Caring for your Pets

Apparently, I've forgotten how to schedule posts on blogger. Ergh.

And apparently, my son is having second thoughts about forgetting to take care of his guinea pig for weeks on end. I found this in my printer last night:

I Know What I Want for My Birthday

A few days ago I got home from school and I heard Charlie Brown making his usual “get me carrots” sound. Right away I knew why I had been feeling empty inside. I missed having a pet. I know that your first response is a quick “No, remember last time you had to have a pet?” but hear me out. I think that I have changed for the better and am more responsible then I was a year ago.

When I came home one day and you had given Gretzky to Carly I felt like I had failed (I know that I did), but I want to revise that. Constantly hearing him cry for food and seeing his long, untrimmed nails made me realize that I ruined his life. When he was in Carly’s possession and he got sick, and stayed sick, I knew it was MY fault, not anyone else’s MINE. I said that he was going to die, just out of grief, and I apologize, if it still means anything. If you give me another chance I promise you that all those terrible things will change.

I believe that I am more responsible now. I can take on a challenge and win. I can raise a happy animal of my own. I understand where you are coming from if you reject me but, I will be disappointed.

I would like to make an outdoor hutch/run combo and get a rabbit/ guinea pig. I think this could be an opportunity for me because it would teach me to take care of an animal and responsibility. I think maybe I could put it in the front garden and plant around it. I would get sod and lay it down to make the hutch grassy.

He is going to be 13. Most kids would probably want a laptop or a computer game, right?

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach and want to run right out and get him a fuzzy little creature. Except...we already have TWO fuzzy creatures. The guinea pig (formerly Gretsky, renamed Charlie Brown when my daughter "took over" a term I use loosely as she rarely cares for him) and the dog. Does he care for either of them voluntarily? No. When asked he will do it most times without complaint. Most times.

But the guilt... is he feeling that guilty about the sick guinea? My word, then why was I the ONLY ONE to bring the poor thing veggies a few times a day, make sure his food and water were full and his bedding was changed?

Something I will never tell my boy: I thought he was going to die too kiddo and I might have even suggested that your father hit him square on the head with a shovel because the poor thing sounded and looked so miserable, a wheezy rattle with every breath - I was sure he wouldn't make the winter. But he did. Miracle? Maybe, but give me the 1980 Olympic Hockey team miracle any day over this one....

I am heartsick when I read his letter - he's so logical and for him, emotional. It's probably the truest thing he's written that I've ever read. I do feel bad that he feels so badly but I have to steel myself and remember that he has every opportunity to hold and care for Mr. Charlie Brown and he doesn't even look in there most days. Is Charlie Brown's life ruined? Maybe it is. He seems pretty chipper though, squeaking when the fridge opens and running around his cage.

The logical side of me is screaming Noooooo. And then I reread the letter and think 'How long does a bunny live for? Will he be leaving for college with a rabbit in the backseat?' and then I'm back to No. Never. And then I think 'Well, another guinea pig cage wouldn't fit anywhere would it? Can two males live together in one cage?' And then I'm thinking No. Uh-uh. And then I think....

You see where this is going.

So anyway, I'm just sharing here so that I can remain strong(ish). And really, when he came home from school that day to hear the guinea pig squeaking...did he bring him some veggies or did he grab himself a gatorade and a snack and drop himself in the chair to watch Pawn Stars onDemand?

A Refresher

So, hey now.

It's been awhile. And my promise to dust off my keyboard was forgotten...you know you don't visit your blog too often if when you type the first three letters and a different site pops down in the menu.

Summer, fall and nearly winter have come and gone. More of the same here...

The boy will be THIRTEEN in one month. Thirteen. Since we've last spoken he's gotten a cell phone and a girlfriend. He's still playing hockey and can text faster with his cheapo phone than I can type on a full size keyboard.

He flashes this look every two to three minutes to let us know just how disappointing we are.

My girl? Nine years old. She wants to do EVERYTHING. Last week after talking about signing her up for softball we're snuggled in watching some crazy downhill skiing thing...wipeout after wipeout. She turns to me and says "Mom, about softball..." I, thinking she's nervous to try something new says "Scared?" and she says "Nah, I think I'd rather ski".

And that's about it on the kid front.

The dog is, like, 85 pounds of lazy puppy. He's good, better than we could ever expect from a lab puppy. The husband? Working hard at coaching hockey - recently re-employed (the annual winter layoff appears to be over) and I? Am busy trying to juggle the kids sports, the almost-a-teen romance, the hockey coaches wife thing, school...I almost forgot SCHOOL, perfecting my homemade frosting, reading and watching The Wire or True Blood or Weeds or Surivor.

