Greta's Body

I hope you can click on this picture to enlarge it. You have to be able to read everything that she did. It was just so cute, and such a surprise to see it in her school hallway. Greta is one of the youngest kids in her class, but is keeping up so well. She exceeds many of the 5 year olds in her daily work and probably has a better work ethic than I do! (She gets that from her dad. :))

And yes, the fins and the tail were because she was making herself a mermaid. I don't know how that came to be, since she certainly didn't trace herself, so I don't know if those were mistakes and that's what she made them out to be or what. Bottom line is, she knew exactly what they were and was determined that she made herself a mermaid. I'll give her one for thinking outside the box, but I can only imagine what was going through other people's minds when they looked at it in the hallway....

It's Not Like the Good Ole' Days

I...love...birthdays. To me, they should be the number one holiday for each person and made much more important and significant than they are now. I mean, we are celebrating LIFE. It's not about age as much as LIFE. To celebrate the fact that, each person is indeed here! I used to love my birthday. I just had a birthday, on Sunday. I used to have a "Birthday Month" (and thank you to my dear friend who tries to keep that idea going for me. I appreciate it so much). I used to count down the days until my birthday, usually starting around my sister's birthday almost exactly six months previous. But no, now I'm lucky to get a birthday hour. Darn kids, they take the fun out of everything.

But it was a good weekend. We trekked to the mall to do a little shopping on Saturday, and the girls were well-behaved and patient. We ate lunch at California Pizza Kitchen (which has undoubtedly the world's most heavenly split pea and barley soup I have ever eaten in all of my life) where we dined on their scrumptious bread and barbecue chicken pizza. On my actual birthday, on Sunday, we decided it would be better to go to our favorite Inn for their brunch than gobble down dinner at a nice restaurant at vacuum speed with the girls. We were not disappointed! Brunch was phenomenal, and I should now be part omelet with the size of the one I ate.

I was hoping to snap a couple of good pictures of us all dressed up and what not, but it was not to be. I'll show you what we do have, but I'm so bummed out that they just didn't turn out right. Not to mention, I'm sporting a heinous haircut, and I'm giving this lady one more chance to fix it. No one knows how to cut curly hair down here, unless you're a 75 year old woman in which case, it doesn't matter. It's very depressing. And, just when I thought I had my camera under control, I don't. And the point and shoot wonderful pocketsized one is...well, I think it's not recovering like I thought after it's time in a bag when it looked thirsty enough for someone to offer it a drink from their sippy cup.

Here's the latest list from the Tylenol website of their recalls. Luckily our Tylenol bottle is safe.

Lot #	Product Description
SBM041, SBM067, SCM037, SDM027, SEM109	Children's Tylenol Plus Cold MS Suspension 4 oz. Grape
SBM042, SCM015, SCM036, SDM034	Children's Tylenol Suspension 4oz. Grape
SBM043, SBM044, SCM029	Children's Tylenol Suspension 4oz. Bubble Gum
SBM045, SCM011, SCM030, SDM035	Children's Tylenol Suspension 4oz. Strawberry
SBM064, SCM033, SDM020	Infant’s Tylenol Grape Suspension Drops 1/4oz.
SBM065, SCM005, SCM006, SDM032	Infant's Tylenol Suspension 1/2oz. Cherry
SBM066, SCM068	Children's Dye Free Suspension 4oz. Cherry
SBM068, SCM035, SCM070, SCM080, SDM005	Children's Tylenol Suspension 4oz. Cherry
SBM069, SBM070, SCM081, SDM006	Children's Tylenol Plus Cough & Runny Nose 4oz. Cherry
SCM012, SCM067, SDM007, SDM068	Infant's Tylenol Suspension Drops 1/2oz. Grape
SCM013, SCM014, SCM069	Children's Tylenol Plus Flu 4oz. Bubble Gum
SCM016, SFM024	Children's Tylenol Plus Cold Suspension 4oz. Grape
SCM017	Children's Tylenol Plus Cough/ST Suspension 4oz. Cherry
SCM082, SDM039, SDM040	Infant's Tylenol Suspension Drops 1oz. Grape
SCM083, SCM084, SDM008	Infant's Tylenol Dye Free Suspension 1oz. Cherry
SDM064	Children’s Tylenol Pediatric Suspension 1oz. Cherry
SDM038, SDM009	Infant's Tylenol Suspension Drops 1oz. Cherry
SDM033	Children's Tylenol Plus Cold/Allergy 4oz. Bubble Gum
SDM078	Infant's Tylenol Drops 1oz. Grape
SCM034	Infant’s Tylenol Grape Suspension Drops H/G 1/2oz.
SDM028	Children's Tylenol Suspension 4oz. Cherry, Hospital Govt.

