumanely I'm treating him.

It's well established that Oscar is my personal scapegoat.  I won't readily admit it, but I like that he hangs out in the kitchen with me.  If I spill something or make a mess, not only is Mr. Furkins there to take the blame, but he's also there to help clean up.  For the most part, I think he's more than willing to assume blame if it means he can score some people food.

The neighbors outback have a Jug dog, too. (Jack Russell/Pug mix)  He and Oscar have some traits in common, but they're as different as they are alike.  The neighbor's dog looks like a stuffed sausage.  He's overweight.  Up until a few months ago I was always amazed at how thin Oscar looked next to Dillon.  Dillon's people bring him to the school everyday to pick up the kids. (Mr. Furkins is too much of a spaz to visit the school grounds.)  I've been remarking since about November that Dillon looks like he's losing weight.  Mostly, the neighbors just say something to the effect of "You think so?", "Maybe, but I'm not sure." or "Really?" and I, of course insist that he looks like he's slimming down and starting to look a bit like Oscar.  Never once did it occur to me that perhaps maybe my dog was turning into a little stuffed sausage.  Not a chance.  The copious amounts of people food he consumes can't possibly be packing on any extra weight, can they?

Bryan took Oscar to the vet on Saturday for his long overdue appointment.  He was supposed to go just before or after Christmas but something happened and the appointment got pushed back.  Then Bryan got stuck in a meeting for his rescheduled appointment and had to reschedule again.  When he finally got in to the vet this Saturday, Bryan learned that Mr. Furkins was about 2-3 lbs over weight. (He's now 19lbs.  In the past they told me he should be between 15 and 16lbs.)  On a dog his size this amounts to 10lbs on us per pound on him.  One of his hind knees pops out because of the weight. The fix?  Mr. Furkins has to stop mooching food from us and slim down.

Mr. Furkins is clearly not happy with me.  He acts offended that he's not getting constant handouts.  If we didn't have so much snow this Winter, I'm sure he would have been able to exercise off some of his people food, but instead he sat around the house like a lazy creature.  Once all of this snow melts, he will have to start taking walks or chase bunnies and squirrels in the back yard.

The diabolical Mr. Furkins

Mr. Furkins and I have an odd relationship. He likes to be near me, but generally speaking, I don't like being near him. He prides himself on being smelly, and I'm not a fan of sitting next to smelly things. I think most of the time, he hangs out by me because he knows it irritates me. The rest of the time, he hangs out next to me hoping to incite me to play. Sometimes I give in and play, and other times I'll playfully pick up the toy he wants me to throw and I put it in his toy basket that is just out of his reach. He gets very annoyed with me when I do that.

I'm hard on Mr. Furkins, who happens to be my scapegoat. I call him a free loader (technically he is). I startle him awake just to see his reaction (it varies between shock and annoyance). I chase him around the house. I sneak up on him and make him jump. I hover over him and demand pony rides and then berate him when he lays down and looks at me like I'm insane for even thinking he [a sixteen pound dog] could give me a ride. It's all in good fun, but I'm sure some days Oscar probably wishes he spent his days with a normal person.

Most of the time I think I'm in control of Mr. Furkins, but sometimes an exchange will occur where I realize that the four footed creature has assumed the upper hand. Today I decided to be nice and play ball with Oscar. Typically I like to throw the ball so that he has to either race down the basement steps to get it (during which time I turn off the basement lights and close the door at the top of the steps) or I toss it down the hall at the front door. When I throw it at the front door, I usually try to get the ball before he has a chance. Oscar is not always a fan of this style of play. Every few throws I let him get the ball so he can feel good about himself. Today I was being nice and tossing the ball so he could get it every time, and then it happened. I realized that he was walking away from the ball and essentially making me get it. He happily pony trotted away after I caught on to the ruse. I feel a little stupid now that I realize the dog was watching me scamper around the kitchen picking up the ball only to throw it back to him. I'm so happy Bryan and the kids didn't witness me playing fetch.

Side Effects

Medicines can be amazing things. They can take a body that has been racked with a stubborn fever for eight days and make it feel invincible just four hours after they're consumed. Those same medicines can then take the short lived joy over their amazing abilities and turn your world upside down again.

