Meme This!

Well, Emily at the Sassy Lime has tagged me for a meme. Here it is.

What is your favorite word ?
Mommy

What is your least favorite word ?
I don't know that there's a word. But I certainly don't like to hear the phrase, "One of the kids just vomited."

What turns you on spiritually, creatively, emotionally ?
Music for sure, on all accounts. Quiet time, reverent time for reflection. People thinking of me.

What turns you off?
Profanity. Lack of respect for others.

What's your favorite curse word?
umm, don't (typically) curse, So I don't have one. When it very rarely pops out it usually rhymes with SPAM.

What sound or noise do you love to hear?
Rain. My kids giggling. My kids calling me mommy or really anything they say.

What sound or noise do you hate?
My kids fighting. Too much going on at once.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Hair stylist.

What profession would you not like to do?
Poopsmith

What would you like to hear God say at the pearly gates?
Welcome home, my good and faithful servant. Glad you could make it, you did a great job. The teriyaki and chocolate cake bar is over there. All you can eat. No, we don't have calories here.

And I tag:
anyone who wants to play.

Monday (not so much) Morning Confessions: Things I am in Love with

1. My husband.

Duh. I don't know why I even mentioned this one. SOOoooo obvious. But still, it should be on the top of the list...

2. The Hardware Store

I don't know what it is about this place. I just get high (not literally, ya sickos) off of all the stuff you could use for "home improvements." The smell of it, the paint colors, the garden department. Mmmmm.... Love...

3. Popsicles

Maybe it's just the summer, but these babies are my favorite food right now. As I was eating one the other night I told Charming, "Popsicles are the best food."
"Are they your favorite food?" he asked.
My reply?
"They are at this very moment."

4. People thinking I am younger than I am

Okay, NOT. I actually hate this. Twice on Saturday, twice, I was referred to as Reenie's "big sister." Maybe it was because I was actually wearing makeup, something that moms obviously do not do. But here's the question, how many 21 month old children have "big sisters" who are 6 months pregnant? I wasn't wearing that disguising of an ensemble.

5. My New Body Pillow

To quote my lovely friend Heather: "No pregnant woman should be without one." Why, oh, why has it taken this long for me to be in possession of one of these wonders? I love it, love it, love it! Oh how sleep has taken on new and miraculous levels of joy! I hope my friend will never, ever leave me. Aaaahhh. I can't wait for my nap...

I'm normal, the Mom's club might work out, and my Avon Lady is DEFINITELY a man

Well the tests came back disappointingly normal. Guess I'll be going to bed earlier for the rest of my LIFE.

Also, a while ago I posted about my experience with a certain mom's group. The ladies were not, umm very social or welcoming, so I promptly quit subjecting myself to THAT. Anyway, I got a call earlier this week from a lady from the same mom's group. She basically said that the group was going through some changes. IE the old board members were leaving the group and the numbers were starting to dwindle and would I be interested in possibly being on the board. Hmmm....

So I called her back and told her why I had not come in the past. Uninviting experience, mom's not my age, left feeling worse than when I came, etc. Apparently I had not been the only one with these complaints... Anyway, she invited me to a playgroup yesterday and you know what? It was fun. Some new, nice and social girls and around my approximate same age. Yay! It might work out this time.

And my Avon Lady is a man. I am sure of it. The one time I called to speak with "her" it was a lady's voice mail and I left a message. The call was returned by a man (her "husband") and the product was delivered by a man in a Budweiser shirt. I recently placed another order via email. Guess who delivered my stuff? The same man, wearing a different, but nevertheless Budweiser shirt.

Now Charming says the guy said he was just doing deliveries for his "wife." I say if he really has a wife who sells Avon, she is either a white type personality, so passive and people shy that he does her business for her, or she is a red and just really wears the pants.

But I am pretty sure there's no wife. And my Avon Lady is actually Budweiser Man.

My kids offcially stink at hide and seek

Last night found me curled in a ball of laughter.

Charming and the kids were playing hide-and-seek for the first time ever.

Charming would hide in very easy to find him places. The kids would sit on the stairs and make loud sounds (I guess they thought it was part of the game) and then come out to find Daddy. They would get so close to where he was and then turn around and not see him. It was awesome.

Later we played it in their room. Charming hid behind the train table and you could see his back arching over the top of it. Reenie walks in, doesn't see him and walks out. E then finds him. They play again. Reenie leaves and E stays in the room with his eyes closed and counts to ten. Charming hides behind the chair and E is baffled when he opens his eyes. He disappeared. He looks around and then leaves the room.