Ahhh..the Week's end

I am sitting here absolutely engulfed in the wonderful orchestral arrangement nature is producing by way of a very drenching rain. It is heavenly. I long for cooler temperatures, and just to see some clouds. Call me crazy, but frankly sunshine gets annoying after a while. It's just always...the same. We are supposed to get some cool weather up and down the next 10 days, varying from the low-mid 70's, then in the 80s here or there. I long to pull out that cool weather wardrobe. Did you know, that people down here think it's odd to have a Fall/Winter and a Spring/Summer wardrobe? Granted, I have worn shorts on occasion in January, so they don't get put away very far, but oh to throw on a pair of jeans and not be overheating in them!

I was just taking a break from actually doing some projects around the house to troll for Christmas gift ideas. I think I actually have some good ones (for the girls) this year! Family, be ready. I'll let you know soon. I actually have a few ideas of what to get some people myself. I would prefer to have all of my shopping done by Thanksgiving, if not much sooner. I like to enjoy the holidays without the looming thought of spending money in the back of my mind. But, the thrifster in my gets ticked when something I bought in October is now on mega-sale because of the holiday season. So then, I usually post pone the shopping, and then keep waiting for better sales, and get frustrated because I have no time and am rushing at the last minute. Maybe I'll do things differently this year....

In the meantime, here's a flashback photo from this same weekend last year.

Poor Clara. With that wild hair and countless chins and the cheeks a chipmunk would find very useful, her baby pictures are more funny looking than "aww...". I hope she'll forgive me, I did try.

Arghhhh....

By the way, I inadvertently neglected to acknowledge that, last Saturday, was International Talk Like A Pirate Day. INTERNATIONAL people. The whole world quite possibly celebrates this day.

How does "argh" translate into other languages?

At some point we really have to start celebrating some of these holidays before, instead of after.

And so... I bring to you a site, which just couldn't wait for the Site of the Week, it must be brought up now:

http://postlikeapirate.com/translator.php

You just type in your text, and BOOM -- it will transform your peon verbage into

technical pirateness. I was going to provide an example for you, but this is just

really something you're going to have to experience for yourself. Please.

Promoting Pachyderm Awareness...one day at a time.

Shut UP! Yesterday was Elephant Appreciation Day and not ONE person let me know. No one called to wish me greetings for the day, no one made cupcakes, I didn't hear any champagne corks pop.. Come on now people! This was a day to celebrate the largest mammal that walks the earth, to acknowledge its dwindling numbers, to celebrate the strong matriarchal ties that bind the elephant families together. Elephants wouldn't forget, why should we? What's worse, I bet you weren't even aware. Hence, the need for an awareness day. And so, I implore you to take a moment out of your busy schedule...close your eyes for a few seconds, and give a brief nod to the elephant.

......

Good! Now next year I would at least like an e-card!

With that being said, does anyone watch Hell's Kitchen? Chris and I are now addicted to that show. (I love how I get 'addicted' to shows the last few weeks of their season, that is so frustrating.) I'm not one for reality shows, although Dancing With the Stars will hold my attention, I enjoy Dirty Jobs and Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel, other than that I usually try to occupy my time trolling through my favorite blogs or something.

But last night was 2 full hours of Chef Gordon Ramsey telling his peon chef contestants to "piss off" or worse. Chris and I spent that two hours just cracking up, as we usually do, and then wondering how on earth does he get away with that? If he speaks that way to people who work for him in real life, or even at half that intensity, how is it that someone has not filed charges? I mean, parents tell me their child doesn't like to ask me questions because I always answer them with another question instead of giving them the answer. OH, PARDON ME FOR TRYING TO TEACH YOUR CHILD. Yet, Chef Ramsey has called people "fat cows", "pigs", "dumbo" and a whole slew of other things and yet has the respect of the culinary world at his fingertips. I am in awe. I don't necessarily condone his rantings, after all that is what makes this show so interesting. I could care less about the cooking on it. I am just amazed that he gets in people's faces, these people who emanate him and are vying for a job in one of his restaurants, and they come back for more. How I would love to have the power to just get in someone's face and tell them to "piss off" every now and then. You know those days...I mena, imagine how great that would feel....

