Tag Archives: dog

Bananas for Bananas!


Good morning everyone!

Tyra

My sweet and gentle Tyra called me a name yesterday.  It was the kind of look she usually reserves for those times when, after three days of rain, we are forced to throw her out into a downpour whether she likes it or not so she can take care of essentials.  My crime? 

I failed to share a banana with her. 

Unlike humans, dogs have a limited sense of taste, but one of the flavors they can taste is sweet.  Apparently, a banana hits Tyra’s taste buds in just the right way, because I have never met a dog that is as crazy for them as she is. 

In spite of the slight dulling of some senses that comes as dogs age, (Tyra is 10 now), she still is super-sensitive to bananas.  For example, I will be asleep in one room, with the door closed and Tyra and Mandy asleep with me. Mark, in the other room, will tip-toe into the kitchen, grab a lone banana from the fruit bowl and tip-toe back to the den to get ready to eat it.  Before he even begins to peel it,  Tyra is awake, prancing by my bedside, and sending Mandy up on the bed to walk on my hair to wake me up so that Tyra can go claim her share.  (Darwin is a non-factor because he usually sleeps in the den anyhow.)

Whenever Tyra is about to get a piece of banana, she does a little tap/river dance as the banana piece is broken off and handed to her.  Therefore the maximum entertainment value in providing Tyra with a piece of banana is obtained when you give it to her while she is standing on the wooden floor. 

The Rule of Three

Darwin and Mandy are not as wild about bananas, but they do expect the Rule of Three (one for Tyra, one for Mandy, one for Darwin) to be followed, so normally in our family when someone wants a banana, they have to get two – one for themselves, and one to share with the dogs.  Kayla, never having known anything else, finds that to be quite normal, but Mark and I are still bemused by it.  My mother, when she visits, loves to buy bananas simply to have some to give to Tyra.

Fortunately, Tyra doesn’t hold a grudge, so shortly after I finished the banana she forgave me.  However, a trip to the store will soon be in order, as we are now down to three bananas, and I’m not sure if she’ll be willing to forgive me a second time!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

We Go To Visit Carter (And His Parents)


Good morning everyone!
 
Back in March, the three of us got to meet Mark and my’s grand-nephew for the first time.  Kayla (and the rest of us) were enthralled.

Kayla holding Carter

Last time, Carter came to visit us, so this time we went to Carter.  As an added bonus, we got to see his parents, too.  🙂  (Just kidding, Andy and Anne; we wanted to see you too.)  It is amazing how much he has grown!

Happy Baby!

I know, through my experiences with Kayla, that children grow fast; apparently babies grow even faster!  We took lots and lots and pictures; I have culled a few of the best for you (besides, the subscribers to this blog who are related to me and therefore whom I hear from more often than the rest of you would kill me if I didn’t put in a few.)

Here is a picture of Anne, Andy and Carter together:

There is another important member of the family, too.  Her name is Tallulah and she is just now turning 2.

Tallulah (aka Lula unless she is in trouble!)

She also adores Carter and is very sweet with him, in spite of the energy most dogs have at the age of 2. 

Oh, you're taking pictures!

Somehow I always manage to get at least one picture when Kayla doesn’t expect it!

Anne, Carter, Kayla and Sophie, the $14 giraffe

One of Carter’s favorite toys is a rubber giraffe, who has been named Sophie.  Friends brought her to Carter from France, which is why she is a $14 giraffe, I guess.  Anne and Andy’s biggest challenge is being sure Tallulah understands that the giraffe is Carter’s, not hers.  It seems they are doing a fine job with that, as I watched her all afternoon, and she left the giraffe alone the entire time.  There is no way we could get No-no and Bad Dog to do that!

Mommy makes me happy

Anne is an excellent mother, and Carter knows it!  She knows exactly how to hold him and what he wants when Mark, Kayla and I are just staring at him goggle eyed.  When he wanted to play, she pulled out a little floor play thing that lets him lie on his back on the floor, and Kayla decided to try to play with him on his level. 

Kayla and Carter on the floor (from directly above)

 This picture-taking opportunity was too much to miss, so I took a few more.  (I know you’re shocked!)

Kayla and Carter playing together

It was interesting to see Kayla relate to Carter on his level.

