This last week has been one of the tougest weeks we have had in a long time.  Our 9 month old lab, Addie was hit by a car outside our home and killed.  You may remember my post when Addie came to live with us.  Things changed ...really changed and I  grew to love that dog.  She was a very sweet and lovable animal.  She only wanted to be with us at all times and the excitement that she had when we would come home made me feel special and wanted.  A feeling I only really experience with my family. 

The last few days have been filled with bad 80's hair band ballads.  Cinderella's "Don't now what you've  got till its gone", Tesla's "Love Story" even Cher's "If I could turn back time".  All I can think about is why didn't I check her kennel and make sure she was locked in Tuesday night?   Why didn't I train her to not leave the yard?  Why didn't I spend more time with her on Tuesday?  Why did I care more about not messing up my pants then playing with her?  Why did I rush to fill her water bowl, pet her a few times and threw her a stick so I could make it back into the house before she came back?  Why didn't I take any recent pictures of her? Why, why  why?   Regret. 

This regret has really plagued me.  I feel like I not only failed Addie but I failed the girls.  My laziness and indiffernce cost Addie and my girls.  I know this was just an animal and for those that are thinking "it is a dog, get over it" , I get you.  I used to think that way.  My opinion was animals smell, they slobber, they shed, they poop and pee and did I mention they smell!  The only good animal was a stuffed animal. 

But looking at PerryAnn and having to tell her what happened and then comforting this teenager who was in that moment, a small child looking at me with eyes wet from tears but more than that a helpless stare, questioning me, pleading with me to make it not be true.   You want to give your kids all you can and this was something  that I could not do.  It is killing me.   Yeah, Addie was a dog but she was a part of our family and we miss her.

Not to out do Gracie,  but PerryAnn is funny also... yet again proving funny came from my side of the family.

PerryAnn is writing a paper on Julius Caesar and Ancient Rome and she yelled to me from the office, "Mom, if they still used today the type of money that the Ancient Roman's used and someone in America wanted to open a currency exchange business they could call it America's Got Talents". 

Funny.  Really funny in my opinion.  I think Pastor Neal will like this one.

Gracie is funny.  She gets it from me.  Dan, not so much.  This week as we were driving in the car, she said some of the funniest things. 

1.  Mom, can I get a tatoo?  (while we were driving to school with a pen in her hand contemplating writing on herself)

2.  Mom, why do you talk to the other cars?  (I don't know.  But I do talk to myself and other cars regularly.  Sometimes I wonder if I would be able to function if I did not tell myself (and others whether they are listening or not) what to do outloud.  I also sometimes think I am talking to myself but struggle with my inner monolague going external without my knowing it)

3.  Mom, can I get an ipod like sissy has? (sissy always plays her songs in the car but then takes the ipod with her when she gets out leaving me and Gracie to regular radio.  Gracie prefers to have control over what music she listens to... and most everything else.)

4.  Mom, what do you want to be when you get bigger?  (Really good question.  I had to think on this one before I gave her my answer.  I figured, she's three, maybe she will forget that she asked me.  I changed the subject to the Cheetah Girls)

5. Mom, can we go to the Cheetah Girls concert?  ( My answer was "they aren't here yet", I think they are in Oklahoma or somewhere like that.)

6.  Mom are the Cheetah Girls here yet?

7.  Ah, pickles. (her response to "No honey, the Cheetah Girls aren't here yet.)

8.  Mom can you put on the song "hold your breath because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you"?  (Secondhand Serenade song that PerryAnn places A LOT.  Gracie has learned the words and it is really funny to hear her sing it.

9.  Mom, can you put on Demi Babado?  (Demi LaVato - Disney channel singer)

10.  It's been a long day.  (Friday night in the car on the way to Kohl's and icecream)

I am not going all,  no on California Prop 8 or anything but my dear friend Amanda Tongg had it sooo right when she told her husband " We need a wife".   As I look around my bedroom, the place we are supposed to rest and refuel, all I can think about it what a disaster it is and how much "work" it is going to take to get it to the point where I can actually rest there. 

I wake up most nights at my designated freak out time of 11:45 pm and look at my couch and see what appears to be the guy that kidnapped Polly Klaus taunting me.  Just standing there, motionless, before he goes and takes my children from their rooms.  Scary.  But it is only a stack of clothes topped with Dexter Mays swim trunks that in the dark, late at night during "irrational hour" look like the guys head, reddish frizzy hair and all.

Yeah, I should just move that stack, or better yet return the clothes to Brandi Mays.  Yeah, I should do that.  But if we had a wife I could just expect her to take care of it, right?  Isn't that how it works?

There is nothing better about Preschool tradition than Pony Pictures. 

 Perry Ann took them in 1998.  The picture still sits on my kitchen counter.  And now I get to add Gracie's Preschool pony picture.  I love pony pictures!

Gracie has a new habit of asking me what kind of treat I brought her when I pick her up from school.  Many days I forget to bring her something so I hear her wrath all the way home.  The treats are generally a fruit roll up from the cupboard or a sucker I picked up at the bank.  Some days I check her lunch box to see what she hasn't eaten and then play if off like the baggie of goldfish was her planned treat all along.  She is still young enough to fall for it yet I suppose I should be concerned with her demand for treats on a daily basis.  I'll cross that bridge someday but for now a quiet ride home at the end of the work day is worth any stinkin treat she wants. 

So the other day at pick up I was so happy that I did have a treat for her.  Licorice.  I had transported the Trunk N Treat candy that was donated at church on Sunday to the office on Monday morning and a few pieces of wrapped licorice fell out into my trunk.  Score!  I have 2 days worth of treats for GG... or so I thought.  Turns out my precious little pumpkin is a little more picky than I had expected.  She does not like licorice.  I do.  Score! 

