Dog Vice

Our dog takes offense to the life he's been dealt every time his master leaves him for weeks/months on end with a house full of girls. His diva-like behavior (sorry to the master of the dog for that) is beyond ridiculous. For starters, he hates to walk out into the yard to do his business when the grass is wet or it's raining. I refuse to accompany him with an umbrella. Tough luck. He hasn't had anyone to take him on long walks or runs. He hates me. It rains. He hates me. He gets too much love from the kids. He hates me. He is six years old now, mid-life. There is no excuse for such childish behavior. His personal revenge has been to destroy things and once (and only once) used the bathroom in my bedroom. A distinct line has been drawn.

Chaucer is calculating, carefully planning his revenge. Most of his anger, although directed at me in the end because I have a mess to clean, is specifically in the destruction of items that are dear to the girls... and unfortunately for Caelan, the items almost always belong to her. He watches the girls, taking notice of their preferred toy of the day. He waits until the perfect moment to sneak it away from them and then mutilates it. His abuses are specific. If it is a stuffed animal, he chews the eyes out, pulling the stuffing out the eye sockets. Sometimes the eyes are enough for him and he chews out the nose, again pulling the stuffing from the gaping hole. If the toy is plastic, like a Papo animal or My Little Pony, he chews the feet off so they can't stand any more. If he's really put out, he will chew the face off, too. He is clever enough to never have actually been caught in the act of doing these deeds, but it is doubtless he is the culprit. The term 'hang-dog expression' never had a better physical description than when finding him afterward.

Yesterday, after countless toys and even a few sippy cups fell to his wrath, I was not the one to find a dearly departed My Little Pony. Caelan did. And it was hers. Hell hath no fury. The pony was on a rug, all four legs perfectly severed from the body, and its head ground in with its matted mane. I watched in fascination as Caelan gathered the pieces up and marched over to Chaucer, shoving the pieces in his face. She was thorough in her dressing down, her eyebrows lowered in anger and she used her lowest 'I mean business' tone of voice: "This is MY pony. You chewed up MY pony. HOW DARE YOU?? You are a BAD dog! STOP eating my toys!" She repeated a few of these lines to make sure the scolding sounded long enough and the dog turned an ran to his bed in the kitchen, where he did not come out for at least twenty minutes. I think he took it well. So far, he has not destroyed anything. My only regret is that I didn't get any of it on video.

Birthday Cake

    Yesterday was my birthday, and other than all the reminders from friends and family, it really didn't seem like a birthday... just another day like any other that I have when Keith is gone. I still don't think I've gotten over the trauma of Caelan's ER visit (see Pills and Gray Hair). It completely wiped me out. Plus three girls, an in utero boy, and an angry dog have all taken their toll on my well-being. Not complaining, but the highs have been high and the lows have reached an all-time low this week. Then my birthday came. Amidst all the wishes of a good day, I was having a hard time seeing past a few negative comments and letting actions of others define my happiness/mood for me... and Evelynn kept telling me that I could not have a birthday without cake.
    There was no way I was making a cake yesterday. I was not motivated to do anything. My kids didn't even sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. I was informed I didn't have a birthday cake. No birthday cake, no birthday. My Edible Arrangements from Keith and my friend Ashley were 'gifts' even though I tried to play them off as 'birthday cake'. Evelynn would not let it go. Yesterday finally ended, and today began on the same note as yesterday in all its negativity. Evelynn began the day, however, by saying in all the arm waving excitement that is Evelynn "Happy Birthday!" I said thanks, but that my birthday was yesterday. Her reply: But you didn't have birthday cake.
    This continued all day. 'Are you going to have a birthday cake today?' 'Can you make a birthday cake?' 'If you have a birthday cake, we can sing to you.' 'You have to have candles, too.' Ok, fine. We went to Giant. Evelynn informed me that because it was my birthday, I got to pick which cake I wanted, but since they were singing, they got to pick the icecream. The 'birthday party' began as soon as we got back to the house. Evelynn got the spoons and the knife while I found some plates. She reminded me once again that I needed candles. Thankfully, she didn't ask me how many I needed. Since the 'party' was in the backyard, there was no need to alert the fire department (they have been in our yard before searching for a fire someone reported because of smoke). Evelynn took a picture of me with my cake and they all sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. Birthday cake does make a birthday. The day ended with my girls (especially Evelynn) making my birthday one I won't forget... even if it was a self-induced day late.

