photo by number657 on flickr

Dear Cousin,

I love you. Just about as much as I love anyone on this earth.  And I have in my past, loved a pet.  More than one.  I mean I used to let those cats SLEEP WITH ME every night, I looooved them, they were my BABIES, and you know what? I’M GLAD THEY’RE GONE.   Going pet-free is the best decision we ever made for our family.

And that is the reason I am going to tell you that you should under no circumstances, get a DOG.  I know your husband thinks he wants one, I know your daughter thinks she wants one, I know all our readers think your kids are going to turn out to be emotionally stunted irresponsible citizens who make a living stealing other people’s identities if they don’t get a one, but I am here to tell you that they are WRONG.  Why? Because YOU don’t want one, and they ultimately want what YOU want, whether they know it or not.  This dog will make you unhappy, and when mama’s not happy…she gets TMJ, gets hopped up on muscle relaxers because she can’t deal with letting the dog out in the middle of the night one more time, refuses to leave the bedroom, gets fired from her job, and starts talking to her new hair dryer.

But you know what? I don’t need to give you any more reasons about how dog hair is gross (and your cleaning lady is going to start charging you more), how you are going to have to pick up POOP (really, both your kids can take care of their own poop, shouldn’t you not rock the poop boat?), how you are going to have to make Kate get a JOB to pay for the tags, license, shots, etcetera that this pooch is going to require.  And what if he gets hurt, or sick? Oh, you can just buy health insurance for YOUR DOG. I’m sure that’s cheap.  And probably really good coverage.  I am sure you will never have to pay out of pocket thousands of dollars so your dog won’t die so your kids won’t be emotionally scarred.

OH, and YOU HAVE TO PAY MONEY FOR YOUR DOG TO GET A HAIRSTYLE AND A MANICURE. Dubya tee eff, cousin. Like you even have time to get your OWN hair and nails done but your DOG will have to have regularly scheduled appointments?

I just died a little just thinking about it.

But anyhoo. Like I was saying. I don’t need to tell you those things.  Because I am going to tell you, in your own words, why you should not get a dog.  So Emily, listen up, because you have something to say to yourself.

REASONS I SHOULD NOT GET A DOG

by Emily Berry

1) I rarely plan ahead for lunch, which means I either grab something quick (and expensive and not so healthy), or I scavenge something to eat out of my desk drawer, and then find myself ravenous when I get home.  But I’m sure remembering to buy giant $60 bags of dog food for our family pet will be no problem.

2) One of the many things I struggle with is how big of a deal to make out of things – and by “things,” I mean failures on my part. Once I get started thinking about one thing, a giant list of other things I need to do or fix or clean or whatever comes to the forefront of my mind… and I can’t let them go. But I think adding a few dog-care-related things to the list is a great idea.

3) I need to hook up the super awesome printer I bought, I don’t know, probably six months ago. It’s been sitting in a corner since then. I shudder to think of this dog’s fate when your 7-year-old tires of caring for it.

4) I need to keep my car cleaner. So I’m getting a dog.

5) I’m tired of staying up too late. I’m tired of not being able to get out of bed on time. I’m tired of getting myself and two kids out the door every morning. I’m tired of my 40 minute commute. I’m tired of evenings being rushed. I’m tired of being late for everything. I’m tired of having so many balls in the air. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not doing a good job at anything.  Like keeping a dog alive.

6) Sam, at the ripe old age of three and a half, has developed a new interest. Potty humor. I think dog poop all over the yard is really going to help him get over it.

7) I mean, imagine if your husband had memories of seeing his mom get a pap smear. (ok, that one doesn’t really apply, it just cracks me up!)

8 ) Then there’s everything that has to be done in evenings during the school year… homework, paper shuffling, lunch packing, bath time, and, you know, dinner. And taking the dog out for a crap. And scooping the dog’s crap up.

