Dachshund, huh?

Today Dustin and I were running errands.  We were driving out of the parking lot of a big box store on the busiest street in our town.  The parking lot funnels out onto this busy street via a stoplight and it was red as we approached it.  Running off of said street and into the parking lot of said store was a little, red haired dachshund. 

I saw the dog.  I noted in my mind how funny dachshunds look when they’re running. 

I said, “Look at that little wiener dog, Dust.” 

I may or may not have said something about the high chances of it getting hit by a car.  If I didn’t say it aloud, I thought it. 

Dustin, approaching the red light, stopped far behind the other cars and opened his door. 

He made a little kissy-squeaky noise with his lips and the dog stopped.  He called to it.  It looked at us for all of two seconds and then came trotting over to us.  The light turned green.  Dustin scooped up the dog, set it’s muddy feet on his lap, shut the door and drove away. 

I looked around as all this was happening to see if we could identify some sort of owner.  Maybe we should’ve waited longer or looked more, but there are no houses close by and there were no visible people.  And, the light was green. 

I was shocked.  Who was the man sitting next to me?  I was fairly certain it was my husband, but this was not typical Dustin behavior.   As I thought all this, I stared at the dog.  Me, who hasn’t wanted a dog, even a little bit. 

“It’s a girl.” I observed.

“Yeah, it is.” Dustin replied.

This dog communicated with me during that minute I spent looking her over.

“She’s cute.” I commented. “And she seems really mellow.”

“Yeah, she is.  And yes, she does.” Dustin replied.

We drove a block or so down the road and stopped where we were going to eat lunch at a little Thai restaurant.  We sat in the parking lot, the little dog quietly sitting on Dustin’s lap, and stared at each other. 

“Go in and get some food.” Dustin said.

“Are we getting take out? “ I replied.  “I thought we were going in.”

We stared at each other more.  We looked down at the dog.  She licked my hand.  She spoke to me in her doggie language.

“She’s cute.” I repeated.

“She is.” Dustin replied.

We sat there silently.  We stared at each other again. 

“How about we make something at home and come back here for dinner,” I said.

“Good idea,” Dustin confirmed.

We left.

We went home. 

With a dachshund.

*I called the Humane Society and let them know that we found this dog.  I described her and left my phone number and told where she was found.  I also took her into the Animal Shelter and had her scanned for a microchip.  They didn’t find one.  I filled out a “Found” form and told them we’d like to care for her until someone calls to claim her.  If someone calls to claim her.  In their prayers tonight, my kids all prayed that no one would call.   I kinda feel the same way. 

Just Say No

Sometimes, in my moments of mothering, I wish I could forge a campaign against an issue that would be completely moot.  Really there’s nothing to be done but deal with them, but those little things like bedwetting and nighttime vomit cleanup details... can we put a stop to that? 

Or could we, perhaps, create a committee that would rally for the cause of ending sibling bickering?  Who wants to be the committee chairperson? 

Today, I’d like to wage a useless war on Stealth Pooping.  You know the kind…

You’ve been mildly puttering around doing all the house things that need doing (laundry, dishes, reading, blogging), and your cute little 10 month old baby is puttering around doing all the little baby things that need doing (carrying her baby doll by the arm, digging in the dirt of Daddy’s bonsai plant [AGAIN!], making the cutest jabber-sounds known to mankind… you know, all those important baby things).  Your baby starts to get fussy.  You pick her up.  You feed her a little food.  You give her a little toy.  You just changed her diaper 15 minutes ago, so you don’t even think of checking that out. 

Time goes by.

Baby is ok, but not content.  She wants you to hold her a LOT.  You are a loving mother, so you comply.  You rock her and sing her a song.  You might even get her to go to sleep. 

More time goes by. 

Baby is acting fairly normal, but suddenly breaks down.  She fusses and acts uncomfortable.  It’s been a while since you changed her little diaper, so you do the diaper yank.  (you know that one too, I am sure.)  Then you see it.

THE STEALTH POOP. 

You have no idea when it happened.  No olfactory indicator was given.  You go to change the diaper and realize that this mess has been here a while.  Suddenly, all those sounds of discontent from your little darling take on a different meaning.

