That Ain't a Fudgepop

Dear Neighbor,

I'd like to thank you so much for letting the pony run freely. He's visits have brought great joy to our home. The kids love seeing him but more than that Chicco loves the snacks he leaves in our yard. Chicco loves them so much that he is willing to dig in the snow until he finds a frozen ball of goodness. He then brings them on the porch and saviors the frozen delight. And, if he is really quick, he even sometimes brings them inside the house and drops the slimy balls of joy on my blond carpet.

Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

The Glass Is Always Half Full

This week has been tough. I can't talk about it all but let's just say there are days I wish my job title were "Lottery Winner." I guess you take the good with the bad and my job does offer a good bit of good. So, I will try to see the glass as half full.

The half full part comes from the family. Steven has jumped right in this week to take as much kid duty off my plate as possible. He's made dinner and done the dishes each night and yesterday even made a chocolate cake with home chocolate icing. Yummy.

Tonight he was getting the kids ready for bed (as I was still working at 9:00). Grace was in the tub downstairs and Gabe was in the tub upstairs. I took a break and ran down to help Grace wash her hair. I asked her if she wanted conditioner to make it easier to comb and she of course said no. I vetoed that decision and put the conditioner on her hair. She asked, "Why do you get to ask and then do what you want anyhow?" I explained, "That's what you get to do when you are the mommy. One day you will get to that with your kids." She then asked, "How do you know I'll be a mommy?" I said, "I guess I don't know but I hope so." She looked up with her beautiful blue eyes and big dimples and said, "I will. I feel it in my heart." : ) Now, that is such a good thought. Of course I want it to happen when she's about 30 but the thought of my baby having babies somedays sure does make me warm and fuzzy.

And then there's Gabe. I went back upstairs after finishing with Grace and sat down to work again when I heard Gabe in the tub leave a huge stinker bomb (the term of choice in the Schrec house). I heard Steven chuckle and say, "Gabe, what was that." And Gabe proudly reported, "I was destroying the lady bug." Steven walked back into the bathroom and said, "You could have just scooped the lady bug out of the tub."

I know I'm talking about my six year old having babies (albeit way in the future) and my four year old "destroying" a lady bug with a stinker bomb... and that might seem silly to some...but to me... it couldn't get any better.

Nothin' Like Sisterly Love

Grace got out of bed tonight and came to the top of the stairs. She reported that she couldn't sleep and needed to come down. I told her to go back up and if she was still awake in 15 minutes she could come down. Three minutes later she was back at the top of the stairs. This time she was reporting that there were scary noises in her room and she was too afraid to stay in the room. I said, "So, let me get this straight. There is something scary in your room and you are just bailing on your brother?" Her reply, "Yes. I'm too young to die."

"The One with the Teaching Moment"

This morning we went to breakfast and then headed to the grocery store. The children had been getting on my last nerve since the moment they got up (actually it goes further back but we will go with that for now). Then, in the back seat Gabriel started, “Here we go Steelers, Here we go. Here we go Steelers, Here we go.” Except that Gabe doesn’t say the first letter of many words and in this case he was actually saying Teelers.

Next, it was Grace’s turn to add to my potential, soon to be arriving insanity, “Here we go Steelers, Here we go. Here we go Steelers, Here we go.” But you see, Gabe didn’t want Grace to join in so he started screaming at her… while continuing with the chant, “Here we go Teelers, Here we go. Here we go Teelers, Here we go” louder and louder. I was about to lose my mind when my husband stepped up. For a quick second, I thought, “Wow. He’s going to correct them. You go Steve.” And, then it happened. I still can’t believe it. In his best “mean dad” voice he said, “Hey Gabe. That’s enough. It’s Steelers with an “S”. Not Teelers. Pronounce it correctly.”

I said, “Really? I mean REALLY? My head is going to explode and you are worried about his enunciation?” He chuckled and replied, “It’s all about teaching moments. You have to take them when you can get them. “

The yahoos in the backseat continued with their chant.
: )

An Unpleasant Pleasant Surprise

I've been coughing up a lung for the past week thanks to a nasty cold. Today I had the added benefit of getting a hair in my throat. I coughed and gagged until I got it out and then I smiled. I know that sounds insane but it was a Hannah hair. : ) I suspect my sweet chow/collie will remain with us in more ways than one for a very long time.