Until then, I suppose I'll just live my desire for outward bursts of anger vicariously through this show. I highly recommend it.

Don't ask

Because I have yet to go out and do so much as a brisk walk let alone any real practicing for this stupid race. I am taking the loser way out, and might not do it. I tried on Sunday, but then got about 20 feet and wondered what the heck the point was. I still haven't found that mental motivation? Why do people run? I guess I need a bear to chase me or something, because frankly, I don't get it. I'm hoping putting together some kind of upbeat mix on my ipod might do something for my motivation. Otherwise...dump it. We are officially on our fall break from school right now, as of today. I have to go back Tuesday, Oct. 6 and the kids go back the next day. I gave myself until then to determine whether I was going to do the run or not. On the assumption that I could have some practice time over break. If you haven't guessed yet, the dirty dishes in the sink, the piles of laundry to be put away, and I won't even go into what else needs to be steam cleaned now, will all take precedence. And I think I have a $20 gift card to TJ Maxx that might need some attention...do you think a running outfit would inspire me?

Let me give you some advice

A few years ago a friend of mine asked my opinion: should she and her family get a dog. She has 3 kids, we have the oldest in 5th grade right now, and her youngest is Greta's age. The oldest has wanted a dog for as long as she can remember. They are a busy family, because all of their large extended family lives about 30 minutes away from them and they see them almost everyday. I had no trouble telling her "NO!" do not get a dog. I love my dogs. They were our fur babies before the real ones came to us. I suppose they still are our fur babies, but just the neglected ones. We give them food, and walks, and try to remember to give them their scratches and rubs and hugs, but there are some days where if I have to snuggle, rub, kiss or hold one more living thing I might just explode. But that's just one part of dogs. There's no need to describe the happiness and fulfillment dogs can bring a life. Their unconditional love can clear up the most saddest of days, the liquid eyes can change a soul for ever if you let them. But then...

Dogs are also work. When I go for a walk by myself -- oh wait, that doesn't happen -- I don't carry around a Walmart bag specifically for the use of carrying something else's poop around.

Dogs do require attention - getting home late or being gone for long stretches requires an act of Congress to coordinate who is able to let the dogs outside before their bladder gives up and my couch is being mistaken for the nearest fire hydrant.

Dogs have to go to the doctor too. They require a lot of health maintenance. And they can't do chores to help out around the house to justify their cost. (I know, the wagging tail, the loving eyes, it's all supposed to make up for it. Read on please.)

Dogs get old, and you find yourself trying to anticipate their death, hoping you can just find them in the final sleep curled up in their favorite sleeping spot, in that eternal slumber, and that no bodily fluids are involved. And then you snap back to reality and remember that's not how it's going to happen.

Dogs get fleas. Your house gets fleas. And you find yourself spending the day feeling very much like a caveman, or a chimpanzee in the zoo as you pick flea after flea off of your dog...or your spouse...or your kids...or your floor. Because, once you get flea medicine that works on your dog (and cat...don't forget the cat) who are the fleas going to bite? Oh yes...you.

And then, when the thoughts or mortality, the bags of poop, the scratches, the kisses, the walks, the fleas...oh those fleas...when all of that begins to subside, or you just start to realize that is the new reality...those dogs take it to the next level.

Why?

And no one answers you. They go into dramatic doggy move, pretending they are so sorry, begging your forgiveness.... And of course, you do...but it takes a few hours.

And you find yourself thinking about their mortality again, but in a whole different way.

* There is no way I am making this picture any larger, so don't ask. You get the idea. Notice the cat sitting there looking at it all. As if wanting to say "okay, I'll help, gimme some gloves. No, no, just kidding. I'm a cat after all."

Ah the Weekend

Happy Sunday!

Losing the Mental Game

If someone invented something called Jello-Stix, I am assuming they would be the All-American dessert of Jello in some kind of stick like form. And I would also continue to assume, that this person must certainly be a runner, because they most certainly must have formed this idea after their very first run.

Yesterday we took the dogs for a walk. Since walking George is like dragging a bag of sand as he begins to display the crickety ricketyness of all of his 14 years, our dog walks are in no way a disply of physical endurance of any kind. Mental endurance, yes, as we plead with Greta to keep walking as she whines about when are we going to be home (we're not at the end of our street yet); as we play yet one more game of "I Spy", as we pick up the blankie Clara drops for the 6th time....

