Dog Day From Heck

Now I know we all have those days sometimes where things happen that make us want to pick up a sledge hammer and smash stuff up. That would be my day today. As all good stories go, this one has a beginning, so I'll start there.
About a week or so ago, my family got a new puppy. She's the cutest little Cocker Spaniel you ever saw, and is pretty well-behaved, as far as puppies go. We got a male Cocker Spaniel a few years ago named Maximus Arelius, and have been wanting to breed him, so we needed to find him a girlfriend. Our new puppy's name is Lucilla (Caesar's sister off of Gladiator) but we call her Luci. Max and Luci sound so cute together (if not a little generic) don't they? Though when we brought Luci to meet Max, my first thought was "Gross! Stop sniffing her, you pedophile!!" It was seriously like Jacob and Renesmee, for all you Twilight fans. I guess it's a good thing she'll grow fast. Anyways, I was making Luci a vet appointment for her next set of shots, and I got to thinking that I better get Max current as well. Zane asked me to schedule an appointment for his chocolate Lab Molly while I was at it. Well, the big vet day was today. I brought Max in at 10:00 for grooming and shots and was supposed to pick him up at 3:00 when I brought Molly in for her shots. Everything went according to plan until I arrived at the farm to pick up Molly for her appointment. Now Molly is a big dog, probably about as big as me (you people know I'm not exaggerating). I couldn't get her into the crate in the back of my SUV. I sat there not knowing what to do until my father-in-law showed up and helped me lift her in. This should have been the first clue to the trouble to come. When I got to the vet's office, I opened the lift gate thinking Molly would jump right out. She wouldn't. I tried coaxing her, pulling on her, and I even tried tipping the crate so she'd fall out (on her nose, hopefully). All to no avail- she wouldn't budge. By this time I was late and frustrated. I sat there trying to formulate my next plan when some guy and his bulldog came out of the building. Molly instantly jumped out of her crate and ran to sniff her new friend's rear. What is it about dogs? Anyways, the man hurriedly drove off, and I was left to getting Molly into the building by myself. She came as far as the sidewalk in front of the doors, then stopped dead. It was at this time that I first realized Molly didn't have her collar on. I tried pushing, pulling, tugging on her ears, anything to get her through the doors. Again, she wasn't budging. Of course there wasn't anybody at the front desk to help me; that would be too easy. So I whipped out the cell phone to call Zane or my father-in-law for help, but OF COURSE, it picks right now to decide to be broken. At my limit, I spy some collars for sale hanging on a rack just inside the door. I ran in and grabbed one and ripped it open (I would have asked, but there was STILL nobody at the front desk). I ran back outside triumphantly, but stopped short. There was no Molly to be found. I called her stupid name for five minutes until I spied her running around across the street by the bowling alley. Finally she came back, and I snapped the stolen collar on her neck. Now that I had something to grip, I again tried to drag her through the doors. As I dragged, she pulled against me. I'm sure it would have been quite comical if anybody had been watching, and a video of my tug-of-war ordeal would have been a big hit on You Tube. But as it was, there was still nobody around to help me. I eventually gave up and sat down. With one hand gripping Molly's 'new' collar so she wouldn't run away again, I sat there and cried. Sobbed might be a better word. Finally, somebody came to the front desk and saw me sitting outside crying and came to my rescue. She found a leash I could borrow and I pulled on the leash while she pushed on Molly's haunches from behind. You might think that's the end of my story, but it isn't. Once inside, we got Molly onto a scale. She's a whopping 65 pounds, give or take (no wonder I couldn't move her sorry butt). Then I had to wait to see the vet, which meant about 10 minutes of sitting with a nervous dog's head in my lap. Molly was panting like she'd just run a marathon, and was drooling great drops of doggie slobber all over my new jeans. I tried to get her to move her head, but she wouldn't budge it from my lap. When the vet finally came in, it looked like I had wet my pants and dripped all the way down to my ankles. Even my shoes were wet. I'm not kidding here, people. After her exam, shots, and a clean bill of health, I had to get Molly back out to the SUV and in her crate. Of course, she wouldn't jump in, so I had to lift her in myself (the lady at the front desk had disappeared again, and there was no one else around to help). I probably gave myself a hernia, but somehow got her in. I then went back inside to retrieve Max and pay the bill, and yes, I had them charge me for the collar I took. Max was a piece of cake to get in his crate, and I was glad, because I didn't have any fight left in me. Back at the farm, both Max and Molly jumped right out of their crates and high-tailed it into their kennel to get a drink and settle down for a rest (after sniffing each other's rears). I headed on home to take a shower and try to get out all the doggie hair slivers that got embedded in my clothes and skin from Molly's coarse coat during our struggle. Then I had to call Zane to relate to him the day's events and make him feel guilty for not getting off work early to help me. Let's just say he owes me big time. Luci's vet appointment is the day after tomorrow, but that will be nothing compared to today. I will never again be dumb enough to take Molly to the vet by myself, and my husband will never again be dumb enough to ask me to. Lesson learned, end of story. I hope you all got a good laugh out of my ordeal, though I will probably need a few days (or weeks) before I can laugh with you. Hopefully by then I will have succeeded in removing the rest of those dang hair slivers.

