Meet Tiger Lily!

With regards to Meet the Parents movie, I'm all about Robert Dinero's discussion about the supremecy of cats over dogs.  I say a silent "AMEN" after he's finished grinding his future son-in-law about the fallacies of a tail wagging, easy pleasing canine.

We are now dog owners.  I am not a dog person. I haven't had a dog at my house in 30 years.  They smell.  They lick.  This one licks.  This one smells.  But, she is pretty cute.  It is a guilt dog.  My girls (and hubby) have been begging for a dog for years.  Literally.  It was always "after Kennedi is potty trained." Or "after we move." Or "after our adoption because I don't want to go to Russia and have a puppy left here to take care of." Or whatever excuse I could come up with.  Now, 1 1/2 years after Andrei is home, I relented out of guilt of denying my children the experience of dog ownership.

Annsley had been scanning the classifieds almost weekly since February looking for Boxer puppies.  I had been breathing a sigh of relief as there had been none for 4 months.  Then my husband, all by his little ole' self, posts a message on his Facebook page about wanting Boxer puppies.  And here they came.  From all over neighboring counties and states he was flooded with puppies available. 

I was doing quite well.  I just ignored him and all his little messages.  If I waited long enough, they'd all be gone.  And then one of the owners actually called him at work. And then she emailed pictures. 

I was toast. 

So, Sunday afternoon he and Annsley drive 45 miles to check them out.  Annsley only wanted a female because "we have enough boys around here."  The only females this owner had left were brindles, and Annsley only wanted a fawn.  But I knew she and Doug would leave with a dog--brindle or not.  And they did. 

Kennedi and I went shopping Sunday afternoon for dog bowls, food, bedding, and the all important chew toys.  Doug has been given his directive by our 7 year old to construct the dog house this weekend. 

She brings grief to Andrei though.  She loves his Tag blanket and constantly tries to carry it off. She also tries to pull down his shorts.  And any time he's bending over, she tries to climb on his back.  Andrei has a true love-hate relationship with Tiger Lily.

So now our days are spent house training, redirecting her couch gnawing to a chew toy, and waiting for her wake up from her puppy napping to play.  She has puppy breath. She smells like Dog. But I have a feeling she'll grow on me. 




Tiger Lily




Enjoying eating the stuffed rabbit someone left lying around.



A short lived smile as Tiger Lily grabs for Tag.

Stirring the stick!



Reading stories to her dog.



Mother's Day Surprise!

OK, so I'm an official blog neglector. I'll try to do better as I just know each and every one of you wait breathlessly every morning to see I've posted some more awesomeness! LOL

My girls celebrated Mother's Day with breakfast in bed for me.  From what I understand, Annsley started planning this a few weeks ago.  I knew something was going on, but no one would tell me anything except there was list of things that needed to be shopped for.  And then Wednesday night Kennedi could bear the secret no longer.

"Mom, we're cooking you breakfast for Mother's Day on Saturday.  Don't tell Annsley that I told you."

Doug has figured out that I now know their big secret and tells me that I'm going to have to stay in bed on Saturday morning.  He'll provide ear plugs.

Friday afternoon Annsley announces that she, Kennedi and Daddy are going shopping for my Mother Day surprise.  I will need to watch Andrei.

Yes, Dear.

The girls are in the car waiting for their Daddy to get in.  Doug has Annsley's handwritten list in his hand.  Without telling me what they are making, I'm trying to help him figure out what they really need to purchase.  It goes something like this.

Doug, "We need Bisquick."
Me, "We have some."  I take it out of the pantry.  It is half full.
Doug, as he looks all over the box for a recipe. "I'll get some more."
Me, "What are you making?"
Doug, "Uhm.. "
Me, "Pancakes?  Unless you're making 55 pancakes, I promise you that there is enough Bisquick."
Doug, "She's got frozen blueberries on the list."
Me, "The fresh ones are on sale. I'd go that route."
Doug, "She wants shortening.  What's that?"
Me, "Are you frying something?"
Doug, "Can we just use butter?"
Me, "What are you making?"
Doug, "It's a surprise."
Me, "Yea, so I've been told."
Doug, "I'm suppose to wake them up in the dark tomorrow.  Where did that come from?"