I had about 40 hours of medicated bliss earlier this week. I felt like I was on top of the world. I could function, I could eat and I could finally work on getting my house back in order. I could even play with my kids and stop feeling guilty for being sick.

Those good feelings started to go away Tuesday. I was in denial that morning that things weren't as great as I was pretending. I couldn't eat my cereal because I was nervous about the first day of school for Madeline. Not because my appetite was gone. Then my reason for not eating was cleaning the house and the litany of other things I needed to do. Turns out I was just in denial of all the nasty side effects of the medicines. The antibiotic has wreaked havoc on my intestines. What goes in, almost instantaneously comes out. And one of these lovely medicines have killed my taste buds. I LOVE food. I miss the flavor of food. Drinks taste like diet versions of what they are (a taste that repulses me). I'm pretty sure I've temporarily lost the ability to taste things that are sweet. I feel lost without my sense of taste. I'm like Capt. Barbosa in the Pirate of the Caribbean.

The only food I ate today that did taste good wound up having a bad ending. While eating, a spice from the chicken and pasta dish I was eating hit me in the back of my throat. I started coughing and couldn't stop. I think Oscar thought I was about to die (I thought this, too.). I've never seen him look so frantic. I tried to drink juice and it wouldn't go down. So I headed to the fridge for water. That's when I vomited on the freshly mopped floor. FUN! And still, the coughing wouldn't stop. So this time I call Bryan to try and tell him that I might be dying and I had the pleasure of vomiting in my kitchen sink. Thank God for garbage disposals. So happy I did not have to scoop that out of the sink. Not that it's funny, but this all happened at a point in Bryan's day when a lot of stuff was going wrong at work. Poor guy. He really had a rough afternoon between me and work. I did however manage to finish my lunch. I couldn't pass up food that tasted like something.

I'm just very bummed about the side effects of these meds. I can handle the intestinal issues (to a degree), but I can't handle the itchy irritation that is also a side effect of this antibiotic in a certain area, the loss of appetite and taste. I called and got a different antibiotic prescribed for me (one I have taken in the past that doesn't bother me). I am really anxious to just feel better.

On top of all of this, I'm also worried about what to do for Madeline's birthday. I have no party planned for this poor child. I'm not sure what we're going to do to celebrate her birthday yet. She was such a huge help to me last week when I was unable to do anything and I just feel terrible that I don't have anything special planned for her. I'm sending her into school tomorrow with soft pretzels to celebrate her birthday with the class. On Saturday we're going to have munchkins and celebrate with her team after their first soccer game of the season. If all goes well I'll be able to get some of her friends over here soon to have a little party or maybe she can take a few friends to see a movie.

My wonderful neighbors helped me out a lot today. Kelly took Ellie for several hours today so she could play with her two younger girls. That allowed me to rest and almost kill myself with my lunch. Joanne has been concerned about me and has been calling me all day to check on me. She was kind enough to pick Madeline up from school. It's amazing how these little acts of kindness can do so much to help me. I'm certain that I feel better today than I did yesterday because of the help they offered me. I'm used to trying to play super mom and do it all. It really isn't easy for me to accept help, but I'm finding that sometimes letting people help me when I clearly need it is precisely what I need to be doing.

I hit another time warp!

Sometimes I think the days move a little too fast for me. Or, perhaps I just have so much going on that time slips by without me noticing. Either way, I've had a busy past few days. Some of them seemed a little long and others went by in a blink. Funny how that happens sometimes, don't you think?

Friday I took the girls down to the beach. I always tell people that we are going to stay for 1-1 1/2 hours and no more. I'm not too fond of sitting on the beach surrounded by Shoobies. Even if I'm no longer an island resident, I still consider myself a local. How can I not be when I was born and raised down there? I actually feel like I'm living with the Shoobies year round since I see bumper stickers plastered on their minivans with the names of my home town and surrounding beach towns all the time. If you are a local, you wouldn't be caught dead with that stuff on your car (unless you're a senior citizen). Those decals and stickers drive me insane. I simply don't see the appeal in vacationing down there. I used to run the front desk of a "nice" beach front hotel, and I can tell you that you couldn't pay me to stay there. I'll go to Disney World, thanks.

