The little F*#kers strike again! Let the dogs (mine, Sunny the cuckoo, and Chief, one of my clients who is super sweet) out the night before last. As my hands clapped one another- the usual drill to ward off any unwanted hellians in my back yard- I see the shrub next to the grill rustle.....TOO LATE! That cute little BITCH lashed out and attacked Chief, followed by Sunny with an immediate about-face- or rear- and blast-o! Sunny gets it yet again in the kisser and ole' Chief gets the residual bellow of hell wafted ever so delicately over his shiny black coat....
I was so incredibly insensed by that little black & white messenger from Satan's forum that I ran inside, grabbed my Le Creuset fry pan, my largest wooden spoon- To Koutala! Ran back out like an escapie from some crazy cooking school yelling and banging the koutala on the back of the pan- "GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE YOU MOTHERF*#K'IN BITCH FROM HELL!"....at first it ran from me and then backed up to my garage door- then attemped to charge me...ohh-ho-hooooh, did that fuel my fire- now it was war!
So, I'm weilding the frying pan and koutala screaming at the animal as if it understood every word my beligerant mouth was bellowing......"I am sick of you!".."Nobody likes you- or your stinkin' family!".."Why don't you just move outta here you little Bitch!"......I really wanted to whack it in the head and just end it- but that buzzer in the back of my brain kept going off:
"Attention Elizabeth: You're an animal rights activist, you love all animals, I repeat, you love ALL animals!" ARRRGH- damned conscience! Why couldn't I be a psycho-killer just this once?! Ah, to relish in the smashing of a little skull while in the throws of fury...I know it sounds sick, but we all have been there at one point or another- the last straw, the infinite breaking of the camel's back- where you just want to beat the living sh*t out of something while wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth......Alas, the good side once again prevailed over the evil in me. I knew that it would have been futile as there are at least a dozen more stinkers under the neighbor's porch....a losing battle for a loser threat.
Really, this animal was just trying to survive the situation, I could see the terror in it's face, it's adorable little skunk face- why do they have to be so fu#king cute?!
My neighbors (the ones without the back porch) chime in- "Elizabeth? What's going on? Did the skunk spray you?" I responded with the story up to that point. So my neighbor comes over with a long shovel, and I'm thinking, "Great! Someone else can be the assassin!"...and I can relish in victory over skunk #27's demise- even though I truly know it would eat away at my soul for years......friggin conscience!
Well, not so fast- the neighbor was all talk.....he was WAY more afraid of it than I was- actually, I wasn't the least bit afraid of the thing since I knew it already blew it's wad and couldn't recharge for at least another half hour to hour. "You know, " says the neighbor, "that these things carry rabies don't you?".....Yeah of course I know- they are in fact the #1 carrier of rabies as far as wild animals goes. All I could say in response was, "Yup, yup.".....genius.
I proceed to call 911- why? I don't really know- I was already reviewing the words in my head:
911: Hello, 911 emergency, how can we assist you?
Me: There's a wild freaking skunk in my yard and it won't leave!
911: Okaaaayyy? (As the operator whispers: Hey Bob, there's a crazy bitch on crack on the line).....how can we help?
Me: It attacked my dogs and sprayed them and now it won't leave!
911: We'll connect you to animal control, please hold.
You know, it was pretty much that conversation...and after being on hold for the "next available agent" for 10 minutes, they finally answer and take my infortion- all to no avail.
The police man came, and he was like, "I don't know how, exactly I can help you, but I'll keep the light on it for you until animal control comes". All I could think was that animal control was NOT coming.....I just knew that they would, once again, be a no show. Sure enough, some 30 minutes later, the radio on the officer's collar squawked: "Animal control will not be out until the AM".....as if they will even come then- they haven't shown for 4 years!
The sum of all this expended energy? Zilch. Just go back in the house and close the door, it will eventually leave, and animal control will eventually com- some year. Time to wash 2 dogs! By the by, the remedy for stinkin' skunked dogs is a slurry of baking soda and hydrogen peroxide- rub in to the skin, let soak 5 minutes, rinse. Repeat, only with a more paste like solution- rub in, let soak, then rinse. A good follow up is a deodorizing shampoo or Oxydex shampoo- I think available only through the vet. City in the woods, who woulda thunk it?!
