granny

It's weird how simple things can trigger a memory. My Granny was a cleaner. She always kept her house clean-no clutter. But the floors.


THE. FLOORS.


She would walk across any floor, didn't matter where she was, if something was in the floor she'd bend down and pick it up. Every. Time. Even when she was so far off her rocker and didn't want to get out of bed because she was having a bad day with her health. She'd wander out to the living room see something in the floor and pick it up. We always just stared at her like really Granny, you feel awful, leave the piece of paper in the floor. But she wouldn't. She always kept on with that paper. I used to roll my eyes and think she was nuts when I was younger. Now I look back and appreciate her tenacity.


I was sitting on the couch last night looking at my floors. They're disgusting. The dog chewed paper, wood, plastic...you name it, he's chewed it. Carter chews paper and between the two chewers the floor shows their evidence. Gross.


I started to think about Granny and how she'd roll over in her grave if she knew my floors had so much debris.


I had the kids clean the big chunks of chew debris and toys and clothes and what ever else seems to get drug out but is no ones fault because we have elves in our house that make a mess and it's never the kids fault. Is this just at my house? I vacuumed. The vacuum broke because if you want your vacuum to die send it to my house. I took it all apart and put it back together and it worked. I continued my task and my floors look awesomely clean now.


I'm thankful for Granny and her OCD-floor-debris ways. She taught me to keep on keeping on.

you did what?

Amelia's had a fever off and on all weekend beginning Friday evening. Saturday she was starting to feel a bit better late in the evening after some tylenol and began moving around the house more and playing with her sister. Phew.

Hannah and I sit down to watch Treehouse Masters and I notice the dog is not around. I thought oh he must be laying under my bed upstairs. Time passes and I still think gosh he hasn't been around lately so I call him and start whistling because surely by now he needs to go out and relieve himself. Silence. I call him and whistle louder. Silence. I send the girls upstairs to see if he's hiding under the bed. No dog.

I can feel the panic creeping in. Where could he be? I whistle and call him again. Nothing, no jingling tag, no scratching at a closed door nothing.

I look at Amelia, "you didn't let the dog out earlier did you?" As I remember telling her a few hours ago to keep the sliding glass door shut so none of the animals escape. She hangs her head low and in the saddest voice ever.  "Mommy, I'm sorry I let Baxter out earlier. He ran away from me when I let him out." Hannah and I look at each other. Panic has sat in.

I yank open the back door and begin feverishly yelling his name and whistling. Silence. I don't see him anywhere. I run upstairs calling the dog, whistling, checking every room. He doesn't come.

Finally, I grab my keys and head outside. Calling him and calling him. I get in my car roll down the windows drive all through the neighborhood. I don't see him, I don't hear him. He's gone. I'm praying that I find the dog. Thinking the worst. He is a puppy and if someone found him they would probably keep him because let's face facts; people are dishonest especially when they think they won't get caught. I start wondering why no one has called since he has a collar? Will they take him and have his microchipped scanned? Is he dead in a ditch? Why isn't he coming when I call? Why would Amelia let him out and then not tell anyone? Why wouldn't he scratch and bark at the back door? Why? Why? Why?

I finally get back to our street and the dog is no where to be seen. I see Tom with a flashlight walking towards me. We both say almost in unison, "He's gone and never coming back." "Someone has him."

We all pile back in the house; Hannah sobbing.

I check under the bed to make sure one last time that our precious boy is really gone. Baxter is staring me in the face. I call his name and I can see his legs move. I call him more and he starts to army crawl out from the middle of the bed. By now all the kids are crowded around as we wait for the dog to appear. We give him lots of belly rubs and kisses and are so relieved that he was under the bed the entire time.

Amelia and I had a long talk about lying, telling the truth and what to do if the dog does get out and you need help to get him back. Oh and her fever came back. I'll need another weekend to recover from this stressful weekend.

school days

Praise God, the kids are doing marvelous in school.

It's always a little nerve wracking when you have one going into Kindergarten where they're expected to act more like big kids and less and less like little preschoolers. Then add one kid starting preschool where she needs to act like a preschooler and listen/obey and *gasp* take daily naps. I'm glad to report everyone seems to be buzzing right along and falling in to step.

Hannah is making friends and has become the student council representative for her class. Yesterday, she was on the morning announcements at school. Carter was so excited to hear his sister on the speaker. I'm super proud of her!

Carter has surprised me the most with his overall change in attitude towards school. He now comes home everyday and shows me his folder. Then we work on any homework which he gladly does. No fighting like last year. He just overall seems more responsible and I am loving it!

He has a little work to be done still with his letters and the way in which he holds his scissors. He's been letting me help him and that has delighted my heart.

Amelia Jane...she's a little spit fire. She "tells stories" or as I like to call it lies. Not just innocent make believe things but weird things like "My teacher gave me a shot today." "Right there" and points to her arm. My favorite "story" was before school started. "When I start school, I'm going to go over to the door, turn the door knob and sneak out. Then they're going to have to look for me and I'm going to be sneaky." Like, really? Where does she come up with this?

My favorite Carter story of the week was just yesterday. We're walking through our garage and he says: "Oh Mommy, I have something to tell you as you know." "The first thing I have to tell you is my two girlfriends; they got in trouble because my one girlfriend hit my other girlfriend and that's bad." "The second thing I have to tell you is that I didn't poop my pants." "But, I kept my underwear in my book bag just in case."

He currently adds "as you know" to nearly every sentence. He also was sick Friday and Saturday hence his poop his pants comment.