You croon, “Oh, baby-girl!  I’m so sorry!  How long has this been here?”  You ask the question knowing you’ll get no answer from your yet-wordless little one.

Baby starts howling and screaming as you try to clean up the mess that is, clearly, not fresh and thus not easily removed with your trusty box of wipes.  A battle ensues involving short, kicking legs, wet-wipes, soothing words (soothing the mommy much more than the baby), and vain attempts to keep the baby’s shoulders both on the ground at the same time.  

Somehow, a champion emerges.  You, the mother, are the victor, successfully slathering a little raw bum with ointments, creams or powders.

Everyone is relieved and baby toddles off, continuing her bold quest of melting hearts by shooting rays of delightfulness and adorability from her toes, eyeballs, mouth, ears, knees, nose, fingers and heart.

The end. 

Right?

Wrong.  What you are forgetting is just how stealthy Stealth Poop can be.  It’s a sly one.  It could be ten minutes, or it could be an hour. If you’re not careful, Stealth Poop will hold you in a vicious cycle of sneaky messes, wrestling matches and raw bums that could last for days or weeks.  And that’s where my campaign comes in. 

M.A.S.P.

Mothers Against Stealth Pooping. 

The design is rudimentary, but I’m thinking it’s going to make some powerfully impactful bumper stickers:

I’ll be passing out flyers on diaper isles in a grocery store near you.

Reader Tribulation

So, there's some blogs I read.   I used to think they were awesome.  Or something.   For whatever reason, awesome or not, I subscribed to them in Google Reader.  I've since decided they are un-awesome.  Or, at the very least, irrelevant and gumming up the grease in the quest for simplifying my life.  (QUEST, I tell you!)  So, like a good Simplification-Questerian, I went to my little "manage subscriptions" button in Reader and I unsubscribed to several previously-important blogs. 

I'll have you know, taking that step relaxed my mentally faculties. I refreshed my little Reader page and discovered less to read.  Less is more, don't you know?

A week or so went by and I experienced blissful simplicity via Google Reader. 

Until.

Google Reader began thinking for itself.  We might be dealing with some sort of A.I. here, folks. 

Right there, in my Reader feed, were those blogs that had fallen through the cracks of pertinence.  Those blogs I had eliminated from my brain-clutter had returned.  Why?  I don't know. 

So, I repeated the process.  Unsubscribe.  No thanks, lovely blogs. 

Again, I went on my merry, on-the-path-to-the-simple-life way. 

A week-ish passed again... log in to Reader...

THEY'RE BA-A-A-A-A-CK!!!! 

Seriously? 

Seriously.

I have now gone through this process three times.  And tonight, once again, the blogs are back. 

DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, READER!!!?????  

Just let me be, blogs.  Get thee hence.   Please!? 

I am mystified.

Three Cheers for Randomness and Rambling

Hurrah.


So, January, huh?  That's just weird.

December held me captive via chocolate, caramel and Santa Clause.  It was an exhausting month.  Not to mention Baby B.  I don't recall my other babies being this much work.  But neither to I recall being 31 when I had my other babies.  Right.  I was in my twenties.  I remember now.  I am now convinced that factor makes an impactful difference.

The return to school, post Christmas break, is a brutal thing.  I'll be honest... I'm  not a fan.  But after a few days, I think we're back in the swing of things.

Did you ever think about that term, "back in the swing of things"?  When I think of that term, it brings to mind some feeling of routine and easiness or something.  But when I think about it a little more literally, I think of a swing at a park that goes up and down, fast and slow.  You have to pump to get going high and fast, and you can cruise a little bit and enjoy the ride, but you slow down and eventually stop.  It's fun.  Or it was when I was young.  Now that I'm 32, I get that barfy feeling, which obliterates some of that fun feeling.  I'm not sure what that means, but it's got to be significant somehow...

It's really too bad how YouTube has started showing advertisements.  Remember the good ole days when it was just weird videos? 

Micheal Buble's mouth moves weird to me.  I think I should just listen to his music and not watch him sing on YouTube where I can't help but wonder if he genetically can't relax his upper lip or if he just does that when he sings. 

Hurrah.