Simple Pleasures

After a while, Kayla decided she would draw a picture for Carter.  (Anne is not only excellent at keeping her own child happy and occupied, she has a sixth sense that helps her know how to keep other people’s 9 1/2 year olds happy and occupied too.)  Anne pulled out paper, washable, non-toxic markers and Kayla was off.  When she finished her picture, she gave it to Carter.

Carter looks at Kayla's Picture

He then decided to experience her art in another way.

Carter exploring Kayla's picture

Of course, I had to take my turn holding Carter.

I Hold Carter

And, finally, make no mistake about it:  Carter loves his Daddy as much as his mommy!

His Daddy makes him laugh,  

Daddy makes me laugh

Feel safe:

Safe in Daddy's Hands

And, just like Mommy, makes him feel loved:

Andy and Anne, thank you so much for your hospitality, and we can’t wait to do it all over again sometime soon!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Magnetic Attraction


Good morning!

I hope everyone had a nice Fourth of July.  We had a nice one, a quiet weekend, with a lot of laughter, but not the kind of things you can easily share, except for Kayla’s chiding comment to Mandy that Mandy needed to improve her “altitude.”  While all of us will admit that Mandy is vertically challenged, more altitude is not something she needs.  I saw her leap this weekend greeting someone and when she did, her face was level with this person’s face.  Kayla meant “attitude”, but I am afraid that when dealing with “No-no”, attitude is a lot cause. 

Today, however, I am sitting here eating breakfast, hoping against hope that the (new) shirt I am wearing is not magnetic.  Although magnetic shirts are not a part of most people’s life, I am extraordinarily gifted at picking out shirts that attract food stains.  Other people go blithely throughout life with shirts that never see a stain, but not me.   

Spaghetti sauce is especially attracted to everything that I wear, with the power of the attraction increasing geometrically to the whiteness of the shirt involved.  I have seen the sauce leap a four foot gap just to reach my shirt – without hitting anyone or anything else in the room! 

Most people (except perhaps my husband) encounter trouble with spaghetti sauce somewhere along the line, but my shirts attract much more than just spaghetti sauce.  Any kind of sauce or dressing is a lock to reach my shirt, and I have even gotten stains from food items that should tamely stay either on the plate or in my mouth where they belong, including simple things like apples and carrots. 

I was afraid I was going to find a new source of shirt attraction last year when I started art lessons.  Strangely, although you would think that my shirts’ magnetism would be even stronger when it comes to paints and pastels and charcoal, they are not.  Paints, pastels and charcoal are much more interested in reaching paper than they are in reaching my shirt, although there was the one incident when some oil paint overcame its attraction to the canvas to leap instead onto one of my shirts.  Of course, it took a pure white shirt to accomplish that. 

Is there a solution to this problem?  I am not sure, but I have at least learned one thing:  Shout is definitely my friend!

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Peanut Butter in the Refrigerator and other matters


Good morning everyone!  I hope you had a good day yesterday!

  • Peanut Butter in the Refrigerator

    From Print Shop Professional 2.0

Mark and I were getting dressed today in our bedroom, when our daughter came pounding on the door to demand, “Who put the peanut butter in the refrigerator?”  (We don’t normally do that; the only peanut butter I have ever refrigerated is the natural kind that separates, but this was plain old Jif.)  There was, of course, only one answer.  I told her through the door that I must have done it when I was having a senior moment yesterday after making her PB&J sandwich as part of lunch for day camp.  There was a second of silence, a flat “oh,” and then the subject was dropped.

  • Mandy and the Treadmill

Mandy’s fascination with the Treadmill continues.  As soon as she heard the “beep” that means it is being turned on, she sailed across the room to sit down and stare at it with her head hanging so low it almost touched the belt.  We are very curious as to why this one object fascinates her so much.

Mandy and Darwin Mesmerized by the Treadmill

Mandy’s reactions to things take an extra effort for us to figure out, because she is a very unusual dog.  Not only are her looks extraordinary, but we adopted her from the shelter when she was two, and the shelter’s information on her stated that she was found digging in the dumpster in McDonald’s, so unlike the other two dogs, we have absolutely no information on where Mandy was and what conditions she was living in until she was sent to the shelter. 

