A Dryer Sheet Just Might Save the World One Day

Does your dog ever look like this after some time out in the yard?

Oh, mine neither. Nope. Never. He’s just demonstrating.

Whatever. We all know he tries to slip into the house covered in grass on a daily basis. I have enough to worry about in the house without Oz dragging in extra gross grass for me to vacuum up. Ugh.

But wiping it off is…a challenge, to say the least. It’s like a magnet. It sticks to him. And when it does come off, it’s like it gets sucked back to his coat. It’s impossible.

Until I found this little trick.

Yep, that’s a dryer sheet. A used one. We’ve all got those babies stuck in between the couch cushions in the trash can of our laundry room.

The idea hit me a few weeks ago and I tried it out on him. I can’t say that it was truly original, for I’m sure someone else has done it at some point or other. In fact, I’ve seen quite a few tips lately on Pinterest involving dryer sheets. These things might get added to the “Duck tape and bailing twine” that holds the world together.

Oz is clearly…enthused.

But it works like a charm. And I don’t go nuts trying to a) get the grass off of him, or b) trying to clean up all the grass once he comes inside.

Also? Free. And Recycle-ish. Doesn’t get much better than that.

Solar Power

Our solar-powered dog is happy again.

If only life were that simple for everyone.

Thoughts of Randomness

1. Oz has been hibernating a lot lately. As in, staying burrowed under his covers in his crate all day. We thought maybe he’s been cold. Because, well, it’s been really cold. So the other night, Husband bought him a sweatshirt.

He hated it.

But it kept him out of his bed for a while. I don’t know if it was because he was warmer or because he was so distraught at the sweatshirt. Either way, if I notice him hibernating again, it’s going back on.

2. I finally did it. I’ve been saying that when it snows, I’m taking Caedmon to Mom & Dad’s and letting someone else play with him outside. That’s exactly what we did on Friday.

Dad went out with Caedmon first.

They also managed to coax Aunt Fidget outside.

Where some sort of trampoline/snow throwing game commenced.

The boy squealed with delight the entire time.

And then Fidget pulled him around on a disc sled. She just thought she’d been getting a workout. I think she was pretty beat by the time he was done with her.

They came in to warm up for a while, then Dad took him down to the neighbor’s to sled with them. Caedmon came back with a rosy face, chapped lips, and a big smile. He had a blast. And I got to stay warm the entire time. That’s the way to play in the snow!

3. About the extent of my cooking on the weekends is usually Mac & Cheese or a frozen pizza. A girl’s gotta have some time off. So unless it’s a special occasion, that’s the kind of stuff we eat on Saturday and Sunday nights. Husband has decided he’d like to cook dinner on Saturday nights. (We used to trade weeks – I’d grocery shop & cook for a week, then he would. He’s got some mad skillz in the kitchen.) This past Saturday was his first Saturday night meal. He made Alfredo Potatoes and they were a hit. Way to go, Babe!

4. I finally bought my first pair of Toms shoes. I got the black glitter. I feel cool. And I’m only about two years behind the coolness curve. Maybe I’ll get some Uggs in about two more years.

5. Caedmon has a nasty ear infection, but only in one ear. It’s weird how one ear can be so gross and crusty and the other is just fine. He wore his Grinch pj’s to the doctor’s office, and Dr. B shared his love of all things Grinchy with us. He told Caedmon that after he finished all his medicine, he’d have “the strength of 10 Grinches, plus two.” Caedmon thought that was pretty cool. Have I mentioned how much I like Dr. B?

6. I’m going to go ahead and declare our Fever = Snow and Snow = Fever streak over. It’s snowed twice now and Caedmon hasn’t had fever. Sick, yes. But fever? No.

7. And now, for your viewing pleasure (maybe), a random belly shot.

This is at 26 weeks, 4 days. Baby Girl is such a low rider. She’s killing my hips, but I can breathe and eat, so I guess I’ll take the trade-off.

