Taking In Strays

3 Comments / Daily Dose, Family Funk, Kid Talk /

I have a history of taking in strays — not the kind of strays you might think.

I take in stray kids.

It started years ago, when Audrey spent as much time in our home as she did in her home with her single, active duty service member mom. It just made sense. She was Jenn’s friend. She was in our Girl Scout troop. Her mom worked weird hours or was gone a lot. So, she just stayed with us. She probably would have stayed even more if she’d attended the same school Jenn did — but she didn’t, she lived at the other end of the base so she did sometimes go home and was often alone when she was there.

Chris and Michelle grew up with Audrey always at our house. They learned early that stray kids who need a place to stay or just want to stay with us are welcome. So stray girlfriends, boyfriends or just friends would should up and suddenly we realized they’d been here for weeks on end. Some of those kids lived with us for years without ever actually discussing it with us. It was fine.

Stray kids were welcome.

Now that none of those big kids live here with us, I thought those days might be over. The little kids have never been inclined to bring home stray kids that way. It might happen some day, because they did grow up with extra kids in the house and while they generally ignored Chris’s girlfriends who stayed off and on, they loved Chuck — the house fairy. So ya never know, they may bring home a stray of their own someday. Time will tell.

I did find it very amusing when Michelle buzzed me a couple of days ago to tell me that her friend Susan was not going to be visiting her in Philadelphia as originally planned — instead, she was moving to Chicago and… she needed a place to stay. Could she…?

I laughed and told her she could. Michelle said “Cool, she and her boyfriend will be there tomorrow.” lol

They didn’t turn up yesterday… they showed up today, instead.

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The Fake Car Accident

1 Comment / Daily Dose, Health and Wellness /

I’m tired of writing about TW’s tummy troubles and about puppies but darn if I’m finding time to plan a post before it’s suddenly 7:30pm and I have no freaking topic to write about. I’ve got to do a better job of planning these posts because I’m pretty sure you’re getting sick of hearing about TW’s gut and Skeeter’s annoying habits.

So tomorrow — no posts about hospitals, dogs, or crap like that, ok?

Today, however, I’ll point you to the post TW wrote way back in 2007 where she first mentioned the “car accident” as we’ve come to call the unexplained back pain that she’s been living with for, well, more than five years now.

Yep, she went to the doctor with what she thought might be a UTI — or she hoped might be a UTI because the back pain was errr painful and a doctor actually asked her if she was SURE she had not been in a car accident and she had just forgotten… and then he sent her on her way.

Turns out there’s an actual name for this pain that she’s had for all of these years and not a single damn doctor had ever bothered to tell her what this was or why it happened — until the nice Dr Elliot, (one of the doctor’s in TW”s primary care doctor’s office.)

I don’t actually remember what he said this was called. But it’s related to gas and the abdominal wall and hell I don’t know. I’m just going to keep calling it the fake car accident — but it was nice to have a doctor explain something. For once.

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All I Can Do Is Laugh

2 Comments / Daily Dose, Day to Day /

After last week, I had great plans for today. I was going to GET. SHIT. DONE.

What was I thinking?

Spending more than three hours in the car, driving people around, does not make it easy to GET. SHIT. DONE. unless the shit you have to do involves driving people around.

So I started work early and I’m ending work late and now that I’ve cleaned out my inbox of surprise emails and (mostly) finished the post that was due (hi Jenna!) I can get back to the real work-day to do list.

Or I could if the puppy would leave me alone.

I just keep reminding myself… it could be worse, it could be like LAST WEEK. And then I grab a piece of fruit (thanks KarenLynn!) and watch Johnny Mac Pippin for a few minutes. And laugh. All I can do is laugh.

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I Did NOT Push a Kid Under a Counter

6 Comments / Daily Dose, Day to Day, Health and Wellness, Pet Peeves /

TW takes a lot of meds and some of those meds make it hard for her to sleep, so she takes a sleeping pill. To be specific, she takes Lunesta. This works really well for her but it’s not so great for me. Last night’s a good example of the power of the “butterfly” pill.

I turned off my bedside lamp at around 10pm. TW took her evening meds and then we took the dog out one last time (hah) shortly after that. I climbed into bed and rolled over to go to sleep while TW finished a chapter of a book. The puppy was laying on her bed, on the floor — until all hell broke loose and she sniffed something scary. (More on sniffing scary things tomorrow…)

TW got up and walked her around the house and outside and generally made soothing noises along with warming up a frozen beef bone to keep her occupied rather than sniffing scary things.