E eventually came back and did find Daddy when Charming made the chair rock, but the best part was yet to come-- E's turn to hide. He hides in Daddy's original hiding spot behind the train table. Charming comes in after counting to ten and E waits about .5 seconds then jumps up saying, "You found me!" So he hides again. Same place. Same outcome. Only this time Charming pretends he can't see E and keeps looking in different places. E continues to jump up and down saying, "I'm here! You FOUND me!" Oh so funny.

And oh so few skills at the hide-and-seek.

Weeds and Fatigue

We have weeds. Not just weeds, but I would say WEEDS. Possibly even weeds from the gates of Hell. Not the weeds from Hell, because our next door neighbor has those. These are maybe their spawn. Not really sure.

Needless to say, the weeds are stressing me out. They are taking over our backyard, we have sprayed them twice, and while some are dead, many more are being "born" every day. I need to give these weeds the zero population talk see if they can keep themselves a little more chaste. They are taking a few too many liberties. It's not landscaped back there either. I called a lawn care guy today who said he had a great spray that would even keep seeds from germinating, but that it didn't kill grass. Not even wild grass, like some that we have back there. Problem is when I called the "weed control" services they said they only did commercial property and that their spray would kill everything for two years. Not what I need exactly.

So I am at square one. Tight budget, no tolerance for weeds, and much more to do in the yard beyond their removal.

And I am oh so very tired. The kind of tired that I am, I have decided goes beyond the normal pregnancy tired. I woke up this morning fatigued. I took a three hour nap from 1 to 4. I feel okay now, but how fair is it that I feel normal for only a few hours a day? I am going in to see my midwife today to have a blood draw so they can check a few things.

Hopefully they find something treatable.

If they don't, I think I need to start going to bed at 7 p.m. Because if I am going to feel like this everyday for the next 14 weeks, life is heading towards the the land of suckdom.

Any advice about the weeds?

My Apologies to the Ladies

Well, we went on our little blogging ladies weekend. Lots and lots of fun. And no one turned out to be an old man, so that was good.

After the dinner Saturday, we had our group picture taken by some folks in the parking lot. One "photographer" was quite funny. He kept saying things like, "Okay, now you're angry!"

Then, for me, as a pregnant lady (the other pregnant blogger having departed) who had gotten little sleep the night before and hadn't had a nap in two days, things began to fall apart.

The girls decided on a shopping trip to the dollar store and/or Wally-World to get matching, cheap-o mementos. Fine, no problem. But things started to get a little silly, and I started to want only a bed. Only a bed and not prolonged and drawn out giddiness at the Wal-Mart.

I am not always a party pooper.

So, I must give my apologies to the ladies. I hope that y'all will forgive my grumpy face and manners and understand that it was only my hormones and not because I didn't like any of you. You were all delightful, and I am only sorry I could not join you in your late night glee.

It already died, might as well eat it

I like meat. It's no secret. Go ahead and call me a big Meat Eater.

I also like animals. A lot. Not enough to keep unruly dogs in my household, but I nonetheless love critters.

That said, meat that looks like an animal is difficult for me. Now I am not talking about a steak cut into the shape of a cow or anything, I am talking about meat that looks like it's original self. I just cringe when I see its animal-ness and think that it was once alive and walking around, and then it died, and now I am going to eat it.

Why mention this? Because I did my first turkey yesterday. (I know, it's May. It's hot out. Why turkey? Because I bought one in November, didn't have Thanksgiving at home, and well... you get it.)

The instructions said "remove neck and giblets." Eeeeewww. That was one long neck folks. Why do they even leave it in there? Does anyone actually eat it? I just got so irked that I was pulling out this turkey's neck. His neck. The part that connects his mean, little head to his big, turkey body. Strange experience. Too much like animal, not enough like meat. Yeah, and I never found the giblets. (Though Charming did later, when he was carving it....)

So yes. Turkey trauma. But let me tell you, that bird tasted dang good. And as I said to Charming at the dinner table, apparently I can cook a turkey.

Things that Grow... and then Talk Smack

I am always amazed when things grow. I am mostly talking about my garden here, but yes I am still amazed that a baby can grow inside my body and then continue to grow once it's on the outside.

