Scaredy Dog

I loathe this time of year. When we lived in FL, people all around us lit off firecrackers for the least little reason. Flag Day - FIREWORKS for 3 hours. Columbus Day - Fireworks for 1.5 hours. Martha Stewart's Birthday - Fireworks for 4 hours. Our last 4th of July there, I believe the fireworks lasted a good 6 hours.

I am not a big fan of the fireworks. I am in the "you've seen some, you've seen them all" camp. That isn't the reason I hate this time of year. This is:



Fireworks turn this boy into a 90 pound pile of Jello riding on the back of a horse drawn cart going down a cobblestone street. There were a few times in Jacksonville I really thought he might have a heart attack, it was that bad. If he was smart enough, he could go hide in our closet, which has no windows and he'd be sheltered from at least seeing the displays, but Baxter prefers to face his imminent death while at our side. This will be the first time in years we will be able to face the 4th with a basement. Having a basement means we go downstairs, close the curtains and watch a movie at top volume to try to disguise the sounds of war outside. One year in KS we were completely successful in sheltering Baxter with this method. We don't have a door at the top of our basement stairs here, but if we did, I'd say we could be successful again this year. We'll just have to hope for the best and that we don't accidentally wake the Toddler in the process.

Enjoy your long weekend. Have safe travels. Eat lots. Drink responsibly. Be safe. Don't ignite any of your extremeties.


Why you wanna hurt me so bad???

Views Around the Backyard

By the time we moved into our house last August, most of the lovely flowering plants were spent. It's been fun this spring to see what pretties have been lurking this whole time.


This is the most gorgeous rose of sharon plant I have ever seen. It was here when we arrived, but I could not have picked a more perfect plant for myself. In total coincidence, I painted my toes this exact color right before the blooms appeared.


Same rose of sharon, close up


Yaris - this variety was called strawberry, I believe



Gerbera daisy - Parker picked it out. I've never had good luck with them but this one is really flourishing for some unknown reason



Another rose of sharon - we have two of this variety. It's lovely but I wish all three were the lovely lavender




Bee balm - my first attempt and I love how weird it looks. My dogs keep running through the flower bed knocking the plants over, which is why there is a stake in the middle of this plant

Lessons from the Pool

Parker has survived her first two one-on-one swim lessons. Though she has no fear of the water, she spent the entire first lesson scream crying. It was horrific. Today's lesson went much better. I can't tell if she was just more comfortable or if it's because we bribed her shamelessly. Whatever. It worked. If you would have asked me the first day if I thought Parker would make it through the week, I would have said no, but now it appears we can survive three more days. Nevermind we're going to have only a high of 69 tomorrow, the first day of July. BAH! The even better thing about the pool was that it completely wore my kid out, so much so that she slept for almost 3 hours this afternoon which she has not done in at least a year.

Then it turns out I lost R's wedding ring. Nice, huh? He gave it to me at the pool and I slipped it onto my thumb for safekeeping. Except it wasn't so safe after all because hours later when he asked me for his ring, I'd completely about and could not remember when I last saw it. A brief, panicked search ensued, but then we had to leave. A couple hours later, I went back to the pool in sheer desperation, despite a sneer of disbelief (that I'd find it there) from R when I told him I was going back to look. Apparently the gods are pleased with me because the high school life guard girl that was giving swim lessons when we were there 9 hours earlier was still there AND she had the ring. I nearly cried with gratitude because I never would have lived that down. Ever.

Maybe all this means I should get my ass up and go buy a lottery ticket. You think?

TMI Thursday

I'm taking a note from Alice and gracing you with TMI Thursday. If the title hasn't been enough to warn you, you're on your own. Ready?

I am a farty person. (said in my best Craig Ferguson voice) I believe I am more farty than the "average" person. It's how I've always been, no matter what I eat, how many times a day I poo, it's just me. Perhaps it was fated because Shelly rhymes with Smelly, who knows. It's just a fact. (Do you think Donna is totally regretting being my roommie at BlogHer about now??) Obviously, I can control myself and I don't just go around tooting offensively. Well, at least most of the time. When R and I first started dating, I didn't fart in front of him at all for at least the first year. Knowing me now, he's pretty astounded at my restraint then, but you do what you have to do when you're in love.

When we'd been dating about 5 months, R decided he was long overdue for a vacation and he offered to take me with him. We ended up in Puerto Vallarta for a week that also included my 30th birthday. I love Mexican food. I could eat it every day and be perfectly content. While on vacation in Mexico, it isn't surprising that I did, in fact, eat Mexican every day, multiple times a day. I was in heaven. I didn't know it at the time, but us vacationing together was a test of our relationship for him. You know, it's a great way to figure out quickly if you're compatible with someone when you're away on vacation and spending 24/7 together.

