Um, with that title I thought about changing it because I may attract the wrong attention. What can I say, I got your attention, didn't I? Now for the bad news: this isn't anything kinky or dirty, sorry for those that may have been misled.
My husband is very capable of building things, fixing things, you know...all that manly stuff. He is capable and even willing. I have difficulty letting him though.
I am an only child, so my father taught me how to do things that typically a son would learn. Don't get me started on the wrongness of that. My father was in construction before he decided to change careers and become an accountant. I learned electrical, plumbing and carpentry skills when I was willing. (I was a preteen and teenage girl through some of this, so I did miss out on a lot of educational opportunities.)
When it came time for me to drive, he taught me how to change my oil and change my tires. I don't believe my father saw it as "I don't have a son, so I might as well teach her something." I think he taught me in order to share his passions in life and also to prepare me to be independent in my own life.
Now, I am a grown woman who can do most home repairs without consulting anyone. I can build almost anything without consulting instructions...except IKEA, they just don't construct stuff in a normal fashion. Most men would feel emasculated or angry with my ability to be completely independent.
My husband, on the other hand, has no problem with my abilities at all, I think secretly he even likes it. He has one less thing to worry about when he deploys, relieving some of his stress. We have decided on a few things that are his sole duties as a man though.
He decided that he was responsible for checking out noises during the night. Once I hear the strange noise, I am then required to wake him up and point him in the direction of aforementioned noise. I remember the first time I woke him to investigate a noise. I got out of bed with him and began to lead. He actually pushed me back and said, "Dammit, this is one of the jobs I get to do as the man! Now get behind me!"
The second item is specific bug killing. This was my decision, there are just some bugs I cannot deal with. However, we seem to argue most over his spider killing duties. He doesn't like killing spiders. No, he's not afraid of them, he actually likes spiders, "they eat bugs, they are beneficial...blah, blah, blah." I don't like spiders, roaches or silverfish. They are creepy, nasty things and I do not, and never will, welcome them in my house or even immediate vicinity. Spiders are just one of those things that will actually make me scream in terror.
When we first got married we lived in a small apartment. I remember sitting at the computer desk for some reason and something in front of the screen caught my attention. Once my eyes focused, I realized that a large spider had descended from the ceiling, mere inches from my face. I did what any girl would do in this situation, I screamed. He came running into the room with a look of "I'm going to kill someone" on his face. While he's looking around for some intruder, I'm screaming "KILL IT, KILL IT!" and pointing at the computer. He stops, laughs (incidentally not a wise thing to do) and says, "I was starting to wonder if you had any girl issues!"
When it comes to building things, there have been occasions where we argue over who gets to put things together. On some occasions, if we knew there was something that required assembly, he would get home before me in order to put it together. He follows directions, I do my own thing; so working together doesn't always turn out well.
Thankfully we shop at IKEA where a few items have had instructions that require both of us to decipher what in the heck they are saying. In a few years, our house may be entirely furnished with IKEA pieces, however we will have reached a crucial balance in our relationship.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Things that are Important in Life
Being a military wife teaches you to value certain things above all others. Family, friends and wine are definitely at the top of the list. Throughout the years, your definition of family changes to include some really close friends. Many times during a military career your family is uprooted and moved. Even if you aren't required to move, your friends will be at some point.
At some point you would think you could get used to the constant changes, but I think it is what makes you grab onto something tighter. In each move, we have been fortunate to find that one set of friends that makes a military career seem worth the constant upheaval. Those friends are now threaded into the cloth of your definition of family.
These "sisters" of mine understand the joys and sorrows of military wifedom. We can sit down and have a glass (or three) of wine and laugh, cry or scream at something without fear of judgement. They will be brutally honest and tell you when you have snot running down your face, but it's that honesty you respect and love. We are our own therapists, sisters, mothers and often times a reality check.
We can "complain" about our husbands and/or their jobs, knowing that the person listening knows we are just venting, because we wouldn't change our husband for anything. (We'd change the job in a heart beat, but only because we worry for their safety.) We can "complain" that we have put on hold or thrown away careers to support our family and husbands, when in reality we know we've traded an easier "job" for a much more difficult career as a military wife and mother.
It's a very hard job being involved in any way with the military, be it enlisted or officer, spouse or family. Once you have found that special bond or connection with someone who understands what you are going through, don't let them go! Stay in touch, you are each other's support system, no matter the distance. For any new recruits into this strange world of military spouse: if you haven't made that connection, keep looking, we are out there! There is someone out there who will help you get through that awful first deployment or your seventh. It's a strange, often screwed-up club, but we are always open for new members!
Here is a toast to my girls that have moved or are moving away soon: Text, Skype or Call, we can have a cyber glass of wine (or three) together!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
I need my space!
I need my space back! I don't like this new spacing rule, it's claustrophobic.
No, I'm not talking about my husband, I like him. It's this relatively recent rule about spacing between sentences. Yes, it bothers me enough I felt the need to write a post about it. (Notice, I'm using two spaces between sentences.) Why did it have to change? What was the real reason behind this space conspiracy?
I know that if I was back in middle or high school trying to write my essay the night before it's due, this new space rule would make me...upset, yes, let's go with upset. It doesn't seem like that much of a difference, however if you are writing several pages and take out one space every line or two...yep, it makes more of a difference. Some will argue that if you are writing quality stuff in the first place this space dilemma would not make that much of a difference. Well, I don't write quality stuff...never have! I'm one of those kids that wrote enough crap to get to the two or three page quota.
I actually typed in "one space or two after a period" into Google and it shot back 65,200,000 responses. Seriously? Evidently I am not the only one then.
According to the MLA style writing and a few other websites, the single space after a period was adopted in the beginning of the 20th century. This was mainly because people used anywhere from one to four spaces after a period. (Four spaces? I could have written pure gold in high school with that much space!) Then the poor typewriter comes along with it's spacing issues, so people started inserting two spaces after periods to show the end of a sentence clearly. Now that we have better fonts and the poor typewriter is ancient, we are now expected to revert to the original one space after a period. Also, this "new spacing rule" changed around the time we started using computers regularly...in the 1970's. Considering I was born during the late 70's, why didn't I know this rule already? Evidently, my schools didn't get the memo.
My husband used to be a two spacer also. When he was in graduate school he wrote a LOT of papers. During this period, his thesis adviser convinced him that a single space was now the way to go. My husband was led astray by the prospect of better grades due to correct punctuation skills.
Once again, I am on the other side of quality writing, because my thumb just won't click once on that evil space bar. Now I am caught between what feels right and what is correct. Most everything I type or text now is all sorts of screwed up on spacing. Even now, after every sentence I hit that space bar twice, then the backspace key.
Incidentally, the first few paragraphs were written with two spaces, while the last were written using only one, lonely space. To me there is no blatant difference between the two. If you are reading an email or something casual, the double space allows your eyes to skim easier. Unfortunately, I have to concede that the single space seems cleaner, professional almost. I guess if you are emailing a friend or another crap writer, the double space will work. However, if you are writing a paper or wanting to be published, the single, lonely space is probably the way to go.
I should create a club called the 3 Tap Typers: after a period, you tap the space bar twice, then tap the backspace once. I have a feeling this will be a long process with me, so you conformists need to be patient!
No, I'm not talking about my husband, I like him. It's this relatively recent rule about spacing between sentences. Yes, it bothers me enough I felt the need to write a post about it. (Notice, I'm using two spaces between sentences.) Why did it have to change? What was the real reason behind this space conspiracy?
I know that if I was back in middle or high school trying to write my essay the night before it's due, this new space rule would make me...upset, yes, let's go with upset. It doesn't seem like that much of a difference, however if you are writing several pages and take out one space every line or two...yep, it makes more of a difference. Some will argue that if you are writing quality stuff in the first place this space dilemma would not make that much of a difference. Well, I don't write quality stuff...never have! I'm one of those kids that wrote enough crap to get to the two or three page quota.