Anyway, the girls and I had a really good time on the beach. My father-in-law and his girl friend (the girls' Nana) went to the beach with us. I got some great pictures. (I'll upload them eventually, I've been having iPhoto issues ever since I imported 24,000 photos a while back.) My father-in-law taught Madeline how to boogie board. She had a blast. Ellie was a bit of a grump at first, but she came around when she got to jump through the waves. She gave her Nana a run for her money. First they tried to unsuccessfully build a sand castle and then they played in the water. I mostly just followed the kids around and took pictures. That's pretty much what I do when we go to the beach. We wound up staying at the beach for nearly three hours. I'm not sure if I've ever spent that much time on the beach before.

Fearing a massive guilt-trip from my mom, who called while we were on the beach, I decided that I better stop and visit her on our way home. The girls decompressed from their beach trip at my mom and dad's house, and I showed my mom the pictures I took on the beach. By the time we were ready to leave there, I was totally beat.

Before we could make it home, the girls were asking me when we were going back to the beach. I remember when they hated the beach. Now they want to frequent it. Why oh why when you have a beautiful pool in the back yard would you want to sit in the car and take a long drive to a crowded beach where the parking meter only gives you 12 minutes for a quarter? (Which, by the way I did not pay. I'm too cheap so I parked two blocks from the beach where it was free and made the kids walk.) It's possible that I may take the girls to the beach one or two more times. In actuality I had a good time down there with them. I'm willing to bet I could have more fun if I don't bring the camera.

Saturday was one of those days that zipped by really fast. It was significant only because it marks the day that I entered the current age, and got a cell phone that can text, take photos, videos and go online. My old phone was older than Ellie and all I could do was talk on it. No voice mail, texting or photos. Just a plain old outdated phone. I'm now the proud owner of an iPhone. Who knows, maybe I'll get into Twitter sometime down the line.

Sunday was a pretty lazy day. Since I took the girls to Mass on Saturday night, we had a leisurely morning. We spent a good portion of the morning playing in the pool. Then I hit a time warp (surprise, surprise) and lost the middle of the day. Our neighbors came over for a swim in the late afternoon and they ended up staying for dinner. I've been saying since May that we need to have a cookout, but it hasn't happened. So last night we finally got to have that cookout. Too bad it wasn't planned. We could have made it better if we were prepared. We were tired at the end of the day, but once again, I was very happy to have such great neighbors. I don't have a single neighbor that I don't like.

Today was one of those days that just a strange mix. It flew by, but I feel like I got a lot accomplished. The girls and I had a lazy morning again and then we hit the pool. I thought I'd be nice and let Mr. Furkins come out with us so he could romp through the yard. We banned him from the pool last month since all he does is drink the water and then pee all over in the house when we let him in the pool. I thought everything was going well until I didn't see Oscar for a few minutes. When I called him I wasn't expecting to see a muddy dog come trotting up to the pool fence. Apparently, my furry friend found a muddy puddle and decided to roll around in it. He just had a bath (two of them to be exact) 8 days ago. So our pool fun was cut short so I could bathe the dog. Oscar is rather fluffy looking right now. I think it goes without saying that Mr. Furkins will not be romping in the yard on his own while we swim anymore. That dog just keeps burning bridges. I caught up with a friend and my (favorite) brother today, as well. It was a full day, but it went by a little too fast.

Small Successes

Celebrating the little things in life that add up

1. Ellie let the dog outside yesterday afternoon without a leash, and I managed to successfully capture my crazy dog with the help of yet another set of awesome neighbors. Have I mentioned recently how good all of my neighbors are to us? I hope that Ellie never does this again.

2. Ellie is finished preschool for the year. She had a little graduation on Tuesday and I felt such a rush of parental pride as I watched my little Hippie Hopper* sing and dance.

3. I have started to accept that Madeline is growing up. I am now allowing her to ride her bike around the block (sidewalk only) with the boy from next door. Letting go can be so difficult.

*Just another one of the litany of pet names I have for Ellie.

