In Which I Rant- Again

Remember how much I like shopping with dogs?

Well, here's another stellar example of rampant disregard to put on the pile:

I was in Target about a week ago with my girls and I noticed that some skangy looking guy and his equally skangy friend were shopping with their rats dogs. I muttered under my breath as I walked in another direction about how I hate it when people bring their rats dogs into store with them.
Later, we were wandering into electronics when we passed Skangy Dude 1 again. My daughter was fiddling with her coat and had it over her head as she passed by the cart. The cart with the rat dog that I didn't even see. The cart that was about 2 feet away from her.
The little rat dog craned her neck, bared her teeth and growled/barked/snapped at my daughter and startled us all.
Skangy Dude whirled around (He did not see a thing) and snapped at my daughter for approaching his rat dog.

#1 All of my children from the 12 year old to the 4 year old have been trained to never approach a dog unless they have asked permission from the master- and then to approach the dog in a non-threatening, even submissive position.

#2 Dogs do not belong in the store!!!!

I yelled at him that she didn't even know the dog was there and that his rat dog didn't even belong inside the store, and I promptly informed the front end supervisor that I think the policy of allowing dogs in a store sucks. And then I left.

My point is this:
I respect the fact that people need service dogs.
I can even buy the argument that there are some people who need a companion dog to function on some level of normal.
The thing is, that ONLY service dogs should be allowed in stores, and those dogs should be marked as service dogs and fully trained not to interact with the general public- And certainly not to snap at a little girl who happens to pass by.

The dog is just lucky that it didn't touch my daughter... I'm just sayin.

Now, I have a letter to write to the Target headquarters and a newspaper editorial page.

Maybe I'll get a dog like Marmaduke and take it shopping. We'll see how long that stupid PC policy of not requiring dogs to be service animals lasts.

Bless That Stupid Alarm Clock

because it averted a house fire.

Last night, Elizabeth brought me her alarm clock with a bent plug. I straightened it, she plugged it in, set the clock and turned it on. But, she forgot to set the alarm. Which meant that the alarm went off at midnight.

At midnight, I yelled for her to turn it off. "Mom, I can't..." came the sleepy reply from just outside my door. She pushed her head inside my door. The one that had been shut.

"So, unplug it, please."

She wandered back to her room, unplugged the clock, crawled back in her bed, and promptly fell asleep. About 2 minutes later we smelled it. HOT. I hate the way hot smells. I always have. Sebastian got up to investigate. It seems that the fire he had built before we went to bed (just like so many other nights) had super heated. The stove was full of white hot coals, and the wooden guard that we keep in front of the hearth was almost to it's combustion point. Sebastian pulled the guard away, opened the doors and pulled the coals apart. After about 20 minutes he came to bed.

That is why we were still awake when the fan cord shorted out and started throwing sparks everywhere. Into the room. Under the insert. That smells even worse than hot. Electrical hot is horrible.

We got the insert unplugged and poured some water into the fire to cool it down even more. We poured cold water on the hearth and it immediately sizzled and evaporated. We kept at it until the area around the fire place had cooled down. Sebastian went back to bed, and I stayed up for an hour more to make sure it was going out.

And that is how the stupid alarm clock assured that we would all wake up safe in our own beds this morning. I'm going to make sure to kiss my kids this morning!

Romans 8:28
And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

I'm Cool Like That

On October 8th, Caleb turned 10.

Unfortunately, on October 8th, his sister brought home the flu. Not the swine flu, thank goodness, and not the puking flu either, but the high-fever-want-to-die flu. And she shared.

Finally, on October 25th we were able to have his party.

Being nearly Halloween, Walmart had these cool black light bulbs for a dollar.

So we decorated the house with white.

And we colored on the table with highlighters- they glow really cool!

This is what my pictures looked like when I used flash.

And this is what it looked like in real life (except the highlighters glowed much better).

We even had glow sticks to brighten up the night.

