Archives for August 2009

Well waddaya know…

First, I must tell you that the prodigal dog hath returned.  Yes – there has been a great deal of celebrating today, complete with a killing of the fatted calf…

Okay, not really.  But we did give her a leftover pork chop, which is pretty much the same thing so…Aaaanyway, we’re torn now.  The kids are so happy and relieved to have Sadie home.  Lee and I are relieved to not have the guilt of abandonment follow us the rest of our lives, and we are truly happy that she’s safe.  But we still don’t know if we’re going to keep her.  The family that found her are big dog lovers.  They already have a dog of their own, but they thought that they might have family members interested in taking Sadie.  So Lee and I are going to have to make a decision.

But enough about that.  How about this?  I shamelessly promoted myself on Facebook today.  I was at 10,999 views on my blog and I begged, ahem, asked for one more hit to push me over the 11,000 mark.  And do you know what I got?

I got 42 hits in just a couple of hours.  Thank you everyone, thank you so much.  You love me!  You really love me!

I know that 11,000 hits in a few months is not that much in the grand scheme, and truly, it doesn’t mean anything, but when you pour time and energy into writing and you truly have a desire to entertain, it’s nice to know that there are actually a few people reading those words.

I also realize that I’m not the best blogger out there.  I’m not the funniest, the smartest, the most creative or original.  But I really enjoy what I am doing and am grateful for the new friendships I’ve made via the lovely internet and I’ve had a ball recording our lives in the hopes that someday my children will look back on these days with joy.

So thank you to all my readers, wherever you are and whoever you are.  I don’t know why you keep coming back, but I really am grateful to you and I do strive to make the few moments that you spend here worthwhile.

And that’s all she wrote.  Well, I mean, for tonight anyway…

Have you seen me?

If I believed in karma, I’d say we were getting a good dose of it. 

If I believed in fate, I’d say she was out to get us. 

But I don’t believe in those things.  I do, however, believe that our dog sensed the fact that we were thinking about finding her a new home.  And I think she took matters into her own hands paws.

Sadie ran away yesterday.  She’s run off before, but never for very long.  Usually she stays pretty close to home and comes back quickly.  But when she wasn’t home after a couple of hours yesterday, I knew something was up.  I’ve called the Police Department and animal control.  I even drove almost all the way to Illinois this morning to the shelter to see if she had been brought in.  But so far, no one has seen her.

This is not how I wanted it to end with Sadie.  I wanted to find her a good, loving home where she would be taken care of and loved better than we were able to love her.  And, oh my, the tears from my kids today have broken my heart.  Sloan just brought me this drawing that he made for Sadie.

In case you can't read it, it says, I Love You Saedie. Love, Sloan.

In case you can't read it, it says, I Love You Saedie. Love, Sloan.

So I am now going to print out some flyers to hang around the surrounding neighborhoods and see if anyone has her.  We’ll see.  Perhaps getting rid of her will be easier this way, but it sure seems like a sad way to lose our sweet dog.  I didn’t want this for her.  She really is a good little dog.  If you live in Ballwin and see her, let me know!

Sweet Sadie

Sweet Sadie

The screaming – Oh my the screaming…

Yesterday was Tia’s long-anticipated visit to the ENT. Well, long-anticipated for me. She didn’t know we were going until about an hour before the appointment.

Because I believe in the element of surprise. And because I believe in not listening to the fearful cries of my daughter for any longer than necessary.

Actually, she handled the news very well. Surprisingly well, in fact.  She didn’t freak out or ask repeatedly why.  She took it like a champ.  And I actually convinced myself that the appointment was going to go smoothly.  I entered into a fairy land where I suddenly believed that she would shed a few silent tears, but otherwise sit like a charm as the Dr. dug the hard, compacted wax out of her ears.

Further adding to my delusion was the fact that she was very excited about the ice cream treat that awaited her after the appointment as long as she promised not to scream.

Yes.  I bribed my child.  Shamelessly, I might add.  And I worded the bribe carefully in an effort to set her up for success.  All she had to do was not scream.  Crying was permitted.  Because I’m generous and a realist.  Well, almost a realist anyway…

As we waited for the nurse to call her name, Tia was as chipper as could be.  She actually seemed exctied.  Until, that is, they took us into the examining room.  That’s when she began to crumble. 

First, her chin started quivering uncontrollably.  Then, her eyes got so big they threatend to overtake her tiny little face.  After that, she crawled into my lap, her lovey bear clutched in her white knuckled fists.  Finally, she looked up at me and with a quavering voice said, “We go now and has ice team?”

I reminded her of our little deal – no screaming and we’ll go get ice cream.  She nodded her head and turned as the door opened and the nurse came in with a  thermometer.  The kind that measures the temperature in the ear.  And that, my friends, was the moment her desire for ice cream went out the window.

