The Loony Bin

The Pajina Monolouges (again)

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 00:42:00 +0000

Sweet little baby Marin is now 18 months old. All parents know that 18 months can be a difficult age, that’s when the tantrums generally kick in, but toddlers this age are also so sweet and funny. Although 18 months is better known for tantrums than anything, I think it should also be recognized as the “OCD period”. This is the stage where an open cabinet door must be slammed shut immediately, even if Mommy’s head happens to be stuck in there at the time. The door must close.

Except for all the tantrums, door slamming, and poopy pants, Marin is generally a pleasant companion. She cuddles and gives big kisses and hugs. She dances and tries to sing. If all that isn’t enough then we have the cute little baby voice as well saying, “Hewo” whenever she finds a cell phone and “Yewo” when asked to name any color. When Marin is hungry she will take me by the hand to the kitchen, gesture wildly towards the cabinets and refrigerator and say, “EEEEEE!” That’s baby for ‘eat’. When it’s time for a nap, Marin walks to the stairs yelling, “Ni ni!”

Marin frequently gets a hold of things that she is not supposed to have. Usually she will look at me, smile and run. Lately she has been winning the race that unless I happen to have a surrogate chaser available at the time. If it’s just me, (I’m back on crutches) I realize that I can’t easily catch her and I wait her out. Or I try to trick her to lure her close enough to snatch her. She usually watches me from a safe distance and smiles.

If Marin manages to get her hands on the baby wipe container she will sit quietly and carefully unload every single wipe. Sometimes she seems to recognize her own weakness and will instead bring me the baby wipe container saying “uh-oh, uh-oh” and “hewr”. “Uh-oh” is frequently a warning that she is about to get into something so she knows she had better hand it over before she gives in to the temptation.

A few days ago I told Marin that her big brother Noah was coming to see her and she said, “I know.” Despite being just 18 months old, she seems surprisingly well versed on the happenings around the house. I’m really going to miss it when everyone in this house is speaking proper English.

Claire and Katie can pronounce most things now but sometimes they still say funny things. Katie had an experience at school recently when a little boy walked into the bathroom while she was washing her hands. The little boy proceeded to pee right in front of her. Katie thought it was funny and has been talking about it ever since.

Katie- “I saw Ian’s butt.”
Me- “Oh, yeah?”
Katie- “Yeah. And he had a nut hanging down.”

I finally got tired of Katie talking about “the nut” that I broke down and told her the proper names for both boy’s and girl’s anatomy. This knowledge was thrilling for Katie and she couldn’t wait to tell Claire what she knew. Just briefly Katie appeared to be drunken with the power of knowing more than her big sister. She decided to fill Claire in at the dinner table.

Katie- “Claire, do you know that girls have pajinas? That’s what the butt part’s called. A pajina.”

Then she continued, sounding as if she was giving a detailed job description for a gynecologist. Which, by the way, we did not discuss and I have no idea where this came from.

Katie- “And did you know there are some doctors whose job it is, is to look at pajinas?”

Claire- "Yeah, and they look and they say, 'Hey, your pajina’s not workiing!"

Baby and Bugs (Or, What Kind of Monster Does She Think I am?)

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 20:25:00 +0000

Today I had the baby in the bathroom with me while I took a bath. Unfortunately, she was not the only member of the audience. There was also a cricket waiting patiently to hop at me given half a chance. The baby is not a big fan of the insect world so she gave the cricket a wide berth.

Her sisters have pointed out crickets to her and they think it’s funny when she points and says “Ewww! Ewww!” Of course, I think it’s funny as well. She doesn’t act like she is merely repeating her sisters; she seems to be truly offended by the presence of the crickets.

So if I know there is a cricket in the house, I will ask her where the bug is. Then she’ll point, say “Eww!” and generally avoid going anywhere near it. So then I might ask her if she wants to get the bug. Of course she’s horrified at the notion and she’ll say “No!”

After my bath, I was in the kitchen with the baby, fixing her bottle. She was standing a few feet away, bending over by something on the floor. I walked over to see what she had found and it was a cricket. It was on its back and not moving. I think that must have been the reason that the baby didn’t immediately recognize it. I grabbed the flyswatter and all of a sudden it came back to life. The baby stood way back as I escorted, via flyswatter, the cricket out the back door.