We could tell the first Christmas we had her that she had never really seen a Christmas in a house before, so we tend to think that maybe she spent all of her life as a stray, but at the same time things come up, like the treadmill, that make us wonder.  I can tell you at least that the dumpster diving instinct survived to morph into an instinct to root around on cabinets, in trash cans, and anywhere else food might possible be obtained!

  • Turtles in the Bed (Not!)

    Turtle, 2008

 Driving to work/day camp today, Kayla told me that she wished she had a turtle.  I said, “Kayla, you have three dogs!!!!”  She told me she knew that, but she still wished she had a turtle.  I told her, “No,” and she asked why, so first I repeated the obvious, “Kayla, you have three dogs!!!!!” and then listed other reasons:  1) Dad has said that nothing else living, even a goldfish, is coming in the house as a pet, 2) I would be the one who ended up taking care of the turtle, and I only like turtles that were outside my house, and 3) she only wanted a turtle because she had a friend who had one.  We digressed into a discussion of whether said friend had a turtle or not, but then she brought us back to the subject, saying, “I’ve tried asking for even a goldfish and everything, but the answer’s always no.”  I told her I was sorry she didn’t like the dogs, but Dad and I did, and three dogs was enough.  She told me she did like our dogs but that “a turtle is the only pet I could have that could stay in bed with me.”  (9-year-old logic – go figure!!!!!)  I still haven’t figured out that comment yet, but it was the wrong thing to say – the idea of a turtle was firmly and permanently nixed after that point.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Dogs We Have Known – Shadow


The best way to encourage planned parenting is to give every newly married couple (say those who have been married 6 months or so) a new puppy to raise.  It could be a pass/fail test – if you raise the puppy successfully, you pass. 

I know this because Mark and I got our first dog 6 months after we were married. 

We bought her for $100 (on the theory that she was supposed to be a black cocker spaniel) on January 1, 1988 from a couple we met the night before at a New Year’s Eve shindig in Charlotte, North Carolina.  My best memory of that New Year’s day is riding around Charlotte looking for an open store with Shadow in my lap so that we could purchase basic items like a food bowl, water bowl, dog food, toys, etc.

We called her Shadow not because she was all black, but because, the day we brought her home she looked at her reflection in the patio door and was afraid, ie., afraid of her own shadow. 

It’s hard to believe, but this tiny creature destroyed an entire bathroom in two days.  We both worked, and had read that the way to raise a puppy if you couldn’t be home with it all day was to place it into a small enclosed area, so we chose our bathroom.  In the first day, she shredded all of the toilet paper off of the roll and scattered it throughout the bathroom, tore the shower curtain in half horizontally, so that the part from the floor to halfway up the length of the curtain was missing, and ate about half of the wicker trashcan we had in there.  (This is not a typographical error – I don’t mean she hate half of the trash in the trashcan, I mean that she ate half of the actual trash can.) 

The second day, in the same bathroom (we really didn’t have anywhere smaller to keep her at the time), she finished off the shower curtain (we are not sure how she got up there, but she did), finished off the trash can, and figured out how to open the cupboard in the vanity so she could browse through the towels there at will. 

 We took her to the vet the next day, because some of her shots needed updating.  Good Dr. Gandy took a long look at her, and seemed unconvinced that she was, in fact, a cocker spaniel.  It turned out that he was right – our best guess is that she was a cocker/lab mix of some type.  That is okay; it was the best (and only) swindle we ever took part in!  He suggested training her by putting her in a carrier.  We tried that, and (once we made it through the stomach virus she picked up somewhere) she did much better with things. 

Although Mark was ambivalent about getting a dog at first, he and Shadow quickly bonded – helped by the fact that, since at first she was especially frightened of males, he would hold her and pet her for hours on end to help her over her fear – to the point that she was (as Tyra is today) decidedly his dog.  She also cared for me, but for the first seven years we had her, I would catch her looking at Mark occasionally saying, “You know, we really don’t need her – you and I would be fine without her!”  I’m glad Mark didn’t agree!

