Meat Head

We have a diabetic dog.  His name is Rocky.

He wasn’t always diabetic.  We were gifted with the countless vet bills and monthly insulin expenses about two years after we rescued him.  I figure it was God’s way of combining gratitude and humor for a good deed.

Aside from vet bills that could easily make a human convulse, diabetes has gifted us sleepless nights, dog food changes every five weeks, and incidents where his insulin levels drop and someone screams out,  “MOM, the DOG has LOST HIS MIND’.   My children are eloquent like that.

So in an effort to keep things interesting, my dog decided to lose his mind again last night.

At about 2am, I awoke to a strange noise.  Exhausted, I rolled back over.

A minute later, I awoke to the same strange noise.  This time I reached my arm out into the dark room and fumbled for my phone, hoping to locate the flashlight button.

Three minutes later, I was groggily seated upright, it was still dark, and the noise continued.  For the life of me I could not place the sound.  Was something scratching the window?  Did the dog need to go out?  Was my teenage son up rooting around in the bathroom?  It sounds like tapping….plastic…..

Finally, I found my phone and managed to hit the flashlight.

I shined the light around my bedroom.  Nothing.

I shined my light into the hallway.  Nothing.

I shined my light into the bathroom.  Nothing.

The noise continued.

I finally shined the light in a small room off of my bedroom and sure enough, there was Rocky walking directly into an upside down laundry basket, repeatedly.  Yes, you read that correctly.

Now, I should share that this rescued diabetic dog has a special inclination for sleeping in laundry baskets with dirty clothes, clean clothes – it doesn’t really matter as to to the state of the clothes, he’ll sleep in them.  So my first reaction was actually laughter.  I called out “Rocky, what are you doing?  Come lay down in your bed.  I’m tired.”

By this point my husband has made his way over to the dog and we’re simultaneously coming to the realization that the dog has no idea where he is.  He is literally head butting the side of a laundry basket, classifying this as “MOM, the DOG has LOST HIS MIND” moment.

We quickly shuffled him downstairs, busted out some dog food, got him to eat and twenty minutes later he was back up in bed, this time head butting my leg.  But that was only so I would move over, apparently I was cramping his style.

As the dog drifted back to sleep, I laid there with my eyes wide open, the laundry basket reminding me of the endless loads of laundry waiting for me once I got out of bed for the SECOND time today.

Message received dog.

Tomorrow we’ll play a game of “Dad, MOM has LOST HER MIND”, where I head butt your water bowl.  It’s guaranteed to be just as fun.

Small Ears, Big Sounds

My 10yr old son plays the trumpet.

He’s good.  That’s what I tell him anyway. 

I’ve never played the trumpet.  So every couple of weeks I ask him to take out his trumpet, play me some “new notes” he’s learned.  On occasion, I ask for an entire song.  Both tend to sound the same.

Tonight as he busted out his trumpet for a home stage show, his three sisters crowded around him in awe of his shiny instrument. 

As he positioned his music sheets, his 8yr old sister asked him if he could play a different instrument next year.

“Why?”, he asked.

“So I can take your trumpet, just like I take your old shin guards.”

He rolled his eyes as he puckered up for his first round of notes. 

The sound that came out of his trumpet next resembled something like that of a dying whale. Everyone’s hands bolted to their ears to cover them in pain.  Everyone, with the exception of his 3yr old sister, who stared up with eyes brimming with total admiration. 

“That was terrible”, my son said in a huff.

“What song was that?”, his 6yr old sister asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t think it was a song”, chimed in their 8yr old sister.

His 3yr old sister stared at him for a few seconds, slowly gathered the brightest smile across her face, leaned over so that she was inches from his face and SCREAMED, “THAT WAS THE MOST BOOTIFUL MUSIC EVA!”

My 10yr old, who was already shoving his trumpet back in the case, got up and walked across the room……..with a growing smile of pride making its way to his cheeks. 

Sometimes little ones can appreciate the music, even when the rest of us can’t yet hear it. 

Never Ending Story

“What book are you reading?”, my 7yr old daughter asked.

“A book.”, I half answered as I continued to read. 

“Are you almost done with it?”, she continued.

“No.”

“Did you just start it?”, she quizzed louder.

“Yes”, I answered as I lifted my head to meet her eyes with mine.

“What page are you on?”, she asked as she continued the line of questioning.

“42.”

“How many pages does that book have?”, she asked with a smile.

“I’m not sure.”

“It looks like it has a million pages.”, she said giggling.

“Yeah, there’s a lot”, I admitted. The interview was getting a bit much.