SOOOoo...we are watching a neighbor's house for the week, and she has a jogging stroller she is going to let us use while she is gone. We have one already, but now we can put each girl in one. So the premise is, training was to begin. After about a 7 minute brisk walk, Chris announced it was time to run.

I ran. I did. I ran. I stopped. 2 1/2 minutes in (I'm embarrassed to even admit that) I stopped. I was ready to quit, I was so mad at myself, and was ashamed. Ever the amazing husband to which I am going to post about later, he cheered me on. And a little while later, I ran some more. There was lots of starting and stopping. And whining (me this time). But, I have to admit, after nearly an hour of this exercise, and probably about a total of 15 minutes of running, I survived. I had some odd tingling sensations in teh beginning, coughed and sputtered with some mild asthma, but a lot of that seemed to dissipate. Towards the end, during a running part, I even managed a brief sprint as my competitive edge burst through me against Chris. We were going down a hill, so I had to cut it short as I was probably seconds away from pounding the pavement with my face, and sending Clara into the woods with her stroller.

My butt was cramping, my calves were burning, my hips were tired, and I thought for sure I'd be walking funny today. Upon walking the two steps from the garage into my house, my legs were indeed like Jello-sticks. Like walking on a pile of snow that you think is going to hold you up, but instead you plop right into it. And today, I am no worse for the wear. I am not actually sore, I just feel like I exercised.

And I feel proud.

I run Therefore...I'm Stupid.

I am not a runner.

Not physically, spiritually, or metaphorically. Well, I do "run" to the store. I "run" errands, but that is the extent of it. I have never enjoyed -- or seen the purpose in -- running for the sake of running/exercise/enjoyment or whatever other reason people have to do so. Running is for escape, or defense, or to get to something first (not a finish line, I'm thinking of running to get a head of that group of 8 piling out of the car in the restaurant parking lot).

Now, I can sprint, don't get me wrong. I can sprint fast. I pride myself on my many Elementary and Middle School Field Day ribbons in the 50 and 100 Yard dash. Look out, I'll smoke ya'.

However.

In the real world, people run. And they like it! Chris runs. He seems to marginally like it. I've tried. Years ago, before children were even a blip on the screen, I tried to run with Chris. I thought, huh, wouldn't this be something nice -- and healthy for us -- that we could do together. (Of course, I can also give you a million other exercises that trump running and are probably billed as better for you, just so I have back up when faced with a person who credits running as their health plan.) No dice. It didn't work. I couldn't even do a mile. Actually, once, I did a slow jog. I actually and honestly jogged 2.2 miles around on a trail. I was so proud of myself! But I never did it again. Walking I can do, fast too. I can probably walk as fast as a lot of people jog. But it's not running.

So, fast forward to the now. And, I've decided that I am going to run a 5K. That's 5 Kilometers, better known as 3.1 miles. In November. Last year, Chris trained and ran a half marathon. He had a physical exam not too long afterwards, and had rave reviews from his doctor. We had a great time watching him, and cheering him on. And now it's about time for the weather to finally turn a little cooler, and he will be able to start training again. And crazy me, thinking that maybe my body will change into some super woman, has decided that I will try the 5K.

I don't know why I think I can do this. I need to find the will to push myself I suppose. Challenge myself. You see, the skin above my knees seems to think it is related more to an elephant than an under 40, thin, healthy person. It is trying to run away from me. I am pretty sure I am the only one to notice this, and if you see me on the street somewhere, feel free to look and tell me what you think. But I feel it is the beginning of the end. For drama's sake of course. So last night, during Greta's dance class, Chris and I brought Clara's jogging stroller (see, running even has a hold on the materialistic industry of baby gear!) and went for a very brisk walk. It is a nice neighborhood, scenic for walking, and a little hilly. It was pushing me to the max, seeing as my allergies are full blown and my asthma has me toughening my abs with each cough. Not making excuses though...really I'm not. So we walked. And near the end, Chris said why don't we try running the last little bit. By little bit, we're talking like 2/10 of a mile at the most. The MOST. After a little whining, I relent. I suck. I have the mental and physical stamina of a bassett hound. I was so afraid of gasping for breath at the end, I stopped early. I am pathetic.