After feeding the baby lunch, I cut up a brownie and put it in a bowl for her. She’s generally a fan of anything sweet so I thought she would like it. I didn’t even give any thought to the fact that she had never had a brownie before. I set the bowl on a rug where she likes to sit and eat snacks.

Me- “Look Baby, it’s a brownie for you. It’s good.”
Baby, looks in bowl, chuckles and refuses to get near it again.
Me- “Come eat your brownie. It’s good.”
Baby- “No!” She was also eyeing the bowl with suspicion.

That’s when I realized what was going on. The baby thought I was giving her a bowl full of crickets.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 15:04:00 +0000

I had an appointment with a podiatrist today. Prior to my appointment, I was scheduled to stop by the hospital to have x-rays of my feet. I was taken back fairly quickly. The radiology tech finally questioned me about any possibility of pregnancy just a split second before pushing the “irradiate” button. It was exactly as if it were an after thought, as if she was thinking to herself, “She’s going to the podiatrist. Stranger things have happened so I guess I’ll ask. But not likely.” It was kind of a foreshadowing for the rest of the afternoon.

I remember reading an ad in the paper about the hospital encouraging women to come in for mammograms. They were offering a chance to win a free oil change with every mammogram. You know, it’s a small town. Things are a little different here. I’m pretty sure you might have a shot at a tire rotation if you get a colonoscopy. Evidently feet aren’t a big market. There wasn’t even a paid raffle anywhere to be seen. I finished up and gleefully made my way to the nearby building, the only thing keeping me from skipping was my painful feet.

It was the first time that I had ever seen a podiatrist but, boy, was I excited. I wish that I could say that I am exaggerating that but I’m not. I was worked up like an old lady on her way to a Furr’s Cafeteria*. My feet have been hurting that bad.

When I arrived at the office, I had no idea where I was going. I think I parked on the wrong side of the building in a gravel lot. It was raining and I really didn’t want to walk around looking for the real entrance. I saw a door marked simply “north entrance” that looked like it was most likely just for deliveries. I opened the steel door and was on a landing with stairs going both up and down. The sign on the lower lever door said “Hospice”. The upstairs had the name of the podiatrist that I was so anxious to meet.

As it turns out, I was at the back door of one-stop-shopping for old people.

I checked in with the receptionist, took my paperwork and was directed to the tiny waiting room filled with walkers and their owner’s sitting nearby. I squeezed through to make my way to a chair at the end of the narrow aisle and quickly filled out my health history. After returning to the desk to hand in the forms, I asked the receptionist how long it might be.

Receptionist- “Oh, not long. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”
Me, glancing nervously back at the walker crowd- “Liar!”

No, not really. Instead I just said “Ok” in a meek voice. Then, I once again ran the gauntlet of aluminum adorned with tennis balls to make my way to a seat. The magazine selection did not look terribly promising so I opened up ‘Word” and took some notes on my phone. Then I checked the clock. Followed by more “Word” and more clock checking. Then I developed a strange little dry cough, which I immediately blamed on the old people.

The old lady perfume was not only making me cough but it was making my eyes water as well. It turns out that I’m allergic to old people, which I did not know. Previously, I had just thought of them as a minor inconvenience.

Fortunately, one of the old ladies was called back and another left with an exiting patient. I was then alone, coughing in the waiting room, tempted to fan the air with a copy of “Modern Maturity.” I had a bad feeling that I was the only patient under seventy-five that had ever been in that office. Kind of like that scene in “Pillow Talk” when Rock Hudson was trying to see the doctor and unaware that it was actually an obstetrician.

The patient ahead of me didn’t take very long. I think she must have just been getting her toenails Dremmeled or something equally simple. I was eventually escorted back to the exam room.

While waiting for the doctor, I did what most patients presumably do. I took an inventory on the things left on the counters and the tray next to me, categorizing them as scary, not-so-scary and what-in-the-hell-is-that. I saw the Dremel with a grinder tip attachment that my vivid imagination just knew would be there and had a brief flash of “Dumb and Dumber.” Of course, that was when the thought of powers tools anywhere near my feet was just funny.

