GONE in a wag of a tail

Item: Half of a peanut butter sandwich


Suspect: Brown chocolate lab cowering in the back of his crate


Every morning my kids have peanut butter toast. This morning I made one for my eight year old and my four year old and laid them on the counter in front of the toaster. My thirteen year old had already had hers next to a drooling chocolate lab licking his chops hungrily and left for school. My eight year old son devoured his before leaving for school as well. Then my four year old daughter went to retrieve hers. "Mommy, where is it?"


"On the counter."


"No, it's not"


"Yes, it is."


My husband, who was out in the kitchen getting his morning dose of caffeine chimed in, "It's not here, hon."


I was watching a news segment on television, "Of course it's there. I left it in front of the toaster."


"Not there anymore."


"Well, what could have hap-" I took one look at the dog, "COBY!" Tail between his legs he hightails it to his crate and cowers in the back of it. Aha!


Our last dog, a dalmatian, had been an outside dog. When we chose to have an inside dog, we had no idea some of the things that would entail. We have a cart to set our microwave on and the bottom shelf underneath has a rolling door and we kept bread in there. Sometimes we would neglect to pull the door shut but it did not seem to be a problem till a month ago. I walked out there to find bags to three loaves on the floor...the bread gone...... the dog cowering in the back of his cage. He knew. Oh, my and how that bread affected his digestive system! The house was permeated with odors nto wished on my worst enemy! I never knew a dog could do that till we had Coby. Now we try to keep bread away from him but he will choose any chance he can get to steal it, even if it's from my four year old's hands. He gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "Gas Hog".

Selective Hearing

"Tyler, do you have any homework?"

"Huh? I can't hear you."

"Do-you-have-any-homework?"

"What?"

New tactic. I whispered, "How about some cookies?"

"I WANT SOME COOKIES!" Uh-huh!

It's amazing what our kids can hear when they really want to. I learned a long time ago that telling them anything while they were playing their gameboy was wasted breath. Even the television can totally disrupt their hearing. My husband is a volunteer firefighter and has a pager in the living room to notify him of calls. It is often turned up and can be very loud. Often I will come into the room after hearing it go off and ask my thirteen year old, "What was the call?"

She usually turns a blank face to me, "I don't know."

"Well, where was it?"

"I don't know."

"But you were sitting right next to it! You should have heard something!"

She shrugs her shoulders and turns her attention back to the television.

Then here was that time my son was playing his gameboy and his father got a fire call while watching television next to him. He was gone a full ten minutes before my son looked up, "Hey, where's dad?"

However I can be in another room and paper rustling will bring them running, "Can I have some too?"

I think the wisest thing a parent can do is go by the thought, "If you can't beat em', join em".

"Mom, can I have twenty bucks?"

"What? I 'm afraid I didn't catch that!"

"Hey, how about if I use the car tonight?"

"Did you say something?"

Yep, there certainly is something to this selective hearing thing. Try it on an adolescent near you!

Hi, I'm Denise & I hail from the country "IJustCan'tSeemToWin"

Did you ever feel like that? Some of the arguments my kids, especially my two youngest, get into are just really really ridiculous.

This morning I had my eight year old son, Tyler, remake his bed because he's been getting really sloppy with it. I told him to put all of his stuffed animals, mostly dogs, approximately 20, nicely on his bed or an empty shelf I had provided. They are usually all over the floor. Tonight, after church, I went in and, instead of preparing for bed, he was sitting on the floor amidst all of his stuffed animals with a pout painted on his face. I asked him what was wrong. "I may as well get rid of all of them." When I asked why, he replied, "Because I can't get them to stand up on the bed."

Taking a breath I made myself answer very calmly, "So then just lay them down on their sides. As long as they look neat. Look, you can even put some on that shelf. I cleared a whole shelf off for some of them."

He continued in a pouty voice, "But they won't stand up so I am just going to throw them out."

Counting to ten, "Tyler, it is after 9:00 and you need to get to bed instead of arguing about this thing." I walked from the room.

More moaning from the room a minute later brought me back.

"I'm just going to throw them out."

Okay, let's try counting in German this time. Eins. Zwei. Drei. "Fine. Whatever. Just get ready for bed." I vacate the room.

A few minutes later more moaning and crying brought me back. This time animals were piled up from his trash can. Uno. Dos. Tres..... "There, I threw them out."

"Okay. Fine. Now please go to sleep."

It wasn't long till crying erupted from the room again. Gritting my teeth, I stomped to the room. "WHAT is wrong THIS TIME?!"

