The Blog My Mommy Made Me Write

Last year for my birthday I got a special surprise from my wonderful mommy. I had been in a little bit of a summer slump and I have always wanted a dog. I had read research studies that found that dogs were effective in pulling people out of non-chemically based depressions. My husband was dead set against it but that’s what mothers are for (to cause strife between their daughters and their daughter’s husbands). My mother came through providing me with a yippy little rat dog (Chihuahua) that my hubby named Dobby (for the house elf in the Harry Potter series because he said that I thought the dog would magically clean my house. He didn’t).

The dog was cute and loving and retarded (I’m pretty sure the stupidity came from my 2 year old accidentally dropping him on the tile when he was the size of my fist). I loved him and he made me happy. My kids loved him and he was part of our family.

Shortly after we got him, I found out that I was pregnant with my 5th child. I was a little worried and sick with the pregnancy but my little dog made me happy. I tried as best I could to train the dog. I went to the Pet Smart Potty Training class and bought the puppy pads but all I managed to do was train my dog to poop in the same spot in my son’s room everyday and pee on every plastic bag and towel he saw laying around. I did (quite remarkably) also manage to train my kids to clean up after him before daddy saw the mess.

Well along came beautiful baby #5 and all my training went out the window. The dog got out of control peeing on everything that I had and we had to keep him on a leash whenever he was inside and he spent most of his day outside. He was miserable. Chihuahuas usually love the heat but 120 degrees is a little too up there.

In June we went to a family reunion up in Utah and had to take the dog. While we were there my sweet husband procedded to try and pawn the dog off on everyone we saw (He had done the same thing a few months earlier, before we had the baby, when were in San Antonio. I guess everyone thought we were joking because no one took up on it). For the first few days it didn’t work. Then he had the bright idea to get the kids attatched to the dog and then see if the parents wanted to be the bad guys. It worked!!!!

My cat loving sister in law managed to get herself a very nice looking, pure bread, expensive Dobby that poops in her house now. As we were driving home from Utah, my kids did have a hard time and there were many tears. What was most unexpected were the tears and pissyness that emeniated from my husband. He frequently mumbled about hating the dog and wanting to feed him to a larger animal so that he didn’t have to mess with him anymore (he did this in front of anyone who would listen). He had the audacity to get upset with me because I “brought the stupid dog into the house and let our kids fall in love with him.” (I have a sneaking suspition that he actually like the little rat.)

Time has healed the missing of the dog, but now I have to deal with my mother who now says that if we were looking to give the dog away, she would have taken it (because , after all, she did pay for it). Had she not said no to taking it a million times, I might have given it to her. What was I thinking that she might actually have said what she meant (instead of automatically saying no and wanting me to guess what might be going through her mind at the exact minute she is thinking it). Unfortunately the dog is already gone and there is nothing I can do about it now.

This year for my birthday, my mother reminded me what I did with the gift that she got me last year. When I learn to appreciate the gifts that she gives me, I might get another one from her (I think that was her point). I just wanted her to come and visit me on my birthday because I miss her and she was already in Colorado (6 hours closer then usual).

So, I am publicly apologizing for getting rid of the dog with the bright yellow urine that stained my carpet and stunk up my house. I’m sorry for finding a home for that sad little dog that sat outside my back door and peered in with the most pathetic look ever. Sorry that I stopped abusing my poor little dog and found a home that would actually make him happy. Mom you were right. I should have followed your advise (whatever it was at the moment and then again at the moment that followed when you changed your mind). Please forgive me. I just miss you and want you to remember me and my 5 children and not forget (12, 14, 16,….).

This is the blog that my mother made me write.

More Cake Please...

I am often astonished at how fast time goes by. It seems like only yesterday I was 20 years old and had not a care in the world. I made the mistake of blinking, and now I am 31 and still sitting in my pajamas. Where did all the time go? I have memories. Some of them are even great memories, but I can’t really remember how I got here. Don’t get me wrong; here is really a great place to be, but it is so far from where I started that I am a little discombobulated (I guess birthdays will do that to you).