I actually typed in "one space or two after a period" into Google and it shot back 65,200,000 responses. Seriously? Evidently I am not the only one then.
According to the MLA style writing and a few other websites, the single space after a period was adopted in the beginning of the 20th century. This was mainly because people used anywhere from one to four spaces after a period. (Four spaces? I could have written pure gold in high school with that much space!) Then the poor typewriter comes along with it's spacing issues, so people started inserting two spaces after periods to show the end of a sentence clearly. Now that we have better fonts and the poor typewriter is ancient, we are now expected to revert to the original one space after a period. Also, this "new spacing rule" changed around the time we started using computers regularly...in the 1970's. Considering I was born during the late 70's, why didn't I know this rule already? Evidently, my schools didn't get the memo.
My husband used to be a two spacer also. When he was in graduate school he wrote a LOT of papers. During this period, his thesis adviser convinced him that a single space was now the way to go. My husband was led astray by the prospect of better grades due to correct punctuation skills.
Once again, I am on the other side of quality writing, because my thumb just won't click once on that evil space bar. Now I am caught between what feels right and what is correct. Most everything I type or text now is all sorts of screwed up on spacing. Even now, after every sentence I hit that space bar twice, then the backspace key.
Incidentally, the first few paragraphs were written with two spaces, while the last were written using only one, lonely space. To me there is no blatant difference between the two. If you are reading an email or something casual, the double space allows your eyes to skim easier. Unfortunately, I have to concede that the single space seems cleaner, professional almost. I guess if you are emailing a friend or another crap writer, the double space will work. However, if you are writing a paper or wanting to be published, the single, lonely space is probably the way to go.
I should create a club called the 3 Tap Typers: after a period, you tap the space bar twice, then tap the backspace once. I have a feeling this will be a long process with me, so you conformists need to be patient!
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Customer Service Skills
I am very concerned with the lack of customer service skills today. I have worked in about every customer service job available throughout my years, so I have a bit of experience. You may remember I hate talking to people, so I know how to pretend to care about customers and their concerns. I do it quite well actually, most of the time.
My husband and mother-in-law were at a juice smoothie type establishment waiting for their order. Evidently only two young ladies were working and it was quite busy. When a new group of customers entered, one of the girls sighed and said "Jesus Christ!" Several customers heard her, including my husband and mother-in-law.
Yesterday, my husband tricked me into purchasing a PlayStation game. The young lady at the register didn't know how to do an exchange, so she asked her supervisor for help. He made fun of her for not knowing and then did it for her, instead of teaching her. He then answers a phone call and leaves her on her own. Something isn't working, so she just says, "this sucks" and "crap" several times. She figures out the exchange and gets us out the door.
Over the last few days I have been dealing with a certain cable/satellite company on trying to disconnect our service before we move. Long story short, I was mistakenly signed up for a 2 year contract and cannot get out of it without paying a hefty cancellation fee. 30 minutes of my life, I would love to have back, spent trying to convince this rude guy that I did NOT get a 2 year contract resulted in me allowing the cancellation fee and extreme disappointment in myself.
Today a customer service representative, from the cable/satellite company, calls to make amends for my cancellation. She tells me she is going to erase the fee and set me up with all this wonderful stuff. Hey, now we are talking, someone finally understands customer service. Oh wait, she keeps interrupting me, while I'm trying to tell her we went with another company. When she finally does stop and listen she hangs up on me, without fixing my cancellation fee.
I am curious as to what happened to customer service training. Don't people have to watch those awful videos anymore? More importantly, whatever happened to "The customer is always right?" I hated that when I was on the other side of the counter, however I realized the importance. It is way more important to make the customer happy and have them return, then piss them off and have them take a few customers with them. Business depends on customers buying your product or service. If this very simple process doesn't work, you go out of business.
Not only does this include making your customers happy, it also means that your staff should be polite and well-mannered. Actually stop talking or arguing with me and listen to what I have to say. Even if I'm absolutely wrong, I will feel better that you took those few seconds to act as though you are listening.
Swearing and complaining, doesn't really convince me that I want your service or product. If I had my kids with me, I would be extremely upset. I won't lie and say I haven't accidentally let slip with a naughty word or three, however it's different when I have to explain to them why they shouldn't use it when the nice waitress uses it in when she takes our order.
Am I alone in this or have I now become "old?" I always though "old people" complain about the younger generation, have I become one of them?
Honestly, I guess I'd rather be an "old person," then think that the next generation has gone to sh%#. Either way, wish me luck, I'm going to begin my informative email to that cable/satellite company after I post this.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Didn't Get the Memo
Our daughter's school and/or teacher is usually great about sending emails about school functions. So, I'm pretty sure this is one of the few emails I didn't bother to read. Oops.
Our morning routine of getting to school and walking towards the playground is going as planned. Princess has somehow conned her brother into carrying her school bag and lunch for her, which amazes me. We walk hand-in-hand towards her class line where Little Dude drops her stuff. As Little Dude takes this opportunity to jet quickly towards the playground, I notice some classmates dressed strangely. One child is wearing a "Transformers" costume and three other boys are wearing various baseball jerseys. Okay?
Princess turns to me and says, "Oh, no! I forgot!" Dread fills my stomach with the knowledge that I forgot something for my daughter and now she will be an outcast. Yes, I tend to overreact (in my head) a lot.
"What did you forget?"
"Today is wear an er day."
"I'm sorry, wear what?"
"Er"
"Er?"
Looking around, it dawns on me: "TransformER," baseball playER, ballERina, etc..
"Princess, I'm sorry! What do you want me to do?"
"It's okay mommy, I forgot to tell you yesterday."
Yep, that's my five year-old daughter telling that she is taking responsibility for something. Wow! I'm thinking to myself that I have the best daughter in the world, when a thought occurs to me...
"Hey, Princess! You are already dressed up. You dress up on a daily basis with an ER. You are a sistER and a daughtER."
The look of pride and excitement on Princess' face, amazed me. I probably would have told my mother she was lame. Hopefully, when I pick her up in an hour she will still be proud of herself.
Otherwise, if some kid made fun of her I will have to tell some child, "I'm sorry you had to dress up to feel special, and then ruin it for someone else. You know what? That makes you a losER, congratulations you are another ER person!"
I wouldn't really, but I'd sure think it!
Our morning routine of getting to school and walking towards the playground is going as planned. Princess has somehow conned her brother into carrying her school bag and lunch for her, which amazes me. We walk hand-in-hand towards her class line where Little Dude drops her stuff. As Little Dude takes this opportunity to jet quickly towards the playground, I notice some classmates dressed strangely. One child is wearing a "Transformers" costume and three other boys are wearing various baseball jerseys. Okay?
Princess turns to me and says, "Oh, no! I forgot!" Dread fills my stomach with the knowledge that I forgot something for my daughter and now she will be an outcast. Yes, I tend to overreact (in my head) a lot.
"What did you forget?"
"Today is wear an er day."
"I'm sorry, wear what?"
"Er"
"Er?"
Looking around, it dawns on me: "TransformER," baseball playER, ballERina, etc..
"Princess, I'm sorry! What do you want me to do?"
"It's okay mommy, I forgot to tell you yesterday."
Yep, that's my five year-old daughter telling that she is taking responsibility for something. Wow! I'm thinking to myself that I have the best daughter in the world, when a thought occurs to me...
"Hey, Princess! You are already dressed up. You dress up on a daily basis with an ER. You are a sistER and a daughtER."
The look of pride and excitement on Princess' face, amazed me. I probably would have told my mother she was lame. Hopefully, when I pick her up in an hour she will still be proud of herself.