Who needs toys when you can have a spastic puppy?

As I embark on day three of Bryan's business trip, I have to admit that I'm feeling exhausted.  The kids are extra needy because Bryan isn't home at night to play with them and that means they're turning to me for extra attention.  That makes me one tired Mommy.  Add Mr. Furkins and his excessive need for attention and one can't help buy wonder why I haven't run away yet.

Last night I fell asleep on the couch and woke up 2 1/2 hours later wondering what had just happened.  I knew I felt a little wiped out when I sat down around 10PM, but I didn't expect to fall asleep.  Since Bryan's in a time warp out in California, he didn't noticed that I didn't call him before midnight.  He was too busy enjoying a 5 course meal.  Glad to see that someone is eating well.  I had Chick-Fil-A for dinner last night (I know, you're all saying "Lucky" in your best Napoleon Dynamite impersonation).

It's weeks like this that really make me wonder if I'm not insane to be toying with the idea of having another baby.  I'm just in an odd spot.  I want another baby, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want all the work that goes along with said baby.   I guess what I really want is a nice niece or nephew, but since none of our siblings are married, I don't think Bryan and I will be Aunt Karen and Uncle Bryan anytime soon, if ever.  Bryan isn't exactly sold on the idea of having a third, but he is slowly coming around.  To be honest, I can't say that I'm as sold on the idea as I was with the first two, but I'm certainly feeling that pull to have another one.  I know a lot of that has to do with the fact that I absolutely know what I'm getting into.  I've seen both ends of the spectrum with my girls from happy baby to anything but, and from prim and proper toddler to over the top down and dirty, and yet part of me wonders if it's possible for another child to reach and even more outlandish extreme. And, if so, would I survive?  For now, I'm just going to continue pondering this question and if a small person comes our way I won't complain (I might freak out a bit on the inside).

Enough of that for now.  While I sit here typing away, Oscar is doing a great job of entertaining Ellie.  They are the ultimate partners in crime.  They chase each other around, they get into trouble together and they will even  chill out and watch TV together.  The thing I find remarkable about Furkins, is you can tell he knows when Ellie is leading him into trouble.  You can see it on his face.  I'm pretty sure the dog has some sort of conscience.  I wish he could share that with the kids.  It would certainly make my life easier.

I made up my mind about the volunteering situation for teaching a Religious Ed class.  I decided after a lot of thought that it made more sense overall for me to teach a Kindergarten class on Sunday mornings.  Both the deacon and his wife (they're in charge of the RE department) asked me to consider teaching on Sunday instead because that's where they were most in need of teachers.  So I decided that I could just take the girls to a Saturday night Mass (which I've been doing for the past few weeks, anyway) or go to an earlier one on Sunday mornings during the school year.  Madeline is excited at the prospect of getting to be my helper here and there.  I'm also relieved that I won't have to worry about depending on someone to watch Ellie for me.  I emailed them last night and let them know that I thought it over and would teach on Sunday.  I also got Bryan to agree to 75% Mass attendance during the school year.  He was trying to negotiate from 50%.  Provided he keeps up his end of the agreement, I will only have to take the kids to Mass by myself once a month and on holy days of obligation.  Bryan is striving to be a "D" Catholic--because of the 75% goal, but it's better than him not going at all. 

Ellie is now beckoning me to make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  If she could choose only one food to eat at every meal, PB&J would be it.  She was very upset with me this morning because I wouldn't make her beloved sandwich for breakfast.  She's been impatiently waiting for this sandwich since 7:30AM.  I fear she may explode if I don't comply within the next 5 minutes, and I simply don't want to have to scrape Ellie bits off the kitchen walls, cabinets and appliances.  It would be too big of a mess.

Guilty or not?