"You need to toughen your mental game." Coach Husband so lovingly instructed me.

So...The Biggest Loser was on t.v. last night. Angry that we couldn't watch what has now become the highlight of our workweek evenings -- Hell's Kitchen (post to come raving about that show soon) -- I was content to let Chris channel surf and I was just hanging out, maybe would read my book. But, the t.v. settled on Loser, and I actually have always found it an interesting show. These grossly obese people battle for their lives to see who can lose the most weight. At first, I thought this show was a joke, but over the years have come to learn a lot from these folks. Their perserverance, struggles, their heartaches and injuries and all they overcome sends such a powerful message. Last night, their first challenge on their first day was to run a mile. They scoffed, they laughed, they knew it was like asking the average person to do an Ironman with no preparation. Yet, they were bound and determined to finish. And they did. 2 of them had to be hospitalized, one woman who actually crawled to the finish line with help from the others -- actually her opponents-- just to say she finished and ran a mile.

I look at these people, and I feel motivated and challenged. I am not looking to change my life, I am looking to do something that my mind doesn't want to do, but that I should be perfectly capable of achieving with some oomph. It's been a while since I've had to practice to do something, musical instruments, a sport, etc. While there are so many kinks to work out, I am searching for the mental stamina, as I work on my physical game, to achieve my goal. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to share. I'm not looking to become some lifelong runner, just to do something I never thought I'd do.

Run on.

You want me to what?

Not yet intune with her inner-Diva (and that is totally a good thing) I did take some photos of Clara this weekend, but after a Monday, you'll have to wait. I think these are pretty good, though they don't show off her radiant smile. She is quite the socialite, though less Paris Hilton and more...Hannah Montana. (I don't know, I was trying to think of someone happy and bubbly. Again, way too much thought for 6:45 on a Monday).

Glamour Shot

She loves it, she really really does. I promise you that this is not some abuse through photographic torture. If you could see the number of pictures I actually trash, you wouldn't believe how many I take. She asks me to take her picture. She poses. She says "do you think I should do this? How about this mommy, how does that look?" I love it. It removes me from paparazzi-stalker-mom to just another mom with a camera who isn't afraid to use it. After it's own spa visit this summer in the pool bag, I thought my point and shoot was going to pull through...looks to not be the case though. Which is okay, except after these pictures we took Greta to a b-day part at a ColdStone Creamery ice cream place. A very very small Coldstone where there was not enough room for 7 kids and their families and this crazy annoying lady with the giant hog camera which she thinks makes her look so cool that she can just butt her and her diaper bag's way in to all of the photographic moments....oh wait, that was me. And yes, I did. And no, I'm not going to bother posting those. It was absolutely too small to take a good picture. So I give you these, and I think I have a couple of Clara I'll post later.

Save Paper -- Go Wireless!

I don't usually do product reviews, so please know that when I do, it's because I am absolutely GIDDY over the product.

I was really happy because last week I found out I have received a $1000 grant I had applied for from our local Public Education Foundation. The grant was to allow me to purchase Kindles for my classroom. Kindles are those wireless e-book readers from Amazon. Our district is really pushing infusing technology in the classrooms, and of course innovative thinking and blah blah blah, but our school does not get any of those 'federal' dollars, so our budget can be tight, especially for technology. So, back to being giddy.

The Kindles came in today, and I immediately cracked open a box. Ironically enough, as I was working on this I had the kids reading books at their seat. Those centuries old wads of paper with actual ink. How archaeic.

Okay let's talk tech.

I had read that the Kindle uses a specific ink program designed to look more like the printing in books, rather than like what we are used to on a computer or television screen. It really does look just like a book. There is minimal glare, and you don't have to worry about being in too much light, or being at the wrong angle to see what is there. On the contrary, just like a book, you will need a book light to read by when there is minimal light because the background is not lit, so you will not be able to see the 'page'. I do not have the Kindle DX which is a bit larger, I believe the ones I bought are the 6" ones, and they seem just fine.

A feature I love for my classroom, is that there is text-speech capabilities. Meaning, you could have a computerized voice --either male or female, you choose -- read your text to you. A feature I probably wouldn't use if I was personally reading, but great for some of my students. There is also a dictionary feature. If you don't know a word, you can look it up and it is put right across the bottom of the screen. I think of how many words I never looked up because I was too lazy to walk my butt to a dictionary and go through that whole process. How painful!