Otherwise, if some kid made fun of her I will have to tell some child, "I'm sorry you had to dress up to feel special, and then ruin it for someone else. You know what? That makes you a losER, congratulations you are another ER person!"
I wouldn't really, but I'd sure think it!
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Bird Wars Pt 2
So it continues...
What is worse than the fear of a pair of doves beating you to death because you destroyed their nest?
Mockingbirds. Yes, mockingbirds.
I've gotten used to the pair of doves following me around the house, glaring at me through various windows. They must not be too concerned with building their new nest, or they have enlisted help. Either way, I've learned to look forward to my own little bird paranoia everyday.
However, when it comes to nighttime, that is my time to relax and, dare i say it, sleep. With 2 young kids, sleep is a magical place that recharges me and gets me ready for the next day of school schedules, homework and an episode of Elmo's Hood, formerly called Sesame Street. When sleep occurs, I'm happy and patient-as-I-can-be mommy. Without sleep...let's just say, I'm impatient, grumpy mommy with harmful thoughts directed at Elmo.
As I lie here trying to get rid of today's headache, a pair of mockingbirds are "talking" to each other. If you aren't familiar with mockingbirds, they mimic sounds they hear in a repetitive cycle. The ones in my backyard seem to cycle through: "pretty bird," "patty-cake," an alarm clock and a few phone ringers. Occasionally they even throw an actual bird sound in there.
Throughout the day, they are absolutely quiet. I guess they are off gathering food or sleeping, because they were up all frigging night. I'm lying here with Little Dude, who is also having trouble falling to sleep. He actually has his hands covering his ears, so I know I'm not overreacting...much.
Normally they are quiet when we lie down to sleep. They allow us to fall asleep and slip into REM, then they strike. About 1:30 in the morning they begin serenading each other. This continues until about 4:30, which is about an hour before Military Dad has to wake up for work. Instead of serenading each other, they could be "married" and having the same stupid argument over and over again, because she just won't let it rest.
This new bedtime arguing, may be a direct result of the doves. I think they've enlisted the mockingbirds in their scheme. I'm really hoping that when we move into our new house in a few weeks, that they won't follow us. However, there is a very nice wooded section behind our property, so I'm doubtful. Plus, I'm pretty sure these doves have connections.
For the next few hours I will be lying here dreaming up ways to make the mockingbirds be quiet. I've thought about using fireworks similar to the movie "Steel Magnolias." Tom Skerritt's character was responsible for clearing out birds from the trees before his daughter's wedding. At one point, he uses fireworks to "scare" the birds.
I'm pretty sure my neighbors wouldn't appreciate fireworks going off at 1:30 in the morning, plus I'm pretty sure they are banned in San Diego County. Not to mention, it hasn't rained in awhile and I don't want to be responsible for another wildfire here. Our neighborhood mockingbirds are about to get a dose of jet spray on my 10 foot hose.
Spraying a hose with a limited range, in the dark, in the general direction of a bird that would probably be quiet the instant I step outside, doesn't sound that great either. What am I to do? It's just not in me to concede loss in anything. My husband says I'm a bit too competitive.
I've now come to a point in my life where I feel it necessary to compete with a bird, oh sweet baby Buddha, I'm in trouble.
What is worse than the fear of a pair of doves beating you to death because you destroyed their nest?
Mockingbirds. Yes, mockingbirds.
I've gotten used to the pair of doves following me around the house, glaring at me through various windows. They must not be too concerned with building their new nest, or they have enlisted help. Either way, I've learned to look forward to my own little bird paranoia everyday.
However, when it comes to nighttime, that is my time to relax and, dare i say it, sleep. With 2 young kids, sleep is a magical place that recharges me and gets me ready for the next day of school schedules, homework and an episode of Elmo's Hood, formerly called Sesame Street. When sleep occurs, I'm happy and patient-as-I-can-be mommy. Without sleep...let's just say, I'm impatient, grumpy mommy with harmful thoughts directed at Elmo.
As I lie here trying to get rid of today's headache, a pair of mockingbirds are "talking" to each other. If you aren't familiar with mockingbirds, they mimic sounds they hear in a repetitive cycle. The ones in my backyard seem to cycle through: "pretty bird," "patty-cake," an alarm clock and a few phone ringers. Occasionally they even throw an actual bird sound in there.
Throughout the day, they are absolutely quiet. I guess they are off gathering food or sleeping, because they were up all frigging night. I'm lying here with Little Dude, who is also having trouble falling to sleep. He actually has his hands covering his ears, so I know I'm not overreacting...much.
Normally they are quiet when we lie down to sleep. They allow us to fall asleep and slip into REM, then they strike. About 1:30 in the morning they begin serenading each other. This continues until about 4:30, which is about an hour before Military Dad has to wake up for work. Instead of serenading each other, they could be "married" and having the same stupid argument over and over again, because she just won't let it rest.
This new bedtime arguing, may be a direct result of the doves. I think they've enlisted the mockingbirds in their scheme. I'm really hoping that when we move into our new house in a few weeks, that they won't follow us. However, there is a very nice wooded section behind our property, so I'm doubtful. Plus, I'm pretty sure these doves have connections.
For the next few hours I will be lying here dreaming up ways to make the mockingbirds be quiet. I've thought about using fireworks similar to the movie "Steel Magnolias." Tom Skerritt's character was responsible for clearing out birds from the trees before his daughter's wedding. At one point, he uses fireworks to "scare" the birds.
I'm pretty sure my neighbors wouldn't appreciate fireworks going off at 1:30 in the morning, plus I'm pretty sure they are banned in San Diego County. Not to mention, it hasn't rained in awhile and I don't want to be responsible for another wildfire here. Our neighborhood mockingbirds are about to get a dose of jet spray on my 10 foot hose.
Spraying a hose with a limited range, in the dark, in the general direction of a bird that would probably be quiet the instant I step outside, doesn't sound that great either. What am I to do? It's just not in me to concede loss in anything. My husband says I'm a bit too competitive.
I've now come to a point in my life where I feel it necessary to compete with a bird, oh sweet baby Buddha, I'm in trouble.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
How I met my husband
My husband was so excited that I began blogging after months of pestering encouragement. He mentioned in one of his posts about how he was proud of me, yet scared that I would now be able to defend myself against his stories. He was also terrified of my version on how the two of us met. So I decided I wouldn't let him down. Ladies, grab a beverage and some chocolates, get ready to hear the romantic story of the decade (Um?). Gents, please feel free to take notes (of what not to do).
Imagine the most romantic setting you can, add mood lighting, music and some friends around. An out of town girl glances across the room and notices a good looking guy noticing her. He smiles, she returns the smile and shyly turns away with her face blushing. A few minutes later she chances another look in his direction, but he's gone! Disappointed, she turns back to her friends and notices he has taken the chair next to her. He smiles again at her, because they now both know that she was looking for him. He leans in and begins to talk to her. Several minutes of conversation pass, both enjoying themselves and wanting to know more about the other.
He leaves to discuss something with his friends. Her friends drag her out the door to go somewhere new. There is the small chance they will meet again. Fate has something in store for them, because they do meet again and rekindle that connection they had.
Sweet huh? Reads like a romance novel, doesn't it?
Yeah, that didn't happen, not even close.
So a friend, named "C," drags me to a seedy establishment, we'll call it a bar. Yep, a bar with a cover charge and you bring your own alcohol. It was out of the city limits and it didn't look very nice on the outside. Fortunately nothing bad happened, because if I ever find my daughter repeats this stupid behavior, she'll be locked up until she's 30.
C brings a female friend "M" of his along. M and I try to have conversations as we painfully look anywhere but at the entertainment. Mid-conversation about work, I notice someone looking at me. I return the look and notice that a good-looking man is staring at me.