I recently planted some bulbs in my front yard, some strawberry plants in my square foot garden and some zucchini seeds in our hostile back yard. They are all coming up. I am amazed. I am feeling giddy about these things. The fact that the zucchini managed to pop up out of our harder than a rock dirt impresses me the most. I am second most impressed by the bulbs coming up, as I wasn't even sure I was planting them right.

But I just am so happy that my plants are growing. It is miraculous to me, to think of all that they had to push through to get to the surface. That water got down to them and stirred up life, I can hardly fathom. One of my strawberry plants that I was sure was dead, has started to sprout green leaves and I can hardly contain my joy.

This morning Reenie and I were in our yard, enjoying the in-my-opinion-entirely-too-warm morning, and I was thinking on these things. She was sitting on the two person swing when I decided to join her on the other end. She seemed irritated. She was quick to inform me (I kid you not) that I was "too heavy." She said clear as day, "you're too heavy."

Yeah, she's not even 2. I don't know where she learned the word heavy.

So, yes. The miracle of life. Growing things. Growing bigger, growing taller, growing the ability to insult people.

This is my life.

Mother's Day

It's a great day to be a mom. Reenie was very entertaining today during our church sacrament meeting, doing somersaults in front of our pew and the like. She has also discovered the art of "other uses for the sacrament cup."

E was the first to discover this art. He would take the tiny, clear, plastic cup and suck his lips into it so he looked like Sebastian when he was telling the little mermaid to "pucker up like this."



Sometimes he would get the cup to suck onto his chin so he looked like King Tut.

Reenie decided today that she should chew on a Finding Nemo sticker and then spit it back into the cup with glops of saliva. After this game was worn out, she put the cup in her mouth with the opening of the cup pulling back her lips and exposing her teeth and gums. Somewhat reminiscent of this:



or maybe this:



or even this:



Oh man, the things these kids do to make me laugh. I almost couldn't breathe as I was relating to Charming the manner in which E was picking his nose. Straight faced, staring off into the distance, the boy, in slow motion nonetheless, picked his nose, examined it, transferred fingers and very delicately brought it to his tongue. I wish I could do a video post. It was hilarious.

Happy Mother's Day.

Potential Book Titles

I don't have much to say, but sometimes things happen in my life that make me think, if I ever write a book about motherhood, I am going to use that for a title. So here are a few of them:

Saving Scrapbook Pages from Poopy Fingers: Tales from a Mother with Toddlers

There are Better Things to do with Quarters than Shoving Them in Your Diaper

Don't Use that Fork for Eating, I Saw Where You Just Put It: Strange Things You Say When You Become a Mom

Would it be Possible for You to Pee on the Floor Again Today? (A book about potty training, I think)

When I asked You to Clean up the Mess You Made, I didn't Mean that you had to Eat it

If I have to Vacuum up Another Box of Cereal, I Think I'll Go Insane

I Should Have Bought Stock in Fruit Snacks: Things I Wish I'd Known Before Becoming a Mother

Okay, that's it. Can you add any?

Got Friends?

“Raise your hand if you don't need or want any more friends,” said the Relief Society teacher one Sunday. One woman actually had the audacity to raise her hand and say she didn't think she could handle having any more. Hard for me to picture it coming from her, as she had always seemed unfriendly and intimidating. I couldn't see how she could have more than a couple of comrades.

But no one else did. In a room of twenty or so women, all living in the same neighborhood, only one dared to say she didn't need any more friends. And though my heart reached out to these sisters, I was nonetheless perplexed, for I had found difficulty in making friends with this same group of women. Were they just too scared to raise their hands? Or had no one ever taught them how to make friends?

It's interesting, I think, how we go about making friends. How we bring people into our circle. The circumstances under which we begin sharing our lives with others. When we are small, like my children, we become friends with whoever mom invites over for playdates or the neighborhood kids that we see when we go outside. Our friendships are based on proximity. And yet, even in my small children, I can see that they have preferences. Some children, for whatever reason, they do not get along with at all.

So sometimes, our friends are the people we see everyday, like in high school or in the workplace. Other times, we make friends with someone just because we like them. Their personality clicks with ours, or we are otherwise drawn to them. And if they like us too, this is great. We call each other to hang out and talk and it is enjoyable for everyone.