The (young) doctor then came in asked me questions and examined my feet. We went over the x-rays, agreed on my diagnosis (plantar fasciitis and heel spurs) and talked about treatment.

Dr. J., after hearing everything that I had already tried- “You could try an oral steroid but it’s not as likely to help as much as injecting the heel directly.”

Me- “I want the magic cure.”

Dr. J. –“Well, it’s not going to help overnight. It will still take some time.”

Me- “I want the magic cure.”

She had her assistant prepare the injections and sprayed the foot with a topical. It wasn’t as bad as I had thought. I managed to stay still through the injections to both feet and not even come close to losing consciousness. The injections also contained a local anesthetic so when I stood up, I was completely pain-free. So basically, I was conscious and it didn’t hurt anymore. Win-win. And she never even made a motion to pick up any power tools. All in all, a pretty good visit to the podiatrist.

Things old people like (in no particular order):

1.Cafeterias
2.Casinos
3.Backing up without looking (maybe it's not so much that they like it, maybe after a certain age they just decide it's unnecessary)
4.Early bird specials
5.Three-bean salad
6.Podiatrists

*Just in case you are not down with the oldster’s, there are benefits to the cafeteria vs. buffet. In a cafeteria, you only pay for the items you place on your tray. Therefore, if you can make a meal out of a dish of green jello, a cup of chicken broth and a baked potato, then that is all you pay for. It kind of does away with the patent leather purse lined with Zip-Lock baggies. And you all know what a mess that can be.

Marin is Four Now....

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 19:37:00 +0000

A few days ago, my morning started out bad. The downstairs toilet was clogged, all the clocks in the house were blinking announcing the precise time when the power gone off during the storm and my computer was refusing to boot. I was afraid that something had fried since I hadn't unplugged it. I was working on the computer when I noticed that Marin was being awfully quiet. That usually indicates that she’s busy. Busy is not a good thing when a toddler is quiet and busy. I discovered her in the kitchen already having figured out how to open a bottle of Italian dressing and chugging it like a low-budget drunk with a bottle of Night Train. Needless to say, both toddler and the kitchen floor were covered in dressing.

Everyone always comments on babies and one thing you hear over and over is that they will be into everything in no time at all. There is a reason for that. They are into everything and it’s a little shocking just how quickly they change from being helpless to “helpful” around the house.

Marin still prefers things neat and orderly. She recently made a trip to my bedroom and the only evidence that she had been there was that she tried to make my bed and she accidentally started the music on my clock radio. Oh, and she brought me the empty glass that I had left on my nightstand.

She likes to help out around the house as much as she can. She was helping me mop the bathroom recently and by helping I actually mean running off with the mop. That resulted in me slipping and falling on the wet floor since my main concern was catching her before she threw the mop down the stairs.

Marin found a bottle of Jet Dry yesterday by working around my pathetic kitchen child-proofing job. Once again, she was very quiet and I found her on the stairs applying it to her face as if it were lotion. Claire said that the baby just wanted to be shiny and clean. She has a reputation for that.

When Marin has wet pants or God forbid, poopy pants, she announces it right away with a disapproving look on her face. As if she’s the one put out, not me, by the terrible inconvenience of it all. Please refer to the picture above as exhibit A.

Marin likes to be clean and always wants to take a bath. The fact that someone else is already in the tub does not deter her. She walks in, evaluates the situation and starts stripping. She will come over to the side and say “Me bath! Bath! My bath!” and then start poking me in the ear.

If I don’t let her get in right away, she “helps” by throwing me bath toys, clothes, or towels. I try to bathe with a defensive posture just in case she throws something heavy when I’m not looking. Just today she threw “Seizure Elmo”* when I wasn’t expecting it. He has batteries in his feet and it felt like I had been punched in the gut. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he was packing D cells in his feet.

I usually give in on the bath since she’s coming over the side anyway. The other day when she got in with me it was already her second bath of the day.

Me- “You know, you’re probably the cleanest kid on the block.”

Marin, in her ‘Rain Man' voice- “Yeah.”