9)  Jenny and I have actually both been struggling with this ungratefulness in our oldest children, and we’ve talked about it a lot.  However, we have no solutions. But maybe I’ll try making Kate scoop up dog crap and see if that helps.

10) And finally…I think I am getting grumpy in my old age or something, because this time around any benefit I might eventually get from this scenario  is vastly outweighed by the fact that I am extremely uncomfortable.

Don’t get a dog, cousin. Don’t. Get. A. Dog.

Love,

me

The feline that began my speedy decline...

Today I went shopping for supplies for Sophie’s birthday party.  She wants a Hello Kitty party, and thanks to all the other “fun moms” (I’m looking at YOU, Koproski, Berry, Loyd, and Perlow – and don’t even get me started on YOU, Princess Party Emmons) whose children’s parties Sophie has attended, the child now expects a pinata and goody bags at said party.  So, my years of being a super-cheap mom are OVER.

But I was okay with that, to a point, because you see, I had a Living Social voucher to a local party store, which I’d bought with credits I’d built up. It was valued at $30 so I thought, certainly I could get out of the party store only spending a few bucks.  So, even though every fiber of my being was screaming “NOOOOOOOOOO”, I purchased a Hello Kitty pinata for $20.  That’s right, I spent twenty bucks on PAPER that is going to get ripped to SHREDS before the party is over.   I also bought two packs of Hello Kitty plates, a pack of regular pink plates (for the grown-ups), a Hello Kitty banner, two packages of pink forks, and some wrapping paper.

My total before the voucher came to $57. FIFTY-SEVEN DOLLARS.  So I spent $27 out-of-pocket when I went in there expect to spend less than ten! What the crap?  Clearly I should have gotten into the “Party Store” business.  I didn’t even get party HATS, or a game!! Sheesh.

I bought goody bags and favors at the Dollar Tree. Much more my speed.  But since there are eleventy-billion kids coming to the mega party of the year, I still had to get a ton. Guess, what, if you are a boy, and you are coming to Sophie’s party, you are getting candy in your goody bag and that’s it!  Sorry, dudes.  The girls are getting a couple extra trinkets. Because there’s only 9 girls and there’s like, 678 boys attending.

But anyhoo. THE POINT IS:

I got my daughter a $20 pinata.  Because she really, really wanted it.  I would have rather spent another $20 on a gift for her but I caved.  I caved hard.

I might not be a “fun mom” yet…but I’m definitely more fun than I’ve ever been..by Joshua’s birthday in February I’ll probably have rented each of his party guests their own pony for a day.

HELP!!!  I’m slip-sliding away…

That’s right, for the next two weeks, I have to look at Joshua’s poop and write down my observations about it’s size, color, consistency, etc.

I love being a mom.  Really, this is the stuff I’ve always dreamed about.

But back to the asking a million questions part.  The doctor asked Joshua many, many questions that ended in the word, “poop”.

Does it hurt when you poop?

When you’re eating, do you feel like you have to poop?

Is there any blood on the toilet paper when you poop?

PoopPoopPoopPoopPoopPoopPoop?

Seriously, after the first question, it was all I could do to not burst out in an ugly, raspberry-esque hysterical laughter.  I had to bite the inside of my mouth and stare down at the top of my son’s head to keep from losing control.

Because there’s something about a learn-ed M.D. saying the word “poop” over and over that brings me to the basest level of immaturity possible.

I couldn’t breathe for a full 30 seconds after he’d said his last “poop” for fear of losing it.  And, since I’ve made a fool of myself in front of this doctor over bowel movements before, I really did not want to lose control.

But I was thisclose.

So, I think my much more solemn and mature husband should attend the follow-up appointment, don’t you?  Because since it is going to involve careful examination of aforementioned poop diary, I don’t think I can be trusted to hold it together.

What makes you giggle like a pre-adolescent boy?

(P.S. – POOP!!!! Made ya laugh!)