“You’ll just have to find out when you get to the end of the book, huh?  I wonder what the story is about.  I wonder how it will end.”

I slowly picked up my bookmark and gently placed it in the crease of page 42 and 43, aware of the fact that I wouldn’t be reading it anytime soon.

As I placed the book gently on the counter and turned to face her so she would have my full attention, which I assumed was the motive of her interview to begin with, she looked at me with disapproval and said, “You’re never going to finish that book if you can’t get past page 42.”

“I’m well aware.”, I said dryly. 

Believe me, I’m well aware.

 

When She Grows Up

My 6yr old daughter wants to be a teacher when she grows up.

When I asked her why she wanted to be a teacher, she told me “because my teacher is the AWESOMEist teacher ever and I want to be AWESOME when I grow up.”

You’ll be happy to know that when she’s a teacher she’s going to “teach them stuff and learn them stuff”.  Let’s hope she works her way through grammar before then.

When I asked her to come up with an agenda for her first day of school, this is what I got back:

1.  Let them unpack their stuff

2.  Handwriting and say a prayer

3.  Call them by tables and send them over to the carpet

4.  Calendar

5.  Let them go back to their tables and have them get them out the Math books

6.  Let them have a break to go to the bathroom…..”because I’m not cleaning up pee”

7.  Let them get their snack

8.  If it’s Friday, they can get their Show & Tell, any other day they get their Reading folder

By the time I heard number eight, I told her that I thought HER agenda sounded an awful lot like her day in Kindergarten right now.  You know, the one with the AWESOMEist teacher.

Her response?

“Mom, I don’t plan on re-inventing the wheel.  It’s Kindergarten.”

Homework Hyena

I hate 4th grade homework.

Somehow, even though it’s not my homework, it still feels like it when I’m up rattling off trivia questions about photosynthesis at 9:30pm. 

Don’t worry.  The teacher gave a hint.  Just remember that “photo” means light and “synthesis” means putting together.  Gee, thanks teach.  I’m pretty sure that same secret hint is listed on page 45.

There’s a test on Friday.  So tonight, just like last night, I walked through vocabulary words and pictures throughout Chapter 3 of a 4th Grade Science Book with my 9yr old son.

As we got to the page on photosynthesis……….remember the HINT……..my son started laughing uncontrollably and told me to turn the page.

I kept reading through the vocabulary words, unaffected by the gigling…….until I was finally forced to ask, “Ok, what’s so funny?”.

“See that circled picture on the left?”.

“Yes.”, I answered.

“The kids in my class think it looks like a buttcrack.”, he barely got out before doubling over in laughter.

book page

I spent the next five-minute attempting to ask questions about plant stems, only to be interrupted by his hyena-like laughter.

I’ve got a HINT:  When you reach the point of no return, turn out the lights.

Precious Tears

“Mom, do I have water eyes?”, my 6yr old daughter asked as she rounded the corner.

“No.  Why?  Did you hurt yourself?  Were you crying?”, I asked as I crouched down to her level.

“No, I didn’t hurt myself.”  She rubbed her eyes a little bit and smiled.

“Oh, ok, then why did you ask me about your eyes?”, I prodded.

“I was just looking outside and the trees were so beautiful that I was crying a little bit.”

I smiled and turned before she could see my “water eyes”.

 

The Butt Song

We watched a typical kid movie over the weekend.  It had the usual animation, goofy characters, funny lines, and catchy tunes……only this time, the tune was a little too catchy.

“I like big butts…..”, my 5yr old daughter sang as she danced down the hallway.

“Don’t sing that song”, I said.

“Why?”, she asked.  Nevermind the song was “innocently” playing in the background of one of the dance scenes from the kid movie where fish danced to choreography.  Thank you Sir Mix-a-Lot.

“People don’t want to hear you singing about butts”, I said matter-of-fact.

My daughter then made her way up to her room.  As she hit the midway point on the staircase, I heard, “I like big butts…..” in a sing-song voice and I saw her rump shaking to the groove.

As I followed her up the stairs with a laundry basket, I calmly reminded her, “Please don’t sing that song.”

When we made our way to the top of the stairs, she walked into her room and I walked into mine.

“I like big butts……”, came wafting through the air across the hallway.

“I SAID DON’T SING THAT SONG!”, I said with a raised voice as I made my way towards her room.

As I stood in the doorway of her room, I watched as she walked over to her closet and stepped inside.

“I like big butts…….”, came bebopping from behind the door.

“I told you not to sing that song anymore.  I can hear you loud and clear, I’m standing right here.”, I said with genuine disbelief.

She poked her head out of the closet and looked at me for the first time throughout my one line lectures and with serious eyes asked, “Where do you suppose you wouldn’t hear me?”