8. I’m working on a special red velvet treat to share with ya’ll for your pre-Valentine’s Day planning. I hope it turns out like I’m imagining. If not, let’s face it, I’ll probably eat it anyway. Jill has promised to taste test it for me tonight. I know she’ll tell the truth.

9. We’re changing our grocery day. I know. Some of ya’ll are like, “You have a ‘grocery day’?” Yes. Yes, I do. But Grocery Day being on Monday was killing me by the end of the day with everything else I had to do. So we’re going to try it on Tuesdays. It will be a shock to my system, but I think it’ll work. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

10. Now that the new TV shows have started back up, what are ya’ll watching? I want to know if I’m missing something good!

Our Weekend in List form

My brain cannot even begin to put together a cohesive timeline of our weekend, so you get to experience it in a list.

1. On Thursday, I ran by a furniture store to check out a chair I’d seen online. After I’d finished nursing Caedmon and had spent hours upon hours in the glider we had, I decided that when we had a new baby, I’d be getting a new chair. I spent almost a year of my life sitting in that chair, and I wanted something more comfortable this time around. I need room for Caedmon to rock with us. Because you know it will happen. And I want something I can put in our room or the living room when I’m done, so it couldn’t be a “nursery” chair.  Anyway, the chair is perfect. But I didn’t buy it. Not yet. But soon. Hopefully.

Meanwhile, I have a white glider & ottoman with a cotton denim-looking fabric on the cushions if anybody wants it. Seriously.

2. When I got home from running around like a crazy woman on Thursday, there was a nice surprise waiting for me. Husband sent me flowers in honor of our little girl. PINK flowers.

3. Presents are wrapped and under the tree…all of them! I’ve always wanted to do coordinated wrapping for every gift, and this year I think I managed to pull it off. Thanks to Target and their after Christmas sale on wrapping paper last year, I bought each roll for 75 cents. I can get all sorts of coordinated for 75 cents a roll!

4. Caedmon got a haircut. He needed one desperately. I made an appointment for him to get it cut at the cosmetology school where HLB’s girlfriend/friend who is a girl (I can’t keep up with all these relationship statuses) is attending. Only to get there and find out they can’t cut Caedmon’s hair because he’s under 5.

Blast the state and its laws that attempt to keep our children from getting poked with scissors by nervous cosmetology students.

We had to make other plans, and he cried when we left without a haircut. See? He needed one badly enough for a three-year-old to care about it. But we were able to have HLB and S come over Sunday after church and she cut his hair in our kitchen. It looks great and he loves it.

5. Husband took me out for my (early) birthday on Friday night to one of my favorite places. It was a good time for it, because I was in one of those pregnancy modes where I thought my stomach was going to eat the rest of me. I ate until I was full and my stomach was still growling. It’s the most awkward thing I’ve ever experienced. So I did what any pregnant woman would do. I ate more. I’ll teach that growling stomach who’s boss.

6. After we left the restaurant, I drug Husband to the fabric store. Hey, it was my birthday date. And just so you know, I loathe shopping for fabric. I really do. But we needed to make a decision for our baby girl’s bedding. We’d already scouted online and had an idea of what we liked. So we were able to choose a few things and were out of there in less than 30 minutes. But not before Husband muttered, “’Hey, what did you do on your Friday night?’ ‘Oh, I went to the fabric store.’” Because we’re glamorous like that. Totally page-six worthy.

I haven’t purchased anything yet. I’m hoping to catch a sale, but I’ll be buying it soon because it’d be my luck that they’d run out and wouldn’t be restocking that one, single, solitary fabric we wanted. I’ll show it to you after we get it. I don’t want to jinx myself. Or, you know, cause a mad rush on the one fabric we can agree on. Because I know ya’ll care so much about what I like that you’d instantly have to have it for your own house. See? This page-six celebrity life is totally going to my head.

