Oh, who needs sleep anyway?

This is actually not about my children.  Well, it is, but it's mostly not their fault.  Today's exhaustion is brought to you by the third child, the one not yet born.  Even when my other boys give me the opportunity for plenty of sleep, the third child keeps me from resting. 

Last night Pete and Chester, exhausted from a birthday party,were in bed by 7pm.  I was into my pajamas and snuggled in bed at 7:17pm and by 7:30pm, there was no more noise from the boys, they were both asleep!  Then the party started.  The party in my belly.  Baby Three had a grand time, rolling and punching and pushing for almost two hours.  At first, I enjoyed identifying body parts and picturing this little two pound baby inside of me playing around, but by 9pm I was just annoyed.  This is my chance to go to sleep early, don't you understand that Baby? 

Sometime during the Wisconsin/MSU game I drifted off, only to wake again just after midnight to pee.  (Also Baby's fault).  Just after 1am, the toddler came crying down the hall.  It only took 2 minutes to soothe him back to sleep in his bed, but I was officially up and staring at the ceiling.  Just when I thought I might fall asleep, the dog flipped out.  He rarely barks, so I was seriously concerned and hopped right out of bed and grabbed my phone ready to call the police, only to find the dog was still in his bed, asleep under his blankets.  He must have been dreaming about the squirrel who taunts him in the backyard from the neighbor's tree.  Back in bed, I gave up and pulled up Facebook on my phone for a little entertainment. 

You know you're old and boring when most of your friends from the East Coast are already in bed and not playing on Facebook around 2am.  I used to see lots of funny status updates and embarrassing drunken pictures posted by friends when I first started using FB while Pete kept me up all night on a Saturday night three years ago.  Now, all I see is other Moms commiserating online as their children vomit all night.  At least I have friends in other time-zones to keep me entertained!  It was nice catching up with you Hawaii and Alaska ladies last night! 

Let me just pause to send hugs and prayers to little CTK who broke his leg last night in a bouncy house in Hawaii!  We hope you're comfortable while you heal, and that your Mommy can keep you entertained for the next six weeks.

The final straw last night was Pete.  He started quietly crying in his bed, and then mumbled "I want a sprinkle doughnut" before crying a little bit more.  I went into his bedroom to find him still asleep as well, but when I covered him back up with blankets, he woke up and asked for water. 

With everyone watered, snuggled and back in bed, I headed back to my bed just after 3am. 

And the boys were up and ready to play just after 5am.  That's right, total count last night, approximately five hours of sleep between 7pm-5am.  That score is pretty close to the average test scores in my Monday night Financial Accounting class.

Pregnancy insomnia is like practice for your newborn, but I've done this twice already, I don't need practice!

Killer: Boston Terrier or Lizard?

Killer has been a "special" dog from the first minutes we met him.  Heading to the petstore, Ryan had dreamed of an English Bulldog, but when we arrived there was a sad looking Boston Terrier in the cage on the end.  He was marked down on sale several times, and was, in fact, on clearance.  When we asked the sales clerk, she said that the dog was super ugly and he was on sale because no one wanted him.  Well that was all we needed to hear; Killer Kowalske was coming home with us. 

When he went in for his first check-up a few days later, it was clear that he was sick already, and luckily, the pet warranty covered his medical bills because they were ridiculous. I didn't have anything other than hamsters growing up, and they didn't need vet care, since they typically escaped before having a chance to require medical attention.  Nearly $1,000 later, we took home our eight pound bag of skin and bones, with big bug eyes and a crooked tail.

He was so embarrassed to wear a birthday hat for my party.  This could have been the initial cause of the submissive piddle problems!

Look at those ears.  They're as big as his head.  Thankfully, he grew into the ears, but the tail still looks silly.

Killer's "special" problems didn't end with his trip to the vet.  He continuously excited piddled and submissive piddled.  I sent more than one friend home in a pair of sweatpants after he soiled her pants.  He couldn't climb stairs, and had to be carried to the second floor to come to bed with us.  He had gas that could clear a room. 

Killer also suffered from second dog syndrome.  Hudson shoved him out of the way for the table scraps, and despite our best effort to split them evenly, Killer would wait until Hudson finished the meat and bread, then zero in on the broccoli or other vegetables on the plate.  He has a taste for broccoli and other veggies that make their way from the kids' plates to the floor.  Now that Killer is the only dog in the house, he STILL chooses the vegetables first from the plates, coming back later for some gravy and chicken. 

Killer will find the smallest patch of sun on the floor, and curl up to bask in the sunlight.  He loves to spend a large portion of his day outside, just laying in the sun, and grazing the backyard.  Killer joined our family in the summer of 2006, and as we entered cooler weather that fall, he trembled  as the temperatures dipped below 70 so he had to wear a jacket to go outside. 

  I've determined that he must be cold-blooded. 

Between looking nothing like a Boston Terrier, eating grass and other vegetable and being cold-blooded, I've determined that Killer must be a lizard.

It's me or the dog.

You've seen that show, right?  It's on Animal Planet, if you have that channel. 

This week, it became me (and my sanity) or the dog.  Specifically, my dog.  My little furball, Hudson.

Hudson joined our family right after we bought our home in 2006.  He's half-Yorkie and half-Silky, so he doesn't shed, and needs regular haircuts.  He was so little when we brought him home, but now he's about 20 pounds.  He is named after my hometown of Hudson, Ohio or if you're old enough to remember, Mark Price also named his son Hudson while he played for the Cavs in the early 90s. 

Hudson started out stubborn.  I walked him before leaving in the morning, and Ryan walked him when he returned after work.  We tried every collar/harness/trick to get him to walk appropriately on a leash, and he continued pulling to the point of being splayed out like Super Dog at the end of the leash.  He also refused to poop in front of us.  One morning, after three days of refusing to poop, he escaped his crate while I was in the shower and left a pile of poop roughly the size of himself on my bathmat.  We worked through the issues, and Hudson became a sweet snuggle puppy who slept under our covers, nose tucked up against your armpit.

