Boys.. love 'em or at least don't get peed on

Here is the problem. Life is so funny I end up telling Chris all these hilariously true stories and I forget to write them down. Or video them. Like Tate used to have no front teeth, and he gets so giggly when I read funny books, I was going to video him so I could watch it over and over for years to come.... but I got busy laughing and forgot to video. And now his HUGE rabbit-sized adult teeth have come in and all I can think about are how much braces are going to cost us. He still laughs with his whole face, but I'll never get those gummy smile days back. And Sam did this goofy, grinny, little "hi mommy, how did you sweep?" voice in the mornings, and so I made sure the video camera had batteries, but he woke up recently and the little voice is gone. I could've cried. Now its, "The sun is up and I'm hungry." Still good, but where is the blankie-dragging baby? All that about "they grow up so fast" .... I know I will not be able to breathe if Sam ever starts saying "three" correctly. Its still "free," as in "No, I am not four, I think I am free, or maybe six, I don't wemembah." I tried to shove Sam into size 4 footsie pjs last night, but he is just too big. I was starting to panic, pushing his shoulders down and forcing the zipper. He said, "Mom, I think I am just too big for these. I can borrow bubba's." I wanted to scream: "No way mister, you are MY TINY BABY, wemembah?"

But then we also have days like Thursday....

I taught at the college, did one last workout before my half-marathon tomorrow (which we will never speak of again if Micah beats me) and drove home before dark. I was tired, looking forward to egg nog, snuggling time and microwave dinner. As I drove up, I noticed Chris on the roof, putting up a 12x15 tarp. I guess our indoor Niagara Falls days are coming to a close. But its not supposed to rain for days.... After I parked, I heard a booming voice, not exactly friendly, from above: "Sammy peed on the dog. You need to deal with it." As I stood in the driveway, bags in hand, I considered this greeting. Then I heard the dog whimpering from the backyard (she is an inside dog). I yelled up at Chris to come and talk to me for a minute, but he just said, "You need to talk to your kid.... And wash that dog." Then he stomped back over the eave and disappeared.

Tate was jumping on the trampoline, with Sam no where in sight. Tate informed me that Sam was grounded forever and asked if I wanted details. I should've said no. He was good for the play-by-play recap; I almost think he may have rehearsed it:
"Okay, we were jumping together like this (he jumps to show me what he means) and then Dana was under the trampoline down there (he point down as he jumps) and then she came out to chew her bone right there (he points to the NW side, next to the trampoline, still jumping), and then Sam stopped jumping (Tate suddenly stopped, very dramatically) and said 'I am going to pee on Dana now.' (Tate lets his jaw drop as he shakes his head, to demonstrate that he is very upset by this development) and then he just walked to the edge, pulled his pants down and peed on the dog (he points again to the crime scene) and then as Dana started walking away, Sam peed harder and got her more wet." Tate waits to see if I will laugh or cry. I am determined to not show any more emotion concerning Sam and urine. It only seems to encourage him. We have to get to the bottom of this.....

So far, besides the soccer field public peeing incident last spring and the unfortunate Mother's Day extended-family-gathering incident on The Rib Crib's front walk, we've had to endure other urine-related offenses. He peed on Tate's favorite stuffed dog in retaliation for a petty offense, and has aimed at innocent plastic army men when he lost them in a battle. Also, this is really unbelievable, he peed on Tate after he lost a heated verbal exchange. (Although, it is frustrating to argue with Tate. You always loose.) In general, he seems to be missing that part of the brain that warns us that peeing on a person to show dominance in not an accepted practiced in the human race.

Back to the present smelly situation.... Dana was not a stuffed animal, plastic army guys, or even a person who so easily fits into our built-in shower and can shampoo himself. This is my 60+ lb very hairy friend. And all I could think of was that only 72 hours earlier, Sam had been by my side as we washed her. I seemed so ironic......