I remember graduating from high school with the biggest of plans to travel the world before graduating from college and becoming a world famous news anchor. Fast forward 13 years and here I sit blogging to no one in particular to the sweet lullaby of 5 kids that feel it is their personal duty to fill every silence the day has to offer with noise (good noises like laughter and singing and bad noises that I try and pretend not to hear (see previous blog entry))and my husband rocking out to My Name is Jonas on Guitar Hero for the Wii (his birthday present from me).

That might actually be part of the problem. When you share a birthday with your husband for 11 years, you sort of lose track of you. My birthday sort of becomes all about him. I don’t mind that (as long as he never makes me go golfing in the dead of July in Arizona again) but this year I realized that I really don’t have my own special day (neither does he) and it might be nice every once in a while.

I guess that is what you call having your cake and eating it too. I want to be (or maybe just feel) young forever without missing one minute of the life that I have and love. You do have to make sacrifices as you get older but the joys that come with age are definitely getting sweeter.

I guess, when it comes down to it, I’ll have some more cake.

Another Shining Example of My Extensive Computer (and Mothering) Skills

It has finally happened. The drabble that routinely fills the summer television programming void has driven me to discover the channels that no self respecting woman should ever venture to. I am referring, of course, to the Golf Channel and that channel that shows Sponge Bob Square Pants 24 hours a day. When did I become this person?

Don’t answer that.

Recently, as I was watching the Myth Busters team figure out that Mentos and Diet Coke really do make a mess (I can’t wait for my kids (and by kids I mean my husband) to try that one at home. No really, I already caught him adding Mentos to the weekly shopping list) I saw a commercial (that’s right, the programming is so riveting that I have started watching commercials) that drove me to my laptop. Did you know that there is a whole website dedicated to informing the average Joe on how stuff works? It is the coolest site I have ever visited. Did you ever wonder if piranhas (I learned to spell that word from the site. That’s right, no need for spell check here) could really strip a cow to the bone, or if your iPod can really set things on fire? (Why not? What is wrong with you?) Then this is truly the sight for you. It is chuck full of information that will keep you pre-teen boys busy for hours. The only downside is that, if your boys are anything like mine they are not particularly nice to each other (if you have two boys that are nice to each other, you must provide me with proof followed by detailed, step by step instructions for how this was accomplished.).

Today, my 9 year old refused to read some valuable information from the site to my 7 year old (who could read it for himself if the older boy would leave it on the screen long enough for him to see) which in turn caused the younger to come and tattle on the elder to me (if they would just keep the yelling in the other room I could pretend not to hear it, but once they come and tell me there is no more pretending. Then I must make sure that my kids know that no one wins when I have to get up). By the time I got to the computer to remedy the problem, my 9 year old had navigated away from the page and I had no real hope of ever finding it again (darn the complexities of the internet. I know what you are thinking. Why didn’t I just use the back button or search the cookies or some other made up computer stuff? Well I didn’t, and where were you this afternoon when your pity and disapproval would have saved me a few hours?). So I got to spend the remainder of my afternoon researching how milk is pasteurized (which, sadly, was not the worst part of my day).

So, to get back to my point, you should really check out this website. It might make an otherwise non-stimulating summer, at least a tad bit educational. The site is www.howstuffworks.com (and if you have trouble remembering that I don’t really want to know how you got your boys to behave themselves and get along. I want to know how you have achieved adulthood (I'm not judging you)).

Well Now All I Need To Do Is Remember The Password

I have blogged before. It is generally just like this. I am writing about nothing to no one in particular but there is definately something that I need to say. It does make me feel better to get a gripe or two off my chest in a way that it does little damage (not that I am out to hurt feelings or that hurting feelings is something I do on a regular basis. I am just blunt and politically incorrect at times and that inevitably makes for hurt feelings and lectures from my mother). I am on my way out so this is my little intro to no one.
Hello and Welcome!!!
I'm Katy and it is nice to meet you.