7. Caedmon still isn’t sure about this whole “baby sister” thing. He really wanted a brother. Really. But hopefully he’ll warm up to the idea. He sure likes the giraffe he picked out for her, though. He’s carried that thing around a lot this weekend, and we keep reminding him that it doesn’t belong to him…it belongs to his baby sister. I’m sure it’s hard to comprehend since she’s not actually here yet.

But he did let her “hold” it one day. He would pull the cord to turn the music on and then lay it across my belly so she could hear the music and “hold” her giraffe. He thought that was pretty cool. I did too.

8. One day, I think it was Saturday, (isn’t it sad when I have to say “I think it was…”) I stayed in my pajamas literally all day. I still managed to do a few loads of laundry and stuff, but staying in PJs all day was pretty nice.

9. Oz has an owie. I’m not sure how he skinned an eraser-sized spot on the top of his head, but he did. Caedmon was quite concerned. It’s no broken elbow, so I’m really not that worried. And I refused to kiss it, even though Caedmon begged me to. This Momma does a lot of things, but kissing doggie owies is not one of them. You can tell how disgruntled Oz is about that.

10. I spent Sunday evening preparing for an off-kilter week. Husband will be using those last two days of vacation you always end up with at the end of the year, so it will change our schedule up just a bit. I love it when he’s home during the day, but it sure does change our daily routine. Mainly because I don’t want to do the things I need to do.

So today we’re going to attempt to take care of some of things that need to be done to get ahead this week. Wish me luck.

Gone To The Dogs

I am fascinated by people. People are weird. And I got to be immersed in people for a good while last week.

Our city has passed a new law stating that all cats and dogs must be microchipped. I’ve never chipped a dog, mostly because I didn’t want to pay for it. Don’t start on whether it’s a sign of the end times or something like that. Marking your beast is different than the mark of the beast, ok? Start talking about making me chip my kid and we’ll have issues, though. But I digress.

The animal shelter held a couple of microchipping clinics last week. Standing in line with a zillion people and their cats and dogs is not the way I imagined spending my Wednesday, but paying $20 to be within the law instead of paying $60 made up my mind for me. And thankfully, Caedmon was able to hang out at Mimi’s while I took Oz.

The clinic started at 11am. I knew that the line at the clinic held the previous Saturday had been crazy long…as in people lined up down the street. I thought surely for a Wednesday during working hours, it wouldn’t be too bad. I still arrived 15 minutes early. And promptly had to stand in line outside along with about 30 other people who were already there. We were standing outside.

I arrived at just the right time, because not long after I got there, the line stretched all the way down the side of the building. In front of me was a mother/daughter pair. The mother was an older lady, the daughter middle-aged. Mom’s dog was the tiniest Dachshund I’ve ever seen. The dog shook violently while the lady covered her with a blanket and held her like a baby. The daughter had a beautiful black German Shepherd who was a backyard dog (translation: never sees any other dogs except through a fence.) They were friendly enough, but that little Dachshund definitely was not.

The people immediately behind me were a father/young adult son pair with two cats, each in their own crate. The son looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, picked up some decently-smelling clothes off the floor and didn’t bother to comb his hair. I couldn’t decide if the dad lived in a perpetual state of being hacked off or if he was just mad he had to be standing in line outside with a bunch of other people and their pets. I also wondered why he didn’t just send his son with the cats, as one person would’ve easily been able to handle the job. They weren’t very chatty, to say the least.

I was thankful Oz is a fairly calm and obedient dog. He didn’t bother the neighbor kitties to the rear of us, and after a few minutes was content to not get to play with the dogs in front of us. I can’t say the same for some of the other dogs, though.

The lady behind the guys with the cats had a psycho Pomeranian. The lady in front of the mother/daughter pair had a very grouchy Jack Russell Terrier. She growled at anyone who even looked in her direction (the dog, not the lady), which was completely ignored or dismissed as protectiveness by the lady. And I must say that if she had lit into Oz, I would’ve lit into that lady.

