Princess Fluffy Butt

The PFB now has her eyes open.  Our home is eagerly awaiting her arrival.  In other dog related news, Larry found his forever home two days ago...as did little Maggie.  Big Daddy says no more fosters for a while; he needs some canine free time (actually "don't pee on the floor!" time) before the fuzzy bundle of tiny-ness arrives in another month.  That's okay with the girls since we have something else to distract us at the moment.  Two days age we all overruled big daddy and plan to paint their room pink.  "No pink walls. This is my house," he said, putting his foot down as if he had any say in the matter.  "It's their room," I argued, and then set off for the paint shop to select the perfect shade of pink.

Judging by the updated pictures we received of PFB, she is a fan of pink, too. 

Oh No He Didn't

The girls have had this nasty little respiratory bug for the last few weeks. Dave came down with it a week ago, and it finally hit me this week just in time to head back to work. 

As clinicians on the crisis team, we've noticed that the universe is really unsettled...all is not well with folks out there.  The pace of our work just doesn't slow down.  But, it never hurts to ask and so as I walked into work yesterday, I sent a message out, "Dear universe, please be calm today."

It listened to me as well as my children do and not only did I put up with cranky clients, an incompetent therapist trying to send an actively suicidal and psychotic client to residential treatment (good lord how does she keep her license?!), the carpet measuring guy copping an attitude with me when he showed up to measure the house and found me not home when I told him I would be at work, and the rescue organization throwing a hissy fit that I wasn't home and they needed Larry the foster dog NOW for a home visit they planned but didn't tell me about, but...

I almost got run over as I walked into work.

By a mercedes driving insurance executive -- aka satan.

That is the second time in two weeks that I have nearly been run over by a luxury car driving executive as they race out of their heated parking garage.

The damn pecker heads.

I'm fine being run over by someone driving a clunker...or who is high...or drunk...or some mom who is turned in her seat screaming at her children as she drives...because, hey, that happens.  Wrong place, wrong time.

But getting run over by some hoity-toity beemer driving executive who hasn't the maturity to drive under 60 miles an hour in a parking garage because he has a little penis and a big ego is not going to be cool with me. 

And because I have taken the liberty of naming myself Karma's right hand woman I will rise from the dead and haunt him until the day he dies, at which point, if there is a gate into heaven, I will, in starfish fashion, stand in it blocking his entrance until God or whoever is the official guard of the gate wrestles me out of the entrance.  But since he is an insurance executive, I doubt (if there even is a heaven) that he will be welcome there.  And running over a tiny social worker with a case of the sniffles in a parking garage doesn't earn points for heaven, either.

Fun

The girls cannot get enough Fun. 

Driving to ice skating lessons "We are Young" began playing.  "That was awesome!" Sophia called up from the back seat of the van, "Can we hear it again?"

And so again, and again, and again it played...

Fun

Big Daddy Says Yes

 Sophia can hardly leave Larry alone. She carts him around, though she nearly falls over backwards trying to lug his fury butt around.  He isn't a big dog; maybe 15 lbs give or take, but that is just under half of what Sophia weighs.  The girls want him to walk on a leash, they want him to play, they want him to cuddle...He just isn't down for that right now.  He's got some trauma to work through and they get it.

Larry, I think, just wishes we would go away, but we just won't.  We hound him and try to show him it's safe to be the 9 month-old puppy that he is. 

We kiss him...

We hug him...

 And Sophia leaves him notes (go potty) to help with his potty training...

There is a family who has applied to adopt Larry, fingers crossed this family works out, so Larry will likely be leaving very soon. 

And the weather has finally turned warm making it a good time, not only to break out pretty spring clothes....

... but to potty train as well...


And since it is very clear that these children need a dog -- a spirited, energetic dog who is small in stature but big in every other way -- it's time for a pomeranian. 

You know, for the girls sake.

Fresh out of the oven, please meet the newest member of our family...

She is set to be released from her mommy in April or May...And we need a name.  Here are a few suggestions I have received...
Princess?
Princess Mimi?
Jasmine?
Cinderella?
Gracie -- this is what the breeder named her.
Daphne?
Lulu?
Pickles?
Princess Puffy Pants?
Princess Fluffy Butt?
Pixie?
Clarabelle?


We may not have a name, but the girls have selected everything else -- including bling for her collar and a tutu so she isn't left out at the tea parties that the girls anticipate her coming to...

 And because Ella says, "She has to have something blue."  A new set of dishes...

Thank you Big Dave. :)

Larry (Minus Darryl and his other Brother Darryl)

I just can't say no to certain things.  And so when the email came asking for help with homeless dogs for 2 weeks, I couldn't help it.  Yes, please! We'll take one. The home is incomplete without a dog -- but I'm not ready for a new one.  Everything still feels like it is Mocha's.  Her bed still sits waiting, as does her bowl of water and food. I can't put them away.  I guess I'll get to it when I'm ready.  Her ashes sit next to my bed...sigh...sad.

But, my heart did say it was ready for a foster, so...

Nine month-old Larry the cocker spaniel arrived yesterday.  He arrived with a bad name, a bit of a stink, a blue Hawaiian collar... 

And the hair...I'm working on a grooming appointment for him this week.  The poor man.  A bad name and a bad hairdo is really no good for someones self-esteem.  His tail hasn't raised up once.  I'm sure once he feels prettier things will head in a better direction for him.  He is very quiet and shy, not at all puppy-like.  He's a sitting duck for the girls who dressed him in a leprechaun hat while Dave was doing laundry and I was at work.  But Larry took it like a man.  Not helping his self-esteem is that we keep calling him "her." 

We just aren't used to males in this household.  Case in point...Andi found it shocking -- just as the girls did at her age -- when she barged in on Dave getting dressed after his shower, "Look at your funny vulva," she observed to Dave. 

"It's not a vulva," Dave tried to tell her.  "It's a penis."

"A peanut?"

So now we have two nuts in the house for the next two weeks.  (P.S. MN readers, spread the word that a very sweet brown cocker needs a home.)

Male bonding time -- I think they are good for each other.

Flight Rage

There are more than a few things that get under my skin.  And one of them is kicking screaming kids off a plane.

There are a few reasons that Dave and I have not flown anywhere with our children.  One of them has been my paranoia that we’ll get kicked off a plane and become a national news story.  I do hate to be the center of attention and prefer to remain a wall flower in most instances. A national news story about Andi thrashing and wailing on Sun Country airlines to the point that the pilot returned the plane to the gate and called security is an experience I’d rather avoid.

Reading the recent news story about the tantruming two-year old kicked off Jet Blue made me angry.  My heart pounded and because I was already in a bad mood and looking for a fight I chose to read the comments knowing full well there would be a fair amount of kick the brat off the plane hurrah going on.

I didn’t respond to the righteous grandmas and stupid single males because I’m not going to change those people’s minds...And there were a fair amount of feisty mom’s of toddlers who gave the kid haters a one, two punch with words. 

Don’t get me wrong I do hate listening to the screaming of children.  Is there anyone who does like the sound of it? It boils my blood, escalates my heart rate and my cortisol level rises with each increased octave produced by the rapidly vibrating vocal cords of a two-year-old who is not getting their way.

But, I’m not going to support kicking families out of public spaces because their child is engaging in developmentally normal behavior that some bitter asshole doesn’t want to deal with.  It takes a village to raise a family; we’re all in this together. And if you can’t deal with it, well, then get your stinky, fat ass off the plane.  Otherwise take your own advice for the toddler and sit down and shut the fuck up because the only thing this mama likes less than a toddler whining is a grown adult whining.

And that’s about all I have to say about that.