And the light has come on.  (Figuratively speaking.)  I tell Doug, "Oh man!  This has all come from the Berenstain Bear books.  The kids and Papa cooked Momma a Mother's Day breakfast.  Papa got the kids up while it was still dark to cook.  They made the grocery list.  Went shopping ,cooked--you know..just what you're doing." 

As promised, Doug provided me with ear plugs.  He got the girls up at 6:30, and I surprised myself by actually going back to sleep until 8:30! That in itself was a blessing!  I was served blueberry pancakes, fruit with extra creamy whipped cream on top, bacon, coffee, and Annsley's home made version of Reece's peanut butter cups. 

Later that day I was blindfolded, handed a bat, and told to start swinging.  They made me a homemade pinata.  I'm not sure what they made it out of, but I had blisters trying to break it.  It was a very resilient pinata.  15 minutes later the candy they had stuffed it fell out.  Unfortunately, Doug had let them paint the homemade ball of unwhackable paper mache with about 3 cans of spray paint. 

I ate two Reeces' Peanut Butter cups. (Can you tell it's my fav?)  They tasted like spray paint.  I burped spray paint until the next morning. 

But it's the thought that counts. 

I had an absolutely awesome Mother's Day.  My girls made my day so special, and kuddos to my hubby for helping them make it such a great day!

Cayenne Pepper to Amoxicillin

There has to be a law SOMEWHERE that says mommas can't get sick if they have children under the age of 7.  Surely, there must be a law that says that.  I, obviously, missed the enrollment period, and therefore have forfeited said benefit. 

I say 7 because I'm fairly sure that my oldest daughter, who is currently 7, could run the house for the entire day.  I'm fairly certain that she'd even wash the dishes without being told to do so.  Of course, she might take the opportunity since Mom would be oblivious, to paint the barn a nice shade of purple, but at least she'd attempt to try to rinse the brushes out. 

Annsley and I developed strep this week.  I originally thought it was some kind of nasty, nasty flu.  I've never had strep and quite frankly, I don't ever care to again.  Annsley had a fever and threw up Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning I woke up feeling like my throat had a blow torch attached to it, Kennedi carefully analyzed the situation and realized that she was the "oldest one left standing."  She had remembered back in December when I had some stomach bug and threw up not short of 20 times in less than 24 hours that I put Annsley in charge of everyone.  (In case any of you may be having some bad thoughts about my husband not being around to take care of the kids, this week was the STAAR state mandated tests.  It wasn't an option about him skipping out.)

"Mom," Kennedi asked Wednesday morning, "am I in charge since you and Annsley are sick?"

"Yes.  I'm gonna need your help to take care of Andrei.  Can you be a big girl for me today?"

Rather elated at the thought, she replies, "Oh yes! Does that mean I'm in charge of lunch too?"

"Yes.  You'll fix you and Andrei something to eat."

"I want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I'll fix Andrei some ham, and cheese, and a banana.  Is that OK?" 

At that point I truly would not have cared if she wanted to make chicken fried steak.  I would have said yes to anything that I didn't have to do. Lunch that day couldn't have come quickly enough.  10:00 and she was already having hunger pains.  It ended up being a long 2 hours for literally all of us.  Graciously the clock read 12:00 and she began lunch.  She was absolutely so precious.  She cut some turkey up for Andrei.  Cut up his cheese, and peeled his banana for him.  She smothered peanut butter on her bread, shirt, and counter.  Licked the knife and then dipped it into the jelly.  Licked the knife again and went in for seconds on the blackberry jelly. 

I'm on the internet looking for remedies for sore throat because the salt water gargle isn't helping.  I read gargling with apple cider vinegar works wonders.  Annsley gagged.  I tried it myself.  I actually love apple cider vinegar just as a little "kick start" for your day kinda thing, but I couldn't tell it did too much for my throat.  I then read that cayenne pepper added to the vinegar will cure any sore throat.  These people said that only burned slightly when the mixture was spit out.

So I tried it. 

I didn't have any of the the dried red pepper, but we did have plenty of Tabasco sauce ready for duty.  I shook about 7 drops in the bottom of my cup.  I added about a tablespoon of my friendly apple cider vinegar and about 1/2 cup of warm water. 