I suppose people are people, whether they have kids or dogs. It’s usually easier to ignore or dismiss behavior you’d rather not deal with, whether it comes from a four-footed or two-footed creature.

Probably the most interesting thing about being there was matching the dogs and owners. There are certain people who have quaking, tiny dachshunds. There are certain people who have fluffy little psychotic Pomeranians. And there are certain people who have big, strong Pit Bulls (who all behaved quite nicely, I might add). I honestly think that if a dog had gotten loose, we would’ve been able to figure out who it belonged to without asking.

Thankfully, there were no fights. Between people or dogs. It was warm, though. The weather was in the low 80’s, which was, at the time, the warmest day for us so far this year. Standing in the sun made us all a bit hot. Oz sought shade in the shadow of the lady in front of us. Bottled water was handed out. And one lady almost fainted, probably from locking her knees, not actually from the heat.

We finally made it inside, where the Animal Control Officer who was heading up the processing nearly had a fit over Oz. Apparently they love Boston Terriers in the office. It took only a few minutes to get the paperwork finished and for Oz to get microchipped. I was thankful we had arrived early, because when we left, the line was still stretched to the rear of the building.

And I hate to say this, because it sounds terrible. But I hope we actually get to use that microchip someday. I’d like to know my sweat and time were worth it.

That’s My Story And I’m Sticking To It

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen the other day when I stated that I was ashamed at how dirty my kitchen floor was, yet not enough to actually clean it.

That’s because I don’t own a mop. Don’t tell Mimi (hi, Mimi!). Mops are gross and messy and I never feel like they are actually cleaning, just spreading the dirt from one place to another. So I usually just spot-clean or get down on my hands and knees with a couple of rags and a bottle of cleaner. Thankfully, my kitchen is not that big.

But I realized that the kitchen floor was indeed in need of some serious help. So I bought a steam cleaner dohickey (not the Shark one that I really want, but a cheaper version that was way more affordable) and used it on Tuesday to steam my kitchen tile. I was fairly pleased with how well it worked. Well, considering that the floor hasn’t actually been mopped in the five years we’ve lived in this house. It’s got some catching up to do.

So there I was the next morning, admiring my newly-cleaned kitchen floor. And then I was reminded why I don’t mop. 1) The dog has decided he is a huntin’ dog and after digging to chase a mole in the very muddy yard, brought himself and his mud-caked paws right into the house. We’re talking globs of mud falling off his feet. My Jack Russells never had muddy feet like that and they lived to dig. 2) Caedmon reached for my most favorite mug of all time (that still had some hot-though-cooled-down tea in it), and when I told him to put it back on the table, he didn’t quite make it. Thus, it and the rest of my tea ended up all over the floor. (He was a little freaked out, but fine. I don’t think he’ll be reaching for any more mugs for a while.)

And of course those things happened at almost exactly the same time. The reason I couldn’t keep Caedmon from grabbing the mug or grab the mug from Caedmon to keep it from falling off the table is because I had the dog pinned between my knees, trying to clean his muddy paws.

A Momma only has so many hands, ya’ll. And that day, there were not enough.

Did I mention Husband was home sick and in the bedroom trying to sleep off whatever plague had attacked him? It’s a good thing he’d left the TV on for noise, because it may have drowned out the craziness that was going on in the kitchen.

In all of this, I’ve decided two things. 1) I’m not going to clean the entire kitchen floor again for a while. 2) I’m going to buy a new favorite mug. It’s a quest that is not to be taken lightly. I’m sure you’ll get to hear all about it. Lucky you.

Someone’s Attached…

…to their blankets.

I washed Oz’s blankets from his crate the other day. He stood here for a good 15 minutes after I put them in the wash. He was a happy dog when they came out of the dryer, and spent most of the rest of the evening snuggled in his nice, clean blankets.