My first thought is, oh please no, of all the places to be hit on, not here! Second thought was, well at least he's good looking, because then would be unbearable.
I return to M and try to forget about it. A few minutes pass, C leaves to go experience the entertainment and M leaves to find a restroom. I am left alone. I get this weird feeling, like someone sat next to me, yep, it's him.
He smiles and attempts to have a conversation with me. I'm being polite and speaking with him, all the while I'm thinking, "why here?!" He seems to be nice and polite as well, the conversation actually starts flowing a little easier. Then the unthinkable happens.
"Have you every thought of becoming a dancer? (slight pause) Because I would pay you more than anyone in here!"
At this point, I am shocked and it takes a LOT to render me speechless. I'm debating whether to slap him or not, and considering the place, it really wouldn't be all that unusual.
Then he just continues on, as if he had just not said the oddest thing I've ever been asked, "So, where are you from?"
I have decided at this point that I'm just so out of my natural element that I should just answer his question. The one about the where my domicile is located, not the other one.
Conversation continues as if nothing awkward had ever occurred. C returns and wants to leave to go to a different place, so I politely excuse myself and run toward the exit.
C, M and I end up going to another person's house. On the way in I notice an old Camaro parked in front of the house. Hey, this night may be turning around after all. (My weakness, happens to be classic muscle cars, specifically Camaros.)
Later it turns out, seedy bar guy and his group of friends came to the same person's house that C, M and I arrived at earlier. However, seedy bar guy decided for some reason to run to his car and go home.
It seemed our paths crossed that once, never to happen again. C mentioned later that night, that seedy bar guy was the owner of aforementioned Camaro. I will now come clean, I was a very shallow person back then. My interest in seedy bar guy just switched 180 degrees.
Weeks and months passed before seedy bar guy finally got my number and called me. I never thought I was going to get to drive his car our paths would cross again.
Needless to say, I had chanced upon my soul mate in a questionable location. If there is one thing that is constant in our relationship, we are never short of stories. I'm not sure what it is about the two of us, but we find ourselves in the oddest situations, where the end result is always the statement, "Well, it wouldn't have been that good of story!" I guess it seems fitting that we met this way. As long as we have stories, we will always have something to look back and have a good laugh. Here's to a lifetime worth of stories Military Dad!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Future Gamers
Recently Princess and Little Dude have expressed interest in playing PlayStation. Most of the games my husband has are sports or shooter games, so Military Dad and I actually felt alright letting them learn how to play Little Big Planet (LBP). Since he has more patience than I do, this educational experience was left up to him.
Princess began the intro and did great. Same with Little Dude. Now begins the first level, Military Dad and I are expecting disaster and crying, however they both do great. A few times they have to start over because their character doesn't quite make it through the electrical grid or through the fire pits, but the kids keep enjoying themselves. The great thing about Little Big Planet is that when your character "dies" it isn't bloody or gory, the sock puppet character just disappears and reappears at a checkpoint.
After Little Dude's attention span diminished, they wanted to watch Military Dad play. He grew up with Nintendo, Sega and PlayStation, so he is great at manipulating the controller. A few times he even missed some jumps on purpose so the kids could see that mistakes are alright. He noticed that when he wouldn't quite make it through the fire pits the kids laughed. This wasn't the chuckle or a normal laugh, it was the contagious belly laugh that kids usually get when they get tickled. Soon, Military Dad was purposely falling off ledges, or getting hit by cars to hear this laugh.
Fast forward a few days with constant begging by the children to play LBP every time they remembered we have the gaming system. Thankfully, Military Dad remembered we have Super Mario Brothers on the Wii. Compared to the PlayStation controller the Wii controller is much easier for the kids to manipulate. Plus the kids are already familiar with the Wii controller, since we already play the sports and play games together.
The kids were sitting next to Military Dad shaking with anticipation as he explained the controls. He barely finished his sentence and they are they grabbed the controllers and were ready for the game to begin. Military Dad and I were expecting to see the same concentration and skill they displayed during LBP.
They run right into the first Goomba. They start over and run right into the Goomba again. Military Dad takes this time to refresh them on the controller buttons and how to use them. Death-by-Goomba results, repeatedly. Princess and Little Dude aren't frustrated or angry, they are laughing uncontrollably. They obviously do not care about finishing the level, or at this point even getting past the first obstacle. They are just having fun.
Unlike Military Dad, my only gaming experience until I was in late high school, was an Atari that worked some of the time. I played computer games, but did not have a gaming system. When it comes to manipulating the controller, my husband calls my method, "button mashing." This usually occurs during any activity that requires jumping. I get easily frustrated and begin pressing all the buttons in a panicky manner. When the Wii first came out, I was excited, not because it was new technology, but because if I had to jump I could physically do it, instead of having to press the buttons in a correct sequence.
Military Dad and I both enjoy Super Mario Brothers and Little Big Planet. Since I am very competitive, these games allow me to chill and just play. He gets to enjoy watching me get frustrated and start mashing buttons. Usually after a few restarts or death-by-Goomba, I just give up on getting the points and try to complete the level. At this point I'm usually laughing about my inability to play games well. Military Dad will join in the laughter and we have a pretty good time playing a game and connecting with each other.
Obviously the kids get their hand-eye coordination from their father, because I have none to share. What's great is they have the ability to laugh at themselves when they make a mistake. Whether they grow up to be gaming programmers or just good at playing like their father, doesn't really matter at this point, because I believe they have already managed to learn the important lesson, they laugh and have fun, whether they win or lose.
Princess began the intro and did great. Same with Little Dude. Now begins the first level, Military Dad and I are expecting disaster and crying, however they both do great. A few times they have to start over because their character doesn't quite make it through the electrical grid or through the fire pits, but the kids keep enjoying themselves. The great thing about Little Big Planet is that when your character "dies" it isn't bloody or gory, the sock puppet character just disappears and reappears at a checkpoint.
After Little Dude's attention span diminished, they wanted to watch Military Dad play. He grew up with Nintendo, Sega and PlayStation, so he is great at manipulating the controller. A few times he even missed some jumps on purpose so the kids could see that mistakes are alright. He noticed that when he wouldn't quite make it through the fire pits the kids laughed. This wasn't the chuckle or a normal laugh, it was the contagious belly laugh that kids usually get when they get tickled. Soon, Military Dad was purposely falling off ledges, or getting hit by cars to hear this laugh.
Fast forward a few days with constant begging by the children to play LBP every time they remembered we have the gaming system. Thankfully, Military Dad remembered we have Super Mario Brothers on the Wii. Compared to the PlayStation controller the Wii controller is much easier for the kids to manipulate. Plus the kids are already familiar with the Wii controller, since we already play the sports and play games together.
The kids were sitting next to Military Dad shaking with anticipation as he explained the controls. He barely finished his sentence and they are they grabbed the controllers and were ready for the game to begin. Military Dad and I were expecting to see the same concentration and skill they displayed during LBP.
They run right into the first Goomba. They start over and run right into the Goomba again. Military Dad takes this time to refresh them on the controller buttons and how to use them. Death-by-Goomba results, repeatedly. Princess and Little Dude aren't frustrated or angry, they are laughing uncontrollably. They obviously do not care about finishing the level, or at this point even getting past the first obstacle. They are just having fun.
Unlike Military Dad, my only gaming experience until I was in late high school, was an Atari that worked some of the time. I played computer games, but did not have a gaming system. When it comes to manipulating the controller, my husband calls my method, "button mashing." This usually occurs during any activity that requires jumping. I get easily frustrated and begin pressing all the buttons in a panicky manner. When the Wii first came out, I was excited, not because it was new technology, but because if I had to jump I could physically do it, instead of having to press the buttons in a correct sequence.