These are pics of Luci. She's cute, isn't she! I'll have to take pics of Max and Molly and post them later, so you can put visuals with my story.

Tag should be a four letter word

So, I've been hit a couple of times this past few weeks with tags. All you bloggers know what I'm talking about- posts where people have to air out all their skeletons and share their dirty little secrets. You may think, "why do people do it? It's not like there's any obligation to share like that." Well, I'm here to tell ya that if you blog, then you are silently obligated to spill. If you don't, then something bad may happen like your computer getting a virus or other such bad luck. And since we've already discussed how bad my luck already is, I'm not about to make it worse. Now this first tag isn't so bad, courtesy of my new sis-in-law Selina. It's called
8 Things:

TV Shows- All CSIs, House, Grey's anatomy, The Hills, Y&R (yes, it's a soap; see what I mean about dirty little secrets?) Good Things Utah, Numbers, and Everybody Loves Raymond re-runs.

Restaurants- Olive Garden, P.F. Chang's, Tepanyaki's, Cheesecake Factory (thanks, Melissa!), Appleby's, Chile's, Los 4 Amigos, Los Hermanos, and Brick Oven (yes, I know that's nine).

Things I'm Doing Today- preschool carpool, exchanging a bra at Victoria Secret (this is just cruel) doing laundry, folding laundry- yes, this counts as two things because I don't always do them on the same day- cleaning toilets, chauffeuring kids to soccer, trying to figure out last Sunday's crossword puzzle without cheating, and trying to catch up on my emails and blog.

Things I'm Looking Forward To- soccer season being over, the Twilight Movie, the season premieres of all my favorite shows, finding another good book to read (anybody got one?), any concert my husband will ever take me to, going to Mexico in the Spring- I hope!- a Nursing degree someday, and for it to be Summer again!! (I absolutely HATE the cold.)

Things I love about my favorite season, Autumn!- I know, that's weird that I like it more than Summer, huh? Anyways, warm days with a bit of cool in the air, back-to-school, the mornings getting darker, decorating my house and porch for harvest, the State Fair with caramel apples and the big yellow slide, Halloween, my birthday, and pumpkins & hayrides & hot chocolate.

My Wish List- a new pair of Big Star jeans, a Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera and a photography class, a picture of the Sacred Grove, a Chi flat iron, a fireplace for my basement, a decent computer chair, a female Cocker Spaniel puppy, and a black Lincoln Navigator with all the cool features someday.

My Habits (mostly bad)- obsessing over stuff, sticking my foot in my mouth, always driving the same routes, staying up late every night (I can't help it), double checking the doors, windows, and kids every night before bed, as well as the light switches- they all have to be going the same way- spell and grammar checking everything I do, making piles of stuff (mostly junk) and saving EVERYTHING because I have a hard time throwing things away- like receipts, clothing tags, bits of hardware and broken stuff that I might get around to fixing, etc., and eating treats and candy in twos, one flavor at a time (saving my favorite flavor for last).