This Is What Happens…

…when you take a nite-nite outside and forget about it, leaving it to the winter weather. And then Momma finds it, brings it in, and takes pictures of it for all the Internet to enjoy. Yes, it’s frozen solid.

…when you have a dog that’s part solar panel, part hibernating bear.

To be fair, Oz has had a rough week. We’d already decided that the dog food we have him on is causing more offense to our olfactory senses than we care for. But after a few days of randomly puking (you’re welcome) last week, I took him to the vet on Monday. He was diagnosed with pancreatitis/gastrointestinal infection (which is vet speak for “Since he can’t tell me what’s up, this is my best guess.”). Oz got a shot and some medicine, and is now feeling much better. It could also be that he’s feeling better because he got to spend some time out in the blessed sunshine today. But since I paid a pretty penny for those little white pills I have to shove down his throat every morning and evening for the next seven days, we’ll go with that as the reason he’s better.

Meanwhile, we’ve spent the week trying to decide if the potty is cool or not. You know, because when you’re 2, things like that come and go pretty quickly. On Tuesday, I bet Caedmon went to the potty 90% of the times he needed to “go.” Today? Not once. Hasn’t even wanted to.

So I’m not pushing it. I really am not ready to potty train, so we’ll just take it as it comes. My grandiose plan had been to wait until summer when I could just put him in a pair of undies, then hose him off outside if need be. Who am I kidding – the boy will spend most of his time peeing in the pool this summer anyway. We’ll see what happens between now and then.

Oh, and since we’re talking about the milestone things, I just thought I’d let you know that Caedmon still occasionally asks for his bah, like he’s totally forgotten that it’s gone. I remind him that it was broken and he threw it in the trash because he’s a big boy and doesn’t need it anymore. Yeah, yesterday when he was being tortured hanging out in his bed after the shortest nap ever, he wasn’t having that explanation. In fact, I think he would’ve liked to tell me what I could do with said explanation, but with all the screaming, it was hard to tell.

So girls, if you’ve successfully ditched the paci, I applaud you. And those of you who are in the middle of it, I feel your pain. But for those of you who are getting ready to make the jump, it’s really not that big of a deal – you can totally do it. Right? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say? Well, here’s what I’m going to tell you instead. Don’t do it until you have to. And make sure you’re ready. Because the initial crying may last a short time, but the memory…it is like you have a little elephant running around the living room in a diaper.

Just for the record, I have decided I am never making Caedmon give up his nite-nite. I’ll gladly pack it for every summer camp, sleepover, and when he goes away to college. It’s just not worth the fight.

Because You Haven’t Yet Been Bored To Tears By All The Christmas/New Years Stories

As promised, here are some pictures from the end of ‘09, some new toys, and the first snowfall of the new year.

Just a few days after Christmas, we spent some of Caedmon’s Christmas money and picked up a Little People Racin’ Ramps Garage. And oh my goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that has entertained the boy longer. We literally had to rip him away to eat and then go to bed the first day we brought it home. And of course, it had to make its way into the tent, because, what’s cooler than that?

That tractor didn’t come with the garage set. Squirt got that for him for Christmas last year, and it has been one of his favorite toys for a while. He adores it. And it’s even better that the Little People can ride in it too. If only it fit onto the ramp of the garage, all would be right with the world.