When we were first married, we lived in a small town in North Carolina, but after 3 and 1/2 years, we came back to Alabama to be closer to parents.  Since we then, as now, were living in a small town fairly near to a lake, Mark and I decided to buy a boat.  Shadow took to the boat right away, which is pretty strange for a dog that hated the water.  Shadow could swim, she just emphatically refused to.  (In fact, once, we had the bright brain flash that perhaps Shadow didn’t like to swim because she didn’t like the way the lake bottom felt on her paws, so we took the boat out into really deep water and with Mark beside her in a life vest, we gently placed her into the water.  Mark still has a scar across his abdomen where she climbed over him and up the sides of the fiberglass boat to get away from the water.)

Her favorite speed was wake speed.  (Wake speed is extraordinarily slow, for those of you who don’t boat.  The motor barely stirs a ripple in the water.)  She would just laugh and laugh from the front of the boat, like she’s doing in the picture above, as long as you were at wake speed.  If Mark drove any faster than wake speed, then my job, per Shadow, was to sit in the front of the boat and hold her tightly until we got to wake speed again.  That is, unless the ride got to0 bumpy, in which case she would jump out of my arms, walk back to where Mark was and stare at him in protest. 

By the time she was 7, Shadow had slowed down considerably and just generally seemed kind of lonely, so after much not very subtle lobbying on my part to Mark, when a friend of mine at work told me about a litter of lab/cocker puppies that was advertised in the Birmingham paper, we called about one, and the next great adventure of Shadow’s life began – the raising of a puppy.

It took exactly one day for Shadow to adopt Woof as her own.  (The puppy was, of course, J.P. Wooflesnort, the same unfortunate dog who was dragged into the tub by Kayla).  After that, she raised Woof, trained Woof and played with Woof.  Training by us was not really required; Shadow was very intelligent and knew what she wanted her puppy to do and not do. 

To raise a dog is to place the history of your marriage within a framework that includes what is going with the dog at that particuarly time.  For example, we acquired Woof in October, right in the middle of the college football season.  I had a blast with the two dogs, especially since I worked in town at the time, so could come home every day at lunch time to let Woof out of the carrier (we learned something from our training of Shadow – humans aren’t that hard to train, after all!)

The Christmas I was about to turn 30, Mark kept threatening to give me “peep-os”  (Translation:  Flannel pajamas with feet in them) for Christmas.  He found an even better way – he conned another family member into believing that I was longing for a pair of them, and had that family member give them to me.  I have always appreciated the effort it took for that person to find these pajamas; “footie” pajamas for adults are quite rare!

Even when Woof was an adult, Shadow cared for her like she was her puppy.  Here, Shadow and Woof are lying on the same dog bed in the sun in one of the houses we used to live in.

In Shadow’s last years, Mark and I got rid of the boat and purchased a small travel trailer for camping, instead.  Both of the dogs liked to camp in this way.  We had tried camping with Shadow in a tent at Wind Creek in mid-March early on – Wind Creek was living up to its name, and Shadow kept looking at us asking why we were huddled in this tent to keep it from flying away when we had a perfectly good house to go live in.  Neither of us had a good answer.  However, the travel trailer, complete with aids for roughing it like an oven, a microwave, electricity, water and air conditioning, was another matter entirely.  That kind of camping, she loved.

We always wanted to give Shadow the chance to help raise a people puppy, too, but unfortunately that was not to be.  Shadow developed kidney trouble in late 2002, and died in May, 2003 at the age of 16.  The people puppy didn’t arrive to live with us until December 1, 2004.  They would have made a great pair!

So, on this day when I hear rumors that a wedding has taken place in a church called Westminster, between a couple whose first names are Kate and William, I would offer them the following advice:  get a dog!  The rewards in love and laughter alone are immeasurable.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

The Thief, The Necklace and The Eggs


Hi Everyone!

Noble as he looks, the past two days have been Darwin’s (No-no’s) turn to get in trouble. 

  • The Thief

Mark came home Monday night and was really feeling bad, so I gave him an array of choices for supper.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat.  He wasn’t really hungry at first, either, so Kayla and Iwent ahead andate, leaving his plate of ravioli on the counter, but pushed far enough back that Mandy couldn’t get it.  After Kayla went to bed, Mark decided he could eat a little bit, so I walked into the kitchen to discover that someone had eaten all of the ravioli off of his plate but one.  My suspicions were already on Darwin, because it is hard for a white dog to eat almost a full plate of Chef Boyardee ravioli (you surely didn’t think I had cooked anything more complicated than that?) without there being some traces of spaghetti sauce somewhere on her fur.  However, the evidence was not overwhelming. 