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Exodus/Exo-dog!
Naturally, I have the usual gaggle of dogs in my home- and playing host to these privileged canines is my job. My poor kids, wincing every time I yell, "KNOCK IT OFF", "QUIET!", or my favorite, "CHHTT! NO BARKING!"- it's a miracle my kids aren't completely aversive to dogs altogether. By the way- "Exo" in Greek means "out"....
I tell the husbear, "You know what's happening here don't you?- We are slowly but surely turning these kids into future 'cat people'".....G & P will either end up like one of those crazy people with 37 cats, or no animals at all. G claims that when he grows up he is going to have a toy Poodle like Cha Cha (one of my regulars), among the other small pets he is counting down to. I told him that when he is 7 we can get a mouse for him- he said that he will name him Jerry like the mouse I used to have. As for Cha Cha, since he is here so frequently he's just like our own dog- well, let me remark by adding- just not crazy like the psycho-dog-extraordinaire Sunny is. I figure I have a year and a half before we begin negotiations on the rodent factor.
Personally, I love rodents of all sorts, but I will not get into the breeding factor- as transpired in my childhood. As we witnessed the equation is such:
2 hamsters= 18....don't want to go there. One happy little male mouse is just fine with me, but it ends there. We already are bombarded with 3 fish tanks, 2 dogs (one psycho, one at death's door), and any number between 2-4 dogs on average per week staying with us. OH YEAH, forgot to mention snail # 3 which not only survived his/her predecessors, but reproduced to boot! We are now the proud cartakers of 50-odd baby snails-albeit cute-are too numerous to count at this juncture. Lets not forget the orange fish which are on batch #4 of some dozen or so babies- G's tank is the fertile delta of fish-land, or as we like to refer to the Ikea way of saying things: SnA-LAnd- hence all the snails.
Tonight is the exodus of all the dogs here- but one- he goes home next Seeeaturday. The fluctuating guest list since the 12th is as follows:
Kelly, Lucy, Yoda, Schultz, Milo, Payton, Bocce, and Vika. Kelly and Lucy came in on the 12th pm, Yoda went home on the 14th after one week of vacationing with us. Schultz was in for day care on Wednesday, Kelly went home Friday- Milo came Thursday pm, then Payton, Bocce, and Vika came Friday pm. SO, tonight everyone with the exception of Milo goes home- whew! I don't know how much more I can take- not any really. I am usually not this overbooked- but I did a friend and a cousin a favor by taking their dogs for the weekend. I can't wait until I can get away with no kids, no dogs, no husbear- just a couple of ragged mutha's ready to get their party on! TIKI BAR-STYLE-HEEEEE-HAWWWW!
EZ
I tell the husbear, "You know what's happening here don't you?- We are slowly but surely turning these kids into future 'cat people'".....G & P will either end up like one of those crazy people with 37 cats, or no animals at all. G claims that when he grows up he is going to have a toy Poodle like Cha Cha (one of my regulars), among the other small pets he is counting down to. I told him that when he is 7 we can get a mouse for him- he said that he will name him Jerry like the mouse I used to have. As for Cha Cha, since he is here so frequently he's just like our own dog- well, let me remark by adding- just not crazy like the psycho-dog-extraordinaire Sunny is. I figure I have a year and a half before we begin negotiations on the rodent factor.
Personally, I love rodents of all sorts, but I will not get into the breeding factor- as transpired in my childhood. As we witnessed the equation is such:
2 hamsters= 18....don't want to go there. One happy little male mouse is just fine with me, but it ends there. We already are bombarded with 3 fish tanks, 2 dogs (one psycho, one at death's door), and any number between 2-4 dogs on average per week staying with us. OH YEAH, forgot to mention snail # 3 which not only survived his/her predecessors, but reproduced to boot! We are now the proud cartakers of 50-odd baby snails-albeit cute-are too numerous to count at this juncture. Lets not forget the orange fish which are on batch #4 of some dozen or so babies- G's tank is the fertile delta of fish-land, or as we like to refer to the Ikea way of saying things: SnA-LAnd- hence all the snails.