Pills and Gray Hair

    On Wednesday, I picked up a little desk calendar from Barnes and Noble that gives a whole year (365 days) of German phrases and cultural items. After the events of last night, I couldn't sleep, so I cleaned my way past midnight into my birthday. In my overtired, somewhat cynical frame of mind, I picked up the calendar and flipped to the September 23rd day. It read "Lass dir keine grauen Haare wachsen." The literal translation being "Don't let your hair go gray." Huh. Interesting considering I had just completed my middle child's fifth visit to the ER (second this year, which I could not remember why we went the first time this year until a friend reminded me that I sliced the child's eyeball with my fingernail). Heavy sigh.
    At this point, as I have worked out the details of what happened in my mind, I should probably explain what exactly happened. It began while I was skyping with Keith. Caelan walked in, once again frantically pawing at her mouth saying "It tastes tewwible" and I'm sure it did. I asked her what she had in her mouth and she handed me a small travel tube for Advil. I wouldn't have been as frantic if it only had Advil in it, but I knew that it also contained two Imitrex pills that I take for migraines. I asked her how many she swallowed. She said two. I asked her what color they were. She said white. Advil isn't white. Imitrex is. As an adult, I can take two in a 24 hour period. I can take the first one and then wait two hours before taking the second. She took two at the same time. The child doesn't even weigh 30 lbs. My first concern was to get her taken care of and figure out the steps to disaster later. Not even a full week ago, I put Poison Control on speed dial. My irritation knew no bounds when I called them twice, was told by recording that it was in fact Poison Control and to press one for English. I did this twice. I pressed one. And the call was disconnected both times.
    I know from personal knowledge that the pill goes into effect between 15 and 20 minutes. I couldn't imagine how fast it would work on a three year old who took both pills. I called a friend and she arrived at my door as I was on the way out. The hospital is four blocks from my house. I'm not sure that's a good thing or bad, but at least it's there for Caelan. To look at her, she never appeared to be bothered by the medicine. As a matter of fact, I think some of her trauma room antics made the nurses nervous. One nurse put up the side rails so she wouldn't fall off the bed. Hahaha. They couldn't know that that was an added bit of fun for her to swing on. The nurses/doctor checked her heart and lungs frequently, but everything stayed normal. A few times she laid down on the bed and said her head hurt, that she was tired or that she felt sick, but then a few minutes after she said these things she would pop back up like nothing was wrong. It's the moment as the parent when you want to hug the child for being well and shake the child for taking the pills and worrying me sick.
    After an hour and a half, we were discharged, the nurses and doctors all expressing to me the importance of keeping medicine away from my children. I was still trying to figure out how she got the medicine in the first place. It was not my full container of the prescription and because I'm pregnant, I have not carried the medicine around with me in nearly six months. I probably haven't taken it in seven or eight months. When I'm not pregnant, I carry the small container of Advil in my purse with two Imitrex in it, but this container hasn't been in my purse for months. Interesting. So, after much thought and personal investigation, this is what I've come up with. I know for sure that she ingested one Imitrex and about 1/3 of another one because I found the chewed up pieces in Caelan's bedroom floor. It was recognizable and maintained enough shape that I know it was not Advil.
    Now, how did she get it? I found the closet door open in my bedroom and the purse I carried in the spring in the floor of my closet. It had been hanging up. I should not mention that it was hanging up high, because that's irrelevant to Caelan. I'm thinking she was after gum and found a container holding 'mints' or some other such tasty candy. I completely overlooked the pill bottle when I cleaned out the purse. It was in a small zip pocket in the side. What can I say? I haven't thought about it in months, and now I have a reasonable explanation. I supposed we'll see if there are any gray hairs... but that calendar is a 2012 calendar, so maybe it's advice for the coming year. Yeah, that sounds good.

Update Speed Dial

    Pretty sure that in the last three days Caelan has ingested several biohazards... or at least that could be hazardous to her health (or if you choose to think positively, things that will increase her immune system to bionic levels). And it all comes down to her new 'trick' of getting into something she is KNOWS she is not to get (well, aside from her licking raw pork). Picture her sticking her skinny arm through the small gap of a cabinet door. The gap, of course, is caused by the lock the we placed on it years ago. The tips of her fingers graze the edge of the dish washing soap. That's good enough. She thinks they are pretty. I get the Cascade kind that come in the little square packages, one side is the white powder and the other side is the pretty pink gel. She tried to eat it. Considering it's soap, I wasn't too concerned. Matter of fact, I sat on the stairs and laughed in her face as she was foaming at the mouth and spit was streaming down her arms, hanging off her elbows. It was two days before she tried anything like that. Then today happened.
    So far I've taken away nasal spray that she climbed up into my bathroom cabinet to retrieve and the cough medicine she found in the upper cabinet in the kitchen (thank goodness that one is childproof... or I should say is still something Caelan hasn't figured out how to open). But then she came to me, once again with an abundance of spit covering her arms and face. All she says is 'It's tewwible and it's burning my lips'. Wonderful. The substance smelled slightly familiar, as I mentally calculated all the substances that she could have possible gotten into. Well, it would appear that several days ago, she took the air freshener card out of the SUV and hid it for a while. She decided it smelled so good, she had to bite it. Sigh. As she sat on the couch, holding a wet paper towel to her lips, I immediately updated my Speed Dial to include Poison Control.