Marin likes to be clean and organized. Toddler for organized means carrying a bunch of shit everywhere you go, including everything you can jam in a toy purse and then some. Then she has the nerve to complain, saying “heavy” and makes me help carry her stuff, as if I don’t have my own overstuffed and heavy purse to worry about.

One of the other constant battles is trying to keep Marin in the house. She loves to play outside and makes a mad dash anytime someone is going in or out. I used to have a cat that did that and after a while I just gave up and let him out. But I’m pretty sure you aren’t allowed to do that with toddlers.

When Marin isn’t trying to escape, she’s back at work around the house. Which translates into getting into stuff. Marin doesn’t just get into my stuff. She collects things from all over the house. The other day she found N’s wallet and proceeded to transfer all the contents to her little purse. We still haven’t found his social security card.

Sometimes Marin is lucky and has pants with pockets. She loves that since then she is more versatile as far as stashing her loot. She likes to stick an old cell phone in one pocket and a Barbie phone in the other. Dresses prove to be inconvenient for carrying stuff so Marin improvises. She refers to the front of her diaper as a ‘pocket”. One day I pulled three radishes and a penny out of there during a routine diaper change. Well, routine except for the radishes.

She recently brought me a bottle of dish soap that she had to climb to get. She thought it was something to drink and brought me the bottle crying and saying “Mouf. Mouf hurts!” What didn’t go in her mouth was all over her. Imagine a bottle of dish soap covering a toddler. She was back in the bath in no time and boy, did we have bubbles. Then we repeated the whole process a few days later with hand soap.

Despite the fact that Main is literally into everything, she is an absolute doll. She throws her arms around me proclaiming her love, saying “I yuv you!” She breaks out into song daily, singing “Happy burtday you” or “row, row, row butt”. She calls Katie “my Katie” and hugs her at bedtime saying “yuv you, Monkey.” Then we haul all of her crap upstairs to her bed. She must have a cell phone, whatever stuffed animals are currently required and various other things that she finds around the house. In the last week that has included her brother’s X-Box manual, some junk mail and an oven mitt. How could I not be crazy about this kid?

*It’s actually Hokey Pokey Elmo. When he puts something in and shakes it all about it does resemble a seizure. He’s been seizure free for a while now because I’m too lazy to replace the batteries. It practically requires a degree in mechanical engineering to get that battery door open. Not to mention the battery packaging which generally leads to me improvising on tools. I might start off with some nail clippers or something else equally inefficient for the task at hand, then move up to kitchen scissors and dynamite before finally getting the job done.

By the way, I’m not making fun of any people that have seizures. I’m only making fun of a Sesame Street character.

Marin and Katie on a scooter

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 12:48:00 +0000

Marin

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 23:50:00 +0000

Marin heard something on the news about Mitt Romney going to New Hampshire and asked, "Who's getting a hamster?"

House

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 03:19:00 +0000

The new construction is coming along nicely. The upstairs has walls now. The windows and doors are in. Most of the appliances have been purchased but I am still shopping for the range. I think I found the perfect one. It's pretty and stainless steel. The information on the website says that it has heavy-duty racks that can be left in during self-cleaning. I'm thinking that's nice, because I'm going to do it anyway.

Guaranteed.

Because the World Needs to Know

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 22:18:00 +0000

You know how people bore you by telling you about the dream they had? Then you’re all “cool, what happened next?” but really wanting to shoot yourself in the face? Well, I’m sharing it anyway.

It was after spending the evening trying to help Claire with long division. I didn’t enjoy it back when I was in fifth grade and believe me, it hasn’t gotten any better. We did the best we could and I did learn that there are a lot of resources out there that are helpful for parents. For example, there’s one where you plug in the numbers and it not only gives you the answer (that’s the easy part anyway) but it shows you all that crap you’re supposed to have down below. Bottom line, I had to cheat on fifth grade math.

Anyway, after that I was watching 24 on Netflix before bed. I woke up after having this dream that I was making out with Kiefer Sutherland. But he wasn’t there for the making out. In my dream, he had come over to help with the long division. I don’t even know what to say about that.

The BIG Project of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 21:29:00 +0000

I mentioned the house project in a previous post. It's coming along nicely. Now that the roof trusses are up, things have gone more quickly. The new roof is being finished up today. The doors and windows will go in next week.

