So. . .Buddy peed on Mr. Delivery Man.
I'll explain. But first let me tell you he's doing excellent in the potty training department. Really.
We just have a little work to do on the door approaches.
We are dutifully attending Puppy Obedience Class at Petsmart. Yessiree. All of these things I once scoffed and turned my nose at. Now we're doin' them. My Friday Night Dates have been crashed by Buddy, my four little puppy nazi's in training, Mr. I-know-everything-there-is-about-training-puppies (seriously!), and a pet porta-potty station. Romantic, I know.
Anyway. . .back to the story. Buddy has gotten fantastic at this whole potty training bit. Goes to the door, scratches to get in and out- the whole bit. He's a champ.
Except when someone rings the doorbell.
For some reason, he gets soooooo excited to see someone new. He loves when they love him. And then he goes pee. It makes for a great first impression.
So the other day, the delivery truck man comes to bring some equipment to Courtney for work. The doorbell rings, Buddy gets all excited. So I pick him up and we answer the door. Well, Mr. Delivery man thinks he is so cute. So cute that he takes him and pets him. He puts him down, but Buddy wants more. He can't get enough lovin'. So now nice Mr. Delivery man bends over and pets him and loves him while Buddy tries to climb up his leg.
"Oh. . .aren't you so cute. . . .you are my present.. . . You're my new friend. . . . ."
And now you're peeing on my leg."
Uhhhhh. . .awkward.
I'm thinking it's a good thing we have four romantic puppy date nights left. I'm going to have to mention this incident to the authorities.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
good luck with that
Last Sunday after church Courtney and I were wanting a nap.
The girls were not.
We tried to catch a wink or two, but it's not easy to get some sleep with world war three going on in the next room. Not easy at all.
Finally, we gave up. Courtney told Ryenne that maybe, as a last resort, we'd head out to the playhouse to take our nap while she took care of the babysitting for a while.
"Okay! I'll babysit!" She promptly replied. Then she quickly added, "Can I slave work them?"
Slave work them?
Ummmm. Sure. Judging by my past efforts at trying to get her sisters (and her, I might add) to do a few simple chores. . .
Good luck with that, my dear.
The girls were not.
We tried to catch a wink or two, but it's not easy to get some sleep with world war three going on in the next room. Not easy at all.
Finally, we gave up. Courtney told Ryenne that maybe, as a last resort, we'd head out to the playhouse to take our nap while she took care of the babysitting for a while.
"Okay! I'll babysit!" She promptly replied. Then she quickly added, "Can I slave work them?"
Slave work them?
Ummmm. Sure. Judging by my past efforts at trying to get her sisters (and her, I might add) to do a few simple chores. . .
Good luck with that, my dear.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
emmy's latest gig
Emmy has found a new pastime. And in our world, that is very important.
She has recently been called as the primary "singing teacher". She does a fantastic job with all of her pupils.
In case you don't know, the girls should be singing.
She has recently been called as the primary "singing teacher". She does a fantastic job with all of her pupils.
In case you don't know, the girls should be singing.
Now the boys. 
Courtney can do a really nice solo when he has to. His chorister is quite proud.
no skreaming
This past week, Ryenne participated in her first science fair.
I'm not sure why we've never joined in the fun in the past.
Okay, maybe I do.
It might have had something to do with an non supportive mom.
You know the drill (okay, so maybe you good moms don't know this one yet). You see the note, quietly slip it into the garbage, and hope the whole affair is quickly forgotten. And when your child brings up the subject, you give a brief (very brief) nod of excitement, and then (this is very important) change the subject as quickly as possible. . . .After all, science was never my strong suit, and besides, what kind of science project can a 6 year old come up with anyway? I rationalized away the guilt.
Except that I didn't really feel guilty about it, which is maybe why I felt a little bit guilty.
Anyway, this year Ryenne and Kate weren't buying it.
"Okay," I told myself. "This will be okay. We can be scientific. We can be resourceful. We can be creative. We can be prepared. We can do this."
And so it was that the night before the science fair we were in a mad dash to be scientific. Creative. Resourceful. And absolutely, but characteristically unprepared.
Ryenne had a great time nonetheless. She was proud, and felt quite a little bit of accomplishment at her "Soil Science!" project. We were quite proud of her too.
And in all actuality, it seems that this little venture has merit after all. It seems to have sparked quite a little flame in our Ryenne. Perhaps we have a budding scientist on our hands?
Upon entering the utility bathroom last week, I saw this sign on the door:
Just a word of caution: If you see a sign like this, be afraid. Be very afraid.
However, I think this whole incident shows that I am making progress as a mother. I am becoming more supportive. I am encouraging the development of talents. I am embracing creativity.
And just so you know. I didn't skream. Not even once.
I'm not sure why we've never joined in the fun in the past.
Okay, maybe I do.
It might have had something to do with an non supportive mom.
You know the drill (okay, so maybe you good moms don't know this one yet). You see the note, quietly slip it into the garbage, and hope the whole affair is quickly forgotten. And when your child brings up the subject, you give a brief (very brief) nod of excitement, and then (this is very important) change the subject as quickly as possible. . . .After all, science was never my strong suit, and besides, what kind of science project can a 6 year old come up with anyway? I rationalized away the guilt.