Tonight is the exodus of all the dogs here- but one- he goes home next Seeeaturday. The fluctuating guest list since the 12th is as follows:
Kelly, Lucy, Yoda, Schultz, Milo, Payton, Bocce, and Vika. Kelly and Lucy came in on the 12th pm, Yoda went home on the 14th after one week of vacationing with us. Schultz was in for day care on Wednesday, Kelly went home Friday- Milo came Thursday pm, then Payton, Bocce, and Vika came Friday pm. SO, tonight everyone with the exception of Milo goes home- whew! I don't know how much more I can take- not any really. I am usually not this overbooked- but I did a friend and a cousin a favor by taking their dogs for the weekend. I can't wait until I can get away with no kids, no dogs, no husbear- just a couple of ragged mutha's ready to get their party on! TIKI BAR-STYLE-HEEEEE-HAWWWW!
EZ
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Someone who speaks my language- C-L-E-A-N!
WOW! Had the new cleaning crew- well, mini-crew of 2 nice Polish ladies who really knew how to clean...so happy! I feel like this white-plaster-dust has been lifted off my shoulders- or at least every other square inch of my house.
It s such a beautiful thing to witness, after so long under the mire of dingy floors and furniture. Now, all I have to do is slow-cook the dog who slept on the front sofa! ONE day, just one single day without the furry beasts ruining it all for me...I think that is why I love going ANYWHERE for vacation- no dogs to walk, clean up after- fuzz in my mouth...I'm sort of anesthetized to it while I'm home, but once you go somewhere and then come back to it...ugh, you realize how much it grates on your, or at least my, "clean" nerve.
You all know the about the different nerves in your body- don't you? For example, there is the "toilet paper roll hanging the wrong way- (because it should always cascade delicately over the top of the roll)" nerve, and the "Why couldn't the paper towel roll be replace with a new one" nerve, and one of my favorite pressure points, the "tripping on the boat-sized shoes which should be removed and left at the door- thank you but I don't need a broken ankle today" nerve.
Of course, none of that stuff TRULY matters- really, it's just a gripe for me to vent about. What really matters is how this unbelievably wealthy country has people starving, homeless, struggling just to survive with a gaggle of kids and no home to have them sleep in. My husbear called me from his office this morning to tell me that as he was leaving this morning- he saw a mother and her two kids awaking from under a tree in the park behind our home.
My defense mechanism immediately kicks in and tries to justify why they are there:
"Well, maybe one of her kids wakes up super early, so they were in the park from early on and got tired, so they laid down to take a rest and he just saw them getting up from a nap.
"My sister-in-law (who hasn't slept in 4 years), has at times has been out of the house with her daughter really early because they are up so early, so it could just be like that"
No matter how I could make out a different scenario- the grim reality is this: Homelessness exists everywhere....I mean, everywhere. Even if you live in some quaint little suburb anywhere across the nation- there is always going to be that one person outside of the pharmacy selling a Streetwise, or that person at the traffic light with a sign and a cup asking for a handout. Whether or not you make a contribution to that person's cause or not- it isn't something that can be ignored- because it simply will not go away by doing so.
Lets not forget to be generous to our fellow humans- I try, at least, to give someone the benefit of the doubt. If you don't donate some money to a favorite cause or charity (human or animal)- or the person on the corner at the light, at the local storefront- pick something that you believe in, and give a little to sponsor it....and if you don't- it's time that you did.
EZ
It s such a beautiful thing to witness, after so long under the mire of dingy floors and furniture. Now, all I have to do is slow-cook the dog who slept on the front sofa! ONE day, just one single day without the furry beasts ruining it all for me...I think that is why I love going ANYWHERE for vacation- no dogs to walk, clean up after- fuzz in my mouth...I'm sort of anesthetized to it while I'm home, but once you go somewhere and then come back to it...ugh, you realize how much it grates on your, or at least my, "clean" nerve.
You all know the about the different nerves in your body- don't you? For example, there is the "toilet paper roll hanging the wrong way- (because it should always cascade delicately over the top of the roll)" nerve, and the "Why couldn't the paper towel roll be replace with a new one" nerve, and one of my favorite pressure points, the "tripping on the boat-sized shoes which should be removed and left at the door- thank you but I don't need a broken ankle today" nerve.