Military Dad and I both enjoy Super Mario Brothers and Little Big Planet. Since I am very competitive, these games allow me to chill and just play. He gets to enjoy watching me get frustrated and start mashing buttons. Usually after a few restarts or death-by-Goomba, I just give up on getting the points and try to complete the level. At this point I'm usually laughing about my inability to play games well. Military Dad will join in the laughter and we have a pretty good time playing a game and connecting with each other.
Obviously the kids get their hand-eye coordination from their father, because I have none to share. What's great is they have the ability to laugh at themselves when they make a mistake. Whether they grow up to be gaming programmers or just good at playing like their father, doesn't really matter at this point, because I believe they have already managed to learn the important lesson, they laugh and have fun, whether they win or lose.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Observation of a 5 year old
I assumed teaching Little Dude how to pee standing up would be relatively easy; I was wrong.
On the rare occasion he asks to pee outside, it's much easier to let him use the backyard than cleaning up the walls, toilet and floor each time he pees. (Yeah, yeah, I know, mother of the year and all that.)
One afternoon in the backyard, I notice he is doing his normal potty dance. After he declares, "I don't need to go potty" several times, Little Dude asks if he can pee on the grass. Having one of my less-than-motivated days, I say, "Sure, knock yourself out."
Little Dude manages to pee on everything but the grass, including the stepping stone pathway (3 feet away). Princess observes all of this, looks right at me and says, "Oh! So that's why you make us wear our shoes outside!"
On the rare occasion he asks to pee outside, it's much easier to let him use the backyard than cleaning up the walls, toilet and floor each time he pees. (Yeah, yeah, I know, mother of the year and all that.)
One afternoon in the backyard, I notice he is doing his normal potty dance. After he declares, "I don't need to go potty" several times, Little Dude asks if he can pee on the grass. Having one of my less-than-motivated days, I say, "Sure, knock yourself out."
Little Dude manages to pee on everything but the grass, including the stepping stone pathway (3 feet away). Princess observes all of this, looks right at me and says, "Oh! So that's why you make us wear our shoes outside!"
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Motherly Wisdom
Since Mother's Day is near, I thought I would share a few words of wisdom my mother shared with me as I grew up. Every mother has her own advice, I would be very interested in hearing the various types of advice we've listened to over the years.
"You are the marrying kind"
When boys started mattering to me, I would come home upset because all of a sudden the boys that used to be my friends wouldn't give me the time of day. She would tell me, "Don't worry about it, you're the marrying kind." I remember asking her what that meant, several times. My mom had various answers but they all hinged on not allowing my self worth to lower in order to date whomever I thought was cute that week.
"If you want it, get it. It probably won't be there when you come back."
I save my money, so this advice never seemed like a good idea. However, there were those few times when I weighed the pros and cons of a purchase, only later to return, money in hand, to find the object gone. This is also the one piece of advice that after the object is gone, I can actually hear my mother's voice in my head on a repeat cycle. My husband has even recognized the voice on repeat cycle and usually just chuckles quietly as he asks, "you hear your mom right now, don't you?"
"Always wear clean underwear."
This one always seemed like a weird piece of advice to me. I mean duh and Eww on several levels. I always heard the "if you get in a car accident" piece with it too, which made me think, if they're more worried about the condition of my knickers, instead of my health, then I'm probably OK. Plus, if the accident is bad enough, I may have soiled my knickers anyway, so it won't much matter.
As I grow older I now have a different appreciation for this piece of advice and would like to change it up a bit. "Always wear underwear you won't be embarrassed showing." Trust me, the day you wear those ratty, holey underwear that you only wear on laundry day...that's the day that you'll rip your pants, or something even more heinous. He he.
----------------------------
So as you show homage to your mothers this weekend, remember those silly pieces of advice they gave you along the way. This might be one of those occasions when you tell her how much you appreciated those pieces of advice. She won't care that the thanks is several years behind, she'll just be thrilled that you listened, maybe even more than once!
You could even work your children into the mix:
"Hey Princess, did you know a wise woman once told me to always wear clean underwear?! You should tell Bamma about it, see if she knows this important stuff."
Just imagine...your child proudly walking up to your mom and saying this perfectly like you rehearsed for days. Oh it's going to be perfect.
This is how it would go in my house:
"Hey Bamma! Mommy said some old lady told her to always wear clean underwear! Are you wearing clean underwear? I'm not! So we have to go to the store so you can buy me some Tinker Bell panties, before they are gone. Otherwise mom, says I can't get married."
"You are the marrying kind"
When boys started mattering to me, I would come home upset because all of a sudden the boys that used to be my friends wouldn't give me the time of day. She would tell me, "Don't worry about it, you're the marrying kind." I remember asking her what that meant, several times. My mom had various answers but they all hinged on not allowing my self worth to lower in order to date whomever I thought was cute that week.
"If you want it, get it. It probably won't be there when you come back."
I save my money, so this advice never seemed like a good idea. However, there were those few times when I weighed the pros and cons of a purchase, only later to return, money in hand, to find the object gone. This is also the one piece of advice that after the object is gone, I can actually hear my mother's voice in my head on a repeat cycle. My husband has even recognized the voice on repeat cycle and usually just chuckles quietly as he asks, "you hear your mom right now, don't you?"
"Always wear clean underwear."
This one always seemed like a weird piece of advice to me. I mean duh and Eww on several levels. I always heard the "if you get in a car accident" piece with it too, which made me think, if they're more worried about the condition of my knickers, instead of my health, then I'm probably OK. Plus, if the accident is bad enough, I may have soiled my knickers anyway, so it won't much matter.
As I grow older I now have a different appreciation for this piece of advice and would like to change it up a bit. "Always wear underwear you won't be embarrassed showing." Trust me, the day you wear those ratty, holey underwear that you only wear on laundry day...that's the day that you'll rip your pants, or something even more heinous. He he.
----------------------------
So as you show homage to your mothers this weekend, remember those silly pieces of advice they gave you along the way. This might be one of those occasions when you tell her how much you appreciated those pieces of advice. She won't care that the thanks is several years behind, she'll just be thrilled that you listened, maybe even more than once!
You could even work your children into the mix:
"Hey Princess, did you know a wise woman once told me to always wear clean underwear?! You should tell Bamma about it, see if she knows this important stuff."
Just imagine...your child proudly walking up to your mom and saying this perfectly like you rehearsed for days. Oh it's going to be perfect.
This is how it would go in my house:
"Hey Bamma! Mommy said some old lady told her to always wear clean underwear! Are you wearing clean underwear? I'm not! So we have to go to the store so you can buy me some Tinker Bell panties, before they are gone. Otherwise mom, says I can't get married."
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
My war with the birds
I was not aware I was in a battle with birds, but evidently I am.
My parents have always owned birds, mostly parrots. When I was a child they had Peppi, a sun conure. Oh, was he a nasty little thing. My mother loved him, as she does all her "special" pets. (Not special as in unique, special as in missing some genetic code somewhere). He would scream at me and try to bite me every time I walked by.
At first, I imagine as a child I found this a part of life. As I grew older, I tried to have fun with it and tried to teach him to say not so nice things.
My parents also rescued a dove, we named Glory. I named him after a My Little Pony that my friend had, in the hopes that one day I would have more than 1 My Little Pony....nope. Glory is the sweetest bird ever, however he likes to peck me and beat me with his wing. It's a dove, so it doesn't hurt. It's the sudden removal of your hand from the cage that hurts, as you scrape it on the door. I have scars from this so-called bird of peace.
I've been pooped on by pigeons and beaten by a sexually frustrated rooster. (In my defense, I thought he was attacking my hen!)