1) Lands’ End Long Sleeve Cotton Modal Crew Neck tee.

Emily claims these are the best tees EVER, and she has, like, TEN of them, but she won’t give me one, so YOU can give me one. Surprise me with the color! Thanks in advance!

2) Lands’ End Chalet Midshaft Boots. I NEEEEEEEEEED these, ok?  Please, make my dreams come true! Functional and gorgeous, I know it’s gonna snow a crapload again this winter and I neeeeeeeeeed these.  Size 7.5, Light Bark.

3) Lands’ End Cotton Cashmere Drape Cardigan sweater. I promise Lands’ End is not sponsoring this post, I just looove clothes and LE is pretty much all I wear. And I have a drape cardigan *obsession*.   And look at this one!! I want more than one.  Umm…Pewter Heather and Bright Teal Heather would work. Size small. Make it happen!

4) Dunkin’ Donuts -

We used to have a store near my house, but it was turned into a Cashland (how JANKY is that???) several years ago. Now Dunkin’ Donuts are my absolute FAVE, and I MISS them. There is a store near my OB-GYN so I treat myself to a Dunkin’ whenever I have an appointment, which is now just yearly since I got the ol’ tubes tied, so I really, really, really need someone to purchase and run a Dunkin’ Donuts franchise for me, and put it REAL near my house. PLEASE. You only turn 34 once.

5) A new living room furniture set.

Yo, my 11-year-old couch and love seat are worn out and SAD.  I got holes in my upholstery!  We took the matching chair to the dumpster last week!  So, it would make my birthday REALLY SPECIAL if you would buy me the EKTORP leather sofa, love seat, and chair from IKEA. Again, you only turn 34 once!!! And I needs somewheres to SIT!

So, today is Wednesday, and my birthday is Monday, September 5th. You got five days, my peeps!  And I’ve given you five fabulous ideas. (You’re welcome!) Let’s all work together to make the big 3-4 the best EVAH!

__________________

Oh by the way, no one sponsored this post and I’m totally kidding!  Um, and I also want one of EVERYTHING from Lands’ End Canvas! SO there’s another option….

Well.  Apparently I was correct.

Because I had two very important doctor’s appointments yesterday, one for me and one for Sophie (what is it with our school district wanting yearly physicals done on the DOT? GEEZ!), so of course, sheets and sheets and sheets of ice began raining down from the heavens in the early morning.

School was cancelled, my appointments were cancelled, lots of businesses closed, and the ice kept a-comin’.

In the evening, a power transformer blew up in the suburb where Cortney lives.  Sorry, Kettering.  I didn’t mean to.  I just wanted to go to the doctor!  For my 6-week check-up!  (Because I may or may not need a little repair work on my incision, but that’s a whole other post [that you probably don't want to read]).

This morning our local newspaper says 55,000 of our local power company’s customers are without power.  Our lights flickered last night about 9 pm and I freaked.  I ran for the matches and the candles and fretted that Sophie was really not wearing very warm PJs.  I could not fall asleep because I was so worried about the power.  My friend Shannon was texting me about trees falling down at her neighbor’s, perilously close to her own house.  My mom called to say that BOTH my elderly grandmother’s homes were without power.

Now we are on day 2 of no school (and we were pretty stir crazy by noon yesterday so I’m really looking forward to this!) and my yard looks like a skating rink (I should put my iPod on the front porch and charge $2 for admission) so I guess we’re in for the duration.

I’m hoping to get out tomorrow, because I’ve rescheduled my doctor appointment for then.  And Sophie’s for Friday.  Which probably means we’ll have 10 inches of snow by noon tomorrow.  But you know, I had to try.

I’m SORRY, Miami Valley!  In advance.

Because every time I freaking have somewhere to GO, it flippin’ dumps snow all over the place up in here!