He breaks out in rather theatrical tears that I will give a Ten to, "I can't sleep without my dalmatian."

I walk from the room into the hallway and acted like I was banging my head against the wall, only I was using my fist. Hey, I may be frustrated, but I want to maintain my single vision and not see two of everything.

At 10:00 I went in to cover him again. He was sleeping soundly.....all twenty of his stuffed animals spread around him.....on their sides.

I'm Going To Run Away!

That was the announcement my four and a half year old made today when she did not get her own way..... and then she ran.... all the way to the living room. Four year olds seem to have it tough. They are still wanting to depend on their moms and, yet, they are trying to establish independance. Saying they are going to run away is like a stroke of independance for them even though it may be agrivating for their parents. My oldest daughter, Nicole, was five when she made that announcement. Her baby brother was just born and she suddenly realized that he was getting all the attention and we "lost" the address to return him. Theatrical as she was, one day she made the announcement. "I am running away!"

Amused, I asked, "Well, where are you going?"

"To grandma's!"

"Well, how will you get there?"

"I'll walk!" (Note: Grandma was at least 5 miles away!)

"Well, then you're going to have to pack a bag."

So she packed one. She went and got a small paper lunch bag and filled it with her necessities; a pair of underwear, socks and a toothbrush. Then she started out for grandma's. Of course, I would not let her past the neighbors.

Kids this age can uncannily cause the funniest sitcoms. I recently found my youngest daughter's hairbrush. I asked her if she's been brushing the cat. "Nope," she replied, "That's dog hair."

Then there was the time a few years ago that I found that the wall had been "decorated". I said,"Tyler, you and I both know you did this!" Tyler hung his head but said nothing so I continued, "So you are going to have to give me your crayons for awhile."

"It was done with markers."

Animal Kingdom

At any one time you can visit my home and declare it to be a zoo. Sometimes the children are as tame as manatees and there is peace in the household. Unfortunately that is an endangered species in my house. Most times activity at my house could be compared to a pack of hyenas sparring for the choiciest meat.

My children are distanced several years apart. I have a thirteen year old daughter, Nicole, an eight year old son, Tyler, and a four year old daughter, Lexi. The eight year old and four year old are the two who get into the most tumultous scraps. My preschool "angel", who tells everyone she sees that her real name is Princess, knows exactly which buttons to push to drive my son directly through the roof and into the stars above. Tyler, on the other hand, enjoys "parenting" her where he enjoys assuming the role of disciplinarian. He can be an extreme perfectionist and any disruption to routine or carefully ordered toys will send him on a temper tirade and lexi is often all too eager to disrupt that order. Of course, Tyler is more than willing to report the tiniest discretion to me even if his dad is sitting next to him.
On this particular day the children were sitting around the lunch table nitpicking over seating arrangements and who knows what else. Suddenly Tyler yells, "MOOOM! She called me a giraffe!"

Rolling my eyes and growling in extreme frustration I turn from the stove with a smile pasted on my face, "Tyler, Giraffe is not exactly a put-down. At least she isn't calling you a Hippo."
Disgusted by the constant bickering, I stalked to the living room from which I heard my four year old daughter quietly say, "Hippo!"
I spent the next fifteen minutes listening to the two of them exchanging names of wild animals. "Lion!" "Monkey!" "Elephant!" Meanwhile I had my own quandry to settle. Should I let all of my frustration out in the form of a scream so hideous there was no animal who could match it or should I allow myself to wallow in hysterical laughter. I chose the latter. They say laughter is the best medicine but my question is, "Can youoverdose on it?"

To be or what can it be? That is the question.

I discovered a small brown edible tidbit on my pantry shelf today. It was obvious one of the kids must have dropped it while scavenging for something to satisfy their hunger. I studied the item, turning and pivoting it between my forefinger and my thumb observing the bite size item's object's color, shading and texture carefully. Finaly, unable to locate in my mind the exact source of the item, I tossed it into the trash can. It's pretty bad when you can't distinguish the difference between a piece of child's cereal and cat food.

I mean, really! Why do they have to look so much alike? Do you suppose that they are one and the same but in different packaging? Perhaps Purina and General Foods are one and the same! Now, bfore I get 101 horrified readers protesting either the above mentioned companies or the ridiculousness of my words, please be assured. I do not actually believe that Chocolate Lucky Charms are actually cat vittles with marshmallows.....but let's just suppose.