She came to bed at about 10:45 and turned off her light. The puppy was on the floor eating a mostly frozen bone. The puppy eating that bone was very, very loud and I commented upon this to TW. Her response was, “It’s better than her running around howling and growling and barking.”, which was true.

I closed my eyes again, listening to the dog make horrible bone chewing noises. I was just getting used to those noises enough that I thought I might be going to sleep when TW said, in a loud and clear voice, “Why did you push that kid under the counter?”

I said, “Huh?”

She said, “Why did you push that kid under the counter?”

I said, “What?”

She said, “That kid at the ice cream shop.”

I said, “TARRANT. SHUT UP.”

She said, “OK”

It was obvious to me that she was asleep and talking. She does this a lot after taking her sleeping pill but it’s not usually so quickly after falling asleep. And she’s not usually so clear — it’s more often low mumbling that I have to fight to listen to in order to make out the words.

At 10:58pm her phone vibrated.

She JUMPED out of bed (this is a big deal because TW never jumps out of bed and she’d also just gotten out of the hospital and was taking more woozy inducing meds than just a sleeping pill.) She read the text, I assume from Prince J, typed something, peed, and then climbed back in bed.

Notice the time between her turning off her light, accusing me of doing something weird to a kid, and the text message? 13 minutes. 13 minutes!

Because besides the bone crunching noises, the dog also spent much of the night growling, howling, barking, pacing, jump on the bed and laying there for awhile, jumping off the bed and eating her bone again for awhile (or sleeping on her own darn bed) and TW says she doesn’t remember ANY OF THAT.

She also doesn’t remember taking the dog outside or wandering around the house with the dog twice more in the wee hours.

The power of Lunesta. She sleeps through all sorts of things and I get no sleep at all.

And no, I’ve never pushed a kid under any counter much less an ice cream counter.

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A Bad/Good List

10 Comments / Daily Dose, Day to Day /

My life, in list form:

1) TW was in the hospital for five days.
2) I haven’t read more than two sentences of a book since Sunday.
3) We’re losing the bed war: Skeeter 4 — Denise & TW 1.
4) The puppy ate her brand new awesome leash in less than three minutes.
5) The puppy ate the power button off of the brand new uverse remote control on the first day we used it.
6) I have eaten almost no food in the last five days.
7) TW’s check still hasn’t arrived.
8) I have a mountain of clean laundry that needs to be put away.
9) My house is trashed.
10) I have a post due tomorrow that I haven’t even started and I don’t have the first clue about what to say. (Hi Jenna. Sorry. Umm. TW. Hospital. Bad shit happened. I’m trying, I swear to God I am.)

~~

1) TW is home and did not die in the hospital.
2) We have an actual explanation for her mystery traffic accident pain. (long story, ask me again another time.)
3) I have eaten twice today!
4) The puppy is cute and understands “Yes” very well.
5) We have friends who send things like barrels of cheese balls and gummi bears just because they are made of awesome.
6) I (finally) cancelled comcast and ordered uverse TV and it’s excellent.
7) uverse remote controls only cost $20.
8) Johnny Mac Pippin is freaking adorable and he’s very smart, just like I told everyone he was — before he was born.
9) I have done ALL of the laundry.
10) I have blogged (at least) once a day for ten days.

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Singing in a Bomb

2 Comments / Family Funk, Kid Talk /

A long time ago, we were out for dinner with the little kids and TW’s ex — back in the days when we thought we might be able to have joint celebrations of big events. By the time we headed home, I’d pretty much had enough of Figlio-togetherness and was just ready for everyone to shush for a few minutes and chill out.

But no. The small children have always known exactly how to push my buttons (and the buttons of every parent/parental unit in their lives) and they were out-of-control on the drive home. TW was not much better, encouraging the wild screeching and storytelling and game playing IN THE CAR.

I hit my limit when Prince J argued something I said with an explanation of why he was right that included the phrase “singing in a bomb”. A totally ridiculous argument to what I said. A totally ridiculous idea that makes no sense under any circumstance. Something way, way out there — even for Prince J, who was (is?) good at pushing the limits of imagination.