Of course, none of that stuff TRULY matters- really, it's just a gripe for me to vent about. What really matters is how this unbelievably wealthy country has people starving, homeless, struggling just to survive with a gaggle of kids and no home to have them sleep in. My husbear called me from his office this morning to tell me that as he was leaving this morning- he saw a mother and her two kids awaking from under a tree in the park behind our home.
My defense mechanism immediately kicks in and tries to justify why they are there:
"Well, maybe one of her kids wakes up super early, so they were in the park from early on and got tired, so they laid down to take a rest and he just saw them getting up from a nap.
"My sister-in-law (who hasn't slept in 4 years), has at times has been out of the house with her daughter really early because they are up so early, so it could just be like that"
No matter how I could make out a different scenario- the grim reality is this: Homelessness exists everywhere....I mean, everywhere. Even if you live in some quaint little suburb anywhere across the nation- there is always going to be that one person outside of the pharmacy selling a Streetwise, or that person at the traffic light with a sign and a cup asking for a handout. Whether or not you make a contribution to that person's cause or not- it isn't something that can be ignored- because it simply will not go away by doing so.
Lets not forget to be generous to our fellow humans- I try, at least, to give someone the benefit of the doubt. If you don't donate some money to a favorite cause or charity (human or animal)- or the person on the corner at the light, at the local storefront- pick something that you believe in, and give a little to sponsor it....and if you don't- it's time that you did.
EZ
Monday, June 25, 2007
Cleaning up my act: part deux
So, Jose showed, and finished with great detail. The place is looking spiffy, well, the paint job that is....now for the fun part- Clean up time! I painstakingly weeded out the old DVD's which no longer get watched, in hopes to pass them on to younger viewers- all the Baby Einstein, Rescue Heroes, Thomas the train and all his cohorts all need to find a new home where they will be adored once more. For the 2-300 CD's, I suggested to the Bear to stop at ye-ole Best Buy (and I don't think that it is always a best buy, by the way) to pick up some storage cases to put them away and off of my book shelves.
Of course someone has to put them all in there! GEEE, I wonder who that will be? Yeah, yeah, yeah...and I have been on the rocks with the Bear whom growls daily about the mess, even though most of it is his paper-trail-of-who-knows-what-to-where. Then there is the lovely coating of white dust on every square inch of every surface from the sanding of newly frosted plaster...ahhhh, the beauty of a really big mess- makes me want to leave my home and never return. To add to the beauty of it all, the Bear loathes the upstairs hall wall color- which everyone else seems to like- oh, he told me that my mother-in-law saw the paint colors and did not like the hall color either....but this is coming from a person who painted her gorgeous huge living room with a bright peach color- yikes! I suppose, to each their own- especially if you like Key Largo on steroids... OH, an back to finding a new cleaning service to eradicate the fine layer of silt and dog prints from my floors. WHY is it I cannot locate a cleaning person who will clean like I can clean??? SUPER frustrating...after all- it IS their job- right? To clean? Their JOB- to CLEAN- right? So why is it, they all come here and use a billion paper towels and a mop??? What happened to cleaning on your knees, and using old socks and underwear with wood cleaner to clean with? Something happened between Poland/Mexico/Russia and here in the last few years....they became "Americanized", that's just a guess though.
Griffin had his 1st day of camp today, along with his very 1st dodgeball game. He isn't much for violence, so I watched him for the first 5 minutes- he mostly put his hands up and winced as a ball flew past him- remarkably, he didn't get hit very early on- even though the balls are no more than dense foam mini sofa cushions- not the hard-core red rubber nubby balls which reverberated the classic ""THWAANNNG"" as it rebounded off your head....naturally followed by the faint echoing sing-song scream of "You'rrre ouuuut!" .....the little snots- I hated that game. It never helped that I was perpetually 3 feet tall until 5th grade- yeah, sooooo much fun. It's not a game, it's the early teachings of nihilism. Oh, will we ever learn from the teachings of history, or in the very least, civics?