This is our foray into the snow. I must admit I almost bought Caedmon a pair of snow boots a few weeks ago, then thought, “Nah. We probably won’t get that much snow.” And here it is January and we’ve already had snow. Twice. I’m still glad I didn’t pay $25 for those boots, but it did cause me to have to fashion something to keep his feet dry. Husband calls them “redneck snow boots.” Yes, they are Walmart sacks. Don’t judge me, I’m recycling. Besides, if your feet are dry, they stay warm much longer. Thus more playing in the snow.Husband was battling a nasty cold still (the one Caedmon so lovingly shared), so it was just Caedmon, Oz, and me out in the fluffy white stuff. We had fun and Oz got a little feisty.This is our snowman. No, your eyes are not deceiving you. It is literally about 6 inches tall, has arms that are longer than its entire body, and no face. Before you ask, I do know how to make a real snowman, but due to circumstances beyond my control, this is what we ended up with. And by circumstances beyond my control, I mean snow that was too dry to pack, no sticks or twigs of any kind to be found, and zero creativity as to what to use for facial features on a snowman that small. See? All beyond my control. And this is what happens when the Momma is cold and wants to go inside, but the boy just hasn’t had enough snow yet. You bring it inside with you. That way your body can warm up and only your fingers are numb.

Happy Snow Days, everyone!

It’s A (Flea) Circus Around Here

As a girl who grew up on a farm, always had lots of siblings around and critters underfoot, there are a lot of things I can tolerate that send others running away screaming.

But if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s fleas, ants, and mice.

Ok, so that’s three things.

But I think you understand what I’m talking about.

Fleas have never been an issue for us and we’ve had dogs since 6 months after we were married. That’s a grand total of almost 11 years. Never a flea problem.

Until now.

And it’s really not our problem. It’s our neighbor’s problem that we are suffering the consequences of.

You see, our back neighbors, the ones that bought NESN’s house, got a fluffy white dog a few months ago. Nevermind that they are never outside, nor seem to be capable of mowing their yard (what is it with the people who live in that house that they can’t mow?). The poor dog is completely unsocialized and probably very lonely.

And now he has fleas, which he passes to Oz, who brings them in the house only for them to promptly bail and find someone who hasn’t been treated for fleas (me).

We have seen a flea on occasion the past few months, immediately after Oz would come inside. We’ve been able to capture and kill the infiltrators pretty quickly. But not without giving me the heebie-jeebies. Have I mentioned that I can’t stand fleas? We thought that once the weather got cold (and it has been super cold), the flea situation would remedy itself.

We were wrong.

Thursday night, Husband was staying up late, I went on to bed and let Oz up on the bed with me. I thought I saw/felt a flea, but wasn’t sure and wasn’t able to capture it. So I gave Oz the boot and became paranoid about every tingle, twitch, and tickle. All. night. long.

Friday, we had a lazy morning and as I was sitting on the couch in my white, fluffy robe, I saw a flea. On me. On my white, fluffy robe. Oz was nowhere around. And I wasn’t able to catch the flea before it sprung off to lay millions of eggs and cause me to lose my sanity.

That was it. The last straw. The last nail in the coffin. I went on an anti-flea tirade.

If it fit in the washer, it got washed. I even crammed my king size comforter into the washer. (It took a sweet forever to dry, too.) If it was upholstered and standing still (as opposed to upholstered and moving?), it got vacuumed. And if it was small, furry, and four-legged, it got sprayed with flea spray and later dosed with an all-natural flea and tick killer/repellent. And the carpet was sprinkled with Borax, vacuumed, and sprinkled again, the vacuum cleaner having a new temporary home in the garage just in case.

I called the vet, and was told that if the neighbors weren’t going to treat their dog for fleas, the only thing I could do that I haven’t already is treat the yard. Um, who wants to lug the hose around in frigid weather to spray some stuff on the yard? Not me! But we bought some stuff anyway, with plans to spray the yard (and the fence where the offending neighbor dog lives) on Saturday. But it rained on Saturday, so that was out.

All weekend, every time I felt a twitch, tingle, or tickle, I looked for a flea. I was paranoid all day Friday, and spent most of the day itching for no apparent reason. But, as I was hauling all of my bedding into the laundry room, I did find a flea. On me. (Shudder.) I exacted my revenge and contemplated leaving its carcass as a warning for any others. But since fleas probably don’t watch old movies, they wouldn’t know it was to be a warning and would just give their deceased buddy a proper burial, oblivious to the revenge/imminent death that was about to be let loose on them.