Fast forward to about Day 4. Eating refried beans at least twice daily, plus all the salsa/guacamole I could eat poolside each day, began to take its toll on me. Since we were in the early days of our romance, the only way I could only go #2 (Big Job, as we call it) was to go back up to our room while he stayed at the pool. It was unthinkable for me to take care of business with him in the same room as me. Turns out it wasn't Big Jobs I should have feared. On the night of Day 4, R was in the shower while I lay in bed watching tv. I had a huge gas attack. I could not have stopped it if someone had cemented my cheeks shut, it HAD to come out. But not only did it come out, it reeked. With no exaggeration I can say it was like a dead animal crawled out of my ass and plopped itself onto the pillows. I had never before, or since, smelled that utterly putrid. Mortified, I began flapping the covers and fanning the air so frantically I practically achieved liftoff when I heard R open the bathroom door and start to come into the room. I started yelling "DON'T COME IN HERE!!! STAY THERE! DON'T COME IN HEEEERE!!!" but it was too late. R rounded the corner and the stench slapped him in the face.

I'm a nervous laugher, especially when it comes to something like this. So not only did R enter the room where something had obviously died, but he was greeted by an hysterical hyena. I can only imagine what he was thinking at that point. My only saving grace was that I didn't also wet the bed from laughing so hard. Even today when we reference the incident (yeah, I'm never going to live it down), my only response is that what happens in a foreign country, stays in a foreign country. In the end, he married me anyway so I say no matter what I do now, he was seriously forewarned.

Blech

For the second night in a row, Baxter has woken me up in the middle of the night to be let outside. It's unusual for him, but I've learned the hard way that when he sticks his panting face up on my pillow, he means business. Usually it's because he's had too much water and has to pee. The night before it was at 2:15 and when I made him come back in (I didn't have my glasses on and thought he was just putzing around) he threw up in the kitchen. Then he threw up again when I shoved him back outside. Last night it was at 3:30 and he just peed, which annoyed me, but at least it wasn't puke. He woke me up again two hours later, but it was barf this time. Once in our bedroom and once downstairs. Lovely way to start the day. There is truly nothing grosser than dog vomit. I'd take baby poop over dog vomit any day of the week. It's particularly hard to overcome the smell, especially when you should be still cuddled in bed. R ended up just getting up, poor guy, because it was so nasty. Blech. Anyway, now I'm beginning to worry about him. Baxter, I mean, not R. I'm not feeding B today and he seems sort of okay but maybe little miserable. I'm wondering if he has a blockage or something because it seems weird the throw up doesn't happen until hours after he's eaten. Anyway, hope you weren't eating breakfast as you were reading.

In other good news, my mom arrives tomorrow for a long weekend visit. WOOOOOOO!!! Parker and I are both beside ourselves with anticipation. We'll be killing time at our neighborhood pool for playgroup this morning where I will be one of the fattest there. Seriously, these Stepford women are disgustingly thin and fit. Maybe they're really aliens. You think?

Wipeout

Are we the only ones obsessed with that show Wipeout? I laugh my ass off ever single time someone face plants into those big red balls. I don't want to like the show, but I am powerless in the face of such jackassery.

What I can't figure out, though, is why someone would choose to be a contestant. $50,000 isn't all that much for public humiliation.

Ballerina Girl

Parker took her first ballet class this week. She's been taking tumbling since last fall, but the thrill was gone and I could tell she was bored of the same old stuff every week. She had to be 2.5 before she could start ballet, and since the summer session is much more relaxed than during the school year, I asked her if she'd be interested in trying ballet for awhile. She was so excited to try ballet, she could hardly contain herself. Her grandparents bought her first pair of ballet shoes while we were in Denver. They are so tiny and perfect I am going to keep them forever. I'd bought her a leotard on clearance at Target a few months earlier, just because, and it came in handy. Here she is getting ready to go to class.

Even though it's in a ballet studio (at the same gym where she takes tumbling), the class is called Magical Movers or something like that because ballet is clearly beyond their little selves. I was worried she'd walk into a class of kids that had taken the class for the last many months, but thankfully all the other girls seem to be very young and don't know what they're doing either.

It was dreadfully cute to watch. These tiny little butts in their tiny little leotards with tiny little skirts and new ballet shoes. I sat on the bench on the other side of the glass wall and just beamed because it was just so.damn.CUTE! At first the girls were taken and sat down while attendance was called. They were supposed to raise their hand when they heard their name called, except no one knew what that meant. They stretched, marched in a circle holding hands, and learned how to point their toes. I think the most "ballet" thing they did was plies, but even though they were called plies, I'm sure it went over most of the girls' heads. They also got to beat a drum, walk on their tiptoes and pretend to be fairies. Not a bad way to spend a morning in all. Parker pronounced it to be "much fun!" and neither of us can wait to go back this week.

There were two girls in class that would have been Parker had she not gone to MDO this year. One girl cried the entire time and did not do one thing. Her grandmother tried in vain to get her to do something, even joining in the class herself, but the girl was beside herself. I felt awful for the girl, but also for the teachers who had to shout over her cries for half an hour. The other girl didn't cry but she wouldn't do much other than sit on her mom's lap in the studio. It was nice for me to see other kids act that way because that is exactly how Parker was before starting MDO. She grew so much this year in "school" and I am so proud of the big girl she is growing up to be. In fact, in just about 3 months my girl will be 3. Say it isn't so!