#%#%!!!##! THOSE PEOPLE LIED!  Instead of one blow torch, I had the entire manufacturing plant ablaze in my mouth.  WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??!! They can't possibly be human.  And to think that they prey on desperately sick people like me. 

Long story short, this is the sickest for the longest period of time I have ever been in my life.  IN. MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.  My body felt like one of those lawn aerators had run over my entire body.  Ibuprofen was falling short of lasting 6 hours of fever and sore throat pain.  Really, by Thursday evening, I could understand how people could choose death. Friday morning Kennedi wakes up complaining of a sore throat. 

I finally glance at my throat and count new fewer than 10 white pus pockets.  I've had enough.  I call our pediatrician and get Kennedi and Annsely in to see her.  She suspects strep.  On a whim, I have her glance at my throat.  She swabs the girls' throats, gives them Amoxicillin, and strongly encourages me to see the nurse practioner at the pharmacy while I'm getting their prescription filled.  I'm not up to arguing any more.  I'm never sick enough to go to the doctor.  I haven't been to the doctor since Kennedi was born.  At this point I'm more than ready to give up my "record" for relief. 

The PA does a strep test.  It's positive.  I get Amoxicillin too!  I've never been so excited to take an antibiotic in my entire life.  When we three finally get home, Doug wants to take one of my pills "just in case." 

NO WAY!  I've been the most miserably person for the last three days.  These are all mine.  ALL MINE! "

"Go get your own!!" I hiss with clenched teeth.

He goes back to work.  Within three hours of taking my first pill, I finally notice how nasty my kitchen floor is after being at the mercy for three days of Doug and Kennedi.  I actually sweep, mop, and wash two loads of laundry before I go to bed that night!  Doug comes home from work.  He looks like he's in severe pain. 

"Where'd you go? I need medicine!!" 

So he's got strep too.  The PA didn't do a test on him.  She just took a look at his throat and said, "Oh, yeah.  You got what your family has.  Here's some Amoxicillin for you, too!" Andrei is a rock of immunity.  He's currenly coloring with his Color Wonder markers so his daddy can sleep.

There's Hail, and then there's HAIL!

Oh my goodness! Our "little" hail storm made some serious national headlines!! This happened about 20 miles or so from where we live earlier this week. It was crazy!  I've been around hail that seriously covered the ground several inches deep, but I've never seen anything like this before!

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/sideshow/texas-hail-mud-mix-drifts-were-waist-shoulder-155019237.html

Resurrection Sunday

I serve THE risen Lord! Hallelujah! My baby girl was baptized this morning by her daddy.  Kennedi was so incredibly excited; she's been counting down the days all week.  I love that about her.  She waved to the crowd; she held her nose the minute her little feet hit the steps going down into the baptistery. She answered every comment and question while still holding her nose. She was ready!

From My Husband...

  

My Favorite Animal

Our teacher asked what my favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken."
She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else laughed.


My parents told me to always tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.
He said they love animals very much.

I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.

The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.
I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.

She sent me back to the principal's office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.

I don't understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.

Today, my teacher asked me to tell her what famous person I admired most. I told her, "Colonel Sanders." Guess where I am now.......

Z-Line

My husband often forgets that his comments can quickly become fodder for my blog.  Last night was no exception.  He was looking at the pictures I had posted of Andrei running his trucks all over the house and yard.

"Oh wow! Look at that Z-Line!" he said.

"What?" I asked. 

"Andrei's got perfect form.  Look at that!" 

I'm not following.  Neither am I seeing this Z-line.  Doug points to the picture and shows me his level back and as Andrei is lifting his knee, he is creating a Z. 

Oh.

"Now in this one," Doug begins critiquing, "he's in an L.  That's not good."

"Really?"  I thought he was just driving a Tonka truck.  Obviously there is more at stake.

Doug continues, "Oh, this one is perfect technique. You can't teach that."  Then, I see a funny glaze come into my husband's eyes.  "Look out Baby!  OL is coming!"

Now the light bulb is on.  Football.  Offensive Lineman.  Proud Daddy.  Ex-coach.