Today, I had Jonah’s 4-week check up appointment AND Sophie’s first-ever dentist appointment, so I was out on these hazardous roads because neither was something I could really re-schedule (Sophie had to have  a dental exam within 60 days of enrolling in preschool. It’s like day 51.  Thankyouverymuch.)

A couple of weeks ago when I pulled a muscle in my incision area and thought I was going to die, I had to drive to the doctor in a snowstorm because I was in so much pain I was not gonna cancel that appointment.

And a month ago, the day before Jonah was born, I also had to drive to the  doctor for myself in the worst snowstorm thus far, so that they could tell me my blood pressure was too high (because I almost DIED 50 times on the way there!) and that I needed to have the baby the next day.

So clearly, every time I have an appointment, it is going to be like the Arctic in my ‘hood.

So please watch out next Tuesday (hair and brows),  Feb 10th (Sophie’s actual dental cleaning), and Feb. 17th (Jonah’s  8 week check-up.)  Those days are gonna SUCK.

You’ve been warned!

Soph and I were sitting in the living room shortly after noon when she decided to go upstairs. I figured she was headed up to her room to play with her dollhouse or read books and didn’t think a thing of it.  But then about two minutes later I heard her yelling, “OH no! It’s TOO WET!”

Crap.  That can’t be good.

I raced upstairs and found Sophie standing in front of the toilet with her pants and panties pulled down. “It’s TOO WET!” she said again?  ”What’s too wet?” I said. “Did you go pee pee in your pants?”

“No it’s too wet on your (she’s still got pronoun confusion) SHIRT.”  She replied.

I moved in to investigate.  Her pants and panties were dry, but she was wearing a long tunic-style shirt, and sure enough there was a small water spot on the back.  It was oddly round, and about the diameter of a soup can.

I put her on the potty just in case, and noted that her lady parts were also dry.  There was no toilet paper anywhere and it didn’t look like she’d gone potty yet.  She told me she DID need to go pee pee and as she sat on the the pot, I began my interrogation.

“Did you already go pee pee?”

“No.”

“Do you need to go?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get wet from? The sink or the potty?”

“The potty!”

And yet. There was no water splashed anywhere on the floor, her hands were dry, there was no water on the toilet seat.

She sat there a couple minutes but never did pee.  And I never could figure out how she got wet!  So we just changed her shirt and moved on.  But dangit if I wouldn’t like to know.  I was so curious I even SMELLED the shirt.  (I’m an ace sleuth after all.)  It didn’t really smell like pee.  Maybe there was just a little water on the bathroom floor?  I don’t know! The rest of that kiddo was bone dry!

So, Nancy and friends, where did the “mysterious wet” come from?

1) I totally barfed this morning, despite being 23 weeks pregnant AND taking a Zofran

2) Emily ran 7 miles this morning ’cause she is INSANE so she is going to be chipper and full of energy.

3) The drive is 7 hours long WITHOUT stops

4) We are taking our 4.5 kids

5) We are not taking our husbands

Ok, here is why it will REALLY be fun!

1) Chevy loaned us a sweet-a$$ Traverse to drive!  It has enough room to fit us, all our kids, and all our crap!  We are stoked!

2) Emily and I really do love each other

3) Our 85-year-old grandmother will be there

4) My mom will be there to help us watch the kids

5) Go shortie, it’s my birfday!

6) I get to force Emily to watch my favorite movies with me

7) We expect some serious cousin bonding to occur betwixt our children

When I come home I will have beautiful new kitchen cabinets from Granite Transformations!!!! (countertops will be done on Tuesday, the day after I get home!)

9) I am totally going to make Emily play Yahtzee with me.

10) Emily is making me a birthday cake!  And you all know what an awesome cook she is!

We can’t wait to tell you all how great our trip was!  See ya when we get back, and tune in Monday, Labor Day, for another great Gymboree giveaway!

Let’s just give God all the credit for that one! I was Me of Little Faith. I don’t exactly, um, *do well* in these situations so I was pretty much a nervous wreck by the time we made it back up to my folks’  house.