Speaking of YouTube, I just watched this video of my little LITTLE Rohan and I may or may not have cried a little bit while I saw that sweet little face and heard that precious little voice.  What happens to these babies?  Where do they go?  Why do they have to get swallowed up by these older, yet no less wonderful, big kids?  How does this happen?  Can't these adorable little tiny faces somehow coexist with the new, more grown-up versions?  Growing up is so tragic and so wonderful.  Such a dichotomy. 




Did you cry?  Probably not, but I bet you smiled.  "This is me.  I am Rohan.  Amen."  Precious.

You know what I miss about blogging?  Expressing myself.  I find myself all comtemplative and introspective lately, with no outlet.  I'm not really talking to anyone in depth, except my husband, but daily life does not always lend itself to deep introspective talks.  I have to make those happen.  And Dustin, being a man, places deep talking and diving into emotional wells down about #100 on his to-do list.  And that's just fine.  He is willing to take a plunge now and then, but he doesn't have a need to do so, like I do, being a woman.  I got to do that as often I wanted to when I was blogging a lot and I miss that.  Miss it, I tell you.
For Christmas, I got a new computer.  And a very expensive piece of software that I can build custom websites with.  I'm doing one right now for my brother-in-law.  Next I will do my own (which was why I actually bought the program) for my pretzels and such.  It's all very exciting. 

Speaking of exciting... our other big Christmas present was a finished basement.  Carpet came on December 27th.  It's been about 4 years in the making, our basement.  But it's really, actually finished now.  I can't tell you the satisfaction this has brought to Dustin and I.  And I can't tell you how grateful I am for my dad and his endless knowledge about all things construction.  He's good, I tell you.  Very good. 

Hurrah!

And, because you have asked (on Facebook) and will ask on here, here are some pictures, before and after.

Just kidding.  I wrote this post on January 6th and it's only just being published because I've been trying to get up the gumption to post those blasted pictures. Why are pics so hard for me? I have no idea.  Maybe some day I'll show before and afters... but not today.

Hurrah?

A Holiday Gift for You

Dustin and I have been working really hard... learning a whole new skill... practicing and practicing... and YOU get the payoff.   Merry Christmas from Dustin and Clancy.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Dear Weigh-Me-Down Junk,

I know that we've had some strange, codependent relationship these many years, (32, has it been? Yes, yes it has) but the time has come to say farewell.

I know there's a part of both of us that doesn't want to let go.  There have been reasons for both of us to hang on to this jacked-up relationship, but for me those reasons just aren't valid anymore, and I really don't think they are for you either.  I watch you sit idle, here and there.  I see that you long for fulfillment and purpose.  I have come to terms with the truth.  It can't be me anymore, Junk.  I can't give you what you need.  We both need to move on.

I know you think that it's that book I've been reading by Julie Morgenstern.  I know you think that she is the one who came between us.  Yes, that does have something to do with it.  She did give me a name for our process and I thank her for the gift of SHEDding, but really that was just a catalyst for the tension that has been building between us for a very long time. 

I don't love you anymore. 

I don't really know if I ever loved you.  You were more of a habitual state of being for me.  Harsh words, I know, but when you choose to examine the reality of the situation, you will see that I am right.

We aren't meant for each other, Junk.  And, furthermore, I think we should explore other relationships.  I realize that I probably have no right to tell you this, but you know Thrift Stores?  I think you two would make a perfect couple.

I will tell you that I have, for the last few weeks, been flirting with Organization and Empty Space.  I know, I know... you've told me a thousand times just what you think of them, but I think you're mistaken.  I think they are both diverting and refreshing.  I'm ready for the change.  We both are, Junk.

I am sorry if this hurts you.  You've taught me so many lessons about myself and I'll always love you for that.
 
Good luck with your life.  I really think that you and Thrift Stores would get along well.  Look into it. Please?  Or perhaps Thrift Store's friend, The Dump?  I heard nice things about both of them.  There's something out there fore you, Junk.  I just know it.


With Gratitude,
Clancy

And So...

