Stranded

When I hear the term stranded I picture someone stuck out in the middle of nowhere, car broke down, in a desperate state of mind.  Well, I too have been stranded recently.......but not because my car broke down. 

I think most people have to pee first thing when they get up in the morning right?  Well, I do anyway.  And this morning was just like every other.  Only when I went to grab for the T.P, there was NONE!!  My head whipped over to the shelf where I store the backup rolls and there was NONE!!  For me this causes a sensation similar to the feeling of the pilot saying "Put on your oxygen mask and put your head between your knees ladies and gentlemen, it's going to be a bumpy landing." 

I quickly racked my brain because I knew that I had known we were getting low.  I definitely remembered adding it to the grocery list and I also remembered grabbing it off the shelf when I bought groceries last night.  So where was it now?  Still in the truck?  No, we brought all the groceries in.  Did I get distracted by the cute cart boy who took my cart in the parking lot and forget to grab it off the bottom of the cart?  No, well, yes I was distracted but I'm sure the cart was empty when I handed it over.  Conclusion, the checker had failed to put it back in the cart after she scanned it.  I scrolled through my options for punishment of this offense including mooning her, wrapping her car in toilet paper and going through her line with every single package of toilet paper off the shelf, but none of these seemed to fit the crime so I decided I would just take my receipt back to the store and get my toilet paper. 

Now it was game time and a decision had to be made.  Shower curtain or the waddle of shame over to the Kleenex box.  Damn that woman for forcing me into this position!!  Literally!!  Don't worry mom, I voted out the shower curtain and instead made like a penguin.  And really, if I had that much shame, would I have blogged about it?  Nope.  No shame in my game folks. 

An Only Child

God blessed me with 3 children, although blessed often feels like too strong of a word.  However, each summer Austin and Connor return to Montana for 2 months to visit their dad.....leaving Noah an only child. 

I know what you're thinking, "but caring for just one must be easier."  You're wrong.  It most definitely is not.

An only child has ONLY his mother to distract him, entertain him, fight with him and play with him. 

Most days Noah and I follow a pretty relaxed routine that includes me working, him catching up on Dora the Explorer, some yard work, housework and a little TV in the evening.  Other days there is no relaxation to be found. 



For example, some days go like this:
1.  Noah finds it funny to put his underwear and pants on incorrectly, usually when we're trying to get ready to go somewhere.  This entails putting both feet into the same hole and hopping around yelling, "MY PANTS ARE ON BACKWARDS!!"

2.  Puts "only a little bit" i.e. huge glob of toothpaste on his toothbrush and then proceeds to smear it on the counter, the floor, his shirt and the sink.  I'm usually pretty unsure any made it into his mouth.

3.  Tries to recreate the tsunami of 2011 in my bathtub.  Pretty sure that doesn't need any more explanation.

4.   Lays on the dog, jumps over the dog, jumps onto the dog, uses the dog as a launching pad, steals the dog's toy......and then cannot understand why the dog snapped at him which hurts his feelings and causes him to cry.

5.  Last but not least, hijacks a king-size bed by pretending to be a barnacle and attaching himself firmly to my person at which point he begins to generate enough heat that causes me to think spontaneous combustion will be the cause of our house burning down.

Laugh it up everybody.  Someday I'm going to come to your house and recreate these incidents and see how funny YOU think it is!! :)

Puppy Love

Almost a year ago now I informed my husband that our 3 boys "needed" a puppy.  Our first 2 dogs were older and that was pretty much all they remembered.  I argued that every little boy should have the "puppy experience."  My husband argued that we were a 2-dog family.  I won.  So I began searching for a dog that would be smaller than Beanie (a 75-pound bull terrier) and Mac (a slightly obese Aussie Shepard/Blue Heeler mix).  To my credit, I looked for quite awhile.  Finally, on the Alaska Dog and Puppy rescue website I spotted her.  She was an adorable "village mix" from Bethel.  A small black little fluff ball that they were guessing would grow to between 20 and 30 pounds.  She looked like a total scamp to me and I was instantly in love.  We adopted the small black fluff ball and I named her Greta.  I fooled no one.  Greta was my puppy. 

Greta is great fun.  She's also a lot of other things.  Stubborn (took FOREVER to potty train).  An indiscriminate snuggler (anyone sitting is an instant target).  A chewer (goodbye 2 pairs of slippers, countless toys and most recently my favorite hat that I've had for 10+ years!).  A kisser (ears, face, legs, no body part is off limits).  And lets not forget, a digger. 

I recently planted about 20 or 30 gladiola bulbs in the flower bed right by the front door.  I was so excited to finally have a flower bed again as I haven't had one since before we moved to Alaska 3 years ago.  Greta didn't waste any time.  She immediately began excavation work looking for that elusive tunnel to China.  In the process, she unearthed pretty much every bulb in that bed.  I figured she would be satisfied now that she "knew" what was in there.  I was wrong.  It has become an incredibly exasperating game that we play where I replant the bulbs and smooth the dirt over them, she reassures me she is just going outside to pee, I pray that she will not touch the flower bed this time, and she attempts to create a new world record for how far dirt can be flung backwards in a single dig. 

You would think I would attempt some preventative measure such as closing off the bed or covering it in some way.  Something to prevent Greta's repeated attempts at exhumation.  But no, I have decided to go a different route.  I informed my husband yesterday via text that I had decided to plant explosives in that flower bed instead.  My calm and patient husband simply texted back, "Just let me know where the trip wire is." 

I Used to Blog

I used to blog, on this very blog right here. 
I used to write about the things that I thought were dear.
Truthfully, there is an endless supply of funny things being said and done by my family.
So for Bop and Nommie, Aunt Erin and Emily,
Again, I will blog for thee.

Today I stumbled back upon my blog and read through the old posts.  And decided it is time, time to start blogging again, on this very blog right here.  Turns out it is a really fun way to sift through the funny little moments I had forgotten about.  It'll be a nice way to share them with the kids when they're older.  And Lord knows I don't right this stuff down anywhere else.  So brace yourselves, Smiffs in Alaska is back!!