Lastly, My Indulgences- scrap booking, reading, watching movies, going to lunch or shopping with my friends, Pepsi, penny candy and Sour Patch Kids, blogging, and spending all day doing nothing except playing with my kids.

Wow- you thought that was long, well, we're only about half-way (thanks Kim). That tag was easy compared to this next one, which really stinks. I'm tempted to brave the computer virus...
This is a Reality Check tag- you must take pictures of things right now, absolutely no cleaning up first. If anybody laughs at my untidiness, somehow I'll find out and I'll sick my four little monsters on YOUR house! So here goes.

1. My Fridge (this one's not so bad, though I'm NOT taking a picture of the inside!)


2. My Closet (getting worse)


3. My kitchen sink (so not fair- I HATE doing dishes!)


4. My Laundry Room (okay, so I also HATE doing laundry)


5. My toilet (what weirdo put this one on the list?)

I'm including the open bowl picture to show that I'm not a total slob. I do like a fresh toilet, because there's just something about sitting on a clean throne...


6. My Favorite Room (the only room that stays sorta clean- it's my little sanctuary)


7. My Favorite Shoes (very comfortable, and pretty cute too!)


8. What My Kids Are Doing Right Now (Alivia's doing dishes because I was embarrassed by the picture, Maycie's wrecking the ones Alivia puts away, Jack's having a yogurt snack, and Wyatt's at the table building Star Wars Lego masterpieces.)


9. Me RIGHT NOW (crap- it's my breakout time of the month!!)


10. Where I'd Like To Go- I'll just say Hawaii, because I'm not smart enough yet to find a picture off the Internet and paste it on my page. But I'm sure you get the picture, right? Warm tropical breezes, white sandy beaches, beautiful blue water...

Anyways, I'm mentally drained right now. It's not easy baring yourself like that for all the world to read. But now we're at the end of one of my famously long posts, and we've gotten to the last but not least part. Who to choose, who to choose. In this game, I now get to pick someone to pass the buck to, hand off the proverbial baton, or in other words, make IT. So Sheri, I'm tagging you for the first one, 8 Things. Michelle, I'm tagging you for the second one, the Reality Check. I'm not sure why I want to torture myself by seeing your super-clean rooms, but heck- maybe it'll motivate me to be a little less lazy. Anyways, have fun... and don't be too mad at me please!!

Karma, Fate, Chance- What the Crap?

