Archive for July, 2007


Wondering how the puppy housebreaking is going?  Well, never fear, I am here to tell you all about it!  (Did you think you would get away with not hearing about my puppy’s potty habits?  You really don’t know me well, do you.)

She’s doing, um, well… doing fairly well with the housebreaking.  She has had a couple of accidents, but nothing too bad, and certainly nothing that has ruined anything.  The first accident happened the first day she was here.  She had to pee, and evidently, she had to pee right then, right there.  I chalk that one up to her not knowing that she was supposed to hold it until we were outside.  Luckily, it was in the kitchen, so it was a breeze to clean up.  Well, as much of a breeze as cleaning up a dog’s urine can be, anyway.

The second accident happened when we were out at the store.  We put her in the downstairs bathroom with a baby gate (which, incidentally, was the second containment device we had tried with her) and left the house.  When we returned, she was out in the front room, and standing next to a fresh pile of poop.  Oh, and there was a puddle of pee on the floor right outside the bathroom, where the baby gate was leaning precariously, still half attached to the doorway.  That one was not as easy to clean, and nothing near what I would call a breeze, but it was the first time she was left alone for any length of time, and I could chalk it up as a one-off.  Also, the escape from the bathroom must have been hard work, and she probably needed to relieve herself afterwards.

The next time happened when I guess I missed her telling me she had to go out.  And she just couldn’t hold it any longer.  You see, I had just taken her outside and she had played in the grass, chewed on some sticks, and just generally lounged outside, so when she went to sit in front of the back door immediately after we came back inside, I just thought she wanted to go back out and play.  But in reality, I guess she had forgotten to pee when she was outside and needed to go right back out.  But I didn’t take her out.  And she peed on the floor.  My mistake, obviously.

But I’m trying to be patient.  I just keep telling myself that even my kids had accidents when they were learning.  I can’t tell you how many times I had to change their underpants and clean up messes.  So I guess she’s doing well. 

And you can be sure that every time she goes and sits by the back door, she’s going outside.  But that makes me wonder, who’s training whom here?

now, Now, NOW!

I’ve had this lack of focus lately that’s finally become bothersome.  I’ve not been able to sit down and do anything– from write on my blog to balance my checkbook –without feeling like I’m going to come out of my skin and need to go do something else right the heck now

I’ve blamed it on my lack of routine lately.  We had my father come for a visit, and then we went on vacation, and then we got a dog.  (Which, man, a puppy sure can take up the majority of your day, if you let it, with all the pottying and walking and lying down and napping next to it’s cuddly-wuddly little self.)  I just haven’t managed to get myself back into any sort of schedule, even a very loose one.  And I think that my routine-loving self has been floundering because of my lack of, well, routine.

So I’m trying to force myself to sit down and do things, even when I don’t want to.  I’m trying to forge ahead with a new routine, and give myself more focus.  I’m trying not to let my lack of focus and short attention span get the better of me.

But it still does, trust me.  Because now I’ve written all I can manage and I’ve got to get up and do something else right the heck now!

Just one question…

You know, there was a time when I thought I would not be able to survive my three year old son’s endless questions of “why?”  I truly thought I was going to have to remove my ears so as to not hear one more why.  It was bad, y’all.

But you know what’s worse?  My now seven year old son asking endless questions.  And questions that don’t just stop at why.  He wants to know about things, how they work, what would happen if this or that happened, etc, etc, etc.  He asks questions about people, places, and things.  He is full of thoughts and ideas, and they are not always thoughts and ideas of this world, but of some sort of fantasy world that exists only in his head (or in his XBox.)  And he wants to discuss these things at length.  Nonstop.  (Always with the talking!)

Some days I still want to remove my ears, but mostly now I just want to get him to close his mouth for any length of time.   I just want him to observe and accept, not to question. 

(Oh, I know it’s all a part of who he is, and how smart he is, and how imaginative.  And it’s great, really, it is.  But, sheesh, it’s NON. STOP.)

At least I have these.

I have an ability to never take pictures when I want them most. (It’s a skill, what can I say.)  For instance, I don’t have any pictures of my dad from when he was here visiting. Nor do I have any pictures of another Grandpa (the kids have lots of them due to various marriages and remarriages) from the visit to Maryland. Not one solitary picture of the people we don’t see very often and would love to be able to look at pictures of. Bah! Oh, but I have pictures of my kids. The very same kids I see day in and day out. Wouldn’t you know it.

But they’re cute kids*, so I’ll share.

*I may be biased.

And these pictures are of the kids at the pool, courtesy of my dad, who thought ahead well enough to know that we may one day want to see pictures of the kids at the pool, and brought his camera. Unlike their mother, who has yet to take any pictures of them while they learn to swim. But hey, at least I take them to the pool, right?




How Sadie is killing me…slowly.

The first night with Sadie (our new dog) went really well.  B took her outside to go potty right before he went to bed (around 11:30) and the I took her out once around 3:30.  She only cried very, very briefly when she was put into her crate, then she slept like a baby all night long with nary a whimper.

The second night, however, was quite a different story.  (That would be last night, for those of you keeping track.)  She cried and whined and barked when she was put into her crate, and continued to do so for what seemed like forever.  (But in retrospect, may have only been about five minutes.)  Then I had to get up with her twice more in the middle of the night.  And each time she cried like it was the end of the world.  Which, I guess, it was to her.  Needless to say, it didn’t go as smoothly as the first night.

When I thought about it though, I realized exactly why she was so upset last night, versus the night before.  The night before, she had just arrived five hours earlier, and she was tired and used to being alone (she was the last of her litter.)  She had no problem with lying down and going to sleep.  She didn’t even know we were still in the house.  But last night, she had spent all day being cuddled and loved and held, and then she discovered that if she got heavy enough sitting in my lap, I would set her down on the couch in the front room.  And once on the couch, she could lay down next to B while he played video games, and isn’t that just like heaven?  So why in the heck would she want to go into that crate and be all alone?  And by now she also knew that we were still here, and she wasn’t with us, and that right there was not how she wanted it.

If you’re the betting type, you may want to try and predict how long it will be before she’s lying in a queen sized bed with her very own pillow and her mommy and daddy cuddled next to her.  If tonight doesn’t go well, my money’s on soon.





our new dog…


an English Bulldog (with a teensy little bit of Boxer thrown in for good measure.)



We’ve been busy here — my dad came to visit for a week, then we went on a whirlwind vacation up to Maryland and to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania, then we came home and got ourselves a dog.  A bulldog, who snorts and snores and always looks so serious.  But she sure is a cutie.  And that’s really all that matters.

More to come later.  Hope you are enjoying yourselves this summer!

Proof I live in the South:

Overheard at Tae Kwon Do class: 

“Hunter, stand over here please.  Hunter!  Hunter!  You, Hunter!”


“Isn’t your name Hunter?” asked the guy who was looking at the letters H-U-N-T-E-R printed clearly on the child’s uniform.

“Naw, mah name ain’t Hunter.”

“It isn’t?”

“Naw, it’s Hunner.”