An Iowa Mom

A Little Bit Of Sunshine

Simple fact:

As far as my girls are concerned ... taking a "swim" in my tub is the equivalent to visiting a water park for three days.  Five days if you turn the jets on.

Debbie Downer

OH WOW!!

I never imagined letting go of Jessie would be so hard.  It's been very difficult for everyone in the family.  Funny how it's the small things that are so bothersome.  Paw prints in the snow.  Spilled popcorn that would have normally been gobbled up.  The shoes kept by the door only used to take Jessie out. 

Those are the things that "get us".  And I know that it will get easier with time.  However, that time has not come yet and I don't feel much like writing.

So, I'll leave you with a little story of Jessie that took place a few months ago ... and made us smile. 

 

---

Originally posted October 11, 2007

Jessie has never really been talked about on this blog.  I don't know why, she just hasn't.  She was the first.  Jessie was here before any of the others.  I could explain the whole story of Jessie, but who really wants all the boring details.  So, I'll make it quick.

• Boy Meets Girl
• Girl Sees Puppy
• Boy Wants To Impress Girl
• Boy Buys Puppy

Let me introduce you to Jessie:

She is a Siberian Husky.  With the prettiest blue eyes.  More hair falls off this dog than one would ever think possible.  (This quick fact causes us to vacuum daily and purchase a new vacuum every other year.) She is dumber than a box of rocks.  Okay, so she's not dumb, Jessie is strange, or should I say has some "not so normal" tendencies. 

How do I put this?

We have the cleanest sliding glass door track in the neighborhood.  Probably the state of Iowa.  Maybe even the world. 

That's right, she licks the sliding glass door track.  She licks and licks and licks and licks.  I yell at her to stop and she'll listen. For about a minute and then she's right back at it.  This little habit grosses me out a bit ... but then I think of having to clean the track by hand and then I let her be.  I just leave the room so I don't see it ...

Anyway, Jessie must think the track to our always fingerprinted and smudged sliding glass door was clean enough because she recently moved over 2 inches to the heat register.  Now I have the cleanest one of those. 

-- Sidenote:  For those of you who don't think I'm very smart ... get this ...  I actually started rotating the register vents so that she cleans them all.  GROSS, isn't it?  Oh hush, her mouth is cleaner than mine.  And I don't want to have to lick them clean.  Besides, I couldn't stop her if I tried.  --

So ... today, I'm in the kitchen preparing dinner and I keep hearing this thud.  Over and over.  I call out to the girls, assuming they are doing something to add to their daily destruction of our house.  They don't answer so I go looking for them.  As I rounded the corner, I see Jessie dragging the register vent from her mouth.

THE DAMN DOG GOT HER TONGUE STUCK IN THE REGISTER VENT.

NO, I'M NOT KIDDING!

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life.  Now, of course, as any dedicated blogger would ... my first thought was to grab the camera.  But, I really didn't want to post a photo of this pathetic scene.  PETA would be knocking on my door within hours and you know it. 

So, I'll leave you with everything involved and you can use your imagination to draw your own picture.

    +

Running Free

When Big Daddy and I had just been dating for a few months, and lived in separate cities, I was in Chicago visiting him for the weekend.  Just like every weekend.

Going for ice cream was a normality, and the pet store was right next door to the ice cream parlor.  And there was a really really really cute, down right irresistible puppy in the window.

A puppy I had to have.  A puppy that had no choice but to come home and be mine.  A puppy that turned out to be the best darned dog.  EVER.

Her name is Jessie.  And she has been with us from the very beginning.  Before our marriage.  Before any children.  There was Jessie.

Before the kiddos arrived, it was just her.  Doing crazy puppy around the around the condo making us proud.  Finding her spot in between us on the bed and mastering the way she could move her paws just so to PUSH ME OFF THE BED.

Jessie has never chewed anything in her life that she shouldn't have.  I've only heard her bark a handful of times.  She has endured many tail pulls, even more ear tugs, and too many body slam embraces to even count. 

Though I've complained about the amount of fur she sheds, and all the trips outdoors in sub-zero weather ... I love her.  She is a part of our family and I can't even begin to imagine what life will be like without her.

But, I'll soon know.

Today, Big Daddy and I are saying goodbye to our sweet Jessie girl.  It is time for her to run free in the great big yard in the sky.

I don't know how I will handle this.
I don't know how Big Daddy will handle this.
I don't know how the kids will handle this.

I do know that we will miss her terribly.

And that we will always remember her as a part of this family ... with a smile.

My Mommy Version of Boot Camp

I don't know about you all, but why on earth is it required for a mother to tell her son EVERY.SINGLE.MORNING to brush his teeth?  He's had to do it for 8 years now. 

EVERY.SINGLE.GOSH.DARN.MORNING.