I went along while someone else hunted turkeys. I thought since I wasn't holding the firearm, I would be safe....nope. Evidently I picked the only $%*# tree that wasn't a good hiding spot! My friend made some stupid noises, evidently turkey calls, to bring the bird towards us. It worked, the turkey walked right towards my tree. As the turkey strutted towards me doing some stomping thing and spreading his feathers, I silently wished I could climb trees and that I hadn't drank that grande coffee before hand, because I was about to pee myself.
I'm not one to enjoy hunting and I'm not even sure why I went along. However when that shotgun, FINALLY went off, I cried with relief...yes I cried. I will mention at this point that this is when my so-called friend, informed me that he LET it get that close so I could enjoy it. We are no longer friends. (Not because of that isolated incident, but it makes for a better story.)
During college, I studied animal science. After the turkey experience I embraced my hatred of turkeys and studied animal nutrition. In this case we used different diets to see which ones produced the best growth. The best part was getting to eat the control group.
Nowadays my parents still own Glory (or an identical replacement...the bird is 25 years old or so) and 2 beautiful African Greys. They are smart and hilarious.
My parents left for a cruise one summer and I was left to bird sit. I taught Cheeks how to say "Heidi, heidi-ho." (Think South Park, Christmas poo). I try my best to get along with Cheeks, however his beak and intelligence scare the bejeesus out of me. I have a very healthyrespect fear of my dad's birds and they KNOW it.
"Hey Pearl here comes that lady that's scared of us!"
Pearl will move to the front of the cage to entice me into petting her head, as I begin to scratch, she attempts to "taste" my finger...not cool.
I move on to Cheeks, who says "hello" and is very polite. Then he does that focus thing with his eye, that reminds me of the velociraptor in Jurassic Park...I'm done, moving on.
Then Cheeks laughs, yes the bird laughs.
So today, I noticed that a dove kept flying back and forth from our back door. Curious, I peeked out and noticed he was building a nest. His girlfriend was sitting on top of the porch light meticulously arranging the twigs.
My heart sang and broke at the same time. Doves are beautiful and I'd be happy for them to nest near my house. However we will be moving out shortly of our rental. The new tenants may not appreciate the beauty of this.
Out of compassion, I gently removed their nest from the porch light. For their safety, I took down their *&#$ nest. Now they are outside glaring at me through the screen door. Have you ever been glared at by a dove? It's like they are glaring at your soul. "Birds of peace" my butt. As soon as I step outside, I will get pooped on, pecked at or beaten down with their heavenly wings.
In the far distant future when a rogue hummingbird nicks my jugular, hopefully then this silly bird war will end. Out of respect for me, please do not release birds at my funeral or memorial. They will only sh%$ on my casket or urn!
My parents have always owned birds, mostly parrots. When I was a child they had Peppi, a sun conure. Oh, was he a nasty little thing. My mother loved him, as she does all her "special" pets. (Not special as in unique, special as in missing some genetic code somewhere). He would scream at me and try to bite me every time I walked by.
At first, I imagine as a child I found this a part of life. As I grew older, I tried to have fun with it and tried to teach him to say not so nice things.
My parents also rescued a dove, we named Glory. I named him after a My Little Pony that my friend had, in the hopes that one day I would have more than 1 My Little Pony....nope. Glory is the sweetest bird ever, however he likes to peck me and beat me with his wing. It's a dove, so it doesn't hurt. It's the sudden removal of your hand from the cage that hurts, as you scrape it on the door. I have scars from this so-called bird of peace.
I've been pooped on by pigeons and beaten by a sexually frustrated rooster. (In my defense, I thought he was attacking my hen!)
I went along while someone else hunted turkeys. I thought since I wasn't holding the firearm, I would be safe....nope. Evidently I picked the only $%*# tree that wasn't a good hiding spot! My friend made some stupid noises, evidently turkey calls, to bring the bird towards us. It worked, the turkey walked right towards my tree. As the turkey strutted towards me doing some stomping thing and spreading his feathers, I silently wished I could climb trees and that I hadn't drank that grande coffee before hand, because I was about to pee myself.
I'm not one to enjoy hunting and I'm not even sure why I went along. However when that shotgun, FINALLY went off, I cried with relief...yes I cried. I will mention at this point that this is when my so-called friend, informed me that he LET it get that close so I could enjoy it. We are no longer friends. (Not because of that isolated incident, but it makes for a better story.)
During college, I studied animal science. After the turkey experience I embraced my hatred of turkeys and studied animal nutrition. In this case we used different diets to see which ones produced the best growth. The best part was getting to eat the control group.
Nowadays my parents still own Glory (or an identical replacement...the bird is 25 years old or so) and 2 beautiful African Greys. They are smart and hilarious.
My parents left for a cruise one summer and I was left to bird sit. I taught Cheeks how to say "Heidi, heidi-ho." (Think South Park, Christmas poo). I try my best to get along with Cheeks, however his beak and intelligence scare the bejeesus out of me. I have a very healthy
"Hey Pearl here comes that lady that's scared of us!"
Pearl will move to the front of the cage to entice me into petting her head, as I begin to scratch, she attempts to "taste" my finger...not cool.
I move on to Cheeks, who says "hello" and is very polite. Then he does that focus thing with his eye, that reminds me of the velociraptor in Jurassic Park...I'm done, moving on.
Then Cheeks laughs, yes the bird laughs.
So today, I noticed that a dove kept flying back and forth from our back door. Curious, I peeked out and noticed he was building a nest. His girlfriend was sitting on top of the porch light meticulously arranging the twigs.
My heart sang and broke at the same time. Doves are beautiful and I'd be happy for them to nest near my house. However we will be moving out shortly of our rental. The new tenants may not appreciate the beauty of this.
Out of compassion, I gently removed their nest from the porch light. For their safety, I took down their *&#$ nest. Now they are outside glaring at me through the screen door. Have you ever been glared at by a dove? It's like they are glaring at your soul. "Birds of peace" my butt. As soon as I step outside, I will get pooped on, pecked at or beaten down with their heavenly wings.
In the far distant future when a rogue hummingbird nicks my jugular, hopefully then this silly bird war will end. Out of respect for me, please do not release birds at my funeral or memorial. They will only sh%$ on my casket or urn!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The Doorbell Monster
I am an animal lover sucker. My family donates to the ASPCA and any pets we adopt come from the local shelter. We have an 8 year old house cat, named Chu. She has a fumanchu mustache thing on her face, since she's a girl we came up with a feminine version of fumanchu. We didn't get too complicated. Maggie, named at the shelter, is a 5 year old pointer-collie mix. She is an absolutely beautiful dog and puts up with the kids nonstop. Gracie, also named at the shelter, is a 3 year old, rat terrier mix, we think. She was supposed to be a chihuahua rat dog, but she kept growing and growing.
Obviously the cat we let do her own thing, because, well...she's a cat. Cat's are not trainable in the same way dogs are. Dogs enjoy doing tricks in order to get attention. Cats, well...they don't. As long as you feed them, clean their cat box and occasionally give them attention (when they ask for it) they are happy and content.
We have tried all sorts of training for our dogs: pet store training, clickers and expensive in-home training. Our dogs are perfectly well-behaved individuals. INDIVIDUALS. When they get together, their minds turn into mush and they just go nuts. The bark and jump on people, it annoys the heck out of us, so I can't imagine guests appreciate it too much.
The in-home training experience was great. The trainer had this infinite amount of patience with us and actually made us include our Princess and Little Dude in the training process. I understand the importance of the dogs recognizing the kids as people they need to listen too, however I do not have this required patience. Dogs and children have a limited attention span, getting them to work together when that attention span is on the same page....impossible.
Since the training worked so little on them together, we have pretty much given up. Most of the time, they spend time in the yard on a time-out when people come over. The only thing we haven't given up on is the barking. Anytime someone gets within 100 yards of our house, or god forbid rings the doorbell, the house turns into this awful mess of noise. Dogs are barking, children are screaming at the dogs, and the adults are yelling at everyone to just shut it off! It's awful. The poor postal woman actually sneaks up to the door, drops the package, rings the doorbell and sprints back to her vehicle.