Triple Take

“Mom, I have some people I want you to meet”, my 5yr old daughter called out from her room.

I walked into her room and saw that she was crouched up on her bed, carefully arranging things on her headboard shelf.

“Over here.  Come over here.”, she summoned me.

I sat down on her bed, as she pointed to the shelf just above her pillow.  Sitting in a line were two clam shells and a rock with faces drawn on them in red marker.

I smiled.

“Mom, I’d like you meet Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.”, she said proudly.

I took a moment to take in the adorable little details drawn on each of the miniature pieces…………… and then put on my game face.

“Wow, I’ve never met chipmunks before.  This is so exciting!”, I said dramatically.  “It’s so nice to meet you boys!”

My daughter looked up at me with complete disdain and said, “Mom, you know you’re talking to a rock and two clams, right?”

Pillow Talk

My 7yr old daughter and 5yr old daughter are either the best of friends or arch enemies, depending on the hour.  Over the past 48hours they have managed to get along, continuously.

Because of their record breaking love fest, they decided that they were going to have a sleepover in my 5yr old daughter’s room.  They talked through every single detail, down to which pillow they would place where, and what each of them should do in the event that one of them “smooshed” the other in the middle of the night.

“I’ll just push you off the bed and you can sleep on the floor.”, my 5yr old daughter said.

I think she was serious.

By the time bedtime rolled around, they were so giddy about their nighttime arrangement, that I could barely get enough soap on them in the bath tub before they wanted to jump out and dry off.  When they were “clean enough”, they raced to the twin bed they planned to share for the night and spent ten minutes arranging pillows and stuffed animals.

I brought them matching water cups, picked out two books and set up shop at the end of the bed.

As they sipped their water, I read the title of the first book, “The Pink Pup”.

“CAN I READ IT?  HOW ABOUT I READ IT?  CAN I READ IT MOM?”, shouted my 7yr old daughter.

Her 5yr old sister rolled her eyes, gently tried to push her back on her assigned pillow and said, “Just let mom read it.  Lay down.  Just listen.”

I turned the page and had not gotten through the first sentence when again, “CAN I READ THIS PAGE?  HOW ABOUT EVERY OTHER WORD?  WHAT IF I JUST READ THE BOOK AND YOU LISTEN?  I CAN MOVE DOWN THERE IF IT’S EASIER”, she said, her voice in stereo surround sound.

Again her sister rolled her eyes, added a small huff, and said, “Just let moooooooooooooom read it.  Let her read the story.  It’s bedtime.”

I could tell my 5yr old was ready for bed and the thought of sitting next to her rambunctious sister for another ten minutes, let alone an entire night, was starting to become a scary reality to her and it was showing in her tired green eyes.

I finally convinced them both to lay back and managed to get through the first book, then the second.

We said our prayers, sang some songs, and then I tucked them into bed and moved on to their brother’s room to walk through a similar routine.

I was about halfway through reading a book with my son, when I noticed a shadow in the hallway.  Without even looking up, I knew it was my 5yr old.  She didn’t say a word, she just patiently waited until I was done reading and then slowly walked up to the side of the bed and whispered, “Mom, I don’t want her in my room anymore”.  I smiled in the dark.

“Tell her to move over to the other bed”, I responded.  There were two twin beds in the room they were in.  The other one SHOULD have been occupied by their 3yr old sister, but she was too busy pulling her typical Las Vegas nighttime routine while playing with her baby dolls downstairs next to my husband.

My 5yr old daughter dashed out of the room and returned ten seconds later and said, “She won’t move.”

I got up, walked into the sleepover headquarters and before I could say a word, Miss Motor Mouth looked up at me and said with genuine surprise in her voice, “She said I have to move over to THAT bed?!”, as she pointed across the room.  I nodded my head and confirmed she had to move over, telling her that her sister slept better on her own.

The slighted sister pouted a bit before actually moving, which had me offering up the choice to go back to her own room.  My 5yr old daughter grinned from ear to ear upon hearing that option.

When I finally got her over to the second bed, she started barking out demands to move the pillows and stuffed animals she had brought into the room……..dramatically pointing to one directly underneath her sister’s head.

As my 5yr old lifted her head and tossed the stuffed dog to her older sister, she pulled up the covers, turned in my direction and with adult sarcasm said, “This sleepover just keeps getting better and better.”

Heaven On Earth

We passed this street the other night.

With all the trees in bloom with gorgeous white flowers, I stopped to stare AND take a picture.

My 9yr old son stared in awe beside me and in a soft voice said, “It looks like heaven.”