Of course someone has to put them all in there! GEEE, I wonder who that will be? Yeah, yeah, yeah...and I have been on the rocks with the Bear whom growls daily about the mess, even though most of it is his paper-trail-of-who-knows-what-to-where. Then there is the lovely coating of white dust on every square inch of every surface from the sanding of newly frosted plaster...ahhhh, the beauty of a really big mess- makes me want to leave my home and never return. To add to the beauty of it all, the Bear loathes the upstairs hall wall color- which everyone else seems to like- oh, he told me that my mother-in-law saw the paint colors and did not like the hall color either....but this is coming from a person who painted her gorgeous huge living room with a bright peach color- yikes! I suppose, to each their own- especially if you like Key Largo on steroids... OH, an back to finding a new cleaning service to eradicate the fine layer of silt and dog prints from my floors. WHY is it I cannot locate a cleaning person who will clean like I can clean??? SUPER frustrating...after all- it IS their job- right? To clean? Their JOB- to CLEAN- right? So why is it, they all come here and use a billion paper towels and a mop??? What happened to cleaning on your knees, and using old socks and underwear with wood cleaner to clean with? Something happened between Poland/Mexico/Russia and here in the last few years....they became "Americanized", that's just a guess though.
Griffin had his 1st day of camp today, along with his very 1st dodgeball game. He isn't much for violence, so I watched him for the first 5 minutes- he mostly put his hands up and winced as a ball flew past him- remarkably, he didn't get hit very early on- even though the balls are no more than dense foam mini sofa cushions- not the hard-core red rubber nubby balls which reverberated the classic ""THWAANNNG"" as it rebounded off your head....naturally followed by the faint echoing sing-song scream of "You'rrre ouuuut!" .....the little snots- I hated that game. It never helped that I was perpetually 3 feet tall until 5th grade- yeah, sooooo much fun. It's not a game, it's the early teachings of nihilism. Oh, will we ever learn from the teachings of history, or in the very least, civics?
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Jose- where can you be???
Jose, the guy who also did the demo/construction of our kitchen back in October, and is also a painter by trade, came on Friday to paint the upstairs. Well, he did some of the prep work- patching cracks, nail holes, etc...did one coat, sanded, skimmed another coat, then left. A good day's work all in all.
However, Saturday, he was unable to return because he was going to help his cousin out on another job. Fine. Saturday, it turned out, the Bear whom was supposed to be out of town, was in town, and I was out at mi madre's anyway. Okay, so Monday rolls around- NO Jose....tried to get him on his cell- straight to voice mail. Tried a couple of times throughout the day, same thing- plus, what irritates me more than anything- NO response.
Tuesday (today) comes around, same drill as above. I then remembered that I have his home #. Fortunately I get his nephew Juan, who said that he will try to get in touch with him and relay the message(s) to him to call me! I am living with half dusted floors and walls, and no completed work. Now, knowing some things from my old life of Interior Design, I know NOT to pay these guys until the work is done- but I did give him a little dinero for traveling and getting some lunch etc...in the form of a check- $150 bones, not much. Did I mention that I was buying the paint? Yeah, so it's not like he is taking me for a ride or anything....I prefer to get the brand of paint that I want anyhow. I can't help but think that somehow, Jose just might like cervesas mas fria a little too mucho- just an inkling, but I suspect alcohol as a suspect to his absence...I've not ever smelled booze of any sort on his person, but I can't help but think that with a bit of money in the hand- he likes to have a good time instead of be responsible to his work.
As it stands, still, No Jose. No paint. No satis-faction! Ay-yay-yay!
EZ
However, Saturday, he was unable to return because he was going to help his cousin out on another job. Fine. Saturday, it turned out, the Bear whom was supposed to be out of town, was in town, and I was out at mi madre's anyway. Okay, so Monday rolls around- NO Jose....tried to get him on his cell- straight to voice mail. Tried a couple of times throughout the day, same thing- plus, what irritates me more than anything- NO response.
Tuesday (today) comes around, same drill as above. I then remembered that I have his home #. Fortunately I get his nephew Juan, who said that he will try to get in touch with him and relay the message(s) to him to call me! I am living with half dusted floors and walls, and no completed work. Now, knowing some things from my old life of Interior Design, I know NOT to pay these guys until the work is done- but I did give him a little dinero for traveling and getting some lunch etc...in the form of a check- $150 bones, not much. Did I mention that I was buying the paint? Yeah, so it's not like he is taking me for a ride or anything....I prefer to get the brand of paint that I want anyhow. I can't help but think that somehow, Jose just might like cervesas mas fria a little too mucho- just an inkling, but I suspect alcohol as a suspect to his absence...I've not ever smelled booze of any sort on his person, but I can't help but think that with a bit of money in the hand- he likes to have a good time instead of be responsible to his work.