But now I faced an unhappy ride home, one I did not want to deal with so I did not hesitate to stop at the store and let her pick out a treat.  Her choice - a blue raspberry flavored push up pop.  It took her forever to suck that thing down all the while turning her teeth and tongue the most amazing color of blue-ish green.  I brushed her teeth three times and then resorted to shoving a wet wash cloth in her mouth to scrub her teeth and tongue clean.  I took a picture of the tongue because I could not believe how bright the color was.  She proceeded to pose.  Enjoy.

I just finished the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I saw her on Oprah and, though I am generally anti anything Oprah, I decided to read it.  The story is based on the authors life which includes dumping her husband, a bitter divorce, taking on a boyfriend and a guru and then taking a year to eat her way through Italy, pray at an Ashram in India and learn to love again in Indonesia all the while searching for God, her version of who she thinks God is. 

 It is neither sappy nor romantic which are my first two prerequisites for anything.  She is witty and crude which I like in a woman.  It is a good book.  A fun adventure. The interesting thing is that I think Dan was not terribly happy about my reading the book.   He won't admit it but I know my man.  We know their "tones",  right girls?  We know what our men are talking about when they make the slight gestures of disapproval.  I think he thinks that it will inspire me to question my current existence and put thoughts in my head of far of places. 

If a book could do that to me then my reading Pamela Andersen's biography should inspire me to boob jobs, bikinis, tatoo's and "home" videos.  Pretty sure that is not going to happen.  Have you seen how much a boob job costs these days? Then again the home video could pay for it. Hum.

I do want to eat my way through Italy but I would not want to do it with anyone other than my man.  I was told by my doctor that I should do some yoga but I don't feel the need to travel to India to do it.  I can't get my tush to the yoga class down the street.  I would love to visit Bali, but again, I want it to be on a second or third honeymoon with my hubby. 

So the next book I read will be a little more conservative, just to put Dan at ease.  Any suggestions?  I hear the Barefoot Contessa has a new cookbook out.  Perfect.  This will prove that a book can't inspire me to follow it's path since I am quite sure I will not be running off to the kitchen to cook.

I have this habit of forgetting to eat breakfast.  It is not that I don't love to eat, I do.  Our mornings get so crazy since I always wait until the last possible minute to get up or get going and I have, unfortunately, trained my children to do the same.  So we are always rushing.   I do find the time to make a pot of coffee and love, love, love to drink a few cups as we are getting ready and in the car. 

Yesterday was no different so as we were rushing I had two or three cups of coffee and no breakfast.  Once I got to work, I only had a few minutes to get to our devotion time and then rush to my MAP (Mothers with a Purpose) group.  I was late to MAP so I only had time to grab a cup of coffee to satisfy my hunger.  Then it was so cold in the room that I grabbed another cup of coffee to warm me up. 

As MAP is ending, it is 11:30 and I still hadn't eaten but I had a bag of dark chocolate kisses.  I tore into it and probably ate half the bag without even breathing.  There, my stomach felt full and off to my tasks of the day. Until...

2:00 pm  rolls around and I feel a horrible rumbling in my stomach.  Horrible.  Awful.  Painful.  I then realize what happens when you drink 4 or 5 cups of coffee and only eat dark chocolate all day.  I won't go into the gory details but it does involve my intimate encounter with a slew of public restrooms. 

Chalk this one up to experience.  I wouldn't let my kids eat only chocolate all morning so why do I?  But I also would not let them squirt the whipped cream in the aerosol can directly into their mouth and I have been doing that daily since last Friday.   I think I may need a sugar intervention. 

As a side note:  Lori Jo Q and I did go to Subway thinking a sandwich might absorb some of the fermenting fudge but the damage had been done.  And I don't think the smashed pea and barley soup from CPK and the bites of PA's chocolate souffle cake and Dan's red velvet cake that we had at dinner helped either.

My family has hair issues.  We always have.  My Mother will tell you we got it from her Mother and I am sure the blame would go up the family tree from there but the fact remains we are serious about our do's.

When I was in the 5th grade I got a "Dorothy Hamill" hair cut.  She was an ice skater  in the 1976 olympics and her short hair cut was all the rage.

She looked sassy and cute and when she did her triple axel it was as if her hair followed her movement perfectly and landed right back into place as gracefully as she did. 

 The problem with my having a Dorothy Hamill is that not only was I not graceful, I was neither sassy nor cute.  I just looked like a boy.  

The complex comes from an unfortunate event that took place at the neighborhood Naugles restaurant now Del Taco on Riverside Dr.  I was just being polite and respectful when I held the door open for an older couple as they were leaving.  My Mother had always taught us to open doors and give up our seats to adults, especially older ones so I was just doing what comes naturally.  Then it happened.  The complex forming event...  As the lady crossed over the threshold she turned toward me and said "What a nice young gentleman, holding the door for us".  I looked at her and said "I'm a girl" but she kept walking out.  

Now this was in 1977ish, and the lady did grow up in the 40's/50's-ish right? So I am thinking that only men and boys held doors in her era and though bras had been burned by '77, she was still living in the past and really she just assumed I was a boy due to the door holding...right?  

That's what I thought until last week when after coming from a hair appointment where I went a little shorter and a little darker a box boy at Stater's brought it all back to me..."would you like paper or plastic sir".  Yep, he called me sir.  When I turned toward him and gave him a look of disbelief, he literally jumped backward, eyes bulging and yelled " Ma'am, I mean Ma'am".   Didn't even pretend that he meant ma'am but said sir like he does it all the time.  No he jumped and he yelled.  What makes it worse it that I really can't explain it away like on a Thursday at 11:00 am tons of men are at the grocery store.  No men in sight....he really thought I was a sir.