Every one left a message for the birthday boy on the table- even our baby cousin.

Here's the cake I made in keeping with the black and white theme.

Remember the cake I made last year? This time I made 7 minute frosting. I maybe should have made 5 minute frosting. It was hard. And crunchy- but no one complained.
And a very happy ten year old opened his gifts.

Of course, no party is complete without a few crazy games...

I kept trying to rescue Baby D from the middle of the chaos- but that was where he wanted to be, so I finally had to let him go and let it go.

A parting shot. I hope it isn't a lampshade in a few years!

Happy Birthday Caleb!

He Even Smells Like School

Could it be the bubbles he spilled on the deck just before coming inside?

Maybe it was the batch of salt dough we used to shape letters and numbers.

Could it have been the Spagettio's he loves to eat for lunch?

Or maybe just the nostalgic smell of Crayola Crayons?

Whatever it was, I almost cried. Almost.

Remember Building A Fort With Your Dad?

Yeah, me either. I remember doing other stuff* with my dad.

But, sadly for me, my forts consisted of a couple of rusty nails and a pallet or two.

They usually fell apart fast. Or they were moved. Or they were chopped up to keep us warm.

I liked to play on an old rotted stump in a line of trees on a little hill. In the summer the stump grew huckleberries. If I sat real still, no one could see me, and I could eat all the huckleberries before anyone else knew they were ripe.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I just never built anything like this with my dad.

Do you suppose they realize how lucky they are that all their dad wants to do is come home and play with them?

'Spose they'll remember tea parties in the fort after dark?

That it was Dad with them out there?

That Dad was the one who ran to the store to get the Oreos?

You bet they will!

*Other Stuff: castrating pigs and cows, watching piglets being born, butchering chickens, hiking, rollerskating, AWANA, picking berries, and most importantly- sneaking out to the bakery before school.

Ruining The Track Record

I have 5 kids.
I have been to the E.R.
I've been with a baby in tow when my 10 year old fell head first off the half wall onto the stairs below.
I've been in the middle of the night when the same child had a croup attack badly enough to make us call the neighbor and head out in the snow.
I've made appointments to have various items removed from facial orifices.
I've had an infant taken from the doctor's office to the Critical Care unit for pneumonia and RSV.
I've left church for stitches at the walk in clinic.
I've forgone stitches for butterflies.
But NEVER in my mommy career had I needed to call 911- until Tuesday.
Hello. My name is Gina. I'm a bad mom.
Hi Gina.

We have a prune tree. It's a nice tree. The prunes are really yummy, and we have been snacking on them for weeks. The kids have been moving higher and higher into the tree in their quest for the purple-black goodness. See:

But look again:

That's about 15 feet up. He's about 3 feet tall. He is 4 times over his head and more than twice over mine. And I mentioned the kids climb this tree. I do not. As nice and plummy as it is, it will not support me. I also couldn't find a ladder tall enough to get him down. Somehow he has gotten all the way out to the end of the branches- wearing his "new" camo rubber boots- that are 3 sizes too big for him and afford very little hold on the tree branch. Needless to say, he was not getting back. Enter 911.

I have mentioned I live in a small town, right? See this guy? Our families hang out. We barbecue. His wife does my hair. They go rafting with us. Um, yeah. "Hi, Officer Brian."

Luckily, the day before at preschool, they had a fire safety talk and had met a fire man. The fire man said that when a fire man comes to get you you go right to them. Good thing, because he knew exactly what to do.

It was all fun and games until he was safely on the ground.

Blew my track record right out of the water.

What To Eat... What To Eat?

I have this problem. I hate to make lunch. Seriously. What do you folks eat? I made a grilled cheese for lunch today, and half of it is still sitting on my desk- wishing itself into a Jack in the Box chicken sandwich. *sigh*
My better behaved self tells my spender that we need to eat at home, but we just can't seem to like anything in our fridge at lunch time.
HELP!!!