Sure, the title of this post's a real downer. But there's really no other way to title what I'm feeling right about now. For those of you who like posts with pictures, sorry to dissapoint. I just can't bear to look at the offending item, let alone take a picture of it. Anyways, I'd better explain. But first let me say that you know it's bad when I'm supposed to be packing for Bear Lake right now; in fact it's 12:30am and we're leaving in about nine hours, and I still have three loads of laundry to do plus pack the bags and load up the car. That's bad, even for me who just so happens to be the world's biggest procrastinator. For those who know me well, you know I do my best work and come up with my most creative ideas in the middle of the night. So what's the problem? I can't seem to focus my mind enough to get started because I'm so dang bummed out (if you have a weak stomach for mormon swearing, stop reading now, because it'll probably get worse). So back to the story. All my life I've had a tendency toward bad luck. I'm sure that might be a little over dramatic, because I really can't remember how young I was when it hit, so let's just say high school- or puberty, or whatever. Anyways, bad stinking, flipping luck. I'm really not making this stuff up, people, It's the truth. I've never won a darn thing except some stickers from KMA once, but of all the prizes they were giving away, those were the only thing I already had. I came close once when my name was drawn at my high school graduation party for a pair of tennis rackets, but I had left five minutes earlier, so the announcer decided to give them to someone else (thanks again for that, Mom, and stop rolling your eyes). Now, you'll find it quite interesting that my big, obnoxious brother is my anti. He's the yin and I'm the yang, or whichever one of them's the bad one. He's super lucky and wins every contest he enters practically. This magic has rubbed off on his wife who, being linked to him eternally, wins everything too. Need some examples? Okay. Once she won an all expense paid ski trip off of the radio. I was personally with her at a scrapbook overnighter when they were giving away an awesome scrapbook bag, and she called my brother on the phone for luck as they were doing the drawing. Yep, her name was called. Icing on the cake- last week they won a front loading washer and dryer pair from a shop-ko contest. That doesn't even count all the work drawings my brother has won, including a home theatre surround sound system. If it sounds like I'm jealous, that's because I am. But that's not the point, so back to my rotten (insert your own mormon swear word here) karma. Did you know that almost everything I buy or that's bought for me is defective? Not kidding here. It's almost funny now- okay, not really. I'll get the camera that doesn't work or the DVD/VCR combo where the DVD part will instantly stop working after just three months- the instant the in-store warranty is void. Redbox hates me, too. I always get the scratched DVDs, and there's no way to trade them for good ones. Sometimes fate is really mean, and it will trick me by letting me think the tide has turned. I'll find the perfect dress on a killer clearance sale, only two left in my size! Wow, how lucky was that? Then I'll get home and find a hole that I swear wasn't there when I examined it in the store. I'll race back to the store to switch it, but sure enough, the last one was just sold minutes before I arrived. And yes, I do hit almost every stop light red, except when my husband is tending all the kids and I want to get home slowly. Then they'll magically all be green. My good friend told me we could control our karma with positive thinking. She says "I'm going to get a front row parking space" and sure enough, she does. I tried that. It didn't work for me. I almost had karma fooled with that one when I started carrying a bottle of finger nail polish in the car. I would hold it in my hand, and if the light went red, I shrugged and painted a nail or two so as to not waste the time. Magically, the lights started turning green. I would snicker to myself as this was the actual goal, but karma didn't really know that. Until it figured it out. Then the lights were back to red. My nails would all get painted pretty quick, then I'd just be annoyed all over again by those red blasted delays. Smart karma, dumb me. These are actual stories, people, not made up or embellished in any way. But enough of that. By this time you're either very entertained at my misfortunes, or very bored. So on to my last straw. When people say bad luck comes in threes, I believe them. Here's my week- first, I lose a shop-ko gift card. The balance on it isn't super high, but I'm still bummed about it. Not only am I out a potential new pair of shop-ko/payless shoes (stop laughing- I like payless shoes) or a few economy sized packages of toilet paper, but I hate losing things period. It drives my OCD mind half crazy wondering what happened to the missing item, and I'll literally spend all day tearing apart my house searching. Second, the six-changer CD player goes out in my Expedition. Just before my trip to Bear Lake, where half the trip is out of range for radio, so CDs are all I can listen to. Not to mention that's not cheap to fix. Last but not least, the icing on this whole freaking cake of bad luck. My daughter's blessing dress. My beautiful little Maycie's beautiful, 100% silk blessing dress. It's been hanging from a cute flower hook on the wall in her room for the last many months, and it looks so pretty with the decor. I must say, Maycie's room is darling- straight out of a catalog darling. But just when I finally find the exact curtains I've been looking for to compliment the room, the last touch to make everything perfect, I get a hair-brained idea to take Maycie's dress to the cleaners to remove a microscopically small faint spot. I was nervous about it and asked the cleaner lady for reasurrance, even though the tag does say to dry clean it. She tells me they do wedding, blessing, and all sorts of special occasion dresses all the time, no problem. Well, I picked the dress up today. I can't even think of a humorous way to write this, so I'll simply say it's ruined. The white silk is now yellow. I'm really not exaggerating- it's not off-white or even cream, it's just yellow. I cried on my husband's shoulder for a half hour, and he told me we could buy another one exactly like it to save for Maycie someday. My Mom gave me my blessing dress, and I wanted to give each of my girls their blessing dresses, too. Even if I did replace it with an exact replica, it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the dress she was blessed in. Let's stop here for just a second, now. If you weren't sympathetic with my whining earlier, I'm sure you must feel a little badly for me now. This just sucks. The problem is, it gets worse. How? Well, just read on. I bought Maycie's dress from a little shop in Kaysville. My Mother-in-law loved it and purchased one exactly like it to display in her blanket shop. Her dress has been sitting there under a plastic cover for the last year. If you're thinking, "Yay! Silver lining! She can just buy the one from her mother-in-law to save for Maycie" that's what I thought too. So after I finished crying, I called her. Fate hates me. She told me she sold the dress a couple of weeks ago. Not only that, but the shop the dresses came from went out of business a few months ago. I can't stand any more. I've had all I can take. We're taught that every person is given their own trials, and is tested to their limit. How do I let fate, karma, or whatever know that I've way passed my limit with this? They say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but I'd sure as heck trade my bad luck with a good case of gout, some stinking kidney stones, or an accident involving a nail gun and a few of my body parts. At least you eventually get over those. I must have been a royal pain-in-the-butt in our past life to have earned this, or maybe I was just really stupid when we picked out which trials to stand in line for. Either way, I just don't think you can chalk it all up to chance. Oh, well. I feel a little better now after getting this all off my chest, so if any of you actually finished reading this, thanks for listening. If you didn't, that's okay- just say that you did. Now I guess I can finally start packing for that Bear Lake trip; hopefully nothing else goes wrong there. On that note, if any of you have an in with karma, maybe you could put in a good word for me- I could sure use a little bit of a break right about now.