Baby B is suddenly sleeping all night, bless her.  And bless me because I finally, in a moment of frustrated (yes, I succumbed to the frustration) exhaustion, let her cry herself to sleep. She cried all of 15 minutes the first night and she almost never cries now. (It's been about two weeks).  And she sleeps all night.  The trick is, she is currently sleeping in the room that is the temporary home of my computer. And she goes to bed nice and early... 7-8:00... so I have been spending VERY little time on the computer, which is both an amazing blessing and a terrible curse.  

One of the most curse-ish parts is that it is not easy to blog from an Android phone.  One would think that Google would have thought of that, since they run Blogger and made Android, powered by Google.  I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.  

What kind of saying is that, anyway? What good is a cake that you can have but not eat? Silliness.

Dear Brynja,

You are 6 1/2 months old and I've hardly said two words about you in this, my blogging record.  I suppose I really haven't said much at all here, so don't feel bad, baby girl. 

I was thinking about you this morning while I was in the shower.  I thought of the wonder of your existence.  Seven months ago I didn't know who you were.  Seven months ago I didn't know your name, or even that you were a girl.  Seven months ago I was scared for you to enter this world, both the physiological entrance and the entrance into our family dynamic.  Seven months ago was not very long ago, and yet... a lifetime.

I hope that when you read this someday that you don't feel sad for my fears.  Perhaps you'll understand when you become a mom someday.  I was just scared to change.  Scared to shake up the status quo.  But you, persistent little thing that you are, demanded entrance into this world and our family.  You whispered in my ear when I was in labor with your brother Rohan.  I felt you there waiting.  You peeked around the corners of your daddy's mind and showed yourself to him too.  You, in your patient way, stuck your foot in the door and waited for me to have the strength to open it.  And look at  you!  Look at the miracle of you, my precious little darling. 

Brynja Leigh, you amaze me.  You delight me.  You melt and remold me.  There are moments when I am frustrated because you love to be held so very much and that is not always conducive to everyday living, but the magic of being the fourth child over a ten-year span is that I get it.  I truly understand that this time does fly by.  These moments are gone so fast, and so I've found that I can't be bothered with caving to those feelings of frustration that come when you want only me, or when you wake up for the third, fourth, or fifth time at night.  I can be patient.  I know you'll sleep eventually.  If Mac could do it, I know you will too.  I also know that there will come a time that you won't want me to hold you all the time.  You'll want to run and play and leave me watching your growing self from a distance.  A distance that will only widen with time.  And so, I am here for you now, my baby Brynja.  My mommy muscles can hold you all day if you need it, which right now you frequently do.

Even looking at your written name, I see the wonder of you.  Your name, Miss Brynja, is a story.  I was so torn over your name.  I didn't know what to call you.  As I sat in the hospital and stared at your perfect lips and your sweet round face, I asked you over and over what your name was.  I had a name that I wanted and loved, but I was unsettled about it.  I tried several options on you and I was almost sick with my indecision so, I enlisted divine help.  I prayed.  Your daddy and I held hands and asked God to help us know your name. 

You see, there is power in a name, my Little Love and we knew that you brought a power of your own into this world.  The mere fact that you made it here, past my fear and mental blocks and unscathed from your somewhat traumatic birth, speaks of your power.  And God blessed us with an answer in Brynja Leigh.  As I wrote it on your birth certificate information page, the rightness of your name settled on me like a blanket.  I held onto that feeling over the next few months.  I found myself doubting, and, truth be told, mourning the other name that I so loved.  I don't remember the date, but I'll never forget the day that doubt left me. I knew that your were growing into your powerful name.  You see, my Sweet, your name is from the Old Norse language and it means "Shielding or Armor".  I don't know what it is that you will do in this life to need a name such as this, but it is yours.  And the spelling... I hope you aren't overly troubled by it in your life, but I love it.  Every time I see it written, I find that my eyes caress it.  The letters have a flow and a form that satisfies some deeper part of my soul.  I hope you like it as much as I do.

Little Miss B, you are a joy.  Your brothers and sister cannot get enough of you.  Ella wants to hold you so much everyday.  Mac likes to call you "Dee-Doh Baby" and I have no idea what that means, but you laugh when he says it in his very silly, squeaky way.  When Rohan talks to you, you light up in a manner that only Rohan can achieve.  You love your siblings as much as they love you. 