Except that I didn't really feel guilty about it, which is maybe why I felt a little bit guilty.
Anyway, this year Ryenne and Kate weren't buying it.
"Okay," I told myself. "This will be okay. We can be scientific. We can be resourceful. We can be creative. We can be prepared. We can do this."
And so it was that the night before the science fair we were in a mad dash to be scientific. Creative. Resourceful. And absolutely, but characteristically unprepared.
Ryenne had a great time nonetheless. She was proud, and felt quite a little bit of accomplishment at her "Soil Science!" project. We were quite proud of her too.
And in all actuality, it seems that this little venture has merit after all. It seems to have sparked quite a little flame in our Ryenne. Perhaps we have a budding scientist on our hands?
Upon entering the utility bathroom last week, I saw this sign on the door:
Just a word of caution: If you see a sign like this, be afraid. Be very afraid.However, I think this whole incident shows that I am making progress as a mother. I am becoming more supportive. I am encouraging the development of talents. I am embracing creativity.
And just so you know. I didn't skream. Not even once.
awakening
For the past month or so, I've been hibernating. No spunk. No spice. No cleaning.
As in, I could've slept all day.
I tried blaming it on my thyroid. Maybe it was off. Maybe I should have it checked. After all, wouldn't that make me tired?
I tried to blame it on the weather. The snow. The dreariness of it all. I made a valiant effort to convince Courtney to take me somewhere warm. Very, very valiant. Somewhere with blue skies and sand. I tried very hard. Surely, this would be the thing to pull me out of the winter blues.
But alas, our budget won't accommodate.
Finally, after another day of dragging myself through the motions, I thought to myself "Enough!" As I pondered what I was going to do about myself, I remembered a talk by Elder Uchtdorf (titled, Happiness, Your Heritage) when he counseled us gals to get creative. You know what I thought to myself? Maybe I didn't need Hawaii after all (although it still sounds very nice).
Maybe it was time create a little sunshine of my own.
Only a few days later, and I feel like a different person. Happier me! Happier house! I've done a little rearranging. A little cleaning. (At this pace, it's sure to be clean by the year 2036.) I've even had myself a little fun in the kitchen.
(whipped up a little batch of these cake pops for teacher appreciation week. You should try them too!
As in, I could've slept all day.
I tried blaming it on my thyroid. Maybe it was off. Maybe I should have it checked. After all, wouldn't that make me tired?
I tried to blame it on the weather. The snow. The dreariness of it all. I made a valiant effort to convince Courtney to take me somewhere warm. Very, very valiant. Somewhere with blue skies and sand. I tried very hard. Surely, this would be the thing to pull me out of the winter blues.
But alas, our budget won't accommodate.
Finally, after another day of dragging myself through the motions, I thought to myself "Enough!" As I pondered what I was going to do about myself, I remembered a talk by Elder Uchtdorf (titled, Happiness, Your Heritage) when he counseled us gals to get creative. You know what I thought to myself? Maybe I didn't need Hawaii after all (although it still sounds very nice).
Maybe it was time create a little sunshine of my own.
Only a few days later, and I feel like a different person. Happier me! Happier house! I've done a little rearranging. A little cleaning. (At this pace, it's sure to be clean by the year 2036.) I've even had myself a little fun in the kitchen.
(whipped up a little batch of these cake pops for teacher appreciation week. You should try them too!. .thanks bakerella for the inspriration!)
I'm off and running. But, as for my favorite guy? Can you guess what all this rejuvenation means for Courtney?
He's the best.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
this morning
Each morning brings it's own. It's own laughs. Chaos. Decisions. A new day of hugs and kisses.
A few weeks ago, for instance, Ryenne woke up earlier than usual, about 6:00. We were still in bed, and told her to do the same thing. It was soon quiet, and we thought we'd made our point. That is, until we went in to wake up the other girls for scriptures. I went in to get Claire out of her crib and Courtney bent over Kate to carry her into the family room when I heard him ask, "Kate what's on your face?. . .Did you sleep with a marker in your bed?" When he explained that she had marker on her face, she groggily wondered if Claire had done it. It didn't seem likely. Upon closer inspection, we noticed that the marks clearly were drawn to resemble a mustache, a goatee, and two pointed eyebrows. When Emmy stumbled out of her bedroom bearing the same artwork, we had a pretty good idea who the culprit was. I'll just say it wasn't Claire. And Ryenne? I'm not making any accusations here, but she thought it was hilarious.
What did this morning bring?
For one thing, it seems Ryenne is now speaking Russian. This morning at breakfast, she asked Courtney and I what "Mazoltov" means. The whole way to the bus, our entire conversation was made more engaging by her new found Russian accent. When I gave her money for lunch, and reminded her to put it into a zipper pocket, she answered: "Oohhhh yah. I zuv zeeepers." When I sent her out the door, bidding her farewell and my daily "choose the right!", she confidently quipped, "I veel!" Seems we've been watching Fiddler on the Roof a leetle too vuch.