Before some of you out there start freaking out about me promoting the death of the printing industry, newspapers, and the integrity of books in general, let me assure you of something: I am not saying the Kindle should replace all books. For example, children's books -- no. Or any other book with illustration. However, for people who travel or like to have a book in their bag, purse, diaper bag whatever, this is much lighter and easier to carry. How many times has the bookmark fallen out of your book in a bag?

I could go on and on, but I won't, unless you ask for more info., then I will. I just wanted to take this moment to let you know: I love this thing. If you are considering one, go for it. No, it's not something you'll want to curl up on the couch with, or take to that fluffy pillow in your bedroom, but if you ever read --or have ever wanted to read -- anything outside of the comforts of your own home bookshelf, consider this. And then let me know what you think.

And if anyone out there uses a Kindle in their classroom, please let me know how you use it!

get the grease

Oh the plans I have for this blog. The posts to write, the new things to try

The adventures to take you on.

Someday. Not at this time, I am not in the mood.

We are hamsters in a wheel. It is a big wheel. We are running fast.

The wheel is winning.

Say it Loud Say it Clear Why Not Say it With a Cheer!

I have always worked around children. Always. I had one parttime job that was great, working in my friends' parents bed bath and linens store. It was a great experience, and I enjoyed it, and many times my friend and I worked together, who could ask for more. Other than that, I've always worked with children. And that's fine. I will come back to the relevance of this later, if there is any.

So, anyways, to my point. I don't swear much. I never have. I remember being made fun of by a few people (mostly boys I believe) in Middle School because they would always swear. By always, I wish I could say I was exaggerating, but honestly I seem to recall that they would throw a swear word into any and every sentence they could. I guess it's something that boys did back then. I didn't, because I follow rules, and the rule was no swearing.

Now, let it be said that I personally have nothing against swearing. Just about everyone I know throws around some loaded words quite frequently, and these same people are some of the most eloquent, most well-spoke and loquacious people I know. In fact, most of them are family (sorry people, you can cuss me out later). I'd love to walk around dropping F-bombs when I'm mad, or peppering random sentences with the "S" word (not to be mistaken for "stupid" which depending on the age of little people you are around is most definitely THE "s" word to them, or -- a personal favorite that my kids ALWAYS tattle tale about -- the "B" word. Oh I think them, all the time. I honk my horn, I might silently utter some nonsense to myself, but all in all I just think I sound stupid when I swear. Unnatural. So, I don't. Plus, I guess with small children in the house it's better not to anyways.

Round the corner to this weekend. When I just was trying to get out of the house. Earlier, Clara had on two shoes. Two perfectly good shoes that were on her feet so that she was ready to go indoors or out. Fast forward a few hours, and I'm ready to leave the house, and only one shoe is on. Shouldn't be a big deal, put the other shoe on the foot. IF the other shoe was around. Which, after an apb was put out to scour the house, it was determined the shoe had indeed left on its own. It fled. It walked itself away. And please...please don't ask why I didn't get another pair of shoes. Don't go there please. I just wanted this shoe. I was fed up. Frustrated. Annoyed. Because I KNOW Greta took off Clara's shoe, put it somewhere and now couldn't remember where.

The point of this is. It was one of those moments where, if I thought swear words wouldn't sound like an 8 year old reciting something they heard off of a You Tube video, I would've spouted a sonnet of cuss words. I would of hurtled a horde of horrible, ugly, ridiculously inappropriate verbage into my house. But I didn't. I believe I did say that I was "really ticked off", because frankly I threw "pissed" around in my head before hand, but it sounded stupid too.

And then, while later sitting in a chair relaxing after what could only have been some odd hormonal surge (I really could've just gone to get a different shoe) I look straight ahead and this is what I see:

DAMNIT! I KNEW IT WAS AROUND SOMEWHERE!

(But isn't it a cute shoe. Can't you see why this was so important!)

Everybody say "Awwwww"...

...at least you mitten relatives out there.

This evening, we were out for a walk and we saw an airplane, which Greta quickly pointed out.

"I wish we could go on an airplane. When can we go?"

"Oh, I don't know. Sometime. Maybe we will get to at Christmas." Knowing full well that, yes, that is a big probability but at the same time we will not go if Putter is doing poorly.