I can't wait for the new kitchen!

The Bug Trauma

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 19:32:00 +0000

So, I think I’ve mentioned a few times that I’m not a big fan of bugs. Marin however, thinks bugs are fun. Recently she was playing in the yard and yelled at me to come look.

Marin- “Mommy! Come look what I found!”

Me- “What is it?”

Marin- “It’s a bug! Come look!”

Me, not nearly as thrilled- “Ok, I’m coming.”

Marin- “Look! Look!”

Me, shocked and disgusted- “Oh my God! You have a cicada!”

Marin- “I know. It’s a great bug!”

I tried to be cool about the whole thing since she actually likes bugs but cicadas are scary. I immediately flashed back to the time years ago that my cat caught one and was trying to bring it to me. It was screaming in his mouth and clearly the cat thought he was contributing to the family with the bug present. I had no choice to run as the cat chased me with a bug.

Katie was playing on the trampoline yesterday. It was pretty uneventful until she came back inside all upset.

Me- “Katie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Katie, shaking her head and clearly still shaken- “I was lying down on the trampoline and I thought there was a leaf under my hand. I started crunching in up but it felt funny and it wasn’t a leaf! It was a cicada! Yuck!”

Then I laughed and she rubbed her cicada hand on me. She spent the rest of the evening touching people and saying cicada hands. Marin spent the rest of the evening screaming and running.

Out of the blue, less than an hour after the bug incident, Claire let out a blood-curdling, horror-movie-style scream. She ran to me, still screaming.

Me- “My God, Claire! What happened?”

Claire- “I was picking up a shirt on the floor and I felt something on my hand and it was a CRICKET! It was climbing up right here!”

I swear, I really wanted not to laugh.

Falls Under the Category of WTF?

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 19:09:00 +0000

I was shopping on Amazon for some vitamin B today. Since Pleasantville is pretty small, we don't have everything available here in town at a great price. I found the vitamins that I wanted, same brand and everything at Amazon for less than the local price at the health food store. Not only is it a couple of dollars cheaper but the bottle has twice as much. Exhibit A

So, I needed to spend a few more dollars to get free shipping. I decided to see what other fabulous deals the same store within Amazon has to offer and I came across this, uh, syringe.

I had never heard of this product and made the executive decision that this was NOT going to be my extra product of choice to catapult me into the land of free shipping. After all, the reviews clearly indicated that this particular model has "no back flow valve."

The One Where I Could Have Been Buried Under the House

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 20:48:00 +0000

So, we have this big house project going on. My contractor is my dad. The savings is tremendous but the other result is that I have to do things that I normally would avoid. For example, when we were working on putting in the concrete forms I had to help. I was hoping that my contribution would be going outside to deliver cold drinks and then making a mad dash back to the air-conditioned house. But it didn’t always work that way. There were times that there was no one else around to help and I quickly learned that delivering cold drinks was risky business.

I would be trying to hand over the drink and then I would get the order.

My dad- “I need you to go over there and hold that.”

Me- “Hold what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

My dad- “You know that thing (insert technical jargon like oh, I don’t know, two by four?) while I go measure that other thing (more technical jargon, or as I like to think of it; blah, blah, blah.”

Me- “I still don’t understand. Do you mean you want me to get in the hole???”

My dad- “Yes.”

Me- “Uh, I don’t think that’s really girl stuff. Is there any way I could just make you a sandwich instead?”

My dad-“ GET IN THE HOLE!”

I reluctantly got in the hole, doing what I was told but the whole time I couldn’t help but think that it was kind of like the second crime scene.

The One With No Title

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 20:36:00 +0000

Hello? Hello? Anyone still out there? Is this the time where I make the excuses for not posting? I’m going to skip that part and go ahead and move on to new business, if that’s ok with the one or two loyal readers that I might have left.

Just to catch everyone up on what’s going on here in Pleasantville, my oldest son and his wife had a baby, Cael. He’s four months old now and just perfect. I’m still trying to figure out how to convince everyone that I’m the aunt. I have a hard time with the “G- word.” It makes it difficult to pull off the “I’m 38” lie.