Monday after work, Dana was certifiably stinky. I had been waiting for the weather to warm a bit to hose her outside. But after a week, I couldn't take another minute. So I gathered up shampoo, wash cloths, conditioner, six full-sized towels, a hair dryer and went to our never-used upstairs guest shower/tub. Never mind its reserved for guests and leaks through the floor somehow (we just try and not think about the water stained ceiling mostly), I'd already determined that the shower stall downstairs was just too tiny. What could I do? It was below 40, and to pay the groomer was over $50, plus I can't get her into a car. Literally. But Sam said he would help. Great. He stood in the tub and waited for her entrance. Long story short(er).... Chris ended up having to get the rope and pull her, choking and gasping, into the bathroom. She's never even been in there before! I had to push her into the tub, and Sam held the rope. We locked the door behind her. I didn't want to clog the drain, so I told Sam to try and pull off wet black hair and set it on the side of the tub. Which is also black. Sam didn't mind, but he was pulling too hard and hurting her. She was miserable. And my "don't worry honey I won't let even one hair go down the drain and Sam will help me" plan of setting the hair on the side of the tub wasn't really working. It was sticking everywhere except the tub: Sam's face, arms, clothes, head.. And we don't have one of those hand-held things, so to wash her I had to position her in the stream of water by shoving her in and holding her down, while Sam, also getting wet, scrubbed. The amount of black hair was staggering. I didn't know how to contain it. But them I had a grand idea -- A lint brush! I keep them everywhere, but the only one I wanted to send my little hairy wet guy to retrieve was in my car. So while he ran down, I held Dana. When he returned and handed it to me, I loosened my grip in order to turn and figure out where to start rolling, and she made a break... one jump out of the tub, slipping on the tile, banging into the cabinet, crashing into the door, slamming a large wet dog print on the hallway wall and tripping and dripping down our carpet stairs. Then she did it..... she shook over and over and over and over and over.... all over downstairs, running in mad circles as she did. Tate screamed and went into the bedroom, locking himself away. Chris was still on the roof, looking to never be seen again. Sam was singing upstairs, back in the shower, I guess no longer on the "help mom wash the dog committee." I tripped back upstairs and grabbed the towels and hairdryer, and went downstairs to at least fix my terrified dog. The house will be..... ignored until no children or large animals live here. 30 minutes later, I had a glossy, show-ready puppy, asleep on my bed, content and warm. ....... Ahhhhh, now time for egg nog.

Where is Sam? OH NO!! The water was still running upstairs! I ran back up and there SWAM Sam, in black, hairy, chunky, smelly DEEP and wavy water, still clothed, joyfully kicking as hard as he could, flinging black hair and murky water all over the entire bathroom.

I think the dog has been easier to keep clean this week, even after two showers. Luckily, on Thursday the dog shampoo and lint brush were still in the upstairs bathroom.

Are Boys Strong?

I am dressing a small child for a wedding, but have only gotten as far as drying him off after his bath and getting his clothes from the closet......

Small child: Mom, is my pee pee stwong?

Me: Yes, well, I'm not sure, I mean, I don't know, well, its just that, hey do you want to try this shirt on?

Small child: Mom, do you think I have stwong pee pee?

Me: I don't really know what you mean...

Small child: Let me see here......

Small child taking the small white plastic hanger from me and trying to hang it -- with his shirt still on the hanger -- ONTO his little pee pee. It is unsuccessful

Small child: Awww man, it just fell off!

Me not sure what to do

Small child thinking.....

Small child looking for something else that can be hung, and successfully spotting a flashlight with a circular handle

Small child: Lets try this one.... (trying to hang the flashlight handle from his pee pee) Awww maaaaan!! That one didn't work either!!!

Me hoping this creative experiment is drawing to a close

Small child: Mom, can I make my pee pee stronger? Like.... exercise?

Me thanking God no one else is in the room to give him any ideas

Reading Time with Tate

After practicing the "better late than early" reading philosophy with Tate, he has gone from letter-recognition only to third grade reading and comprehension in about 16 months (not that I am counting, right?). Tate can't go anywhere without a stack of books. He is still focused on about 90% WWII aviation history, but he has branched out to armored vehicles, just a bit. There is a little conversation I have with him about once a day, but when I heard Chris incredulously describe having the same interaction this afternoon, I laughed so hard I had to share it with you.

It goes like this:
Tate is curled up alone on the sofa with a pile of WWII Western Front photo history books, softly talking to himself. Sam is busy at the lego table, and Dog Dana is asleep under the dining/kitchen table. Chris approaches Tate after a long night of working at the fire station, holding a cup of coffee and just wanting to spend time with his little buddy. As he moves books out of his way, sinks onto mom's old couch (thanks Mom) and sighs deeply, Tate cuts his eyes and looks a little annoyed.

Chris: "What are you reading there, big guy? What are you learning about this morning?"
Tate: "................."
Chris, trying again: "So, Tate, Daddy missed you soooooooo much. Do you want to hear about the fire we had last night?"
Tate: ............ LOUD SIGH with a mumble "i'm having private reading time"
Chris: "That is great! Let's see what you are reading!"
Tate: "ummmm, dad? I really need to have privacy right now. I can't make up war stories if you are sitting here."
Dana, the 60 lb dog, wanders over and lays at Tate's feet.
Tate: "Well HI Dana! Thats a good girl! Are you going to sit by me?!"
Chris: ????? "So, the dog gets to sit by you... but I can't?"
Tate: "Yep. She doesn't keep trying to talk to me."

Puppy Potty Training

Remember our puppy? The dog-lover who decided to buy a EXTRA LARGE BREED DOG the last week of July promptly revealed that he actually had no idea how to do anything with a puppy, so I could just handle all that. (Yes, I am speaking of my handsome hubby) "After all, Katie, you have trained two of your own puppies before. And you do like to read and research, so this would be like a fun little new project for you. You aren't even working this August!" So fifteen library books and three videos later, I had a plan.