This prompted a conversation in reverance to the one and only Santa Claus. I wasn't going to go there, but the idea of Santa bringing presents hadn't even been brought up yet so I thought that was good. So why not. Might as well see what's on her 4 year old brain.

"What would you like Santa to bring your for Christmas?"

"Mommy. (Long pause) Does Santa Claus have any tickets?"

Oh yeah, it is as good as you think.

"Tickets for what Greta?"

"For an airplane. You know, so that they let you on the plane."

"Well, I don't know. Santa Claus might have tickets. You won't see him for a couple of months, but you could always ask. Where do you want to go on an airplane?" (Now, never mind that she's only gone to one place on an airplane.)

Here we go...exact words from a 4 year old's mouth. About a ten on the a ten point cute-meter.

"Well, I would like Santa Claus to bring me tickets for the airplane for Christmas so that I can go visit my family in Michigan so I can visit them. I miss them so much, it makes me sad."

If THAT doesn't make each and every one of you jump on the next flight out and come down here to snuggle, then nothing will.

Give the Man (or Woman) a Nobel Prize

I had to take Greta in for a potential arm/wrist injury yesterday, and Clara came along for the ride. Because, while exposing one child to the bevy of immune system destroying germs in the pediatrician's office, why not just do both and make it a two-for-one. Greta's wrist turned out to be okay, the dr. didn't think it needed x-rays, and said it was probably just a sprain. Which, I figured, but her school really thought I should get it checked out. Ho hum. And to think, I had big plans for that $25.... At least the visit redeemed itself as I was able to get not one but BOTH girls their flu shots. The past couple of year, we haven't been able to get the flu shots until mid-late October, so it hadn't even dawned on me until I heard a nurse mention it when I was scheduling the appointment. (The flu is already going around in the schools down here -- all kinds of flu, yes, that kind too -- so I was keen to take advantage of getting their shots now!) Clara endured the shot like a trooper. Her tears were over in seconds, which is pretty good seeing as she's had quite a year with doctors. I gave her full permission to scream, wail, flail and generally flip out over this shot. In fact, she handled it far better than I would. Which, you see, I am not rushing into my doctor for a shot.... But that's another story.

I had promised Greta that when we went to the doctor, she would not have to get a shot. P-R-O-M-I-S-E-D. BUT....(I love how when you're a parent, you can overrule anything previously said and no one -- meaning little children-like people-- are allowed to challenge, complain, questions or otherwise rationally overreact.) So when the nurse was ready to pull Greta's pants down I hurriedly said, is this the flu mist? Because if that's available I think that would be much easier. (Meaning...please dear nurse, please do not force me to deal with two screaming children and then expect me to carry them, my bag, this paper, and then pay for this visit at checkout. Do it for me, please. I'm begging you here.) "Oh," she said ever-so-cheerily, "sure not a problem." WOOOOOWWWWW! Not a problem!?! Alright, the nasty side of me wonders why they even HAVE the shot for children over 3. I mean, seriously. Is there any child who actually prefers a shot when they can just SNORT THEIR MEDICATION UP THEIR NOSE???? How simple. How wonderful. How wonderfully simple! AND WHY CAN'T I DO THAT WHEN I GET MY FLU SHOT? WHO DO I HAVE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS?

And snort she did. And off we went. With a shiny sticker to boot. AND, they said they were trying to hurry us out because there were so many sick children around so we didn't have to be around all of those germs. Under 30 minutes from start to finish.

This is one of those instances, when I just wish I had this little stack of Thank You cards in my purse. I could just randomly hand them out to people. Because sometimes, words just aren't enough. Thank you pediatrician's office. Thank you.

Think of the trees this could save....

Here's Putter, showing off his nose wiping skills.

We have him on steroids, and some medicine to help his stomach. He's like a new dog. I know I said this before, but it is amazing. We didn't think he would make it to the end of this week, and now he's doing great! We know this is only delaying the inevitable, but since he is so happy and energetic right now, that's fine. A few more weeks/ months isn't going to hurt anyone.

Who's that kid with the

Oreo cookie....Let me at him!

i love Oreos.

Not the vanilla ones. Not the double stuff.

Give me plain old regular Oreos, and I will eat them up, although they do make some really tiny ones in a 'travel pack', but if you eat the whole travel pack -- which, how can you not, it's like a quarter of the total calories you are supposed to eat in any given day.

I don't twist and lick the center, I like it all together.

i love Oreos.