You are a momma's girl to the MAX.  You love on your daddy too, but mommy is the magic right now.  Daddy loves to come home from work and hold you while I make dinner.  Sometimes you are thrilled with this arrangement, other times... not so much.  I'm sure, as time goes on, that you will become a little daddy's girl, so I'll just enjoy this while it lasts!

Some noteworthy info and accomplishments:

• Rolling over, back to front and front to back.  You are choosy about this and sometimes you still love to just lie on your back and kick your legs like you did when you were just a few months old.  
• Sitting up.  This has been in the works for a couple months, but you've recently achieved "master" status with this skill.  You look extra cute and extra little sitting there on a large floor. 
• Blowing raspberries.  This is a talent you have just developed and it elicits endless peals of laughter from your adoring siblings.  
• Standing unaided for 3-5 seconds.  I have to keep my hands right there but I think you've got some fantabulous balance in the works!
• You do this adorable little "gavel" thing.  You pat your little hand on everything and your brother Mac says, upon seeing it, "Order in the court!".  It's one of my very favorite things you do. 
• You have gotten much better about being in the car, so long as it's Mom driving.  I think it's because you know that I can't do anything to help you except crank my arm backward to hold your binky in and touch your face.  If Dad is driving, you know that I'm available.  I'm not gonna lie, Brynja... you abuse that knowledge a little bit. :-)
• You scoot around in your little walker and explore things.  And you "gavel" everything in sight.  You're so cute.
• You will NOT eat anything but breast milk.  You have some hypersensitive gag reflex going on.  Anytime I try to introduce any food to you, you severely gag on it and sometimes even throw up.  Not so cool, Baby B.  Let's work on that, okay?
• You LOVE to pull Daddy's chest, arm and leg hair.  Dad doesn't love it so much though. 
• You lay on your tummy and spin in circles and will even scoot backwards, but no signs of crawling yet.  But don't worry, none of your siblings really "got" that either and look how amazing they are!  :-)  
• You do this smile sometimes and it turns my heart to jelly.  You look like you're clenching your teeth, but you don't have any teeth, so it's just you clenching your little gums.  OH. MY. GOSH.  It's the cutest, funniest thing EVER.  Kid, you crack me up.
• You love LOVE your Grandma Nene's glasses chain that hangs around her neck.  You're drawn to it like a fly to honey and you're amazingly gentle when you get a hold of her glasses.  

There's many more things, I'm sure, to write and I will try a little more valiantly to record these fleeting and priceless moments, my darling.   

And look how cute you are!!

 

Please know, my Baby Brynja, that you are my whole world right now and I love it.  Thank you for getting yourself here and bringing your sweet, peaceful soul to our family. 


Love,
Mommy

 

Getting to Know You

For school, I had to fill out a "Getting to Know You" sheet for Rohan.  One of the categories to fill out was titled "Child's Likes/Dislikes".  I was having a hard time filling this out because it is so broad, so I asked Rohan to help me.  This is what is being sent back to school, as dictated by Rohan:

Child's Likes/Dislikes:  Rohan likes Vikings, Lego's, Applebee's, riding his bike and scooter, and he would like being in a submarine.  Rohan doesn't like tomatoes and princesses, Yaki Soba (a Japanese dish that I make), or time-out. 

It made me laugh and I wanted to record it.  It doesn't read quite as funny as it was to hear him saying it.  He starts listing normal things like Lego's, and as he gets more creative with his answers, he cocks his head sideways and says funny things like, "I would also like being in a submarine!" 

These are the reasons I love being a mom.

Over and Over

Here's a little secret about me. If I find a song I like, I play it over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over again. I love to memorize words so I can always sing along. Playing a song over and over is the best way to do that. And I just can't get enough of my current groove-song, so over and over helps with that too.

Here is my most recent over and over and over and over and overs...

Angus and Julia Stone... "And The Boys"



And Angus and Julia Stone again.... "You're the One That I Want"




And my friend Rob has some amazing music that I repeat ridiculous amounts of time. If you would like to hear this, go to this link.


Also, my brother Zandy (aka Alex) is in a band.  We listen to this link all the time too, particularly the song "The Matador".