Oz spent the entire weekend sulking, hiding, and shaking, probably wondering if he was going in the washer next.

So far, I haven’t seen any more fleas, which is a very good thing. But I still think I am feeling them all the time. (Shudder.) We are not out of the woods yet, for the life cycle of a flea is crazy weird, according to Wikipedia.

All I want to do now is go watch White Christmas or Holiday Inn again. Can’t a girl be left in non-itchy peace?

All The Fun New Things

One of the perils of Motherhood that could also be considered a joy is when your kid starts doing new things on a completely random basis.

A peril because you don’t know what that new thing will be, and where it will happen.

A joy because it’s so cool to see them make a connection and do something they’ve never done before.

C did two new things this past week. Thankfully they were neither embarrassing or dangerous.

Since the beginning of time (well, since he was a teeny little guy anyway), I’ve called his lovey a rag. Because that’s what it is.

Really, it’s a cloth diaper. The kind you could actually fold up and put on a little behind. We used them for burp cloths and it was just a natural progression that he would use one as his security blanket.

He’s almost 2 ya’ll, and though he’s slept with a rag every night and every nap, he’s never had a name for it or even a sound dedicated to it.

Until a few days ago.

He’s started calling it “nite-nite,” which makes total sense. I just don’t get how I can call it a rag for his entire life and he decides that he’ll call it something totally different. I guess it’s just one of those things.

He’s also cranked the bossiness up a notch.

We were out playing in the pool (yes, he’s allowed back in the pool now! Thank you Jesus, for those $35 antibiotic drops!) and he and Oz started getting a little wild.

Imagine that.

Typically when Oz gets too wound up, I will make him lay down and stay until he chills out a bit. C obviously knows the routine, because when Oz got a little crazy, C turned to him, put his little hand out and said, “Tay!” (“Stay!”)

The cool thing is, Oz did it. I don’t know if he was really listening to C and doing it out of obedience or if he was just tired of running around like a crazy dog and needed a little rest. Either way, the boy was pleased with himself.

I was pretty happy too. I might just have a little dog trainer on my hands. If, that is, I can keep them from wrestling with each other in between obedience commands.

1,000 Words

Next Time We’ll Actually Get In The Pool

C and I loaded up and went out to Mom’s on Tuesday, fully intent upon swimming.

And then we chickened out. Actually, I did.

It was a bit cool until mid-afternoon, and since the pool is not heated, the water is frigid. The coolness combined with the icy water makes for a chickeny Momma.

But we had fun anyway. The weather was just right for playing in mud puddles, which C spent quite a bit of time doing. HLB came home for lunch and taught C some pretty fun things about mudholes. How to make them bigger with a water hose, and how to squirt things with the aforementioned hose.

Oz had his share of fun, too. He was adopted by a lonely kitten.And he managed to climb into the bird dog bath. It seems that he dogs prefer this bird bath to their own water bowl, making it their own doggie wetbar. So when Oz was getting a drink, he just made himself right at home. I guess everyone else’s water was Oz flavored that day.

And Squirt and her partner in crime adopted sister, KD, left some surprises for us on the camera. It was a good day, even if we never got into the pool. It’s a good thing C isn’t big enough to realize all the fun he missed.

The One Where I Teach My Boy Some Bad Habits

Every boy goes through certain rites of passage, whether he stumbles upon them himself, coerced by his friends, pushed by his siblings, or guided by his parents.

Since C tends to take his own sweet time with things, has no siblings and doesn’t hang with his friends a whole lot, it’s up to us to introduce him to the things in life that may or may not cause permanent psychological damage. Here are a recent few.