Later that evening, we heard noises from the kitchen again, and Mark went hurtling into the kitchen.  Being the sharp investigative agent that I am, I realized that it couldn’t be Mandy, because she was charging around the corner, afraid that she was missing something.  Sure enough, it was Darwin, going for the last piece of ravioli on the plate which Mark had left out deliberately to catch “the thief” in action.  I didn’t get the impression that Darwin was particularly sorry for anything but getting caught, either.

  • The Necklace

Two weekends ago, Kayla and I got to go over to a good friend’s house to begin  learning how to make necklaces from beads.  We had a great time, and Kayla came home with two necklaces she had designed, both of them as cute as they could be.  One of them was made of blue/gray beads, strung with elastic wire and had a pineapple pendant in the center.  The beauty of the elastic was that all she had to do to put in on was to pull it over her head. 

I worked at home yesterday, and about 11:00 a.m.  I started to hear funny noises from the den.  Whenever I would go over to investigate, the noises would stop.  I finally was fast enough to see Darwin chomping on a pile of blue/gray unstrung beads.  While I am usually fairly unflappable about what the dogs eat, (if they can survive a full tube of Neosporin, how much is there to worry about?) small, floss-like wire/string is another matter.  It can cause trouble in a dog’s stomach.  I scooped up the beads, searched Darwin’s mouth for any remainder (every time I wasn’t looking at him while I was picking up the beads it sounded like he was chewing something), then tried to decide whether I needed an emergency visit to the vet or not.  I walked into the bedroom for a minute, and looked down, and there was Darwin, chewing on the remainder of the beads (where he hid them I do not know), which were, thankfully, still hanging on the elastic string/wire.  Much to his disgust and my relief, I scooped the beads and the wire up and put them where they were definitely out of reach. 

The Necklace Remains

  • The Eggs

Have you ever stopped to think about how little we really see sometimes?  Research has shown that, as adults, we reflexively take a kind of mental shortcut once we have catalogued a place or a person, and whenever we see that afterwards we “see” enough to identify the space and then cease to look intensely anymore.  This behavior is quite understandable; by being able to limit the number of things we have to observe closely at any one time, our brains are able to focus on the things we absolutely must.

Still, sometimes, that mental shortcut  can cause us to miss out on interesting sights.  Kayla and I went to the local McDonald’s for breakfast yesterday morning, since I was taking her to school and we were ready to leave the house in plenty of time for us to go, her to be on time at school, and me to begin work by 8.  While we were there, she saw a friend of hers and after she said hello, I had to work to keep Kayla focused on eating her biscuit rather than trying to see what the friend was up to.  After we had been there about twenty minutes, I suddenly noticed shiny, bright Easter Eggs hanging from the ceiling.  Logically, I know they had been there all along, but it was like they just suddenly appeared to me.  Someone went to a lot of trouble to hang them and it really looked festive.  I don’t know what short-circuited my mental filter at just that moment, but I’m glad it did, or I would have missed a colorful sight.  After all, you don’t see Easter Eggs hanging from a ceiling in McDonald’s every day!

Plastic Easter Eggs

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

The Dream versus Reality


I have a dream. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

 In my dream, I have perfectly coiffed hair, stunning make-up, an elegant outfit, a house that shines in every sense of the word – dark wood floors that stay shiny instead of riddled with paw prints, none of those piles of clutter that inexplicably build up in odd nooks and crannies throughout the house – a daughter who has done her homework before I pick her up from day care, and three dogs sedately trotting beside me as I gracefully glide toward the door to greet my husband as he returns from a hard day’s work.  If I need a pen, a pencil, the tape, scissors, paper or any kind of widget at all (I never have figured out what a widget is, but they sure are mentioned a lot!), I can go (gracefully glide) immediately to the spot where the item is located.  As my husband walks in the house, he is greeted by the wafting aroma of a home cooked meal, completely from scratch, using the best recipes I can cull from The Joy of Cooking or The Fannie Farmer Cookbook.  Even though this gourmet meal is being presented, the kitchen itself is spotlessly clean.  I am completely caught up with all my chores at home, and all my projects at work have been finished at least five days before the deadline.  (Those of you from work who read this can pause to roll on the floor laughing for a moment. )

The gap between this dream and reality is very far indeed. 