She screamed.  She screamed really, really loud.  And she arched her back and fell off my lap onto the floor.  It took me and the nurse by surprise.  Then it made me laugh.

After the nurse left (without getting her temperature), I reminded Tia of our little deal once more (I was willing to dole out grace at this point) and she nodded again.  Then the doctor came in and she immediately clamped her hands over her ears.

After I pinned her arms down and wrapped my leg around her legs, the doctor cautiously approached.  I think we scared him.  And just as he got the very tip of his othoscope in her ear, she let loose.

“I DON’T WANT ICE CREAM!” she screeched.  And the wailing commenced.

At that point, we all started laughing.  I tried to hold her down, but there was no containing her.  My daughter is freakishly strong.  The doctor got a quick peek in one ear.  Enough to determine that she does indeed have a lot of wax, but not enough to tell whether or not it might be impeding her hearing.

And the screaming – oh my, the screaming…

It wasn’t worth it for anyone to go on.  He sent us to audiology where they determined that she is hearing fine, then gave me my options.

1.) Ignore it and try again in a couple of years when she’s older.  The down side to this option is that the wax will continue to build and will eventually affect her ability to hear sounds.

2.) Put drops in her ears for a couple of weeks to soften the wax, then bring her back and try again.  The down side to this is that somehow we will still have to contain her long enough to let them get the wax out.

3.) Put her under general anesthesia for about 10 minutes and let them clean her ears out completely.  As far as Lee and I can tell there is no down side to this.  So I’ve got an appointment to go back in a couple of week.

All that to say…we did not get ice cream yesterday.

Re-Post: Literal Art and the Worst Toy Ever Created

I’m exhausted today and I have mountains of laundry chasing me through the house like a really, really bad horror film. So I’m not going to even try to be original this morning. I’m just going to repost one of my favorites. The reason I pulled this one out is because my kids are marching through the house with that d*@# bird right now intent on driving their poor mama crazy.

Good times.  Do enjoy, for a second time…

So Sloan came home from school with this masterpiece the other day. He was very proud of it. I placed it in the window in our kitchen. When Lee came home he looked at it told Sloan how cool it was. “What is it? What does it represent?” he asked.

“It’s just bread and goldfish,” Sloan responded, looking up at Lee as if he had just sprouted a second head.

Riiiight. So, it’s clearly not abstract art.

In other Lee stories (I post these with his permission), the other night Sloan and Tia were running around the house after their bath. They like to run “in their nakeds” as Sloan says. Apparently Sloan tripped and twisted his foot. He cried pretty hard and it was his “I’m really hurt” cry as opposed to the “I’m just making noise” cry. So Lee spent some time putting pressure on the foot and turning it to make sure there wasn’t any real damage.

Then, in what was an apparent attempt to be funny gone terribly awry, Lee told Sloan to stand on his feet, then reach down and touch his toes. When Sloan reached down, Lee pushed him. He was hoping to make Sloan laugh and forget about his pain. Instead, Sloan fell on his face and twisted his wrist underneath him. So now the concern was not whether he had broken his foot, but his wrist.

Sheesh. Boys (eyeroll).

Then, yesterday Lee came home for work all bright eyed and excited.

“Where are the kids?” he asked. “I’ve got a surprise for them.”

I was in the nursery trying to clean out the closets and drawers of all the clothes that no longer fit. I heard Lee tell the kids to sit down on the couch and close their eyes.

“Now, this is something for you guys to share.”
At this point, my heart fell slightly because my kids and sharing do not mix well. Then, I heard a bag crinkling and Lee told the kids to open their eyes. This is what I hear.

“Oh boy! Thanks dad! It’s a talking parrot!”

At this point I almost cried and let me tell you why. When we go to my parents condo, there is a man that lives down there that is precious and he loves kids. Every time we come, he brings this fake, talking parrot that repeats everything you say to Sloan to play with. After about ten minutes of Sloan screaming at the parrot and it screaming back at him, I generally feel a migraine coming on. That bird always mysteriously ends up on the very highest shelf, where he stays until we leave and have to give it back to Mr. Neal. This is the exact bird toy that Lee bought for the kids. It’s like a cruel joke. When he came in the bedroom he was all smiles.  “They love it!” he said.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. “Have I done something to offend you in any way?”

It was at this point that he realized what he had done. He started laughing, and God love me, I tried to laugh with him, I really did. Then he offered a mild apology. “It’s just so fun to shop at Cracker Barrell,” he said.

So now, as I post this, Sloan and Tia are in the basement screaming at the top of their lungs at the parrot and laughing hysterically as it screams back at them. And I am secretly plotting revenge on my husband.