Yet, each day as I'm cleaning up breakfast dishes and the boys are putting on their shoes for school, I say, "Did you brush your teeth?"

Drew, WHO IS 7, replies with the same words every time, "Yup, I sure did!"  The answer is accompanied with a smile, which lights up my heart.  My morning dose of Drew ... I don't know what I'd do without it.

Jake, WHO IS 9, TWO STINKIN' YEARS OLDER THAN HIS LITTLE BROTHER, with MORE EXPERIENCE AT THIS TEETH BRUSHING STUFF, also enlightens me with the same answer each morning.  "Aaarrrgghh.  NO!  I forgot.  Dang it, why do I have to do it every morning.  I just brushed them last night.  Can't I just chew a piece of gum?"  Jake also accompanies this reply with the same thing every day.  It's very predictable.  It's approximately a 7.2 second groan, deep from his chest, as he removes his shoes.  Then 16 stomps up the stairs and a slam of the bathroom door.  I feel like I'm in the movie Groundhog Day.  (Which I hate by the way.  I CAN.NOT.STAND.THAT.MOVIE.  Don't ask me why ... I don't have a clue.)

When he returns, he has more nasty comments ... and he tries to say them under his breath, so I don't hear.  But I know he really WANTS me to hear.  Do you want to know how I know that?  Because we go through this every day.  If he didn't want me to hear, he would have stopped doing it by now. 

While normally this caused me to backlash with yelling and threats of favorite things being taken away ... that is the case no longer.  Nope.

I watched the movie Coach Carter.  And I learned something.  Kids will ignore words.  In one ear and out the other.  Time out ... yeah, just gives them some more quiet time to plot their next act of destruction.  So .... now, when you backtalk or do something you KNOW is wrong in our house ...

That's right.  Push ups.  It really pisses the kids off ... and Jake can pump out 40 or 50 of them in his little fits of rage. 

You see ... it's MY fault that he doesn't brush his teeth ... and then MY fault that he throws his shoes across the kitchen because he has to go back up and brush his teeth ... again, MY fault that he slams the door ... and MY fault that he can't keep his words to himself when he returns ... therefore, he's mad at ME for having to do push-ups. 

It's so much fun being a drill sergeant, and I'm going to have the strongest kids in Iowa.  Jake may only be 50 pounds, but man, he'll have hellacious biceps.

I Believe ...

life takes you down certain paths ... for certain reasons.

This afternoon, I was a little click happy and found myself clicking from one blog, to another, and then to another ... and I found myself here.  How I got there ... I can't even tell you, but all that really matters is that I found my way.

At a time I so desperately needed to. 

And I read the following sentence and it made things crystal clear to me, when things had been rather foggy for awhile.

My child is different because he came into this world to make a difference.

Does that not make perfect sense?  Does that not make you feel so much better about parenting your children on the difficult days?  Or weeks?  Or years?  Those 14 words can put a halt to sleepless nights when you wonder what in the world you're doing wrong in your tactics.  Why your child can't be like everyone else?  Hopefully, those words will put an end to the constant analyzing and judgments that are constantly made inside your own head. 

I'm sharing this with you and I hope you'll, like me, remember it and repeat it to yourself when you so need to be reminded that what you are doing is the hardest job on earth, yet the most important.  And you're doing great.

That sentence just touched me.  It mattered to me.  And I wanted to share.

Alright, enough of this sappy crap ... I'm off to go yell at my girls for something ... anything.

Is She Trying To Tell Me Something?

Nothing like taking a nap in your winter coat!!
I wonder if Molly thinks we keep the house too cold in the winter?


The thermostat is set at 67.  What temperature do you keep your home in the winter?

I'm Really Just A Big Child

Okay, I swear I am ... just a great, big, giant kid stuck in a grown up body.  Yesterday, I found something to be hysterically funny ... and I'm sure it wasn't.

At least not to most normal, mature, responsible parents.

Molly had to make an emergency run to the restroom.  Once she safely and successfully made it to her destination she called out ...

"Oh man!  I have die-a-wee-ah!"

Emily, being a supportive big sister, ran into the bathroom to investigate.  "Yup, she sure does.  She really really has deer-a-reeeee-ah."

"I do, I do!"  Molly called out proudly.  "It's big die-a-wee-ah, too"

"And really stinky deer-a-reeee-ah!" Emily noted.

"That's right.  Big, stinky die-a-wee-ah!!"

Me, being the 36 year old grown woman in the house, let this go on for about 3 to 4 minutes because I had found that the way my two daughters discussed and pronounced the word diarrhea, while perched up on the pot, cracked me the heck up. 

In a big way.

In a way that involved my stomach to hurt and tears to roll down my cheeks.

That's something I did not know about myself.

I guess it's true when they say you learn something new everyday.   Either that, or I need to get out of this house more often.