(Those of you who have come to our house for supper do not see this reality – we make sure the house is picked up before you come over!) 

When my husband usually comes home from work, he is met by three frantic dogs, two of whom are doing their best to jump on him any way they can. 

 Having just finished and filed the brief that was due today at 4:30 right before I headed for the house,  I am now at 6:15 having a discussion (read argument) with Kayla as to why she failed to complete her homework at after school care rather than waiting until we got home.  I also am explaining to her (this concept is relatively new) that just because you didn’t have any worksheets from school doesn’t mean that you have no homework – after all, if the teacher gives you a study sheet and hints that you are having a test on the study sheet on Friday, she intends for you to review the study sheet in the intervening week. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

 The kitchen is not clean, and I am doing my best to piece together a fairly quick supper because a) I failed to plan the meals in advance and b) we just got home and I have about 1 hour and 45 minutes to get Kayla bathed, fed, ready for bed and still give her some modicum of time to spend playing and having some quality time with us.  We usually have laundry lurking somewhere, whether unfolded in a basket or in the form of  ironed pieces hanging on the the mantel (and what ironing was done was done because Mark did it), and the pile of shoes in my bedroom (see,https://workingmomadventures.com/2011/03/03/earth-fare-the-longest-walk-general-von-bissing-and-the-birds/) is anywhere between two and four pairs.  As for perfectly coiffed hair – you can forget it.  I am lucky to have gotten it washed in the morning with enough time to let it air dry, and as a general rule my make-up is never perfect. 

From Print Shop 2.0 Professional

The dogs, if I walk them, with the exception of Tyra, have pulled me out of the door looking rather like a crazed Hittite charioteer without a chariot,  being pulled by dogs, not horses.  I have often wondered if I tried it on roller skates, how fast I could be clocked before I fell and seriously injured myself.    The inside of the refrigerator looks like a no-man’s land, with odds and ends in containers that I can’t remember what they were or when they were cooked. 

An actor rides a Roman-stule horse-drawn chariot in Jerash, Jordan, during a rehearsal for 'The Roman Army and Chariot Experience,' a one-hour show held in honour of Julius Caesar, and part of Jordan's newest tourist attraction(AFP/File/Khalil Mazraawi)

This is the problem with the dream – it makes me feel continually inadequate, and I am doing it to myself!  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have decided that the dream is the way most people live, and if I don’t measure up to that, then I am not worthy.  While I should (and am trying to) do better on keeping the house picked up (understand, Mark does pull more than his fair share here; I am the one that has the organizational/neatness issues), it will never be perfect.  In fact, I wouldn’t want it to be, since for the three dogs to be trotting sedately beside me I would have to have a different trio than the lovable mutts that romp beside me through my day, for me to have a daughter that does her homework perfectly and on time every day, I would have to have a different daughter, and for me to have the floors sans paw marks, I wouldn’t be able to have the dogs.  (Well, actually, I could also have lighter wood, but that wouldn’t look right in the house, either.)  There probably would be a lot less laughter, too.

So, I guess rather than tasking myself with inadequacy, I will change the things I can, accept the things I can’t, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference.  I also will go read the latest book on how to keep things organized, once I find it after threading through the shoes on my bedroom floor and searching in the clutter stack that is growing on its own in the corner…..

If you can relate let me know!  I would love to know that I’m not the only one  out here.

Have a great day everyone!

Nancy

Kayla’s Day Off


Good morning everyone! 

Isn’t it great that we have made it to Friday?  I am so looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow, at least as much as Mandy will let me! 