But what I want to talk about is becoming friends with someone out of need. Sometimes it is just the mutual need for friendship, but often it is because we need them or they need us for some other reason. When I moved back to Utah over a year ago, I needed friends. I needed support, I needed a whole lot of help because I was struggling with a deep and desperate depression. A neighbor, Aussie, filled that need for me. We became friends. Later, when I was doing much better, I struggled because I could not help Aussie in the ways she had helped me. It wasn't until she allowed me to serve her, that I felt true friendship grow between us.

I don't like the feeling of one-sided friendship. Mostly, I don't like it when I am not needed by my friends. It is hard to constantly give and never recieve (something I have experienced only once) but I would still rather be on the end that gives more than on the end that cannot give at all. And yet, if I do not allow others to give to me, then where is the mutuality of the friendship?

I think this is where my sisters in Relief Society are falling short. They are willing to give, but they are less willing to be given to. In our church we have a program called Visiting Teaching. Two women are paired together in a companionship and they are assigned two or more other sisters for whom they are to watch over, to visit, and to befriend. It is a wonderful program that I deeply love. The problem I have found is this: at the end of each visit the visiting teaching companionship asks the sister they visit if she needs anything. She very, very often says no. What does this say to that companionship? It says, to me at least, I don't need you and I don't need friends. It makes it hard for the relationship to be anything but superficial. Even if all she said was, "I need you to keep visiting me," a stronger bond would develop.

This all goes back to Kathryn's post about being real. For example, there is a girl that I visit teach, K, and she is a lovely girl with two small children, just younger than mine, and her husband works long hours, and she is far from her family. This to me screams need. At first, I thought this would be a great opportunity for friendship, and we are friends to a certain extent, but she always tells us when we visit that she has no needs. She is striving so hard for independence and trying to fight the fight alone, that is hard for us to become truly close.

And yet I have become really good friends with Cate, another girl I visit. She is so open about her needs, even though she doesn't necessarily ask for assistance. She is real, and fun to be with. We have become good friends because we could both fill needs for each other. She is ready and willing to serve me, and I do the same for her. She has family close by, like so many in our neighborhood, but yet she needs and wants friends, and so here we are.

There is so much more I want to say, but this has become a long post as it is. But to conclude, I say this, life is hard and it is too short to try and go it alone. If you come across as having no needs, you will be passed over and seen as someone who is "covered," as in, taken care of, no effort needed here. If you need friends, be a friend, but let others be a friend to you as well. Be who you are, you don't need to over-reveal, but you don't need to conceal either. Allowing others to see our life's imperfections creates connections.

Kids at the Albertsons

Well, sorry it's been awhile. I have been watching a couple of my friend's kids and it has been CRAZY. In fact, on Monday I decided to take my 20 month old, my 3 year old and her 6 and 3 year olds to the Albertson's store.

Yes that's right, 4 kids and one in the tummy.

Now, they really were reasonably well behaved. I don't have as much to blog about this event as would make this a truly interesting post, but I will say this, E was the best behaved, followed by Reenie. The 6 year old was walking and he kept dashing off, and the other three year old kept trying to get out of the cart.

But picture this: I am 25 years old. I am fair skinned and blonde and look young for my age. Here I am at the Albertson's store with four blonde headed kids and a pregnant belly. No possible way that all these kids could be mine, and me expecting another one. And yet, at the check out line, the cashier hands my preferred card to the six year old and says,

"Will you give this to your mom?"

To which he replies, "Oh, she's not my mom."

The cashier gives me a smile like, he's so funny and aren't you lucky. To which I say,

"He's really not."

She keeps smiling. I don't know why.

And I am pleased to report that I didn't lose anyone, none were injured, all enjoyed their cookie. I spent $56 and I saved $56. A great shopping day, all things considered.

Don't I Need a License for this?

So I got to thinking last night, thinking about my age and about how I am about to have a third kid, and I thought to myself, when did I grow up? How did I qualify for this job?

And I got to thinking about licenses. In this world, a license is required for many things. Sometimes we take a test, and sometimes we just shell out the dough. So now some lists.

Things we need a license for:

Fishing (no test)
Hunting (not sure about the test)
Driving (test)
Marriage (no test)
Flying (test)
Teaching school (test)
A pet (no test)
Cutting Hair (test)
Taking care of other people's children at a daycare (test?)

Things we do not need a license for:

Mowing the Lawn
$ex (not trying to be crass here)
Having and raising children
Grocery shopping
Tying shoes
Many other things....

Does anyone else find this odd? We need a license to get married, which is major, but we don't need to take any sort of test. We need a license to take care of other people's children, but no license is necessary for having our own children or the act that causes it.