Pretty much the same stuff that's been going on for the past four years or so.

Hmm.

And while part of me is disappointed that not a whole lot has change another part of me likes it just fine.

I'm thinking this isn't going to make for too many interesting posts but I'm thinking of giving it another shot here...

*dusts off the keyboard*

Which might actually be true if I wasn't fritting my time away on that dastardly Facebook. Which, while I love it has some serious downfalls.

If I read one more Hooray it's Friday! or Boo Mondays! I may weep. Save that shit for Twitter.

• The dog weighs almost sixty pounds. I don't know, but that seems big. I'm sure the growing will slow down a bit now. Maybe?
• Was just told that my hours at work will be a joke once a big development project finishes up. From a local engineer: "this town is going to EXPLODE when that tower is done".
• Shit. Love my small town.
  
• Sixty pound dogs make excellent foot warmers.
  
• Loving black cherry kool-aid.
  
• And frozen margaritas
• Two weeks until vacation!

And with that, I'm disappearing again. Not for long though...

Well, now. My retinas are officially burned right out of my eyes.

There is this giant glowy thing in the sky today and I just stared in wonder...

FINALLY.

Bedtimes have officially flown out the window this week - I ordered from Amazon for the first time since Christmas (which, just so you know, is a record hold out for me) and we're all staying up too late, tucked into bed with book lights and fans and a warm snuggly puppy.

Well, only my boy has the puppy because the OFFICIAL word is that the dog is not allowed on the beds (so sayeth my husband) but the boy's room is upstairs and the dog quietly goes in there and my son is all too happy to have him jump up on the bed. Next thing I know, I can't find the dog and I'm going up the stairs to make sure he's with the boy and not gorging himself on his 40lb. bag of dog food in the cellar - and then I have to make a show of pretending to mind that the dog is curled up with my son. When really, I could honestly care less. And they both know it.

My husband took the kids and two of their friends on a six mile bike ride today on the Canal. He and my daughter just got new bikes - so it was their maiden voyage. The girlie is eight but we're hoping to keep the bike for a few years and we thought she'd be outgrowing the foot brake option before too long. So we opted for handbrakes and gears. Now, I remember my first ten speed - it was the official coming of age bike. You were no longer a 'little kid'. I also distinctly remember riding it for the first time, backpedaling furiously while trying to stop - totally forgetting the handbrakes - and riding directly into a very prickly fir tree. Also, I used each and every gear but probably didn't really understand how to use them for like, two years.

So I tell the girl my story and envision her trying in vain to use her footbrakes, and the bandaids, the crying....Well, my daughter? Had it all figured out within the first hundred feet. Brakes, gears - the whole nine yards. I was suitably impressed.

Today officially starts Summer Vacation for the kids...now if someone would just tell Mother Nature that as of June 21st she's supposed to turn the knob on the weather machine to 'sunshine'...

I'm on vacation as of two p.m. today. Naturally, we've got a few things planned and seeing as it's supposed to be Summer at this point...everything involves the outdoors.

*Loud Sigh*

There are slugs on the deck. And the pile of sand that has to be wheelbarrowed down to the beach? Waterlogged and really, really HEAVY. I now have a special pair of always wet sneakers to take the dog out because the lawn is long (can't be mowed until it's at least a little bit dry) and yes, always wet sneakers are every bit as gross as they sound but I figure better to have one pair of wet sneakers than 5 pairs.

*Looks out window*

I suppose light grey skies are better than dark grey, right? Right?

And the gloves and scarf I have stashed in the car for hockey...at least I don't need them outside the rink. So that's something...

I haven't had to wash the car for a month.

Ummm...

Ladies, I'm grasping here, to find the positive... can you tell? Hard to find the silver lining in a bunch of clouds that are all the same damned color.

Oink freaking oink

So, have you all been hearing much about the Swine/H1N1 virus thing? No? Yeah, well why is that? Think it's gone?

It so isn't.

Dudes, there are over 100 sick kids in my girl's school. They've let us know about 11 confirmed cases. But there were 400 kids absent today. FOUR HUNDRED. Out of about 580ish. Most of these were for precautionary reasons - or simply because it was grey and raining and who doesn't just want to roll over and play a little hooky on a day like this? Or on days like these since it's been raining for about 822 days now. But I digress.

Was my girl there? You bet. They had the school professionally cleaned over the weekend, she has NO symptoms and so she went.

Apparently there were tears - students and teachers alike, there are huge budget issues, layoffs are imminent and the feeling of having the school year cut short - even by two measly days - has left everyone feeling out of sorts and all unfinishedlike. My girl is heartbroken that she didn't get a chance to say good-bye to a special needs aide that is assigned to one of her best friends. Heartbroken.