As it stands, still, No Jose. No paint. No satis-faction! Ay-yay-yay!
EZ
Friday, June 8, 2007
That last day of school feeling
Couldn't get on yesterday due to the power outage-no juice from about 10-4...buzz kill. The worst part of the day:
G sliding into first on the concrete sidewalk in front of the school- just after his picnic lunch yesterday......poor thing- he looks as though he'd been dragged behind a crazed horse (see photo below of both gooney kids).
So today marks the last day of G's pre-school days....SOOOO bittersweet. I lament the time which has passed all too quickly, and rejoice in the new adventures he and I/we will encounter in the upcoming months leading up to Kindergarten.
Just returning from p/u G from school- to find out that (I) didn't get the teacher I wanted G to have for Kindergarten in the fall. I am torn with this decision....let it go? After all, the teacher he will have is very good- just a different teaching method than the one I wanted him to have.
I feel that since I am his advocate- I need to step up and get G with the teacher whom I believe has a tighter grasp on method, anyway. The other teacher is still very good, just more of an ethereal approach to teaching- more mat time, more group learning. Whereas, the teacher I want him to have is more regiment in her approach- more old-school, a little more disciplined, in your desk, eyes forward, pay attention, work together. These years are the most formative, the foundation for the rest of [his] scholastic career; and some professional opinions say, the casting mold for the rest of their lives.
So to rock the boat, or to not rock the boat......I've always been the boat rocker anyhow- so I don't really know what my question is because I believe I already have my answer.
EZ
G sliding into first on the concrete sidewalk in front of the school- just after his picnic lunch yesterday......poor thing- he looks as though he'd been dragged behind a crazed horse (see photo below of both gooney kids).
So today marks the last day of G's pre-school days....SOOOO bittersweet. I lament the time which has passed all too quickly, and rejoice in the new adventures he and I/we will encounter in the upcoming months leading up to Kindergarten.
Just returning from p/u G from school- to find out that (I) didn't get the teacher I wanted G to have for Kindergarten in the fall. I am torn with this decision....let it go? After all, the teacher he will have is very good- just a different teaching method than the one I wanted him to have.
I feel that since I am his advocate- I need to step up and get G with the teacher whom I believe has a tighter grasp on method, anyway. The other teacher is still very good, just more of an ethereal approach to teaching- more mat time, more group learning. Whereas, the teacher I want him to have is more regiment in her approach- more old-school, a little more disciplined, in your desk, eyes forward, pay attention, work together. These years are the most formative, the foundation for the rest of [his] scholastic career; and some professional opinions say, the casting mold for the rest of their lives.
So to rock the boat, or to not rock the boat......I've always been the boat rocker anyhow- so I don't really know what my question is because I believe I already have my answer.
EZ
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
The 2-1/2 year old slayer
So last night Steve (aka Dah-dee) was putting P to bed, and through his montage of characters who "...love P", came down to me, mommy, and it went pretty much like this:
Dah-dee: ".....grandma & grandpa love you, and mommy loves you..."
P: "...no, mommy doesn't love me..."
Dah-dee: "Oh, that's not true, why do you say that?"
P: "Because I don't like mommy"
Dah-Dee: "You don't like mommy? Why don't you like mommy? She loves you very much!"
P: "No, I don't love mommy, mommy doesn't like me, I don't like mommy."
So he calls me into her bedroom, and has her repeat what they have talked about. I was devastated and somewhat appallingly humored all at the same time- I mean, she's only 2-1/2, she probably isn't totally cognisant of the words she is using- but then again, they were going through the list of people; cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc...and she pretty much loves everyone except me and the dog (Sunny). I can understand the dog- he is totally psycho, and the consensus around here is that neither kid likes him- and I'm on the fence with our weirdo love/hate relationship- between me and the dog that is. See below, the psycho photo for yourself...I nearly lost a finger just picking him up for the photo- can you say CUCKOO?
But, me? Her own mother? Her daily provider of noodles and tushie pinches? Her tea-party pal and constant connoisseur of prepared plastic foods? How could she betray me like that? Could she remember the days of distress (over the choice of name we gave her) that my parents put me through while I was still in the hospital with her? Could she harbor that anguish and translate it into negative feelings toward herself??? So many questions.