I know this is not a new concept. It may not even be that interesting. But just something I thought I would throw out there. I think I do a pretty good job being a parent, but I think we might live in a nicer world if some parents had to take a test and get a license.

And does anyone else get annoyed with the turnover rate of Hollywood marriages?

Reenie Strikes Again

As I was going to bed last night, I grabbed one of my pillows only to find several pantiliners stuck to it. I had a chuckle and went to sleep.

This morning, Reenie found some additional mischief. She found my heated eyelash curler and shoved it curler part first into a tub of vaseline. It was pretty far in there, folks and I have not even attempted to take it out and clean it. When I found her, she had vaseline all over her adorable, smiling face.

So we came to check some e-mail. Apparently, while I deleted my fan mail from Pottery Barn, Reenie was decorating herself with black pen. I looked down to see her shoving it in her diaper and then drawing all over her legs. Funny thing is, rather than snatching the pen right away, I just sat and watched her, thinking how I probably should stop the nonsense. I took the pen. She got it back without me noticing. And then as she was toddling out of the room I observed something quirky about her stride. The pen was sticking out of the back of her diaper, and she was trying to keep it from falling out.

Crazy kid.

At bedtime we sing songs to our kids, usually whatever they request. Tonight's bedtime routine went like this:

Reenie: Song...
Me: What song?
Reenie: Up above... so High (translation, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)
(I then sing her request)
Reenie: Song..
Me: What song?
Reenie: Up above... so High.
(I sing it again)
Reenie: Song..
Me: What song?
Reenie: Up above... so High.
Me: Umm, how about a different song. What do you want E?
E: I am going to pick a different one.
Me: Okay, which one?
E: Twinkle, Twinkle.

I sang it again and left them to their sweet dreams. What a life we lead... Have a good weekend!

The Great Mustache Contest

A little while ago, I mentioned that Charming was participating in a mustache contest at work. The rules were simple: Grow out all your facial hair for a month or so, and then shave it down to the mustache. They would then be judged on whose mustache looked the best. Here is Charming pre-shave down:



I don't have any pics of him, after the beard came off, but I can say, he looked a little something like this:



And so, we were not so surprised when Charming won the award for "Worst Looking Mustache."

And now he is back to looking like this: (he's on the right, thank you.)



I started calling him Baby Face, because he looked so young after the shave, but I really do prefer him this way. All though, now he is talking about how much he misses the beard, and I am thinking, it wasn't awful, but it wasn't great either. So tell me what you think? I really don't want the beard back...

It's 9:22 am, what else can she make a mess with today?

Reenie, it seems, is on a mishievously destructive path this morning.

First she ripped about ten keys of the computer keyboard, and about sent Daddy through the roof.

Then, she did something quite funny, which is actually why I am posting. I wish, oh I wish I could have posted a picture about this one. I thought she was downstairs with big brother, so imagine my surprise when I found her sitting in my room with a box of... pantiliners.

Yep, big white stickers, apparently. She had peeled the backs off of almost all the pantiliners, and was, get this, sticking them all over a ball. I just had to laugh, and then she peeled the clump of pantiliners and handed them to me. A gift. How lovely.

I hope this makes you laugh as much as I did. Little 19 month old girl with a box of pantiliners, a small purple ball, and a smile on her face. So innocently making a mess.

It's so early still, I wonder what else this day might hold. Any guesses as to what she might get into next?

Editor's Note: E later found said pantiliners and was sticking them to the bottom of his feet and calling them shoes. They were just the right size.

Monday Morning Confessions: Tasks I Do NOT Enjoy

I was going to title this post "Kid Tasks I Don't Like" but I didn't want to portray parenthood too negatively. Plus in all honesty, I really couldn't come up with many! Except for...

1. Blowing Bubbles for the Kids.
Yeah, don't like it. I love seeing their delight, but I hate the stickies on my fingers and the way they always want to do it themselves, so... Enter the My First Bubble Blower!

They just pull the handle and bubbles shoot out the top, I do nothing, they get bubbles and I don'thave to clean anything afterwards! (Amazon sells it for $12, we got ours on sale at the Tar-jhay for $10 on sale.)

2. Mopping the Floors
Not so much the task, but the preparation. The sweeping, the furniture moving, the buckets... Ugh.

3. Taking Showers
Before I go on, I do shower on a regular basis, and I consider myself quite clean. I do enjoy being in the shower, but getting out (cold!), drying off, and having to do my hair are mega-MEGA unfun.