Kayla, as you may have guessed from my entry “Morning Interrupted,” could not go to school yesterday, but toward the afternoon she was feeling much better and was able to eat, for which I am thankful.  I had a conference call I had to take between 2 and 3, so she suggested that I turn on the WII so she could play games.  We almost got into a fuss then, because she asked me to help her get the right game on the machine, then got mad when I tried to hold the WII control so I could make the right selections.  Since neither one of us relinquishes control gladly (although I do get to pull rank, which usually guarantees a win, although often accompanied by high drama), it was dicey for just a moment, but we slid past the awkward moment.  Right as things were about to get rough, the WII put itself on the right game, in the right place, where she could start playing, and my phone started to ring with the conference call at the same time. 

The WII entertained her for about a half hour, then she decided to follow the dogs around and take their pictures.  She did a good job, too.

Here are some of her photos.  (She told me I could use them for my blog.)  I am not sure, and probably am better off not knowing, what she bribed them with in order to get them to sit still for some of the shots.  I have a suspicion that paper, which is not to be used as a dog treat, was involved.

Close-up of Darwin

Tyra in the Kitchen (Mandy and Darwin are in the background)

All Three Dogs Entering the Kitchen to Investigate the Crinkling Paper

Mandy Lying in State in the Kitchen

Five minutes before the end of the conference call, Kayla re-entered my bedroom to ask me if she could take out the trash.  In whispers I asked why and she told me that she was cleaning so that we could “paint together” when I finished.  I had housework to do when I finished my call, but what is a mother to do when her daughter asks that way?  The upshot is we painted some wooden and plaster-of- paris Christmas ornaments for about 2 hours.  (To work:  I early in the day had realized this day with her was going to have to count as a vacation day.)  Here is what we ended up with:

Our ornaments

She painted all of them except the train engine in the lower right corner, which I did.

This morning, Kayla is awake and well, with that “bounce-back” happy quality kids have once they are better from an illness.  She wanted to skip breakfast, but Mark and I insisted on at least a piece of toast.  When the toast was ready to be buttered, she came to stand by me and the toaster oven, and while she was waiting, she announced:  “Mom, I smell something spicy.”  She paused for a second and then said, “Oh.  I am standing by the spice drawer.”  I allowed as how that would make things smell spicy, and she laughed and said, “The aroma [yes, she really did use the word aroma – pretty good for a third grader!] is coming up here!”  She opened the drawer to make sure, I guess on the theory that if the drawer wasn’t what she was smelling she was going to refuse to eat the toast, but the drawer checked out, so the toast got eaten!

Have a great weekend everyone!  Talk to you Monday.

Nancy

Why did the Chicken Cross the Road? (The 5 year old version) and Wanting a Friend in the Tub


Continuing my trips this week down memory lane, I came across the following incidents memorialized in e-mails.  These incidents were really funny and just the kind of adventure that pops up for a working mom when she least expects it!

Kayla, age 5

  • Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

One day, driving home from work and school when Kayla was 5 (she rode with me for about an hour each way that year to go to a pre-school near where I worked), she and I had the following conversation:

Kayla:   Why did the chicken cross the road?

 Mom ( promptly):            To get to the other side.

Kayla:  No, to go play in the mud.  

Kayla:   Why did the pig cross the road?

Mom:    To go play in the mud?

Kayla:   No, because his mother was calling him.

Kayla:   Why did the turkey cross the road?

Mom:    I don’t know.

Kayla:   Yes, you do.

Mom:    To get to the other side?

Kayla (proud to have gotten another one over on Mom): No, to go play with his friends.

Kayla:   Why did the horse cross the road?

Mom (firmly):     I don’t know.  

Kayla:   To go eat. 

Mom:    That’s nice.

Kayla:   Why did the chicken cross the road?

Mom:    To go play in the mud.

Kayla:   No, to go get dressed……

And so it went! 

  • A Friend in the Bathtub

Woof, around age 13

About a month before that,  due to a mishap in the kitchen one evening, I had to mop the floor, so I popped Kayla into the bathtub to take her bath while I did it.  Kayla was just at the age where she could take a bath without me being in the bathroom with her, but I would leave the door open to be sure I could hear noise from the bathroom. 