And, while we are sharing food with our favorite furry felines, let's not forget our canine companions. I have came up with a novel idea I think can really make a little money. My dog and cat want to eat each other's food anyway; why don't Purina actually make a Multi-Pet Food? I think it would sell. Chicken vittles with a twist of peanut butter....Hey, my cat and dog would probably kill over it. And my husband thought I was sitting around all day doing nothing! Hey, my brain was working overtime conjuring up that brillant concept! You wait and see! A year from now you will see this advertised on television using a cat and dog contently eating from the same bowl and you can say to yourself that you read it here first!

The Cool Grandma

Who was the cool grandma in your life?In our family, we have two grandmas. At first it was so easy. We called my parents "Grandma and Papa" and my husband's parents "Nanny and Pappap". That served us well for several years. Then, suddenly when my children were 11, 6 and 2 Confusion entered the picture. When I talked about Nanny or Grandma no one seemed to know which one I was talking about. The system that had worked for over ten years suddenly aborted itself. I couldn't understand what had made the difference but now I was hearing, "Which Nanny are you talking about?" "Which Grandma is that?" I was screaming to myself, "The same Nanny we have had for the past ten years! Why do you not understand who I am talking about?!"
After awhile it became, "Is it the grandma with the dog?" or "Is it the one with the dog or without the dog?" A sigh of relief! A distinguishing fact I could cling to. We found a way to differentiate between the two grandmas. Finally everyone was on the same page..... and then the dog died. Suddenly we were without a viable means of identification again.
Then I was struck with a brainstorm, "Hey! How about if we call my mom Cool Grandma?"Basking in the glow of my brilliant idea I was totally rebuffed by my son's skepticism, "But why?"
Undaunted, I explained my logic, "Because she has the gameboys, the game cubes, the playstation, all those videos and CD's and TWO COMPUTERS! She's one cool grandma!"
My kids sat in the back of the van with blank looks on their faces. Finally my son spoke, "But the other one has a trampoline." That was when I realized my brainstorm lacked the brain part and was merely an electrical storm- all spark and no substance. We finally decided to call my parents "Gameboy Grandma and Gameboy Grandpa" and my husband's parents "Trampoline Grandma and Trampoline Grandpa."
Later, when I told my mother on the phone what her new distinguishing nickname was I was met with a rather long moment of silence. Why was I not surprised?

Assembly Required

Tis the season to be weary.......When I think of how I spend the holidays, one word comes to mind....stress! This year my husband hinted that we should have my family for Christmas. I spent weeks planning, gathering needed items and cleaning my house. Preparing for company can be stressful and I was looking forward to when the last meal was out of the way and behind me.

When the evening was over I thought, "Now I can kick back and enjoy the holidays." Yeah, right. There was still last minute Christmas Cards to send (I had forgotten my husband's friends) and last minute gifts to buy.This year my four year old daughter, Nicole, had graduated from Fisher price to Barbie. My husband and I had bought her all her Barbie items: A house, a stable for her horse, nursery school, supermarket and pet store. I didn't rally read the packages as we wrapped them on Christmas Eve. My husband, Norm, has this thing about only wrapping presents on Christmas Eve, so you can understand the added stress when he wrapped two and I was left with a mountain of presesnts to wrap.

Norm had to work the early shift Christmas morning and he decided that we would open presents that night after supper. Nicole was pretty good all morning about the presents. When my husband came home, she was quite eager to open them, but was forced to use more patience to wait till after we ate. Norm, who is also a volunteer firefighter, got a call and poor Nicole was forced to wait longer. I felt sorry for her and allowed her to open two presents. Upon Norm's return we ate and opened gifts. It was only then that I finally started to realize what was ahead for me. Nicole, who had no nap, was to have gone to bed at 7:30. She was quite eager to have everything assembled immediately. Norm preferred that I do that since it was his habit to assemble first and read directions later. I started the house first which wasn't too difficult. Then I tackled the stable where the directions were slightly more confusing. At 8:30 Norm stuck a video in for Nicole while I started the grocery store. Till then I was tired because I had been awake since 5:15. The store shelves which were largely cardboard began to grate on my nerves as they kept falling apart inmy hands. I could either be heard screaming or murmuring about the woes of cardboard under my breath. Finally at 10:00 I decided to finish the other two in the morning and put Nicole to bed. I still had not even looked at my own presents.

As I hit the shower I thought that surely Nicole would sleep in till at least 8:00 in the morning. WRONG! Nicole was routing me from my bed at 6:30 to assemble her school and pet store. I got up but decided to assemble my new portable phone first and then begun her projects. This time i was going to be smart and use glue. At 9:00 I was finally finished. I cleaned up and sat down on the recliner to relax with the directions to my new curling iron."Mom, can I have pancakes?"