I asked her again this morning if she loves me, shaking her head, she still said no- albeit her sheepish grin...I couldn't help but repeat the fact that I love her more than the sun and higher than the stars and asked her if she understands, and with a grin and a nod, she said yes.
Ah, the little schizos that they are at this prime toddler age- it's a miracle they don't run the world- or do they??
EZ
Dah-dee: ".....grandma & grandpa love you, and mommy loves you..."
P: "...no, mommy doesn't love me..."
Dah-dee: "Oh, that's not true, why do you say that?"
P: "Because I don't like mommy"
Dah-Dee: "You don't like mommy? Why don't you like mommy? She loves you very much!"
P: "No, I don't love mommy, mommy doesn't like me, I don't like mommy."
So he calls me into her bedroom, and has her repeat what they have talked about. I was devastated and somewhat appallingly humored all at the same time- I mean, she's only 2-1/2, she probably isn't totally cognisant of the words she is using- but then again, they were going through the list of people; cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc...and she pretty much loves everyone except me and the dog (Sunny). I can understand the dog- he is totally psycho, and the consensus around here is that neither kid likes him- and I'm on the fence with our weirdo love/hate relationship- between me and the dog that is. See below, the psycho photo for yourself...I nearly lost a finger just picking him up for the photo- can you say CUCKOO?
But, me? Her own mother? Her daily provider of noodles and tushie pinches? Her tea-party pal and constant connoisseur of prepared plastic foods? How could she betray me like that? Could she remember the days of distress (over the choice of name we gave her) that my parents put me through while I was still in the hospital with her? Could she harbor that anguish and translate it into negative feelings toward herself??? So many questions.
I asked her again this morning if she loves me, shaking her head, she still said no- albeit her sheepish grin...I couldn't help but repeat the fact that I love her more than the sun and higher than the stars and asked her if she understands, and with a grin and a nod, she said yes.
Ah, the little schizos that they are at this prime toddler age- it's a miracle they don't run the world- or do they??
EZ
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Mutual of Omaha!
Yes, I live in the city, but you'd think that I live out on the freakin' prairie! GOOOODmornin' Mr. Skunk! He blasted my dog right in the kisser at about 8:15a- what the hell- I thought that they sleep in the day time?! Even Worse- my client (a Yorkie) got it too- thankfully not as badly as Sunny. The little stink ball slips past me and proceeds to run upstairs and hide under my bed- I could just die! After throwing a couple of slippers at him (I had no choice, he was in the middle of the bed and I couldn't reach him), he came out from under the bed enough where I could nab him.
So, I call my husbear (his name is Steve but everyone calls him Bear or the Bear) to come home for back-up; fortunately his office is 10 minutes from home. It's now 8:20 and G has to get to school at 9 AND P is still sleeping and I knew that she is going to wake at any given moment with all of the commotion.
Sunny is outside rolling in the grass, dirt, mulch and even up and down the length of the fence- JUST to be sure that he smears ALL of that lovely Eau d' Pepe over the entire yard. I have to say, the worst part is that my dog is not exactly the most amicable patient- in all honesty, he's the A-Hole of the animal kingdom, the Hannibal Kujo Lechter of the dog world. Naturally, I need to use a muzzle, or as I like to call it: Silence of the Head (one of his many nicknames is Headla)....fortunately, the Bear gets home just in time to take G to school, and then wash ole schtink-face.
There is one thing you need to know about my dog Sunny, and that in his past life he was a Theatre Star! Max! The lights! REALLY, his personality is the equivalent of an aging theatre queen where you can just see him reminiscing the days of yore....."...I was a star, damn it, a star I say! They all adored me!"... and then the lamenting... "....now I'm just a has-been, all washed-up, if they only had an ounce of the talent I hold in the tip of my tail, they would be lucky!"....I know it's all absurd, but if you know Sunny, you would understand what a bitch he is. There is also his Jesus phase- but I'll get in to that some other time.
MAN! would I love to live trap the skunk(s) some how, and take them to Berni Stone's office and just let 'em loose! It has been almost 4 years of nothing but schtinky-schtank- we're talking putrid-eye-watering-spit-on-the-ground-gag-o-rama, with a side of the horking-gag sound....I didn't want to kill these vermin before- but now it's war!