I heard her calling Woof (our oldest dog then; our only other dog at that time was Tyra) over and over, but didn’t think anything about it until after a while Kayla called for me to come in – “Mom, you have to see this!”  (Never a good sign!).  Upon entering the bathroom, I discovered a tub containing one (very unhappy) 13 year old dog and one (ecstatic) five year old daughter, who explained to me that she wanted Woof in the tub with her because she “wanted a friend with her while she took her bath.”  I removed the dog from the tub, dried the dog, removed the child from the tub but did not dry her, cleaned the tub, re-ran the water, popped the child back in the tub (with strict instructions that the dog was NOT to be pulled back in again), cleaned up the copious amounts of water on the floor from the dog and child removal (hey, at least I had the mop out already, right:?), and went back into the den (making sure both dogs were with me – this wasn’t a problem, as Woof was walking very near to me, close to a nervous breakdown) and laughed silently until Mark got home and I could tell him.

Have a great day everyone!

The Accidental Haircut, Rain, Bananas and Light Bulbs


  • Mark’s New Look

As mentioned yesterday, Mark also has a new look, quite by accident.  Right before bedtime Sunday night, he decided to trim his hair just a little bit over his ears.  Unfortunately, at the same time, Darwin popped onto the bathroom sink with his paws to see what was going on, and bumped Mark’s elbow just enough to cause the clippers to take a free swipe at about a quarter size spot on the front side of his head, completely shaving off all of the hair on that one spot.  Mark then made the mistake of asking for my help.  In spite of my best efforts (please note that there is a reason God steered me away from a career in cosmetology), by the time I had spent ten minutes on it, it looked like we were headed for a complete hair shave.  The three dogs, who have been shaved with clippers of their own before, all sat in front of the bathroom door looking greatly concerned.  Right before we hit the point where all of the hair on his head would have had to be shaved off, Mark remembered that we had some additional razor guards.  He went and found them, and then was able to blend the hair that was left on the top of his head into the part that was shaved so that he now has what looks like a very close crew cut on the top of the head.  The three dogs finally left their post in front of the bathroom door when the clippers stopped making noise, with a sigh of relief as they realized that the clipping was going to stop with Mark.

  • Rain and Bananas

Rain and bananas are two topics that tend not to go together – unless you have an Australian Shepherd mix named Tyra.  She has two idiosyncracies.  The first is her attitude towards water in general, and rain in particular. 

Tyra does not do water.  Period. Sincerely.  The first day we got Tyra from the humane society, back in 2004, we put her in the spare bathtub to give her a bath, and apparently managed to traumatize her for life.  To this day, she refuses to come into the bathroom if someone is in the bathtub, or within reach of a bathtub full of water.  This general attitude towards water is folded into a more specific attitude toward rain.  Tyra does not like to go outside when it rains – unless a human is willing to put on a raincoat and walk out there with her.  In our old city, I managed to walk her through Hurricane Dennis by doing just that.  I was the only person dumb enough to walk outside at the time, but the dog was desperate, and I was fond of the carpet.  We’re not sure how she does it, but even when we have the dogs outside and an unexpected gully washer comes up, though the other two dogs will be soaked to the skin, Tyra remains bone dry.  We have wondered if she makes the other two sit on top of her or something!

Last night, a front moved through, and right about the time we got home, the bottom fell out, which meant I had to force Tyra out in the rain, which brings us to the other idiosyncracy, bananas.  She moped a little bit all evening, until Mark decided to have a couple of bananas for dessert.  Tyra loves bananas.  You can have her on the other end of the house, with three doors shut between her and the kitchen, and the minute someone picks up a banana, she just knows and begins begging her way to the spot where the bananas are.  She has a little tap dance she does once she knows the bananas are on their way.  So, today, her forced sojourn into the rain this evening was assuaged just a little bit by the banana she got to have.  (Mark gave her one all to herself, since the other two dogs happened to be outside at the time.)  She then sat on the couch for another thirty minutes thumping her tail and looking at Mark in hopes that other bananas would be forthcoming.

  • Light Bulbs

We have very interesting light bulbs in the den of our house.  They are spotlight bulbs, and for whatever reason, they tend to go out at least in pairs, if not in triplets, about every three months.  We finally got tired of it, and bought a large supply of light bulbs that are supposed to last for at least two years.  We replaced the last one today.  (The time before when it went out with two others, Mark was able to tighten it and get it to come back on, while the other two were really dead.)  If any of them go out before 2013, I am going to be very disappointed!