I was planning on making cookies for end of the year presents...but I can't imagine wanting homemade treats during Germfest 2009. So tomorrow, while my babe accompanies me to work she is going to make some pictures and we'll scan them and email them off. Kind of blase but I know it'll make her feel better.

Only two more days of rain in the forecast...so I'm holding off on finishing the ark. At this point the only reason the pigs would be invited is to ensure a lifetime supply of bacon and ham, the virus ridden bastards.

Enjoyable

1. Sims 3. Waste of time? Quite possibly. Are there better ways to kill an hour while my husband watches Ax Men? I think not.
2. The new (to him) boat is in heavy rotation these days. This was the first time he rowed by himself to the other side of the pond. They were hunting for minnows, which they found. They also grabbed a glop of frog eggs, which turned out to be toad eggs. We now have two minnows and 35 tadpoles in our aquarium. 3. Love this gum. And no, I don't eat the wrapper.4. I was so sure that I wouldn't really like this series. A western? In space? Yes and yes. What this guy did for vampires? He does even better for space cowboy types.

May 21st

See now in real life...my birthday is long gone. But on the blog? It was only three short posts ago. I sometimes like how that works.

My requests were simple. It was to be the four of us, clam strips and ocean. The weather was beautiful and I hit the trifecta - I got all three.

We headed here for dinner. Based on years of driving by on my way to and from the beach and the hugely long lines I've seen - I thought we'd give it a try. It's not much of a website, but I suppose I'd rather have them perfecting the fried clam than learning html and java.

Our view:No vibrating, flashing beeper thingy here. Just a number. On a rock.

The girlie and I? Thought it was delish - the clam cakes (fritters, really) were to die for. The menfolk, however? Not as impressed with their choices. My husband kept looking longingly at the plates of all you can eat crab legs that kept passing by our table. Ah, well - live and learn.

Now, it was downright hot at home but in Newport? Um, TWENTY degrees cooler. Actually not cooler....COLDER. Still though, I thought we'd hit up the sea glass beach before heading home. It was high tide and we pretty much struck out but there were jetties to climb and periwinkles to rescue. "You want me to go again? Because I can go again. Did you cut my head off? Are my feet in the picture? Because I can jump again, y'know. If you need me too. Do you need me to? Just get one more jump. Just in case."Not a problem, kiddo. I'll take a thousand more of these if you want me to.

In summary? Fantastic way to spend my evening.

And as a bonus? We got to come home my other birthday present:

This soccer position has a name

It's called Butt to the Gut.

It's one of her specialties. Which is better than her positioning when she started dome soccer with names the other team's parents would yell out like "Hey, wasn't that a hip check?" and "ELBOW!" Mama didn't take photos of those.

Really, this kid oughta be on the ice but soccer's only a few hundred bucks while hockey is much, MUCH more. Plus she's not much of a skater and frankly, the money for two to play? Yikes.

She's also learned that if she puts her forearm out and braces it and runs through people without shoving her arm forward? That's perfectly fine. In fact, it's called a forearm shiver. And her coaches LOVE it.

Now, obviously she's not knocking everyone flat on their collective asses but she gets the ball up the boards like nobody's business.

This next move though? I don't have a name for this one...

Fore!

I know it's no secret that I totally love where I live. I mean, the exact location of where I live - on the pond. It also happens to be in a fairly small town - two stoplights, very sketchy cell phone coverage and no grocery store. The usual things, I suppose. It's not a bad little town but all the new houses going in are McMansionish and change is in the wind...

Anyway.

There's this driving range, seemingly out in the middle of nowhere (suppposedly it's totally close to a main road - but I've never driven that way so I can't be sure). No golf course nearby, surrounded by woods and a few houses...really, it's kind of nice as driving ranges go. I guess - because one thing I don't do is golf. Unless, of course, it involves dinosaurs or fake pirate ships and the only club in use is a worn out putter - then I'm in.

But the boy? Wants to golf. He got an inexpensive set of clubs for Christmas so I taken him to the range a few times. This past time we grabbed one of his friends on the way and we ended up getting there fifteen minutes after it closed. But, and I'm guessing this doesn't happen in all that many places, we walked up to the little ball shed and there were ten buckets of balls and a cash slot in the door. And a can of bug spray.

