Showing posts from August, 2007

More "Things I Said I'd Never Do"

My list of "oh, I'd never do that" edicts is growing ever shorter, mostly because I've now done (or am planning to do) just about everything on it. Everything except stuff like "shooting heroin" and "wearing a thong" - those items are still safe. I bought a mini-van, so I had to take that one off. This item used to be on the list: "I would never use a harness on my child." Technically it is still on the list but is slated to come off by the end of the year, I suspect. And here's why: I've got a runner on my hands. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I used to look at "those" parents and think, geez, can't they control their child without putting him on a leash? A's latest thing is breaking away from me on walks and running up to strangers' houses. I think she knows that I find it embarrassing to pull her off the doorstep of some oogy neighbor's house, while the oogy neighbor watches the whole scene through th

The Syrup Incident (with a vent about adoption)

We now have a syrup incident to go along with the rotini incident. Last night I had to run to the store to buy dog food and diapers (because the people in our home who need these items refuse to go and get them for themselves). When I got home the first thing I heard was, "You won't believe what your kid just did." DH swears he left the kid unattended for mere seconds (which was later amended to, "Okay, maybe three or five minutes.") As he rounded the corner into the kitchen to see what all the silence was about, he found her standing in front of the pantry. She had the pancake syrup in her hand, lid off, completely inverted. She was drinking it. She had also poured copious amounts into the dogs' water bowl (because, hey, it would be great fun if EVERYONE got a sugar buzz before bedtime). Her father had made some kind of effort to clean everything up so I mopped and then started Shout maneuvers on the shirt she had been wearing. He then gave her a b

The Rotini Incident

LESSON FOR THE DAY When you pour an entire box of rainbow rotini on the floor and then stomp all over the dry pasta . . . You get a ticket straight to Timeoutville . . .

Single Parenting Kinda Blows

Today is the fourth day of "mommy and me" togetherness while P is in Vegas. I am gaining a whole new respect for single parents. Ever since A was born, the division of labor has remained much the same: I keep her alive from day to day and he . . . plays with her. Keeping her occupied, however, is no small feat and I don't want to downplay his contribution at all. I mean, there's something to be said for his ability to sit on his ass and make block towers with the kid while I do 14,000 loads of laundry and mop the floor - at the same time. Last night I decided to take her to Red Robin for dinner. Tragically, the host sat a couple who appeared to be on a date right next to us. After spending 40 minutes sitting so close to my kid I predict that they either a) broke up in the parking lot or b) agreed to stay together but vowed never to reproduce. A was in rare form. She started out okay but it was all downhill from there (or maybe uphill is a better description?). She thr

She's talking and she can't shut up

My other half is leaving for Vegas tomorrow morning so it'll be just me and the kid for 5 days. I normally do all the day-to-day care stuff, so that's fine. But just keeping her occupied by myself for that long is going to be challenging. For starters, the kid talks too much. I saw this t-shirt and seriously considered getting it for A: The kid literally does not take a breath. She talks from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. (we put her to bed at 8 but she talks to herself for another hour after that). The other day I took her to the doctor's office after I became concerned about a possible urinary tract infection. Our regular doctor wasn't available so we saw a Nurse Practitioner, who had never met my daughter. After a few minutes the NP looked down at A's file and said, "Did she really just turn 2 in May?" I confirmed that indeed, the kid is only 2. I know this makes me sound like a braggy mom but the NP was blown away by A's vocabulary and articulation. T

It *IS* Friday, right?

He who has no sense Here is the kind of week I had: We decided to test Gideon, our Boxer, to see if he could be trusted out of his crate. We put up a baby gate to restrict his access. First day, fine. Second day, not so fine. I came home to see the custom blinds in my front window totally destroyed. I'm not even sure a grown man could bend them to that extent. The little moron starts more obedience classes next week. Oh, did I forget to add that he beheaded an Elmo toy while he was on his little rampage? The kid asked me "why" for the first time. I think you'll agree that this is the beginning of the end (of my sanity). Up until now she has been content simply to disobey all orders and requests ("Would you please pick up your toys?" "No, Mama.") And now she needs to call into question their very merit by asking why? Oy . My big black dog, Karl, is blowing his coat. I don't know what kind of dog he is, but he's double-coated. Double-coated b