Kindergarten: Imaginative or Graphically Hindering?

   
School for us began officially last week. I say 'officially' because as we have worked through our kindergarten curriculum, I have found that Evelynn has a good grasp on the concepts so far. Mind you, it's only been a week. We've run into a couple of issues that were unexpected but definitely workable. In recent months, Evelynn has completed mazes like the one above. The difference between prior mazes and this one is the graphics. I know pictures at this point in a kindergartener's student career are to draw her interest and make the exercise entertaining. For Evelynn, they greatly hindered the process of going from the 'go' point to the dinosaur.
She studied the maze for a while and decided on the direction of the 'rhino' and the 'crane' animals. Stopping at the rhino, she said "I can't get to the dinosaur this way because his horns will poke me." She looked a little longer before moving toward the crane. She didn't say anything about the beak or the wing, but observed that she couldn't go that way either "because his feet are in the way and they probably stink." She then decided that direction would not work. She began at 'go' again and went toward the fish. She quickly nixed this idea saying "The fish would be too slippery and his tail would wiggle too much to get to the dinosaur." At this point I figured she would go the correct way. She was out of other options. However, she began at the turtle and followed the path to the dinosaur, ignoring the paths to the fossils and the diamond. I asked her how to get from 'go' to the turtle. She looked at the paper, then looked at me, and them stared at the paper before saying "But to start at 'go' I have to go by the mummy. If I do that the mummy might wake up and chase me. That would be too scary." I told her that was the right way to go and that she should draw the path completely from 'go' to the dinosaur. Uncertain, she said "Well, I guess I can draw the line REALLY fast and he won't wake up."

The List

    Thank you, Lord, that I have ONE child that likes to go to bed and does so without a fuss... at least not the kind of fuss that is the kicking and screaming refusal of bedtime. Twice a day, McKenna goes to bed, naptime and bedtime. Naptime has lately been initiated by myself, but bedtime, that is never the case. She goes willingly, even grabbing me by the hand and leading me to her room. It's a beautiful moment. It's a victorious moment for me.
    McKenna, however, has a list of items that must be present for her to be in bed and to sleep. Every afternoon and every night we head to her room. Up until recently I put her into her crib, but in the last few days, my preggo tummy is not allowing me that. I'm encouraging her to break routine a little and climb in herself. She's not sure what to think about this because bedtime always happens the same way. Once she's in the crib and laying down, she says "Blanket." In goes her blanket, covering her from feet to neck. She peeks over the edge of the blanket and says "Milk". Into her waiting hands I place her sippy cup. She doesn't drink it at this point. She just looks at me like I should know what comes next. "Monkey, Monkey," she says. This is one of her stuffed animals and by far the most important. She can do without Piglet or her baby in bed with her as long as she has her monkey. I place the monkey next to her, but she's still not ready to drink her milk and go to sleep. "Mooskit," she says. I turn on her MP3 player and place it on the bed. Once the music starts, she's just about ready. She begins drinking her milk, but doesn't break eye contact... my silent cue to turn off the light and leave. And that's it. Goodnight.

She Did It

As a new mother, I couldn't wait for my children to progress enough developmentally that they could speak and to converse with one another. Then they started talking. And it seems that more often I want them to stop.The information flow from oldest to youngest is too quick and my cute little 'rainbows and unicorns' fantasy of children speaking pleasantly to me and to each other has disappeared in the wake of the "She did it" line.

It's only in complete silence that I know someone is doing something they should not (and unfortunately it's Caelan that is silent more often than the other two). Evelynn comes running with the "She did it" or "She's doing something bad"... which the whole tattling thing with Evelynn is difficult enough to deal with because Caelan's usually doing something that's hazardous to her well-being. Sigh. The moments of "She did it" have come too frequently in recent days (and will go away soon as long as I'm the Mama in this house) and I cringe every time I hear it.

But it has now become that 'phrase'... you know, the phrase that becomes your children's go-to in every situation. "She did it. She spilled the water." "She did it. She didn't flush." "She did it. She took all the toys out of her toy box." "She did it. She took all the pillows off the bed." "She did it. She took her clothes off." "She did it. She put her toy in the dog's water." "She did it. She ate the tomato." "She did it. She moved that book." "She did it. She colored in that coloring book." "She did it. She drew on the wall." "She did it. She put her plate in the sink." See? Half those things aren't necessarily 'bad', unless of course she were stripping down naked in a public place and definitely if she drew on the wall. It just all begins with the "She did it." Grrrr...

They say it so often now that today at lunch, McKenna dribbled her food on her hand and immediately said "She did it" and when I walked into the bedroom that seemed to contain pleasant children, one said "She did it" as if the only reason I was in the room was to discover the guilty one. Then it turned out that no one had done anything. Now they could say "She did it" because I naively wanted them to speak in the first place.