Hijacking his first police car. Didn’t you see it on the news?Licking the beaters when I made a cake. Yum! Learning to open doors by himself. (I didn’t help with this one.)Sticking his tongue out at the camera. (This wasn’t me, either.)Playing in the sprinkler, one of his most favorite new things. Husband is better at this than I am. I don’t like getting wet.And even Oz learned something new recently. When your friends are bigger than you are, they can lay on top of you and you can’t get up.The summer has just begun, and I have a feeling there are many more things to be learned over the next few weeks.

Vacation Much!

And now, the rest of the story.

(Blatantly stolen from Paul Harvey.)

So here’s how we spent the rest of our vacation.

C had his last day of Kids’ Day Out. He was sad to leave his teachers.Here’s the t-shirt they’d made for him to wear home that day.During the week, I also discovered that C can now reach stuff on the kitchen table, even things in the middle. Yeah, I found that out after he pulled my half-full mug of (hot!) tea off and nearly spilled it and dropped it on the floor.

Then, I replaced it on the table, this time in the middle. A short while later, he managed to pull it off again and spill what was left of it (now cooled) all over himself. And the carpet.

And grab the ink pen from my grocery list-in-process and write on himself.

See? He’s growing up.

He’s also begun eating out of the trash.

Wait, let me clarify that.

I’d made French Toast for dinner from some less-than-fresh bread. As I cleaned up, I tossed the remainder of the loaf into the trash.

Apparently, when C went to throw some paper away for me, he found the bread and decided he needed a snack. Forgetting, obviously, that he’d just filled his belly with two slices of French Toast and two heaping helpings of fresh berries and bananas.

He even brought the bag to share. See? He’s thoughtful, too. Saturday, I spent most of the day pulling out the old dirt box, cleaning it out, and turning it into a sandbox for C. He sat for a solid half-hour pouring sand into and out of buckets and containers (and all over himself). I put some plants in the bare spot where the old box was. I was hoping the white fencing would keep the dog and boy out, but the dog fits through the gaps and has already made the flowerbed his “home” if you know what I mean. Our vacation was officially over on Tuesday, but we went over to Mom & Dad’s to say goodbye to NLB. He’s off to Basic Training for the Air National Guard. No cookies for him for a while. He’ll be fine, though. None of his Drill Instructors will hold a candle to Mom.

I gave NLB a card with some sisterly advice, the most warm and fuzzy part being, “Don’t be stupid.” See? I do care.

Here’s C with NLB just before he left. C was a bit disgruntled that his hotdog-eating had been interrupted. (He’d only had two at this point. Obviously, the boy needed sustenance.) Vacation is great, but it wears a girl out. I think I’m actually glad to let things get back to normal, whatever that is this week.

It’s All Fluff

So the other night, Oz woke up in the middle of the night and whined. He’s been sleeping in the big crate in the laundry room, and we normally don’t hear from him during the night.

I let him out to potty and when he came back in and settled back down, he didn’t settle. He was scratching around and grunting. I had no idea what he was doing, and wasn’t sure if I really wanted to.

Since it was 3:30 am, I put a pillow over my head and went back to sleep.

This is what I found the next morning.Apparently it’s more comfortable to be in a nest of fluff than an actual bed.

This is not the first bed he’s unzipped and shredded into pieces. But it will be his last.

I’m Glad Someone Appreciates It

Oz is doing well with his little broken elbow. It’s hard to keep him calm sometimes. He gets around on his three good legs pretty well.

I try not to give him many special privileges…I don’t want to spoil him now and make our job of training more difficult than it already is/going to be.

But there is one area where I’ve given in.

I went looking for Oz the other day, and assumed he was in his bed in the laundry room. He wasn’t. I looked all over the house and yard and couldn’t find him. I was mystified. I knew he hadn’t disappeared into thin air, so I started looking again, a little more carefully this time.

Here’s where I found him. 

So yeah, I let him lay in the clean laundry. At least until I folded it. It was mostly t-shirts and socks anyway. I drew the line the other night when he tried to jump into a basket full of clean dress clothes, though.

Added wrinkles are not appreciated.