Oh, the things we do for beauty!

(Alysha, this one's for you!!)

I meant to do this post a couple of weeks ago, but time has gotten away from me again. Better late than never, so here goes. I had decided that I wanted to get Maycie all dolled up in patriotic attire, complete with flag shirt and tye-died leggings. I even made a big red flower headband to complete the outfit, but some lady told me it looked like a hat, so the one in the pictures is different. I fluffed up her hair and put on her new little white flip-flop sandalls, but something was still missing. Then it hit me! Her toes were not painted. I thought, "now wouldn't it be cute if I paint them in alternating hot pink and blue? One problem, though. Maycie was not in a cooperating mood and wouldn't hold her feet still. I sang every dumb song I could think of and tried in vain to distract and entertain her, but to no avail. Well, I was not about to let the one year old beat me, so I formulated a plan... This plan included a high chair, a couple of long ribbons, some treats and toys, and a CD player (I thought maybe my singing was bugging her). Anyways, I put Maycie in her high chair and tied her feet to the posts with the ribbons. Now I'm sure some of you are remembering a previous tying-up incident, but don't be calling Child Protective Services on me, because I swear this is the only other time I've ever done it and I wouldn't have done it had she cried. My plan worked, though, as her sweet little toes turned out so cute! It was all worth it in the end- her toes totally made the outfit, so I'd do it again if I had to! Now don't we all do some pretty crazy things for beauty? Waxing, tanning, plucking, botoxing, nips, tucks, lifts, shall I go on? Even if you haven't done all those things, I know you've thought about it a time or two! So what's a minor ankle restraining compared to all that? Don't we all love great toes!