Miss you Hannah-banana!

A Fruity Gabeism...

We are in the process of planning our first big family vacation. We are heading to Disney in September. I thought it would be a good idea to keep the kids involved in the planning... specifically the need to and benefit of saving money for something you want.

As we sat at the table eating lunch, I brought up the trip and started asking about things they might want to do and characters they might want to meet. After all the "I wants" were out, I explained that the trip was a big expense and that we would all need to save money to make it happen. I said that there would be no more weekly toy purchases every time we go to Walmart and I said we would be cutting our eating-out events signficantly. I then said that we can save money at home too by doing things like being sure to shut off the lights when we leave a room. At that point, my husband Steven raised his hand - fifth grade style - and asked, "What about if someone is still in the room?" I said, "Yes, Steven. that is a good point. If someone is in the room, we can leave the lights on." Gabe then took daddy's lead and raised his hand high. I said, "Yes Gabe. What is your question?" And, he asked, "Ummm, can we eat pineapple?"

That's my Gabe. : )

"Abyssinia, Hannah"

The really good sitcoms aren’t just funny. They mix in the moments that make us cry. Today I had the sitcom equivalent of Henry Blake dying on M.A.S.H. Many of you already know that I had to put my Hannah to sleep today. It was of course a heart wrenching decision that has left me beyond sad. However, as with many of the great things in life, I wouldn’t be this low if Hannah hadn’t brought me so much joy over the years. So, in keeping with my resolution to find the joy and document the great stuff, I’d like to share a few stories about Hannah.

I became Hannah’s person the day she turned 5 weeks old. She was a big puff of black fur. She slept in the bed with me the first night and had a quite alarming way of waking me up in the morning. With her sweet puppy breath and razor sharp puppy teeth, she bit me on the nose.

That was on Monday. On Thursday my parent’s home burned to the ground. I was between college apartments – home for Christmas break and like them lost everything. Through the grace of God no humans or pets were hurt in the fire.

We celebrated a pre- New Year’s Eve party the day after the fire with the family of a friend from high school. I can still remember Mr. Johnson saying, “Chrissy, oh Chrissy, your puppy has left you a package.” Even with her accident she was the hit of the party. She actually house trained in the blink of an eye which was really saying something as we stayed at several different places before heading back to college for the spring semester.

She and I – okay mostly I – turned out to be afraid of living by ourselves. So, we had many sleepovers at my friend Tammy’s. I’m beginning to wonder if Tammy liked having me over – or Hannah over. : )

Later that year Jake, a beautiful Staffordshire Terrier, came to live with us. For all of you not familiar with the breed – a Staff is a pitbull. He looked big and tough but was the biggest baby ever. He and Hannah got along splendidly – mostly because even though he was 3 and she was 3 months old, she was the boss. Poor Jake. He had never been neutered and his “lipstick” was constantly popping out. This along with his tongue, were Hannah’s favorite chew toys. She was constantly biting one or the other with her razor sharp puppy teeth.

Young Chicco, our puppy now, reminds me a lot of Hannah when she went through this stage. I call it the teenage years. It is the time of a puppy’s life when you stop being their favorite place to lay and start doing exactly the opposite of what the human wants. Pretty much every morning for the next year, she would run and I would chase. I would cuss and she would run. I would plead and she would run. Finally, I would bribe and she would get tired and she would come.

Hannah grew with grace and was a cool dog to be around. As like many of our canine friends, she gave comfort and love unconditionally. She never held a grudge and was always ready for a good back scratch.

Thank you Hannah for allowing me to be your person.

The Sitcom Life of an Ex-Conn

So my life should be a sitcom and this morning proves it…

It started out like every other day. I slept in. I got the kids up and went downstairs. I quickly found that Hannah had another nose bleed (my sweet chow/collie mix is 15 and hasn’t been doing very well). The mudroom where she’s been sequestered looked like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino film. There was blood everywhere… walls, floor, rug… uggg… but I would have to deal with that after I got the kids ready for school.