EZ
So, I call my husbear (his name is Steve but everyone calls him Bear or the Bear) to come home for back-up; fortunately his office is 10 minutes from home. It's now 8:20 and G has to get to school at 9 AND P is still sleeping and I knew that she is going to wake at any given moment with all of the commotion.
Sunny is outside rolling in the grass, dirt, mulch and even up and down the length of the fence- JUST to be sure that he smears ALL of that lovely Eau d' Pepe over the entire yard. I have to say, the worst part is that my dog is not exactly the most amicable patient- in all honesty, he's the A-Hole of the animal kingdom, the Hannibal Kujo Lechter of the dog world. Naturally, I need to use a muzzle, or as I like to call it: Silence of the Head (one of his many nicknames is Headla)....fortunately, the Bear gets home just in time to take G to school, and then wash ole schtink-face.
There is one thing you need to know about my dog Sunny, and that in his past life he was a Theatre Star! Max! The lights! REALLY, his personality is the equivalent of an aging theatre queen where you can just see him reminiscing the days of yore....."...I was a star, damn it, a star I say! They all adored me!"... and then the lamenting... "....now I'm just a has-been, all washed-up, if they only had an ounce of the talent I hold in the tip of my tail, they would be lucky!"....I know it's all absurd, but if you know Sunny, you would understand what a bitch he is. There is also his Jesus phase- but I'll get in to that some other time.
MAN! would I love to live trap the skunk(s) some how, and take them to Berni Stone's office and just let 'em loose! It has been almost 4 years of nothing but schtinky-schtank- we're talking putrid-eye-watering-spit-on-the-ground-gag-o-rama, with a side of the horking-gag sound....I didn't want to kill these vermin before- but now it's war!
EZ
Monday, June 4, 2007
Thanks to Phaneromania
Well P., you dun did it! I am officially set up to get this sh*t started- WHAT a can of worms! I'm at the dining room table/office/art cart- with my 2-1/2 year old (going in 14) daughter- also a "P", whom is happily painting and sticking Elmo stickers onto a huge pad of paper- markers are out in full force too...
Seems as though I will be peeling some of those Elmo stickers off of the floor....I have to get in the shower and de-stink before I p/u the G man at school- his last week of Pre-K! He is so psyched about Kindergarten (in September), that at night before bed, all last week, he kept saying- "S0 tomorrow I start Kindergarten! I'm so excited!!"- I hate to deflate his enthusiasm, but I have to tell him (as to spare him from disappointment the following morning) that "No, not tomorrow- September- you have summer camp with Niko ALL summer- Every day! THEN when summer camp is done, you will be all ready for Kindergarten!"
He sighs, then gets happy about spending every day this summer with his bestest friend in the whole wide world! I'm simultaneously happy and totally depressed that he will be in camp from 10-3 every day- I just ADORE him and his company, I will miss him SO much every day- I can already feel the lump in my throat forming and my colon ready to blow....freakin' digestive tract always has to chime in with expression when I'm feeling intense emotion- Put a cork in it lady!
AND so sounds the phone- to the tune of "Won't you call me sweetheart"....my husbear to the rescue.
EZ
Seems as though I will be peeling some of those Elmo stickers off of the floor....I have to get in the shower and de-stink before I p/u the G man at school- his last week of Pre-K! He is so psyched about Kindergarten (in September), that at night before bed, all last week, he kept saying- "S0 tomorrow I start Kindergarten! I'm so excited!!"- I hate to deflate his enthusiasm, but I have to tell him (as to spare him from disappointment the following morning) that "No, not tomorrow- September- you have summer camp with Niko ALL summer- Every day! THEN when summer camp is done, you will be all ready for Kindergarten!"
He sighs, then gets happy about spending every day this summer with his bestest friend in the whole wide world! I'm simultaneously happy and totally depressed that he will be in camp from 10-3 every day- I just ADORE him and his company, I will miss him SO much every day- I can already feel the lump in my throat forming and my colon ready to blow....freakin' digestive tract always has to chime in with expression when I'm feeling intense emotion- Put a cork in it lady!
AND so sounds the phone- to the tune of "Won't you call me sweetheart"....my husbear to the rescue.
EZ
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