Now, the cash slot? Big enough to stick your hand in and remove all the other latecomers payments. If there were any other late comers, which there weren't. We paid for three buckets of balls - they wanted more, so I let them collect another bucket themselves (stealing from the honor system - nice, eh?) so they could shoot for another ten minutes until it was too dark to play. They practiced their Happy Gilmore shot, burned some worms (fast moving ball that never really leaves the ground) and made general fools of themselves...definitely not following any golf etiquette that I've ever seen.


This, apparently, is the look on your face after a ball you hit goes whizzing by your mom's head.

Almost two a.m.

Okay, so I should totally be in bed but I've got better things to do.

1. One episode left to watch of Entourage, season three.

2. Contemplate dinner plans for tonight. It's my birthday and the weather is supposed to be positively summer like...I'm thinking seafood + picnic table + ocean.

3. Totally got sidetracked by Jen. First I'm strolling down memory lane - remembering our old Kool-Aid pitcher, then I'm wondering about letting my kids drink the stuff, then I'm thinking that Kool-Aid is the least of my problems, then I'm cursing at the thought that my mom threw the pitcher out, then I remember these cups I used to have...what kind of drink was that again? Then I'm googling 1980's drink mixes. Lo and behold...Funny Face cups.

See? Sleep is so overrated.

Well then.

The dog has a rock obsession. Well, maybe not an obsession but he eats an alarming amount of them...and now he's learned to swallow the smaller ones quickly - like as soon as he sees my hand go towards his mouth.

Dudes. Combine this with a week of dog poop induced worrying and let's just say I'm about done boiling hamburger and rice for his meals.

And y'all know I love Boston Sports and apparently there's this baseball team in town you may have heard of.

But right now it's a baseball team of which I know nothing about because my house is topsy turvy with Bruins love. That would have been fine by me had they not lost three games in a row, giving me a hockey induced stomach ache (maybe the dog's issues aren't rock related after all) and keeping me glued to Twitter and whatever other Bruins stuff I can find. Which, apparently, isn't even HALF of what's out there.

I'm a blip on the Bruins obsession radar, honestly. I checked the ticket prices for the playoffs and had to laugh. One ticket for a decent seat? On the verge of being out of my price range. For a family of four? Bankruptcy.

NESN HD, homemade popcorn and the couch with the kiddos begging to stay up for the third period. Not so bad.

Except for the fact that I'll be at work and watching it later, by myself, in my computer chairand on my 15" computer monitor in NON HD.

Ergh.

Truman Fix

My daughter's been training him with the usual commands. Sit, come, ROLL YOUR EYES AT MOM.

Good Friday? You bet.

Daughter: Good Friday? Why's it called Good Friday?

Me: Because you don't have any school.

*climbs inside handbasket to await journey to the underworld*


I'm hostessing an Easter Brunch this year. Which, while it's not my first choice or even my 61st choice of things I want to be doing...my mother in law scheduled her Easter dinner at a time that leaves me no choice. Well, no choice if I want to see my family.

Other reasons for it being a Good Friday?

Sunshine, kids making Easter chocolates with my mother in law, husband golfing, dog running around a fenced in yard, going grocery shopping alone, sunshine. dinner with friends, husband got his CDL license, thumb is healing nicely, the Bruins beat the Habs last night and oh...did I mention SUNSHINE?

Remember last year...my son had an accident, splitting his knee wide open? The whole incident the result of a flailing dive after a football thrown by my husband.

The injury left him unable to play in his hockey playoff game, unable to attend tryouts for next season, going to class with a footstool and limping for weeks? (Ed. note: His legs = toothpicks, with knees)

Fast forward to this past Sunday.

A friendly game of basketball between my husband and son. The boy goes to make a move with the basketball and my husband, doing some defensive mojo - slams into my son's hand, jamming his thumb knuckle to the point where blood spurted out from his nail bed. Immediate swelling. No tears, but lots of pain. Lots.

Twelve hours later it's bruised and swollen. He can move it, a little. A nurse friend of ours says, "It's not broken but WOW that looks baaaad". Thanks, nurse friend.

And guess what...once again, it happens the day before hockey tryouts.

The silver lining? My boy and I are giving my husband so much grief, nothing like a good guilt trip to keep your spirits up...

Our fictional versions of the story include:

1. My husband slamming the ball out of my son's hand with a whallop and yelling "DENIED" as my son falls down holding his hand and crying.

2. My son reaching for the ball and my husband, knocks him down and steps on his fingers while yelling "Too Slow!"

3. The fact that it's all just a psychological thing my husband's doing unconsciously because my son is better at hockey than he was and now my husband is green with envy.

Now, obviously none of these things happened but, hey, we're easily amused.

Contrary to popular belief there is no Easter Bunny. At least not at my house.