So, now my little girls are all aunts. At 10, 8 and 4. Although Claire was 9 when he was born and Marin was just 3. She still insists “I not AUNT Marin!”

Marin is crazy about babies though. She was a fan of babies before her nephew, but they were just dolls. Now she’s had some up-close interactions with a real baby and she’s hooked.

Marin- “Can we get a baby?”

Me- “Uh, no. I’m pretty much over that.

Marin- “Please! Please!”

Me- “No way. I’m not doing that again. No more babies. Where do you think babies come from anyway?”

Marin- “The baby store? Wait. Do we even have a baby store in this town?”

Me- “Nope. It closed down. Besides who would take care of a baby?”

Marin- “I would. It could sleep with me.”

Me- “Ok, but who would change the baby’s diaper?”

Marin- “Oh, I would do that.”

Me- “What if the baby is poopy?”

Marin- “I don’t care about that. I would change it.”

Me- “Ok, but who is going to feed the baby?”

Marin- “Me! I will do it.”

Me- “What would you feed the baby?”

Marin, thinks for a minute- “Peas!”

Me- “Peas, huh? Do you like peas?”

Marin, clearly disgusted- “No! That’s baby food!”

Enough of that stuff already, because there really should be a limit on cute for any given day.

Three is FUN

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 22:38:00 +0000

You might be surprised by the magnitude of the mess that can be created by just one three year old and just one package of instant oatmeal. I know I was.

Big News

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 03:51:00 +0000

My oldest son, Noah and his wife, Cassie are having a baby! I should let you know something right up front though. By my calculations, that means I'm going to be an aunt. Of course it's the same sort of logic that makes me think I'm also 38....

I Believe (one more time.....)

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 21:45:00 +0000

This is something that I wrote a couple of years ago. I was just reminded of writing it after the death of a family friend a few days ago. I know she shared many of my same values. She died too young, leaving a husband and a two year old son. So I'm sharing once more for Kris.

The holiday season is now officially in full swing. For many of us that means spending more time with friends and family not to mention cooking and shopping. But I think it’s also a time to reflect on our own priorities and values and generally become a little more introspective.

I just wanted to share some of my own beliefs and priorities with anyone that cares to listen.

I believe that friends and family are important. I remind myself everyday just how lucky I am to have my children. I take joy in the baby learning to point to something yellow and proudly announce, “Ye-yo!” followed by enthusiastic clapping. I love listening to her yell “ All done!” when she is finished napping and awaiting rescue from the confines of her crib. I feel Claire’s pain when she tells me that she didn’t get to sit with her friend at lunch and was instead forced to sit with the ‘mean girls.’ Katie makes me laugh everyday with her amazingly quick wit. I am incredibly proud that my sons have turned out to be genuinely good and moral people that will go out of their way to help others.

I believe that sometimes it takes some work to be happy. It’s important to be willing to be happy and be open to all the possibilities that life has to offer.

I believe in trying to become a better person.

I believe in never purposely hurting others, even someone that you think has it coming. I have the opinion that everyone has enough problems. No one needs someone deliberately trying to hurt them.

I believe in learning from mistakes, but not dwelling on them. Learning from mistakes also means admitting that you have made them. There is no upside to blaming others for your problems. Sometimes the only good thing that comes from a given situation is the life lesson you can take from it. If you don’t see your own role and get caught up in playing the victim, then you have taken away the potential for growth.

I believe that sometimes we all have to force ourselves to do things that we don’t want to do and make us uncomfortable. That’s part of being a grown-up.

I believe that it is acceptable to wallow in self-pity for exactly five minutes. Then it’s time to work on a solution.

I believe in having goals. If you don’t know where you want to go, how in the world will you ever get there?

I believe in forgiveness. I also believe that you can forgive but also not repeat the same mistake.

I believe in the importance of being polite and well mannered. I also believe that children need to be taught these skills.

I believe in firm boundaries. I have a clear idea of what is right and what is wrong. I have learned to stand my ground and I will not give on important issues.

I believe in compromise. Not all issues are equally important to both parties. Sometimes it’s important to put the needs of others before your own.

I believe in tolerance of others even if they are different from you and you disagree with their opinions.

I believe that parents should control their children in public places.