Grace did a great job of getting ready and we were actually on time. It was a cold morning - plus I had yet to get dressed - so, I left her stand at the door and wait for the bus while I watched out the window in order to be able to see it as soon as it turned on our road. Gabe was watching our normal morning dose of Sponge Bob and Grace stood patiently when I saw it. “Crap, one of Nancy’s dogs.” My neighbor is notorious for letting her collection of dogs run amuck. Think Bumpuses’ mutts from Christmas Story and you’ll have a good idea. As the “dog” got closer… I quickly realized. “That’s not a dog. It’s a pony.” Yes, you read correctly. A pony was in my driveway. So, I asked the kids to catch Chicco (our puppy) and I started quickly getting dressed… pulling sweatpants and a shirt over my nightgown and jumping in my boots. As I gathered the dog leash - apparently to pull an Annie Oakley on the pony’s ass - I heard Grace yell to Gabe, “Help me get Chicco. Mommy is bringing the pony inside.” Laughing out loud I explained that I wouldn’t be brining the pony inside. I just wanted to try and catch it so that it didn’t get hit on the road.

Grace and I stepped out on the porch while Gabe screamed in the background, “I want to pet Nay Nay.” Apparently he had already named the newly found animal in the 2.2 minutes it took me to get dressed. Once out on the porch, the pony came around and I spoke to it. It spotted the only green spot of grass (thanks to our outdoor wood furnace) and began to munch. I walked over and touched his head and he looked at me as if to say, “WTF do you think you are going to do with that DOG LEASH?” I answered out loud, “I don’t know it was just a thought.”

At that moment the bus pulled up. I ran with Grace to catch it and I asked the bus driver if she recognized the pony. She said the escapee was from the house just before us and at that point I saw the owner coming our way.

I said my good byes to Nay Nay and went back into the house. Gabe greeted me with, “I wanted to pet Nay Nay.” and I explained that his mom had come to pick him up. He then looked out the window and ask, “Is that lady a horse.” In my head I secretly wondered if my son were Forest Gump and then assured him that no, the lady was not a horse.

Ok, still on track to get Gabe to preschool on time. Went and took my shower and got dressed. At the moment I stepped out into the living room it hit me. It hit me like a shit-pie would hit you if you were in a “Throw the Shit Pie at the Person’s Face” competition at some kind of sick fair.

My dear sweet Hannah (I have to keep saying that to remind myself that I love her very much) had pooped on the floor. She’s on cancer meds and isn’t herself but COME ON! Can’t the world cut me a bit of slack today? I walked over to where she was gated to find that not only had she pooped but she had pooped a lot and then had stepped, and played slip and slide in it so that it was everywhere… and yes, remember back… this is the room that was going to be the scene of Pulp Fiction 2. So, on top of the nasty, beyond gross blood, I now had poo everywhere. Obviously the poo could not wait until I returned.

I gathered my supplies and proceeded to clean the mess. First toilet paper, then paper towels, then a mop… dry heaving the entire way through the process. Scrub, gag, scrub, gag, scrub, gag….OMG.

As I started to get near the end I asked Gabe if he would get naked. I explained that we needed to change his clothes and get ready for school. Of course Gabe said, “I can’t.” But then… I quickly reminded him of the Gibby incident of 2010... “Gabe, you were just “Naked Gibby” the other day. You can get naked all by yourself now. He complained that I was calling him Gibby but giggled and got naked while I finished…scrub, gag, scrub gag, scrub gag.

As I gathered my supplies, I caught a glimpse of Naked Gabe. Remember… this is a sitcom. My son stood with his legs apart and was bent at the waist. He was thrusting his hips back and forth, giggling as his pickle flapped back and forth. I laughed out loud and without missing a beat, in his most serious voice, Gabe asked, “Mommy, is today naked day at school.” I explained while laughing that, “No Gabe. We don’t have naked days in preschool. Those days will come in college and mommy doesn’t need to know about them.”

After I finished cleaning the mess, I realize that it was 9:05. Gabe is already 5 minutes late for school. We hurry to get him dressed and teeth brushed. I slide on my shoes and coat and we head out the door. It took about 4 steps off the porch to realize that Birkenstock clogs with no socks wasn’t the best choice when you have about two inches of new snow. I ran Gabe to the van, which was covered with a mountain of snow and ice, and started it while I headed back in to grab different shoes. It was at that point I realized that I had yet to brush my hair after getting out of the shower. Nice. No makeup and wet hair - later Gabe will be in therapy for preschool mom days like this. I grabbed a scrunchie, different shoes and headed out.

Now that is why my life should be a sitcom.