4. Bra Shopping
Haven't done it lately, but it needs to be done. I just hate going and trying them on and seeing how every single brazier fits me in some uniquely strange way. I mean, the bra sizing is not quite accurate is it? They should sell sizes like 34 A perky, or 44 D hangs low, or for me 36 C has nursed two babies and is currently pregnant. Wouldn't that make it easier? Ooh! Or some kind of Jetson's style machine where you just walk in and walk out with a perfectly fitting bra. Yeah. Sounds good.

5. Being Sick
Not exactly a "task" per se, but I am sick today. Sore throat, lack of voice, head bursting, phlegm. Not fun. At least it's snowing outside, so I have double excuses to have a lazy movie watching day with the kiddies.

All right, I know you don't love doing everything. So I turn it over to you for your own confessions...

Unrealistic

So, I was doing a little online window browsing for maternity clothes this morning and I came across this image:


Anyone else believing this? This is supposed to be a pregnant woman in a swimsuit bottom. I take issue with this image for the following reasons:

1. This woman if pregnant at all, is not very far along. She will not look like this for her entire pregnancy. She will be much, much bigger.

2. Sure, I'd wear a bikini if my tummy was all shiny and flawless and airbrushed!

3. What is up with the media? It's bad enough that they make women feel the need to be perfect looking when NOT pregnant, but come on! Cut us some slack when we're eating for two!

Having said number three, I really enjoy my pregnant body. I love being curvy for a legitimate reason (and not because I ate too many bon bons) and I can't get enough of the big belly. That said, if anyone else were to see me in the buff, they might not agree with my positive body self image.

I think we can all relate here, don't you?

A Tale of Two Warts

As you may recall, I went in about a month ago to see the doctor concerning some warts of mine on the soles of my feet. I have decided that wart removal is a little bit like cosmetic surgery. Lemme Esplain:

1. It's painful. The procedure itself is bad, but the recovery pain is worse. I felt like the biggest dork limping around for three or four days-- not because I was injured, but because of a voluntary procedure I had undergone.

2. It 'aint pretty. I have seen the pictures of those recovering from going under the knife. They don't look good. At first my warts turned black, then they peeled off taking some outer skin leaving me with a peeled back blister revealing tender pink skin. Grossedy-ossey-gross.

3. You must go through the ugly stage to reach the swan stage. I know that once it is all over I should have my beautiful smooth foot skin once again. A couple weeks ago, I looked at Reenie's cute little toddler feet and was very envious. Soon, I told myself, soon.

4. Sometimes you have to do it again. Yep, I am going to have to go in again for "the big one." She is still around, though not as massive. I shudder. I do not want to go again...

Well, that's it in my world. What's going on with you? I hope none of you have to deal with warts.

What not to do

Here is what I do not suggest. Never, ever, EVER adopt a dog when you have an 19 month old, a 3 1/2 year old and are 5 months pregnant. It may sound like a good idea at the time, but let me tell you, it oh so very is not.

Yeah, we adopted a German Short Hair Pointer today at shortly before 1 pm. Shortly after 5 pm, we returned her to the rescue group.

I feel like a dork. I feel stupid. I feel inadequate. And I feel oh so incredibly relieved that the dog is out of my house.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love dogs. And this dog was great with my kids and they LOVED her. They were draping themselves over her, pulling on her tail and hitting her and she could have cared less. What I could have cared less for was the multiple times she peed (and pooped) on my carpet, her indifference to me, and the way she escaped causing us to drive around the neighborhood before we could leash her and force her into the car.

I feel like I haven't had a break all day.

It was like having my post-partum depression all over again. I cried all day and was exhausted and I spent so much time tending to the dog, that I ignored my kids. (More than I usually do anyway. :))

Well, it's over. The kids didn't seem to care that I took her back, since they didn't know we could potentially have her forever anyway. The shelter refunded my adoption fee and I am only out about $50 which I spent on dog food and stuff, but that I donated to the rescue group. At least they got something out of it.

So what have I learned? Dogs are a lot of work, they are like having another child, and shelter dogs are like step-children since you still have all the responsibility and they don't have any loyalty to you. And don't get a dog unless you have a fence. I just couldn't take trying to keep the dog and the kids from escaping our backyard.

And I have learned that other peoples dogs are great for my kids. Just fine.