I believe that restaurant portions are too large for one person.

I believe that we should be careful about judging. It is incredibly easy to think you know how you would handle a given situation until you are faced with it. As Jack Handy used to say, “Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you’ll be a mile from them, and you’ll have their shoes."

I believe in working hard and working smart.

I believe in honesty. It’s a lot simpler than trying to keep your story straight.

I believe in loyalty. You never ever screw over your family or friends. Ever.

I believe in helping others whenever you have the opportunity.

I believe that children should have early bedtimes.

I believe that the notion of karma is not mystical or magical but just good common sense. Which person is more likely to have people to turn to for help in bad times, the person that lives a good life helping others or the one that is not bothered by hurting others? What goes around does come around. Think about it and don’t forget to pass it along.

I believe in reminding people of their great qualities. We all tend to focus on the negative feedback we receive. Maybe if everyone had more positive interactions, that could help outweigh the bad. The world could be a happier place.

I believe that people have the capability to change provided that they also have the will.

I believe in treating others with respect. I have also learned that there is no hope for being respected when you have no respect for yourself.

I believe Dr. Phil when he says that we teach people how to treat us.

I believe in persevering. My philosophy is that a yes is a yes and a no is a maybe.

I believe in communication. I think that adults should be able to discuss differences without arguing.

I believe in having enough foresight to see the potential for trouble in a given situation and having the sense to correct it before it turns into a problem. For example, a child that wants to eat spaghetti on your new sofa. This same concept is applicable in many areas of life. It is far easier to simply avoid trouble.

I believe that’s about all I can think of.

Triple-Amputee Barbie

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 03:18:00 +0000

So the dog likes Barbie dolls. I can't even bring myself to discuss Ken's fate. Let's just say it wasn't pretty.

This dog stuff is all new to me since I haven't had one for years. My previous dog, Zoie the Akita, was much too dignified to chew anything up. She couldn't be bothered to play with toys- in fact if you threw a ball for her she would simply walk away. Her main concern was finding a sunny spot for napping or worst case scenario, maybe a sandwich to steal.

The dog thing is new enough that the other night I let the dog out in the freezing cold and then promptly forgot I even had a dog. About an hour later I heard some scratching at the back door and still didn't know it was the dog until he stood up at the door, looked me in the eye and begged to come inside.

Marin likes to lead Chase around by his collar and he is usually happy to go with her. Sometimes he's had enough and will try to escape. That's when she likes to close the door to her room and trap Chase, which makes him bark and whine. Which in turn makes Marin cry and yell "He's whistling!" She did that the other day and Chase was desperate to get out, yet again "whistling" and barking.

Me- "You have to let that dog out of your room."
Marin- "But I don't like him out here cuz he isn't coperating!"

Since getting Chase, I now have another list of ridiculous things that I have to tell people not to do. It used to be just the normal stuff like "I told you to stop climbing on the walls!" Now it's really conversations that I never imagined I would be having.

Marin, screaming- "Mommy! Chase ate my fry! Make him spit it out!" Then I have to explain why it's too late for that and why she really wouldn't want to eat it even if I did retrieve it.

Me- "Don't let him eat out of your bowl! He licks his butt!"

Marin responds happily- "He licks me, too!"

Other things have included the following:

Me- "Who left gum out? The dog is now chewing gum!" and my personal favorite "Did you put spaghetti on that dog?"

One of My Favorite Dogs

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 22:20:00 +0000

There once was a dog named Abby Rae,

Whose tongue stuck out halfway,

It wasn't meant to be rude

Or express a bad mood,

It just happened to be that way all day.

My friend Andrea's dog, Abby (also known as Abby Rae) died over the summer. She was fairly young for a small dog- just nine. She had suffered some health issues such as kidney failure, etc. Like many tiny dogs she also had some dental issues that led to multiple tooth extractions, hence the limerick above.

Andrea took very good care of Abby, even giving her daily sub-cutaneous fluids and feeding her baby food. Abby was a good sport and was still a happy little dog but finally took a turn for the worse. Andrea took her to the vet to be put to sleep and then we buried her in my backyard.