As for Claire, she has a monstrously green nose. She has figured out that she can push or pull me in most any direction and eventually she'll get what she wants. So charming, she is. I'm guessing that during the typing of this post, I will be pushed, pulled, and prodded approximately 15 times. And you can bet I'll do it. . .every time. Currently, she's sitting at the table drawing pictures in the phone book.
Emmy and Kate are home sick. I love sick days. It means less carpooling, more cuddling.
And as for Buddy? A half hour ago, Courtney loaded him up for a trip to the vet. You know the one.
Buddy's gettin' fixed.
I remember the time my Uncle ( I won't name names but it starts with a J and ends with an M) decided to take care of this little deed himself on my cousin's little puppy, Sammy. I only remember one thing: bad day for Sammy.
When we tried to explain to the girls that Buddy would be having a little operation today, it sparked quite a bit of conversation. Emmy was sad that Buddy wouldn't ever get to be a daddy. Ryenne thought it was "so gross" and pretty mean on our part. But the whole understanding of the situation was a bit hazy. We tried to explain that it will make him a better dog. We argued that we don't really have a need for any more puppies. That we don't really know a mommy dog anyway.
Finally, as a last resort, I chose to strike the fear chord. The girls are terrified that Buddy is going to run away and get hit on the road. (They've had that experience with about a half million cats. I hate to say it, because it's not that I don't love cats. It's just that with all those cat accidents, the girls got over it pretty easily. If it happened to Buddy, they'd be devastated.) We tried to console Ryenne by telling her that when Dogs are still able to be Daddy's, they like to wander around the neighborhood looking for a girl friend. Now that he is getting this special operation, he won't need to go look for a girl friend anymore.
We knew we were making a little headway when she nodded in understanding and said, "You mean he'd be like a teenager?"
So that's about it for this morning. And as for tonight?
We'll be having a talk tonight, Ryenne, Courtney and I. You know the one.
A few weeks ago, for instance, Ryenne woke up earlier than usual, about 6:00. We were still in bed, and told her to do the same thing. It was soon quiet, and we thought we'd made our point. That is, until we went in to wake up the other girls for scriptures. I went in to get Claire out of her crib and Courtney bent over Kate to carry her into the family room when I heard him ask, "Kate what's on your face?. . .Did you sleep with a marker in your bed?" When he explained that she had marker on her face, she groggily wondered if Claire had done it. It didn't seem likely. Upon closer inspection, we noticed that the marks clearly were drawn to resemble a mustache, a goatee, and two pointed eyebrows. When Emmy stumbled out of her bedroom bearing the same artwork, we had a pretty good idea who the culprit was. I'll just say it wasn't Claire. And Ryenne? I'm not making any accusations here, but she thought it was hilarious.
What did this morning bring?
For one thing, it seems Ryenne is now speaking Russian. This morning at breakfast, she asked Courtney and I what "Mazoltov" means. The whole way to the bus, our entire conversation was made more engaging by her new found Russian accent. When I gave her money for lunch, and reminded her to put it into a zipper pocket, she answered: "Oohhhh yah. I zuv zeeepers." When I sent her out the door, bidding her farewell and my daily "choose the right!", she confidently quipped, "I veel!" Seems we've been watching Fiddler on the Roof a leetle too vuch.
As for Claire, she has a monstrously green nose. She has figured out that she can push or pull me in most any direction and eventually she'll get what she wants. So charming, she is. I'm guessing that during the typing of this post, I will be pushed, pulled, and prodded approximately 15 times. And you can bet I'll do it. . .every time. Currently, she's sitting at the table drawing pictures in the phone book.
Emmy and Kate are home sick. I love sick days. It means less carpooling, more cuddling.
And as for Buddy? A half hour ago, Courtney loaded him up for a trip to the vet. You know the one.
Buddy's gettin' fixed.
I remember the time my Uncle ( I won't name names but it starts with a J and ends with an M) decided to take care of this little deed himself on my cousin's little puppy, Sammy. I only remember one thing: bad day for Sammy.
When we tried to explain to the girls that Buddy would be having a little operation today, it sparked quite a bit of conversation. Emmy was sad that Buddy wouldn't ever get to be a daddy. Ryenne thought it was "so gross" and pretty mean on our part. But the whole understanding of the situation was a bit hazy. We tried to explain that it will make him a better dog. We argued that we don't really have a need for any more puppies. That we don't really know a mommy dog anyway.
Finally, as a last resort, I chose to strike the fear chord. The girls are terrified that Buddy is going to run away and get hit on the road. (They've had that experience with about a half million cats. I hate to say it, because it's not that I don't love cats. It's just that with all those cat accidents, the girls got over it pretty easily. If it happened to Buddy, they'd be devastated.) We tried to console Ryenne by telling her that when Dogs are still able to be Daddy's, they like to wander around the neighborhood looking for a girl friend. Now that he is getting this special operation, he won't need to go look for a girl friend anymore.
We knew we were making a little headway when she nodded in understanding and said, "You mean he'd be like a teenager?"
So that's about it for this morning. And as for tonight?
We'll be having a talk tonight, Ryenne, Courtney and I. You know the one.
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