I don't have a passion for most cookies,
many desserts I'll leave in the dust.
But if there's an Oreo
within my reach,
then eat it up,
I must.

And now, if you'll please excuse me, there is a bag 1/2 full of Halloween Oreos on the table in my classroom, and I must go and select those which will meet their predestined fate: my stomach.

Small Children Wouldn't Notice These Things...

or at least wouldn't remember them.

QUICK! I just had the unfortunate opportunity to walk by a mirror. It is 8:41 in the morning -- any suggestions on how to get bed sheet creases out of a 35 year old face?

Your suggestions are welcome.

Because I Can!

update

Chris just spoke with the vet, and she seems to think we should not think of Putter on his death bed yet. She said let's try the steroids to see if they can shrink whatever growths might be bothering him, she has some other medicine to help some other issues as well. So, we'll see. We were very worried about this being a long weekend, and our wonderful vet not being available if we need her, but it sounds like we can buy some time doing her procedures. She said sometimes even 6 months or so, but I do not have my hopes up for that. So we'll take it day by day, I suppose, and see how it goes.

We do notice that George, in all of his 14 year old doggy glory, seems to know that something is wrong with Putter and seems to be a bit stressed by all of this. He has a couple of patches of fur he likes to gnaw away at. Perhaps we just need to bring in a dog psychologist, and he can help us all through this process!

Basically, all is not lost yet, and perhaps we should look a little bit more on the brighter side, for a few more weeks at least. I will try and post a picture sometime later.

With Champagne and Strawberries and an Angel Food Cake

I am saving a photo montage for a darker day, but never let it be said I don't respond to my public. hee hee. Here is Putter, in his younger glory, though at 8 years old he can't be considered an old man, especially against his older brother George topping the neighborhood doggy birthdays at 14.

We picked up the steroids and some pain medication if needed to keep Putter comfortable. It's hard to believe he is even under the weather when you see us walking around the neighborhood. He is every bit full of bounce and excitement as ever. But we do see a sharp decline already. He really hasn't eaten in the past two days, and I will spare you the other gory details of bodily functions, but suffice it to say we know the end will be near.

Naturally it is extremely sad that this is happening, you don't expect such a thing in a dog under 10 years old. It is so odd, knowing he is so ill, and just basically waiting for "the moment" to come when we know it is no longer merciful to prolong his suffering. I hope at this moment that his life is could not be described as suffering. Not only would I not prolong that, I will do my best to prevent him from reaching the suffering stage. That being said, we of course are living each moment to the fullest with Putter. There are hugs and snuggles, an extra nibble of table food here and there, a rawhide bone, etc. I am looking at each moment, wondering if it will be his last experience of something. Will he ever have another rawhide bone? Will he make it to another walk? Will he be there for me when I get home? I wish I could throw a Putter celebration party. I wish I could gather all of those who have ever been touched by his special spirit. Anyone who has ever been contacted by those liquid brown eyes. Anyone who has known Putter at all, to come and see him, and celebrate him now. Give him an extra rub, a scratch, love. Like a funeral, but...before. Maybe that's what I should plan for myself someday. What's the point in doing it...after. Come around and celebrate before. There could be wine, beer, Milkbones....(You know, at Putter's party that is.)

So I'll ask you. Whether you know Putter or not... whether you have ever had this gentle soul share a room with yours... whether you have ever learned what it means to learn to trust from someone who clearly had to learn the hard way... please keep Putter in your thoughts these next few days, as I firmly believe that is all we will have left.

I will try to post another photo of Putter, perhaps tomorrow, to keep the spirit alive. In the meantime, happy, healthy, pawprints to us all.

Putter

This week we will begin a tribute to a very special dog, Putter J. Noll. We have just learned that Putter is well into a battle with Lymphoma and, while he still has enough spunk in him to beg for his daily walk, each day we notice him creepy a little more silently away from what would be considered an acceptable life to live. We are going to pick up some steroids today from the vet (we've asked him to stop his workout routine but he insists on pumping iron. Kidding!) which are supposed to alleviate any swelling in there and make him a little more comfortable. The vet didn't/couldn't give us a timeframe, but mentioned that as far along as he could be it could be a week, to a month. Basically we don't have much time left with our sweet buddy, so we will savor every minute. Extra hugs, extra love, and of course no complaining when we go for a walk. We love you Putter!