Kall Me Klaudia

I just called the local YMCA a few minutes ago to sign the short one up for a "Tumble Bugs" class starting in September (yes, I know she didn't master a single skill in the last class, but at least she has fun when she wastes our money). I gave the nice lady my name. And then the nice lady on the phone asked me, "Is that Claudia with a K or a C?" What the? The thing is, this is not the first time I have been asked this. The lady told me that her granddaughter is named Klaudia . It's an abomination, I tell you. My name has been passed down in my family for several generations (from a great-grandfather named Claude to my grandmother to me). It's a classic Latin name. To spell it with a K is to spark the downfall of civilization. If you've never visited the classic site "Baby's Named a Bad Bad Thing (a Primer on Parent Cruelty)," you gotta check it out: There is nothing I can say about the recent t

All Faired Out

The State Fair was a lot of fun. This was her third time going to the fair. The first year she couldn't walk, which rocked. Last year she could walk, but just barely. This year she was a woman on a mission. It turned out that I was wrong about the rides - she missed the height requirement by a full four inches. She was able to ride the carousel with me holding onto her and that was about it. There were plenty of other activities going on, though. She saw some animals, made a mask, rode a pig slide (that one's a little hard to explain but basically you crawl inside the pig and then slide out its butt - but hey, the money went to a local food pantry so it's all good, right?), and ate all kinds of junk. She really enjoyed seeing the horses in the horse building. I always feel very conflicted about looking at the animals at the fair. I didn't mind looking at the Alpacas because I know they are prized for their coat and then I can pretend that maybe they are treated decently

Bittersweet Summer

Last summer This summer My baby girl can do so many things now that she couldn't do last summer. She didn't learn to walk until mid-July of last year and was wobbly for quite a while after that. This year she dances, she runs (surprisingly fast), and she sings. She does less cute things, too, like announcing bodily functions and throwing her food on the floor. Yesterday she told me she had cheese in her heinie and I just tried not to think about it too much. Last night A and I went downtown to the farmers' market. We got some kettle corn and listened to a local band. This summer I think the two of us have eaten enough kettle corn to choke a horse. She danced on the sidewalk, waving at passersby. She dances like a typical two-year-old, bending at the knees and swinging her arms, curls bouncing all around. I love to watch her dance. I smile, but I also think, "This is the only time she'll ever be two." Of course, that sounds like a stupid thing to say. But, I kn

It's got blue on it

I actually had this conversation with my daughter yesterday, as I was changing her diaper. Me: Your vagina is a little bit red - I think I'll put something on it. Her: It's got red on it? Me: Yes, I think it's just a little bit irritated. I'll put some stuff on it, okay? Her: No, it's got blue on it. Me: No, it's got red on it, like an owie. Her: NO, MY GYNA GOT BLUE ON IT! Me: Sweetie, it's not blue. Her: GOT BLUE ON IT! So there you have it, my daughter's vagina is blue. Last week she said it had green on it. I cringe when I think about what my kid, with her technicolor vagina, must be saying at daycare . . .

Give me the oldest, most decrepit dog you have . . .

After my crabby post about people who dump their dogs, I wanted to write a blog entry about people who adopt special needs dogs. Sometimes being a rescue volunteer can be really disheartening. It's constantly one step forward, two steps back. But, I also get to meet some very cool people along the way. I have to admit that I don't really believe in angels, per se . You'll never hear me use the word. I also don't use the word "babies" to refer to my dogs (because they are, after all, dogs and not children). But that's another topic altogether. Back to the angels . . . I guess what it boils down to is that I don't believe that an "angel" (as in a winged ethereal-type person) saves one person from a freak accident while a child is left to die of cancer. It just doesn't seem right to me. So, I don't know what to call the people who adopt the dogs that are old, sick, broken, or some combination thereof, but they definitely deserve some ki

Dog Myths: The Home in the Country and Other Fantasies

This world is no utopia for dogs. As abhorrent as the Michael Vick case is, I'm glad that at least the general public can finally see what is being done to dogs behind closed doors. Of course, most dogs aren't met with such a horrific fate. A certain portion live in luxury and receive training, good food, and regular veterinary care. Some live out their lives as "just dogs" and receive mediocre care at best. And some are cared for just fine until some circumstance in their home changes (moving, new baby, etc.) What's stuck in my craw today is this particular dog myth: dogs need a home in the country where they can run. Do you know what happens to a lot of dogs "in the country?" They get hit by cars. They may live on a one-lane road where only three cars pass by each day, but those cars will be doing about 75. I volunteer for Boxer Rescue. Three of our dogs have been hit and killed by cars after placement. All three deaths occurred in rural envi