“Singing in a bomb” is a very common phrase in our house, now. Unfortunately, only TW and I understand the phrase — the small children were too young to remember that hell night.

~~~

There are some songs or musicians that remind me, strongly, of one of the big kids.
– Nirvana reminds me of Chris.
– Smashing Pumpkin reminds me of Michelle
– Oasis, Vanilla Ice and Gloria Estefan remind me of Jenn.

I could go on, but you get the picture, right? You probably have songs that remind you strongly of people in your family, too.

When I hear those songs on the radio, I turn them up just a little and I say their names. A little prayer sent to them across the country (or across town)? Sometimes I ask TW to text the child, if I’m driving. Sometimes she just takes it upon herself to text them when she hears one of their songs. Sometimes I’ll call shortly after I get home, after I’ve heard one.

The kids have been known to ignore those texts. Or answer with a laugh. They sometimes roll their eyes. But they get it. They understand why these songs remind me of them. They understand that it’s a connection between us.

~~

A couple of weeks ago, we were riding in the car and Suicide Blonde came on the radio. TW suggested that Prince J might have gotten the lyric of this song just a wee bit twisted and turned “Suicide Blonde” into “Singing in a Bomb”.

And, it all clicked into place.

This would have been a song Prince J would have heard quite often in our house, at that age. It was a popular song in his early, formative years, so he would have heard it on the radio, too. He would not have recognized the word “Suicide” when he was a wee thing. He also would have understood both “singing” and “bomb”. It makes sense out of something that has never made a lick of sense.

~~~

Today, driving to the hospital, Suicide Blonde came on the radio. I asked Siri to text Prince J, just like I would have asked Siri to text Chris if Come As You Are came on. Suicide Blonde is on the radio — so Hi!

I turned the corner and… there were two large diggers, another Prince J thing, so I told Siri to text Prince J… and a digger, too!.

He responded a little while ago with… What?

The boy is determined to drive me over the edge, isn’t he?

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We’ve Mastered This Yes Thing

3 Comments / Animal Issues, Family Funk /

Ya know I was kind of skeptical about this “Yes” thing but it’s true, after about four days of constant “Yes”, Skeeter made it very clear that she understood “Yes” meant TREAT. (Virginia asked, in comments last week, how you know she understands “Yes” — you know because any time you say “Yes” the dog’s ears perk up or she pays close attention to you.)

And yep, Skeeter understands very well that any time someone says “Yes” she is supposed to get a treat. (You can see a tiny little video of that here. She was playing with a toy at my feet and you’ll see her look up right away when I say “Yes”.)

In tonight’s class, the trainer was demonstrating basic things that he wanted us to do with our dogs: Have the dog follow your hand back and forth, say “Yes” and present the treat. Get your dog to sit, say “Yes” and give the dog a treat. Work toward getting the dog to lay down, say “Yes” and give the dog a treat. The trainer demonstrated these things over and over again and he said “Yes” constantly, to another dog. Skeeter looked at me for her treat every single time the guy said “Yes”. The entire room was very impressed by her skill at the “Yes”, (as they should have been because she was the best at this skill.)

I wasn’t sure she would really pay attention to my “Yes” if there was a room full of dogs and a room full of treats in other people’s hands but she did a great job. As long as I was keeping her attention, keeping her moving, keeping her focused, she was ready to do what I wanted for the “Yes”/treat.

This week, we’re supposed to keep doing the “Yes” (not saying commands, which is hard because we’ve been doing basic commands since day one so… yea, we’re probably going to keep saying them as well as the darn “Yes”) and keep practicing the follow your hand for treats, sit for treats, lay down for treats.

Easy peasy.

Skeeter is awesomely smart. (And cute.) Even if she did eat her sixth leash today, when I turned my back for three damn minutes.

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I Am Never Buying Chocolate Chips Again

8 Comments / Daily Dose, Family Funk, Pet Peeves /

I was kicking ass in the get stuff done vein. I started the load of laundry that’s been accumulating in the washer and laundry room basket since the girls went back to their dad’s. I folded the load that was in the dryer. I made two batches of brownies for TW’s mom to take to the Senior Center. I got most of the trash cans emptied and the bins to the road. I straightened up the family room in preparation for the uverse dude’s visit. I cleaned the old leftovers out of the fridge and ran a load of dishes through the dishwasher. I even got the dishwasher unloaded and the few dirty dishes in the sink added to the dishwasher.

I thought I’d be extra super woman and do a tiny load of laundry and get all of TW’s underwear clean (I know, probably too much info but… hospitals cause her to want a lot of fresh underwear… just sayin’.)

So, I started tossing the wet laundry from the washer into the dryer… I noticed something “dropped” out of the wet laundry. One something dropped to the floor, another to the bottom of the dryer. I glanced back, something small and brown. I figured it was on old dog treat that someone had leftover in her pocket from treat training. I reached for the thing in the dryer just as Skeeter reached for the thing on the floor.