Which brings me to the funny part of the story..... I called my mom and told her about Abby and she reminded me of what had happened to one of her co-workers years ago. My mom's friend, Sandy, took their dog to the vet's to be put to sleep. He had been sick and the vet had recommended that it was time.

I can't remember the dog's name but for the sake of this conversation let's just call him Rex. Anyway, the whole family is there saying their goodbyes to Rex. The vet gives the dog the shot and Rex is gone. They leave Rex there to be disposed of by the office staff. Then Sandy and her grieving family head back home only to discover Rex waiting on the front porch. He had beat them home.

It turned out that the vet's office had just tossed Rex out in the back to be picked up by the rendering truck. Rex must not have had the right dosage since he woke up and immediately headed for home. Sandy didn't have the heart to take him back and Rex lived out his days with his family.

Holiday Shopping!

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 00:07:00 +0000

I wanted to share a special holiday promotion from the nicest people in skincare. The coupon code is FF25 and it will get you an extra 25% off your order. Just go to SkinMedica and start shopping!

William and the New Dog

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 15:00:00 +0000

Miniature poodle, I think. I'm not good with that sort of thing.

Yeah, He Could Smell Better Though.....

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 17:16:00 +0000

First of all, I want to share some complaints about daylight savings time. The first day I skipped straight over breakfast and had lunch at 10. I rarely even eat breakfast. There is something very wrong with this time change system when I decide that a fish fillet is a good choice at 10 am. I was making plans for dinner by 3:30 in the afternoon. I’m now officially on the senior’s “early bird special” schedule.

To make matters worse, it took me several days to remember how to reset the clock in my car. As a result I was doing things like leaving the car, walking in the house, noting the time on the stove only to think to myself “fuck, it’s noon again?”

In other news, I adopted a dog. He’s a very nice dog that a rescue group saved from a death sentence at a shelter. The shelter staff had him labeled as dog aggressive since he had barked at other dogs. I don't claim to be an expert but don't all dogs do that? It turns out that not only is he not aggressive but he loves to play with other dogs and kids. It’s not surprising because he is only 18 months old or so.

The guy that was caring for him (Dale) didn’t like the name the rescue group gave him, Baron, so he changed it to Chase. I say that he’s officially Baron Von Chase which sounds very dignified considering the fact that Marin has already been making him wear hats, Little girl hats. He spent five weeks with Dale and has had a fair amount of obedience training. He knows sit, heel, down for starters. He’s also house-trained (YES!)and the girls adore him.

Marin insists that Chase go with her to the potty. She also likes to put his gigantic dog bed right next to her little toddler bed for nap-time. Yesterday afternoon I checked on them only to discover them both sound asleep and Marin had Chase tucked in with a blanket.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all kittens and unicorns. Katie was upset with Chase for sniffing her legs while she was wearing a skirt. Of course, in her defense, he did have his entire head under her skirt. Claire was displeased when Chase licked the piece of pizza in her hand, and then immediately tried to feed it to Marin. Marin is not a fan of dog spit. She gets upset when she picks up the ball to throw for Chase and discovers that it's wet. Marin was most irritated the first night Chase was here. He kept going to the door and whining.

Marin, addressing the whining dog- “Don’t do that! It’s making me annoying!”

Me- “That’s not what’s making you annoying.”

Marin- “He's doing it again! He have a whistle in his mouth!”

Well, I guess I better hurry up and get started on lunch. I just noticed it’s 11 o’clock again.

Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 17:04:00 +0000

Some people say that sugar doesn't make kids crazy. Just for the record, they're fucking liars.

She's a Picky One

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 00:07:00 +0000

Claire made a new friend on our street today. She played with him most of the day and was talking about him still when she got home.

Claire- He was born in Russia but he lives somewhere around here now.
Me- How old is he?
Claire- Nine.
Me- So, are you dating now?
Claire- No! We really aren't much alike at all.
Me- Huh?
Claire- I mean, he likes sharks and I like monkeys......
Me- Yeah, I really don't see that relationship going anywhere.

I Went to the Gas Station and I Had my Camera.....

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 23:09:00 +0000

You're welcome.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa) — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 02:59:00 +0000

Open two tabs and close one. Isn't that the digital equivalent of one step forward and two steps back?