Hmm...that's the looming question here.  Last Saturday while sitting on the love seat in the family room (wanted a change of scenery since I own sitting rights to the couch), Mr. Furkins, in a dubious plot to cause destruction, brought me a ball.  The dog, as well as every other breathing creature on the planet who has seen me throw a ball, knows that I pretty much have no aim.  Did I hit the plasma tv?  No, that would destroy my documentary watching and probably land me out on the street as a homeless person and I wouldn't be blogging right now.  Did I knock another picture off the wall? No, of course not since I was throwing the ball in a carpeted room (Pictures only fall off the wall in areas with no carpet, we have to keep things interesting here!).  Did I break a window? No, of all the things I could possibly hit, I hit the screen portion of Bryan's MacBook Pro.  Now in my defense, he knew I was throwing the ball in his direction, and he was ready to catch it (we like to tease Mr. Furkins).  So my throw went slightly awry and squarely hit the apple in the center of Bryan's laptop top.  I knew instantly that I had just turned into a pumpkin.  I'm pretty sure Bryan growled at me.  Not wanting to be the guilty party here, I yelled at the dog (he is the resident scapegoat, and he seems to be OK with it as long as we feed him).  I also decided that it was a good time to stop playing ball with Oscar, too, since I don't want to break anything.

So let's fast forward to Saturday night.  Bryan somehow managed to not freak out on me for the ball incident.  For some reason, his laptop was mysteriously experiencing some technical difficulties.  He spent a decent amount of time working on getting it fixed.  I spent most of that time cleaning and doing things that made me look disinterested and unaware of what he was doing.  Every once in a while, I'd stupidly ask what he was doing and get reminded that we had a little ball incident earlier in the day.  

Last night, Bryan's computer (the laptop apparently hates me) decided to stop working and wouldn't start up for Bryan at all.  So my technical, computer geek spouse had to set up a Genius Bar appointment at our local Mac store.  I think when you are someone like Bryan, when it comes to computers, that seeking tech support is an emasculating experience.  So while he dealt with the Genius Bar guy, I got to stand by as the computer killer and watch the girls play games on the Macs set up for kids.  I'm not sure how long we were there exactly, but I do know that I got to have my ears blasted by an obnoxious Dora the Explorer game.  The Mac Ellie was using had some sort of issue where you couldn't control the volume.  I think I can still hear the Dora the Explorer song.

Bryan will now be without his beloved MacBook for 3-7 days.  With the holiday weekend coming up, I suspect it will be on the longer end.  At most, the repairs will be $350.  Amazing how an $7 Kong ball can cause so much damage, isn't it?  I cautiously asked my agitated Bryan if the Genius Bar tech thought the problems were related to a direct hit from a ball.  Bryan tells me that it most likely is given that they can't get the laptop to start up.  He's clearly not happy with me and I know he's very annoyed that he doesn't have his laptop, but he hasn't come out and blamed me for the incident. Want to know what the worst part all of this is?  If this had happened a month ago, it would have been covered by the Apple Care protection.

So am I guilty?  He knows I can't throw accurately and he knew the ball was coming his way.  I tend to think I'm not, but maybe I am.

Small Successes

Celebrating the little things in life that add up.

1. I finally got all the bags of hand-me-down clothes that need to be given away out of my living room.  6 bags of clothes take up a lot of space.

2. After much searching, I found a quilt for Ellie's room that matches her existing sheets and goes with her wall color. I no longer have to deal with her poorly made lumpy Tommy Hilfiger comforter that didn't last 10 months.  Now, I'm just waiting for the new bedskirt and accent pillow for her arm chair to arrive.

3. I have just about everything on the main level of the house cleaned and ready for the party we're having after Madeline's First Communion.  Only two more days left!  I'm excited for her.

Bonus #1: Yesterday we got Madeline's new glasses just in time for her First Communion (I've been worried that they wouldn't be ready in time).  Now she won't have to wear beat up glasses on her big day.  I don't know what that girl does to her glasses, but she sure is hard on them.

Bonus #2: I managed to not kill naughty Mr. Furkins today.  Someone decided that it would be a good idea to dig in the backyard after 7 days of rain.  That someone also mistakenly thought that we would be pleased that he decided to dig up an area where we are desperately trying to grow grass that was destroyed during the pool construction last year.  In making these most terrible decisions, Mr. Furkins has caused me 1 load of laundry, a dog bath and the necessary cleaning of a now muddy tub.  Thanks, Mr. Furkins, I don't already have a ton of stuff to do between today and Saturday morning.