We named her "Dana" for Mt. Dana in Yosemite. It is the largest mountain around that area (over 14K) and Chris and I hiked it over Labor Day 1998, when we fell in love and decided to get married (yes, all in the same weekend, ten days after we met). We've never been back and so just thinking about Mt Dana makes us sigh... Good dog name. While I was floating in the fuzzy bliss of intoxicating puppy breath and memories of hiking/ planning a wedding, Chris decided that he needed to "take a vacation" to Dallas with his college buddies for a long weekend. Of course, Dear. No problem, Dear. You should go to Dallas, I would be happy to handle the puppy. (Never mind I did change my mind within 24 hours - before he left even - but it was too late. "Let your yes be yes.....") Do you have any idea how much a 43 lb dog can pee? It is truly amazing.

By the time Chris arrived home from his "vacation," I had used over two bottles of carpet cleaner, scraped up about 45 pounds of dog poo, washed four loads of towels used to dry the puppy after her baths, scrubbed and disinfected the crate multiple times, called and left several nasty messages on Chris' cell phone, threatened to take the dog to the pound, cried a river, and called to scream at my sister (former vet assistant) to come and PICK UP CHRIS' DOG!! and keep her - for $25 a day - until further notice. Why in the world did I think this would be fun?

The dog did eventually get the hang of relieving herself outdoors, just like everyone said she would. My sister picked up some extra cash for her boarding services, and Chris and I are still married. But I did say NO!! when he suggested that Dana would be much happier if one of her siblings came to live with us.

Now the current debate: to fix or not to fix the female pure bred? Tate has conducted a street survey, and the vote (according to Tate), is 67 for NOT fixing so we can have puppies next year, 1 for controlling the pet population (yours truly), and 1 abstaining (Grandma Faye refused to cast a vote after I gave her a stern glare).

Stay tuned!

Sammy and Dana goin' fishin' in our koi pond.

Person Place or Thing

This is Tate's favorite game to play with me lately. Sometimes I make him stick to a subject (Old Testament, Persian period, things found in Florida, etc..) but usually he just randomnly thinks of something and I have to guess what it is in 20 questions with yes/no answers. Last night I could NOT get the person he was thinking of. He was a famous American, involved in music, but not rock-n-roll. He might have been on TV, well, maybe not. He was not in the Civil War or Revolutionary War. It wasn't Elvis, any jazz musician, or Steven Curtis Chapman (my favorite). He wasn't alive right now, well, maybe he is still alive.... Hmmmmmmm.....

After I got extra guesses and even some hints (you love him, Tate says). I had to give up. Which I hate.

"Oh! You are going to kick yourself! It's......(snicker and smile).... Handel!"

......... "Who?"

"...... Mom, are you kidding? You know Handel, right? You know, from The Messiah?"

....... "Yes, yes, I know Handel,.....but......"

"How come you didn't even guess Handel? You listen to him all the time and you didn't even think of him!" Then Tate rolled his eyes, snorted and walked off.

me: ......."but......"

(For those of you who might not know who Handel is, he wrote The Messiah, but he wrote it from HIS HOME IN LONDON in 1741!) Details details

My Mom Got Married!

We are so exhausted after the eventful week, I'll have to post pictures later after I have time to look at all 5 million of them. But Mom did get married in a fabulous (and short!) ceremony! We had a great party afterwards. Here is one quick picture from the rehersal dinner of Sam (3) and his cousin (Becky's 5 year old), Mike. (I know, I am such a mom posting pictures of my kid even though it was someone else's wedding) Some people like to label Sam's signature ears "Elf Ears," but as long as you know they are from CHRIS' side of the family!! The kids had such a great time celebrating!

Sammy Lovins

Sammy has always been a demonstrative sweetie, but he is really going through a romantic phase recently. Tate had a period when he was "in love" with Grandma and planned to marry her, then it was on to Isabella. But Sam has only had eyes for Mama lately! He spent all day yesterday singing love songs to me ("I am in wuv with my Mama"... "she is so booootiful" etc...) and came over at least a couple of times an hour and said "I really need some hugs and kisses from you!" He told Tate and Chris, while stroking my "soft face" that he was my boyfriend and that I was his girlfriend. He asked me if I could not marry Dad but marry him instead. I thoroughly enjoyed all this romance!

Then last night, he was in my room, still singing to me while I was getting ready for bed. I was only half-listening to the lyrics to yet another future top-ten billboard chart hit when I distinctly heard "We are in wuv and we'll get together and make a baby...." I was a bit alarmed, but just figured that he wasn't paying attention and was just rambling. But then after the next chorus he repeated the rated R words again, and again. I was wondering what kind of smut TV he had been watching at Mother's Day Out (they did have a sub one day!), when I decided to ask him about what he was singing. I walked to where he was playing on the bathroom counter. He had two big flosses, and one little floss. He proudly said, "Look Mom. Here is my little floss family! They are so in wuv!"