The Perils of a Pet Mom

I’m SOOOO glad I didn’t have to spend the evening at the emergency vet clinic last night. We thought Tucker, my (practically miniature) chocolate Labrador, was sick for quite a while yesterday evening after we got back from  dinner. My daughter came to us and told us he was in her room, shaking, and I thought, “Oh no, he’s having a seizure.” And he just turned 7! We got him out (under his own power) but he was acting really strange, so we questioned her: did you give him anything? Was there any food in your room? She denied it. We thought Tucker was sick, so we made him go outside, where he began acting normally–playing, wanting me to chase him, etc. But when I tried to get him to come in, he flat out refused!

Tucker
Tucker

This went on for maybe 1/2 an hour, and he came inside a few times, only to insist on going back out. We thought he had the runs or something. I gave him fresh water, petted him, and he’d act fine outside, but go nuts inside.

Then I made him come in because I was tired of this, then went and did something else for a minute in another part of my house. When I came back, my husband said that Tucker wouldn’t go into the living room.

Well guess what was in the living room? A stupid karaoke machine which a co-worker was having Nate look at for an issue with it. My husband had turned it up so loud earlier in the evening that it had been rattling the glass in my china cabinet. No wonder Tucker was upset! I made hubby remove it to his truck to take back to work this morning, and after that, Tucker settled down and was fine!

At least I didn’t have to go to the emergency vet clinic.

Adventures in the Great Outdoors, I

If you took the way that my husband (The Man Of The House, or TMOTH) and I grew up and compared them, you would see the reason why the two of us are vastly different. Unless we were at my grandparents’ farm, we didn’t do much outdoorsy stuff–camping, hiking, fishing, etc. My husband? was outside ALL THE TIME.

Ironically, my husband and I met on a camping trip–the weekend was the first time I’d ever stayed overnight in a tent.

While I’m still not an “outdoorsy” girl–I’d still rather be at home with my books and laptop–I’ve been getting better about being outside. Or at least I’m trying to be.

Frequently on the weekends, my husband says for me to pack a cooler and grab some diapers for our three-year-old, and off we go. Sometimes I grumble, if not to him, to myself. I’m not a spontaneous person, I like to have some time to plan things when possible. An hour to pack everything we’ll need for the rest of the day and it’s 11 AM? Yeah, doesn’t thrill me too much.

But, I like what it’s teaching my kids–to be flexible, roll with the punches, and most importantly, enjoy the outdoors (although, much of the time, all they’re enjoying at this age are movies in the car and an excessively long car ride.)

Father’s Day was one of these days. On the way to church, TMOTH made noises that he wanted to go fishing. So, I had about a two hour warning before we got home that this was on the plate. Get home, pack lunch, grab the diapers, head out. 

Then, what inevitably happens with us, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“It’s Father’s Day. You pick.”

“I don’t know where to go!”

A bluegill our daughter caught on Father’s Day

I sigh, make a few half-hearted suggestions. We stop and he retrieves the Gazeteer from the trunk. I start telling him directions. The kids watch “How to Train Your Dragon” for the 17th time in the last few weeks. The younger one naps. The dog is cramped, on the floor between the front and back seats of our mid-sized sedan.

We’re all wishing we had a Suburban, especially the dog.

Eventually, we find a spot we’ve been to before, a long, long time ago–maybe before the kids came around. TMOTH and our daughter fish.

Our daughter catches two small bluegill, TMOTH catches a small catfish and a small bluegill.

I keep our son from falling into the water, take pictures of dragonflies when I can get close enough to them without our son getting too close and scaring them off. We huddle down together after retrieving our hats from the car as light showers come across the lake and hit us head on. By the time we leave, my T-shirt is soaked from the rain.

I’m cold, haven’t had dinner, and am tired, but other than gently reminding my husband he neglected to get me something to eat when I couldn’t eat at Subway (I started a gluten-free diet last fall, so Subway is NOT on my menu,) I don’t say too much. I do adjust the thermostat in the car to something a little warmer, then help my husband figure out where the heck to go. We take a wrong turn or two (I’ve gotten turned around on where we are,) and I mark the Gazeteer in ink on where to go again, and scratch off roads shown on the map that aren’t roads.

It’s been a successful day overall. We made it home in one piece. The kids got to run around and fish. I took several pictures, none I’m thrilled with, but they’re okay. And more importantly, my husband got me out of the house. I’ve become quite a homebody the last couple years. Having your life center around the health and wellness of your immune-compromised son will do that to you.

Next up on our list of challenges–a possible weekend trip to a cabin, or maybe even in a tent.

I’m not sure I’m ready yet.

Until next time…

Craziness

It’s been a bit of a crazy couple weeks.

First, we found out that I’d been published–yea! 🙂

Then, our little guy came down with a mysterious ailment that we’re still not 100% sure what it was–acted fine, but ho-boy, was his skin broke out! Every day for about a week, I was on the phone to one or more doctors offices.