Happy Stinkin' Birthday Maycie

As you might have guessed from the title of this post, I was not too thrilled with the thought of my youngest having a birthday. Birthdays are what you have when you start to grow up, and I was not prepared to face the fact that Maycie was going to do just that. Something about the fact that she may be my last baby scares me, and I wasn't ready to watch time play it's cruel trick and start slipping by- just as it has with my other three kids. It's not fair! (And yes, if you're reading this Mom, I know that life's not fair.) I just wanted this last year to drag by so slowly so I could savor this precious baby time, because we all know that it will be gone soon enough. It's just not fair. So Maycie's birthday inevitably came last Wednesday, June 18th. I held out letting her be officially one until 9:10pm, the exact moment she was born last year. When it came, I cried. I'm even starting to cry again just thinking about it. I'm sure you're all thinking that I'm really dumb, and I'm even agreeing with you, but I just can't help it. I don't know why this is so hard for me, so if there's any Psych majors out there reading this, please feel free to share. Anyways, moving on. Happy birthday Maycie! I love that baby to death and I wanted it to be a fun birthday for her, despite the fact that I was having a partial breakdown and she wouldn't even remember any of it. I invited our family to come have a picnic and celebrate at the Spanish Fork Resevoir, and the weather was perfect. Maycie was darling in her new swimming suit, and she had a ball splashing in the water and playing in the sand (okay, she mostly just tried to eat the sand). All the kids had a great time and the adults got to sit and visit. I wanted Maycie to have a polka-dotted cake, so I slaved for a couple of hours making one. Just call me Betty Crocker, because it turned out pretty darn cute (even though I left the candle at home, so Zane made one out of a piece of rolled up napkin which we lit on fire). My Mom's friend made a small cake just for Maycie with fondant and polka dots to match. It was so stinking cute watching her pull off the polka dots then stick her fingers in the holes that they left. Apparantly Maycie really likes chocolate cake, because she destroyed it. She also figured out that she liked ripping the paper off of the presents even more than she liked what was in them. All in all it was a really nice day, and at the end of it, I was just so glad that I have such a wonderful baby- a beautiful, smart, silly, snuggly (stubborn, nap-hating, garbage-digging), fun and lovable baby. A baby that wraps her little arms around my neck and gives the tightest hugs whenever I need them. So, because I love my little Maycie Rue so much, I just might decide to let her have another birthday- in about five years or so.

Baby Love

I wonder if a little girl's fascination with dolls means she'll be a good mother someday. Alivia LOVED to play with dolls when she was little, and she is already a great little second "mom" to her baby sister Maycie. And lately, Maycie has taken to hauling around her baby doll, a cute little cabbage patch bean baby. I'll watch her from another room and she'll crawl around dragging this doll with her, then she'll stop and sit and start plastering it with kisses. When she's tired, she'll sit on my lap and watch TV with me, holding her doll on her lap. She'll rub it's tiny patch of hair on the top of it's bald head as I play with her hair. It's so stinkin' cute, but it makes me a little wistful, too. I can see the day when my daughters have their own babies, and that day is coming a little too quickly. But watching them makes me certain that they are going to be great mothers when that time comes.

WYATT is for WaY Awesome Totally Terrific

My oldest son Wyatt is such an awesome kid. I've felt a little guilty lately because he hasn't been the subject of a post yet, but it's not because he's less loved or anything like that (though some days he does make me want to tear my hair out). Wyatt's favorite thing, besides teasing his siblings, is sports. All sports. When he's not talking about sports, he's drawing pictures about them. They usually feature him in a uniform bearing the BYU logo, versus one of his siblings or buddies in a uniform bearing the UofU logo. I try to tell him that's backwards, but it seems his father has brainwashed him into believing otherwise. About every other day or so he's asking if I can sign him up for football, basketball, karate, wrestling, etc. I told him he can't wrestle until they get rid of those gross one-piece spandex uniform things that show all the- well, you know. Anyways, Wyatt was super excited when baseball season came around. He is on the Indians team with his best buddy Hunter, which might not be so fun for the coaches, because those two together are goof-offs. It's a good thing the coaches are Hunter's dad and Wyatt's dad!! The first game of the season was Wednesday. Wyatt was all ready for the game two hours early, and could hardly wait for Zane to get home from work. He had on new baseball pants and cleats, and was sporting a brand new lefty mitt that is genuine leather. Zane said he'd be able to catch way better with that than with his fake leather mitt from last year, though I think that's just a dad talking that would like to relive his childhood through his kid. During the game, Wyatt was all business. He was lookin' alive and ready for anything out on the field, and assumed the "ready" pose at all times. The funniest part of the game was when Wyatt got a hit and started running to first base, then abruptly stopped halfway there. He tore off his batting helmet and threw it back to home plate, and barely made it to the base before the ball got there. I'm not sure why he did it; maybe it stunk from all the little boy sweat that had been accumulating in it. Over all, he did a great job and played well, and I was very proud of him. It's looking like it'll be a great season, and then we'll be back to begging for football, basketball, karate, etc. I'm sure Wyatt will go pro in one of them someday, and if not, maybe he'll make it big drawing sports cartoons for the New York Times. Either way, he sure is one way awesome totally terrific kid!