Soft, smooshy, chocolate.

Chocolate chips.

I peeked back into the washer and what did I see — dozens of chocolate chips sprinkled in with the “clean” laundry.

Dammit.

I pulled each piece of laundry out of the dryer, shaking every piece. Chocolate chips rained down onto the floor. I pulled each piece of laundry out of the washer. Still raining chocolate chips. At the bottom of the washer, a good half cup of chocolate chips.

I cleaned them out, cursing a certain child who I was SURE was responsible since most of the laundry I’d done was kid laundry, TW’s mom’s laundry and dirty towels with just a couple of TW’s stuff tossed in to fill out errr over-fill the load.

I added a little water to the washer then pushed it to the spin cycle. Each time I opened the lid, more chocolate chips were on the bottom and sides of the washer.

While the chocolate chips were spinning around, I texted the youngest child who has a strong affinity for chocolate chips.

Her response was “why in the hell would I have chocolate chips in my pocket?”

So I suggested she might have cleaned up spilled chocolate chips with a towel and then dumped the towel (chips and all) into the washer.

She insists she didn’t do it and pointed a finger at her sister.

So I texted her sister and asked her if she’d had a chocolate chip accident. She insisted she had not touched a chocolate chip in forever. I asked her if she was sure she hadn’t spilled chocolate chips and cleaned them with a towel? She insisted, again, she had not. I asked once more, “Are you sure you didn’t make a chocolate croissant?” Her response, well, I do have limits about what I’ll share about my kids so I’ll just keep that a secret. Basically, no. She insists it was not her.

During this texting/spinning session, TW’s mom wandered in and I explained what had happened. She had her suspicions about who might have done it and in the end she said, “All I know is it wasn’t me.”

So. It wasn’t TW’s mom. It wasn’t Elly. It wasn’t RJ. It wasn’t me, lord knows.

Did Skeeter do it? Or, was it someone else?

The world may never know.

I just know that I’m never buying another bag of chocolate chips because that was a pain in the ass and I don’t ever want to have to clean chocolate chips out of the washer and dryer again.

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Forget “How’s TW?” What About ME?

12 Comments / Daily Dose, Health and Wellness, Pet Peeves /

When I decided to do NaBloPoMo, I was kind of afraid I’d be writing about stupid hospital visits. Bah humbug.

I’m also tired of everyone saying “How is Tarrant?” I don’t have a good answer for that. Here are some I’ve tried:
– She’s fine.
– No change.
– She’s bitchy.
– She’s more confusing as ever because she’s getting pain meds.
– She’s grouchy.
– Fine, thanks.

None of these seem to appease those who are asking. So what the heck am I supposed to say? Here are the facts, you tell me what my answer should be, ok?

– She has a lot of abdominal pain, when it’s been awhile since she had fresh pain meds.
– She is nauseous if it’s been awhile since she’s had nausea meds.
– When she sits on the toilet to pee, her oxygen levels drop.
– Her oxygen levels drop off and on just in general, for no clear reason.
– Her blood pressure was high, for her. (Not super high for normal human beings) And is still a little higher than her normal, from time to time.
– She has no fever.
– She’s not vomiting.
– She’s also not having any bowel movements, which annoys pretty much everyone right now.

So basically – she’s fine. Nothin’ happening. Nothin’ to talk about.

Except me! Let’s talk about ME!

– Nobody put a mint on my pillow last night.
– I had to make the damn bed this morning.
– I had to feed TW’s mom dinner and also her birthday breakfast this morning. I guess I have to take her to Culver’s tonight for her birthday dinner, too.
– I have been making trips back and forth between the house and hospital for 24 hours now and it ain’t a walk in the park. (Do you know how many god damned trains there are between me and the hospital?)
– I have to deal with a very unhappy, pathetic puppy who is either in my lap, biting at my coat sleeve, crying, barking at me, or staring at the bedroom door (refusing to move or even blink in case TW is on the other side of that door.) PATHETIC.

– I had to take the dead pumpkin out of the prairie dog cage.
– I had to feed the prairie dogs.
– I AM THE ONLY ONE HERE TO SAY YES to the PUPPY!
– Driving around in the car by myself is lonely.
– Going to vote by myself is not fun.
– Sleeping all by myself is errr well it’s kind of nice because nobody is causing me to have dreams about fires but it’s also kind of depressing, too.
– There is nobody to talk to about weird emails and weirder blog posts.

TW’s fine. I’m pretty much in hell. Thanks for asking.

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