So now we have gotten into a situation that just got worse. We are buying a house in a new neighborhood many miles away. While this probably makes our current neighbors excited, we are terrified.
During an inspection of the potential new home, we discovered there was no barking. Our first thought was "Oh crap, the HOA doesn't allow pets." But then my kids eagerly pointed out that the next door neighbor had a German Shepard and a Chihuahua. Wait a second, a chihuahua that didn't bark?! We started noticing people throughout the neighborhood actually had pets....and they were quiet! Now our second thought was "oh crap, we are going to be those neighbors!"
One week later, we receive our shipment of no bark collars. These are actually pretty cool, they sense the dog's throat vibration and then a gentle electric shock is delivered. If the dog continues to bark within a 20 second "training period," the gentle shock grows in intensity.
My husband calls it the 110 Wiggle, we laughed about it...then it started working. The dog would bark and you would see them shake their heads. We were amused because it seemed to be working with no amount of pain. Well, our dogs aren't the brightest. I mentioned the "training period" of 20 seconds...the intensity does indeed increase. Gracie was barking and wouldn't stop, so the next shock stopped her, so quickly she whimpered. My heart broke. She's barked a few times since, but now when the doorbell rings she runs and hides.
Maggie, on the other hand, stopped barking the second we put it on. So now the doorbell rings or a person knocks on the door, it is blissfully quiet. Granted our dogs are now hiding at door noise, but it's quiet, right?!
Well, except for my mother-in-law's dog, Charlie. Charlie is an 11 year-old, Sheltie with 3 legs. It seems he enjoys the shock and he may bark even more than previously. He is still a work in progress.
Obviously the cat we let do her own thing, because, well...she's a cat. Cat's are not trainable in the same way dogs are. Dogs enjoy doing tricks in order to get attention. Cats, well...they don't. As long as you feed them, clean their cat box and occasionally give them attention (when they ask for it) they are happy and content.
We have tried all sorts of training for our dogs: pet store training, clickers and expensive in-home training. Our dogs are perfectly well-behaved individuals. INDIVIDUALS. When they get together, their minds turn into mush and they just go nuts. The bark and jump on people, it annoys the heck out of us, so I can't imagine guests appreciate it too much.
The in-home training experience was great. The trainer had this infinite amount of patience with us and actually made us include our Princess and Little Dude in the training process. I understand the importance of the dogs recognizing the kids as people they need to listen too, however I do not have this required patience. Dogs and children have a limited attention span, getting them to work together when that attention span is on the same page....impossible.
Since the training worked so little on them together, we have pretty much given up. Most of the time, they spend time in the yard on a time-out when people come over. The only thing we haven't given up on is the barking. Anytime someone gets within 100 yards of our house, or god forbid rings the doorbell, the house turns into this awful mess of noise. Dogs are barking, children are screaming at the dogs, and the adults are yelling at everyone to just shut it off! It's awful. The poor postal woman actually sneaks up to the door, drops the package, rings the doorbell and sprints back to her vehicle.
So now we have gotten into a situation that just got worse. We are buying a house in a new neighborhood many miles away. While this probably makes our current neighbors excited, we are terrified.
During an inspection of the potential new home, we discovered there was no barking. Our first thought was "Oh crap, the HOA doesn't allow pets." But then my kids eagerly pointed out that the next door neighbor had a German Shepard and a Chihuahua. Wait a second, a chihuahua that didn't bark?! We started noticing people throughout the neighborhood actually had pets....and they were quiet! Now our second thought was "oh crap, we are going to be those neighbors!"
One week later, we receive our shipment of no bark collars. These are actually pretty cool, they sense the dog's throat vibration and then a gentle electric shock is delivered. If the dog continues to bark within a 20 second "training period," the gentle shock grows in intensity.
My husband calls it the 110 Wiggle, we laughed about it...then it started working. The dog would bark and you would see them shake their heads. We were amused because it seemed to be working with no amount of pain. Well, our dogs aren't the brightest. I mentioned the "training period" of 20 seconds...the intensity does indeed increase. Gracie was barking and wouldn't stop, so the next shock stopped her, so quickly she whimpered. My heart broke. She's barked a few times since, but now when the doorbell rings she runs and hides.
Maggie, on the other hand, stopped barking the second we put it on. So now the doorbell rings or a person knocks on the door, it is blissfully quiet. Granted our dogs are now hiding at door noise, but it's quiet, right?!
Well, except for my mother-in-law's dog, Charlie. Charlie is an 11 year-old, Sheltie with 3 legs. It seems he enjoys the shock and he may bark even more than previously. He is still a work in progress.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Sick kids
Kids take being sick as a personal injustice against their playtime. Adults on the other hand would relish a day to be sick and lie in bed all day. I'm obviously not talking serious illness, I don't wish that on anyone. If anyone reading this is sick then I wish you a very speedy recovery!
I'm sitting at home with an unhappy 3 year old boy who has a fever. A fever is about the only thing that slows Little Dude down. He has actually come to a complete stop as he is sprawled across me in a rocking chair.
As a parent I am torn in how I should feel. Every parent wishes that their child never gets ill, yes I'm including sniffles! A sick child is just absolutely miserable. They don't understand why they are sick, they just know that all of a sudden there bodies don't feel good and they can't play or get comfortable in any way. Sweet Buddha sometimes they are just crabby too, oy the fits a child can have! As a parent you feel absolutely helpless.
For those of us without medical degrees, we start looking up symptoms on WebMD or Google. Never, ever do this! A simple ingrown hair could be a broken arm to brain cancer, leave the diagnosis up to qualified people!
Your asking, why should I feel torn? Torn about what?
When your child is sick, what do they do? They come to you, on purpose, and want loves and cuddles.
Princess has always been the hugging type, she is very much like her father. When she's sick she just wants to lie beside you and bask in the nearness. She will also want hugs every few minutes to feel better.
Little Dude, on the other hand, is not much for constant hugging or cuddles. He will participate in the good night or good bye hugs and kisses, but otherwise he is his own person. He is a lot like me, unfortunately. Yes, unfortunately.
Fortunately over 10 years with my husband and his constant hugging, I've been worn down, I actually enjoy and look forward to it. Having kids has made the hugs even better. How do you say "no" to unconditional love? You don't!
So as Little Dude has finally made himself comfortable enough to sleep for a little bit, I'm torn between feeling bad because he's sick and enjoying this slice of affection that he doesn't normally dish out.
I think I'm going to soak up the loves for now. When he wakes up feeling better, I'll try to steal a few more hugs before he comes to his senses.
I'm sitting at home with an unhappy 3 year old boy who has a fever. A fever is about the only thing that slows Little Dude down. He has actually come to a complete stop as he is sprawled across me in a rocking chair.
As a parent I am torn in how I should feel. Every parent wishes that their child never gets ill, yes I'm including sniffles! A sick child is just absolutely miserable. They don't understand why they are sick, they just know that all of a sudden there bodies don't feel good and they can't play or get comfortable in any way. Sweet Buddha sometimes they are just crabby too, oy the fits a child can have! As a parent you feel absolutely helpless.
For those of us without medical degrees, we start looking up symptoms on WebMD or Google. Never, ever do this! A simple ingrown hair could be a broken arm to brain cancer, leave the diagnosis up to qualified people!
Your asking, why should I feel torn? Torn about what?
When your child is sick, what do they do? They come to you, on purpose, and want loves and cuddles.
Princess has always been the hugging type, she is very much like her father. When she's sick she just wants to lie beside you and bask in the nearness. She will also want hugs every few minutes to feel better.