Just a grouchy mom going outside at the crack of dawn to hide eggs around the perimeter of the yard where the dog couldn't go because the underground fence would shock him.

Why outside? Because the dog would follow me around trying to eat the eggs moments after I hid them? Same reason why they were mostly hidden around the very edges of the yard. Color me bitter. Not that the whole dog thing made me bitter it's just that old Easter non-spirit I have.

There may be a glimmer of hope on the horizon though:

Scene: Tuesday morning in the bathroom.

My girl was brushing her hair and I was brushing my teeth and she says "I really want Mentos and deodorant in my Easter Basket."

My response, besides an internal raised eyebrow at her request? "Really? Well, why are you telling me, maybe you should be telling the Easter bunny..."

Her: "I just did."


So, what do you think? Am I off the secretive hook? Can I just get up at, say, six a.m. and hide the eggs and baskets with their knowledge or must I still trip around in the dark with a flashlight hoping that egg eating raccoons aren't living under my shed.

Grateful For

1. Empty water bottles recycled to be the most favorite dog toy.

2. Sunny spring days. They will not be taken for granted.

3. Tim Thomas, goalie extraordinaire

4. Opening Day at Fenway.

5. The Easter Bunny charade? Done.

If I hear one more person call him Marley....

Truman, the eleven week old dog? Twenty two and a half pounds. I can't remember what Baxter weighed but this is seeming large to me. Something else I don't remember...the whole blank slate thing.

He had to be taught to walk up stairs. One at a time, me putting one paw on a stair and then moving the rest of them in order while he stood half frozen in terror. On the same idea? He's not going down them. Not no how. Not with treats, not with the same step by step teaching. I'm sure he'll get over it but for now, I'm scooping him up and carrying him downstairs every morning and praying he can hold it for just a few minutes longer.

He didn't drink for most of the first day he was home. We showed him his water dish but it wasn't until my husband splashed it around did he figure out what it was.

His collar? The bane of his existence.

There were some loud squawky birds outside today and his ears perked up and he RAN for the door. Somehow I foresee eighty pounds of quivering terror...hopefully he outgrows this.


Last time, with Baxter? We went for the super happy puppy. The one that licked us and wanted to play. Six YEARS later, he was an enjoyable dog to have around. Years one through five? He was hell-on-wheels. Or paws, as the case may be. This time we walked into the dog run and when four of the puppies ran over to jump and play with us my eyes went straight to the dog hanging back, half asleep in the corner.

I'm half convinced he has narcolepsy. And I'm thanking my lucky stars every day.

So far my responses to the ultra annoying Marley thing have been:

• "Who's Marley?" which, when combined with a confused expression has people thinking I live in another dimension.
• "Um, no this isn't Marley...wasn't that a movie or something?"
• "Nope, not Marley...I'm pretty sure he died, didn't he?"

I only used the last one on a wack job lady at the tennis courts but seeing as she screamed it across the courts as we walked by and then let her dog follow us halfway home? She totally had it coming.

Today

• I am cautiously optimistic that maybe, god willing...I will not need the umbrella at all today.

• I was writing down a list of meals we might have this week and my girl looked over my shoulder and says: Chicken POT pie?!?!? All this time I thought it was Chicken POP pie.

• Wondering if a nine pound chicken will defrost in seven hours.

• Debating between staying home and doing whatever needs doing or going to see a play at my son's school.

Echo....echo, echo, echo. Anyone? Anyone?

Yikes, TWO MONTHS without a post?

Let's see how things stand around here....

1. Husband, still out of work. He's going back in a matter of weeks, though. A local channel did one of their 'investigative reports' on his company and the whole owner in prison thing. What it added up to was them trying to drum up a story and the people they interviewed saying they have no problem working with this company, they've totally restructured and blah, blah, blah. In your face channel five.

2. The boy? Is well. There's one more hockey game, a tournament final and we are DONE. For a month, anyway. School is going spectularly this year. He's trying to negotiate for a cell phone...Fail. It took him until about a month ago to start checking people in hockey, nothing like seeing your seventy pound kid rub a 150 lb giant into the boards. Love it!

3. The girlie? One minute she's the death of me and the next she's quite literally the kindest person I know. She's also trying to negotiate for a cell phone and this FAIL needs to be in caps. She's playing dome soccer and now Spring Travel is about to start. She's the little enforcer on the team and when she was told to choose her number for her uniform? She picked 17, after her favorite Boston Bruin - Milan Lucic.



Going on record here as saying that the announcer, Jack Edwards is THE best. "They have beaten them. And tonight they have beaten them up." Love that guy.

4. Truman. Welcome home.