So, then, we had to figure out what to DO.  Bobby is a mechanic, and could certainly put a new transmission in the car if he were not seven hours away from his shop and tools. It would have cost us a small fortune to get it fixed there in Virginia if we could even find a shop that could do it before Sunday when we needed to leave to come home (this was Thursday.)  So, Bobby started looking around for towing companies, figuring we could get it towed home to Ohio for much less than the cost of getting in fixed in Virginia.  He finally found a company (thanks to a recommendation from his boss at his dealership here in Ohio) that would do it for a reasonable price, a price that would still make you want to crap your pants, but much better than what it could have been.

But of course, to get the car picked up, we’d have to get it back down the mountain.

EEP!

Once we get out of the steep gravel-road forest which is my parent’s “neighborhood” (and I use that term very loosely), and actually got onto the main mountain PAVED downhill road, that would be ok. I mean, a car doesn’t need a working transmission to go DOWN a mountain.  Just good brakes.  So my dad and Bobby loaded up the next morning and I followed with my Italian Tuxedo-wearing brother in his mini-van.

The car made it a very short distance before it died the first time.  Then another short distance.  Then another. And…another.  Four times Bobby was able to get it going again and then FINALLY we made it to the main road.

And Bobby COASTED that baby FOUR MILES down a mountain.

And then we left it in a thrift store parking lot to wait for the transport truck.

And Bobby and I bought my niece and nephew smoothies at an outdoor sandwich place called “Frank’s for the Memories” while my dad and my brother went to the GUN STORE.

All in all, just a typical day in our family vacation!

Perhaps you may remember him from my stories of the torture I experienced at his hands as a child, or from the fact that I keep him well-stocked with Charmin and lady deodorant.

I keep telling him, he is getting pretty famous among the two of you my many readers.

I just returned from a family vacation at my parent’s house in Virginia, where I spent the week with Bobby and the kids, my folks, and my brother Andy, his lovely wife of 15 years, Sarah, and their four kiddos.  It was, as expected, great fun.  Partly because when my family is together, we never cease to crack each other up.  And we actually enjoy being together!

But back to Andy.

On this trip, I saw something I had never seen before, a sight that was both humorous and slightly perplexing: my brother Andy wearing a “wife-beater” t-shirt.  Or, as he calls it, his “Italian Tuxedo”.  Now, we are not Italian in the least (we are actually mostly BRIAR), but the men in my family are pretty darn hairy (not on their heads, of course, but everywhere else, right, Uncle Paul?), so Andy looks like he could be Italian crossed with Greek crossed with BEAR.  Dude has got body hair.  As a matter of fact, two of his three-year-old “Cubbies” in his Awana class at church have commented on his outstanding fuzziness, one telling him he looked like a monkey, and the other rubbing his arm and saying very generously, “Mr. Brads, I like your fur!”

Out of the mouths of babes.

But I digress.

I had no idea my brother was a fan of the genre of the wife-beater, and one late night last week we got to discussing how and when he had come to love those paper-thin tees that so nicely showcase his voluminous body hair.  He thought about it for a second and said: “I know when I started wearing them.  It was when I got my “Concealed Carry” license and I needed something to cover my gun, so I started wearing the wife-beaters underneath my t-shirts so I could tuck my holster in my pants and then my t-shirt would cover my gun.”

Well. Makes sense, right?

After I finished laughing, crying, and gasping for breath, I came up for air and said, “Wait a minute.  Let me get this straight.  You started wearing wife-beaters so it would be more comfortable for you to carry around your GUN?”

“Well, yeah.”

I love my hairy, gun-toting, school-teaching, lady deodorant-wearing brother. And you really can’t argue with that logic in regards to his donning of the Italian Tuxedo.  I mean, really, you can’t have your holster chafing against your skin when you’re packing. Everyone knows that!