Little Dude, on the other hand, is not much for constant hugging or cuddles. He will participate in the good night or good bye hugs and kisses, but otherwise he is his own person. He is a lot like me, unfortunately. Yes, unfortunately.
Fortunately over 10 years with my husband and his constant hugging, I've been worn down, I actually enjoy and look forward to it. Having kids has made the hugs even better. How do you say "no" to unconditional love? You don't!
So as Little Dude has finally made himself comfortable enough to sleep for a little bit, I'm torn between feeling bad because he's sick and enjoying this slice of affection that he doesn't normally dish out.
I think I'm going to soak up the loves for now. When he wakes up feeling better, I'll try to steal a few more hugs before he comes to his senses.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
My Super Power
"If you could pick one super power, what would it be?"
I've noticed over a few years the answer to this question changes for everyone. When you are young, with absolutely no worries, the answer is something fun and almost unreal. Princess would answer, "I'd be a fairy that could paint the world pink, purple, orange and yellow." Little Dude would answer, "I'd have magical swords and swish-swish (that was my best attempt and that noise that all boys can make) against bad guys."
As kids get older and the real world starts seeping into their precious dreams, their answers get a little more serious. Answers such as: invisibility and flying are mixed in with being able to feed the world and peace. Their answers show they are starting to see outside themselves and their innocence makes them want to help people.
When the hormones take over normal thought processes during high school, the answers change inward to more selfish powers, almost the nemesis type of power. Good looking and weight control powers are probably more common, due to peer pressures.
Once reality takes over completely after college and/or during family years, the top answers would be staying awake or quickness in dealing with tasks. Or your super power is more what you can already do well.
Mine for example, would be Stress Girl. I have the ability to take on stress and deal with it. I actually thrive during stressful situations, my brain goes into "go" mode and it does stuff without me knowing it. The problem is, I don't have that alter-ego that shuts off Stress Girl.
Now that I have depressed myself, I have to think, what would my super power be if I had no worries?! My mind went through about 10 different powers dealing with cleaning and saving humanity. This is great thinking, however it's just not that fun, no worries kind of answer.
4 hours later, a trip to the frozen yogurt store and 1/2 bottle of wine, I still don't have an answer. Is this some sort of link or connection to my childhood that I've lost forever?
Nope, I just needed the correct combination of events. My husband just put in Bolt and since I love Pixar movies, my mind raced to the Incredibles. I wouldn't mind being Elastigirl. I'm only 5'3" on a good day, so being able to reach the top shelf would be nice! Plus I could help humanity, look good and be kick butt in yoga class! Oh yeah! I got your weird pretzel plank, downward facing iguana pose right here!
What would your (no worries) super power be, and why?
I've noticed over a few years the answer to this question changes for everyone. When you are young, with absolutely no worries, the answer is something fun and almost unreal. Princess would answer, "I'd be a fairy that could paint the world pink, purple, orange and yellow." Little Dude would answer, "I'd have magical swords and swish-swish (that was my best attempt and that noise that all boys can make) against bad guys."
As kids get older and the real world starts seeping into their precious dreams, their answers get a little more serious. Answers such as: invisibility and flying are mixed in with being able to feed the world and peace. Their answers show they are starting to see outside themselves and their innocence makes them want to help people.
When the hormones take over normal thought processes during high school, the answers change inward to more selfish powers, almost the nemesis type of power. Good looking and weight control powers are probably more common, due to peer pressures.
Once reality takes over completely after college and/or during family years, the top answers would be staying awake or quickness in dealing with tasks. Or your super power is more what you can already do well.
Mine for example, would be Stress Girl. I have the ability to take on stress and deal with it. I actually thrive during stressful situations, my brain goes into "go" mode and it does stuff without me knowing it. The problem is, I don't have that alter-ego that shuts off Stress Girl.
Now that I have depressed myself, I have to think, what would my super power be if I had no worries?! My mind went through about 10 different powers dealing with cleaning and saving humanity. This is great thinking, however it's just not that fun, no worries kind of answer.
4 hours later, a trip to the frozen yogurt store and 1/2 bottle of wine, I still don't have an answer. Is this some sort of link or connection to my childhood that I've lost forever?
Nope, I just needed the correct combination of events. My husband just put in Bolt and since I love Pixar movies, my mind raced to the Incredibles. I wouldn't mind being Elastigirl. I'm only 5'3" on a good day, so being able to reach the top shelf would be nice! Plus I could help humanity, look good and be kick butt in yoga class! Oh yeah! I got your weird pretzel plank, downward facing iguana pose right here!
What would your (no worries) super power be, and why?
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Goat on Fire
Conversation I had with my husband on a REALLY long road trip from Missouri to North Dakota.
Me: Why is there a fire hydrant on the side of the road?
Him: I don't know, maybe in case a goat catches fire.
I tried at this moment, to imitate a goat on fire. My best description of this imitation would be Beavis on sugar, making goat sounds.
Him: (He's driving and he turns and just stares at me. You can do this in NoDak, because the roads are straight...for a long time)
Me: You said goat didn't you?
Him: What?
Me: You said, in case the goat catches on fire?
Him: ROAD, I said ROAD catches on fire!
Me: Oh, that makes more sense.
Maybe I should point out that I have issues with drinking too much caffeine and I'm not really supposed to consume sugar. On one of our fast food stops I ordered a sweet tea, which is like my crack. So for the first time in months, I drank caffeine and consumed sugar, AT THE SAME TIME. My energy level could not be contained in our Toyota Camry.
At one point during the car ride I couldn't think of anything to talk about, and as the navigator it is your sole duty to keep the driver alert. So I decided to start reading billboards OUT LOUD! However something strange happens once you cross the South Dakota and NoDak borders, the billboards go away. It's a big, "please turn around, you've entered the wrong state!" Without billboards I started reading exit signs, even those became scarce so I read off mile markers.
I think if my husband would've been a different individual I'd still be walking back to Missouri from that road trip. He put up with it for quite some time, before he gave me this look and told me in very few words to stop. That look said a lot of things. Since I had never gotten that look before, I wisely stopped narrating the road signs and mile markers and sat quietly. Within minutes I passed out from exhaustion.
Since that day, my husband won't let me near caffeine or sugar without serious discussion.
Me: Why is there a fire hydrant on the side of the road?
Him: I don't know, maybe in case a goat catches fire.
I tried at this moment, to imitate a goat on fire. My best description of this imitation would be Beavis on sugar, making goat sounds.
Him: (He's driving and he turns and just stares at me. You can do this in NoDak, because the roads are straight...for a long time)
Me: You said goat didn't you?
Him: What?
Me: You said, in case the goat catches on fire?
Him: ROAD, I said ROAD catches on fire!
Me: Oh, that makes more sense.
Maybe I should point out that I have issues with drinking too much caffeine and I'm not really supposed to consume sugar. On one of our fast food stops I ordered a sweet tea, which is like my crack. So for the first time in months, I drank caffeine and consumed sugar, AT THE SAME TIME. My energy level could not be contained in our Toyota Camry.
At one point during the car ride I couldn't think of anything to talk about, and as the navigator it is your sole duty to keep the driver alert. So I decided to start reading billboards OUT LOUD! However something strange happens once you cross the South Dakota and NoDak borders, the billboards go away. It's a big, "please turn around, you've entered the wrong state!" Without billboards I started reading exit signs, even those became scarce so I read off mile markers.
I think if my husband would've been a different individual I'd still be walking back to Missouri from that road trip. He put up with it for quite some time, before he gave me this look and told me in very few words to stop. That look said a lot of things. Since I had never gotten that look before, I wisely stopped narrating the road signs and mile markers and sat quietly. Within minutes I passed out from exhaustion.
Since that day, my husband won't let me near caffeine or sugar without serious discussion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)