In the middle of this, our daughter came down with a 102° fever for some inexplicable reason. Ugh…

A friend called that day… said another friend of ours has stomach cancer which has spread…

Five hours after that, I learn an old friend of my mom’s had passed away, someone I’ve known for the better part of my life, and still run into his wife and daughters periodically.

And, if that weren’t enough, my grandfather, who is 91, went into the hospital with pneumonia.

Ay-yi-yi.

I’m not writing this as a woe-is-me piece. Just venting.

But, it’s been a long couple of weeks.

Texas Momma has been encouraging me to work on my novel to tweak it up a bit, so I managed to get a bit of that worked on. Actually made it to my favorite coffeehouse to do so! And, I bit the bullet and asked Texas Momma if she’d look at the whole novel… Hopefully in the near future, that’ll happen.

I had hoped things had calmed down, but oh no… The tornadoes in Kansas this weekend? Damaged the facility where my dad works. Haven’t heard when he’ll be able to go back, but the pictures coming out of Wichita are kinda scary–thank God no one was hurt! I can’t count how many times I’ve been in that area, and to see some of the pictures… really tugs.

God has kept me sane the last few weeks, just barely. (It’s been a tough job!) Probably what’s been most helpful is the fact I’ve been reading in II Samuel and I Chronicles about the trials of David the last few weeks. If he could get through all kinds of junk happening, so can I. Sure, I don’t have to slay a giant, or stay on the run from my father-in-law who wants to kill me, but I can keep things together because God’s with me. He’s in control.

And, that’s what’s most important.

Until next time,

Scared Silly

Ever get so focused on something, the whole world is just white noise?
Yeah, this happened to me in the last week.
Lesson: you should not get that so totally focused on something else when you have a 3-year-old and 16-month-old in the house.
I decided that I was going to get a head start on one of my four 2012 resolutions this past week: I’m going to learn how to quilt.
Over a year ago, I bought one of those “How to Quilt” books at my favorite crafts store. With everything going on, I hadn’t cracked it open in, well, probably at least 9 months. But, with the wonders of PBS’s CreateTV, I rediscovered that, hey, I wanted to learn how to quilt sometime in my lifetime. As if I don’t have ENOUGH going on.
So, I dug my quilting book out of storage (i.e. my basement–and I knew exactly where said book was) and started reading a couple weeks ago. And, last weekend, I felt confident enough that I went out and bought supplies for a small, potholder-sized quilt.
And, last Monday, I decided that the kids were behaving well enough that I could setup for a quick “let’s-learn-to-quilt” session.
Got all my prep done with kids underfoot, decided to babygate the kitchen door so they could see me, I could see them, but they couldn’t knock over a hot iron or get into my sewing machine.
At some point, I got so focused on whatever I was working on–and I had my back turned to the kitchen door. My daughter dragged a kid-sized chair to the door, unbeknownst to me.
And she let out the loudest, “Hey, Mom!” that she possibly could.
I just about hit the ceiling. And let out a scream of my own.
Which caused my daughter to start crying.
I climbed over the gate, and hugged her, reassuring her I wasn’t mad–just that she really had scared mom.
I think after that, we both had a cookie. We both needed one.
Later that morning, I did finish my quilting project. It didn’t turn out too bad, even if I nearly had a heart attack in the process.
Hopefully, my daughter doesn’t attempt anything similar when I learn how to can next year. 😉 Fabric is one thing, glass and high pressure are a whole ‘nother thing.
Until next time,
Liberty

Growing Pains

If you’ve been around Word Wanderings very long, you know I’ve got two kids. My first, my daughter, just turned three. And in the last month or so, I’ve seen her grow up a lot. It’s a little sad on one hand, but interesting to watch, too.

Being a typical three-year-old, my daughter is getting a bossy streak. She tries to boss TMOTH, me, the dog, and her little brother. She even tries to tell you where to go when driving. Talk about a backseat driver! There’s nothing quite like a little girl going, “No, Mommy, that way! THAT WAY!” when you’re out running errands. Usually, she just doesn’t want to go home, or thinks we need to go somewhere else. Sonic is her favorite stop–and she knows where most of them in our normal areas of travel. (Of course, we just moved, so those normal areas are shifting.)

Having an independent streak can be dangerous. I’ve had to really work at stamping down on her independence lately. Not that I don’t want her to be an independent woman one day, just not at the age of three! Running through Target or the grocery store is irresponsible and discourteous, and leaving the backyard–taking the dog with you–can lead to one or both getting hit by a car.

It makes me think about how God parents us. We make mistakes, He allows for punishment. It’s kind of strange to think of a twenty-nine-year-old being parented (shouldn’t I know what’s going on by now?) but I’ve seen it happen. And, while I’m not necessarily sure every time what I’m supposed to learn, I can only hope I learn the lesson–as my daughter learns she can’t run through Target or have that mini-Barbie that’s in the checkout line.

Next week is my post for the ChristianWriters.com blog chain. The topic is “Harvest”. I’ve been a little negligent about posting reminders about the blog chain, and I’ve since moved the list from my sidebar to a separate page. If you go here, you’ll find the links for every post. We almost have a full month, and this next week is full! I hope you’ll check out the posts.

Until next time,