When we moved to Virginia, with Ryan's hours and my hours at work, we felt it best to get a doggie door for our fenced backyard.  Hudson thanked us by sneaking up the stairs to our little-used loft and leaving piles of poop.  Clearly he was not pleased at being left alone so much, even though he had his little playmate Killer.  

After moving back to Boston, the dogs had a difficult time adjusting to "asking" to going outside again.  Instead of going out only for potty breaks, they were accustomed to going out for any whim, and would scratch and whine at the door.  I never figured out how to break them of this habit, and ended up letting them out at every request, because the consequences of ignoring the request was often  peeing on the leg of the table.  There was no reliable way to tell the difference between potty request and play time!

While pregnant with my second baby, the dogs really began to get on my nerves.  Though Hudson didn't snore like Killer, he would be snuggled in bed next to me and it was so uncomfortable to move him and move me to roll over and re-adjust to get comfortable.  After weeks of debate, I threw the dogs out of bed, and sent them to sleep on dog beds in the kitchen.  Which they promptly ate.  I found an old couch cushion that proved indestructible, and gated them in the kitchen.

And so the downhill spiral started!  The poor dog just wanted attention, and decided that peeing on my things was good punishment.  Though they were locked in the kitchen whenever we left the house, they started sneaking around while we were home.  I found pee on the toys in the playroom, so they were banned from the playroom.  We got new furniture and in an effort to keep it clean from the dog fur and smell, they were banned from the furniture.  I found pee on the kids' bedposts and blankets and then the rocking chair and my bedpost and bedspread, so the dogs started spending their days and nights in the kitchen.  Still, they managed to sneak into bedrooms while my back was turned, and I was doing 2-3 extra loads of laundry a week (on top of my already unmanageable laundry rotation).   

Now pregnant, sick, exhausted and barely able to keep my kids occupied, I finally caught Hudson in the act, or at least soon after the act.  With Killer outside, I saw Hudson slink out of my room, to find my bedspread soaked and piddle all over the floor next to my bedpost.  It was no longer debatable, MY dog was the culprit.  After weeks/months of threatening the pound, it dawned on me that a Yorkie is a much-desired breed and I could find a rescue to help re-home him instead of playing doggie-roulette at the pound.

Right before I contacted a Yorkie rescue, a friend in Maine said she'd take the dog.  They have children a little older than ours, ready to love and squeeze and entertain the dog until he can't take it anymore.  I gave her a low-down on the dog's history and behavior problems (and the fact that through it all, he's still super gentle and loving with the kids, he just wants someone to love him too).  They're prepared, and Hudson heads to his new home this weekend.       

Some of you will cheer with me when he trots off to his new home, some of you will vilify me for failing my first fur-child, but it took a long time to come to this conclusion and I'm comfortable with it, no matter what you think of me.  I kept the explanation simple for the kids, but I know they'll be sad and confused too.  KH has promised updates on how he's doing, and even offered visits, but I don't think I can do that.  Hudson deserves a fresh clean start.  I just wish I could explain to him how much happier he's going to be, and spare him the confusion when we drive away without him. 

Good bye my little fur-baby, I know you're going to be so loved and happy with your new family. 

A well-balanced dinner

Last night I served a wonderfully well-balanced dinner to my children.  Beef tacos with a side of beans, topped with avocado, cheese, tomato, lettuce, olives and green onions.  Dessert was grapes and oranges and a glass of milk rounded out the fabulous meal. 

Pete finished his beef and cheese taco and initially rejected anything green, but was later successfully tricked into eating them when Ryan wrapped up the veggies inside a soft taco with extra cheese.  He happily ate all the grapes but turned up his nose at the oranges because apparently only clementines are acceptable and navels are yucky oranges. 

Chester, still recovering from the mongolian death flu, was slightly more picky.  Beef?  No thank you.  Cheese?  Maybe a little.  Veggies?  Hell no.  Olives?  He ate the entire can!  Knowing his sensitive tummy, I would be in for a mess later, but at least he ate something.  Sigh.  As I was cleaning, he was throwing the remaining food on the floor for the doggies.  I turned to load the dishwasher and when I turned back, I saw he had leaned forward and grabbed the brick of colby-jack off the table and was gnawing on it like a popsicle!  For those of you unfamiliar with the effect of massive amounts of cheese on a small child's digestive tract, let's just say it slows things down.  I served him the rest of Pete's snubbed navel orange (which causes explosive blowouts) to counteract the cheese and called it a night.  I guess in one sense, Chester did have a well-balanced dinner.    

I've given in, let's blog!

A few people have mentioned that I should blog. I swear I don't have time, but I'm going to try. Because today made me laugh so hard I cried, and I want to keep these ridiculous(ly happy) moments so I can use them to embarass my children when they grow up. If you're here, you already know me or Ryan, and probably our two little boys Pete and Chester. Maybe you even know our dogs Hudson and Killer. This blog will be the story of their antics. Please forgive my grammar, spelling and typos. I do my best, but I was an accounting major, not an English major.


This morning, we left the house with all good intentions. First a trip over the "big green Toby bridge" for a stop at BSU Boston to pick up our tickets for the circus next week. Both the trip over the bridge and the trip to USO New England were a complete success, both boys behaving beautifully. Pete holds Chester's hand and dutifully guides him through the parking lot, up the stairs and into the building. I was so impressed when Pete pushed all the correct numbers in the elevator, and proud of how well they both behaved while we waited in line for the circus tickets.

As a reward, we stopped into the Exchange to pick up some Skittles for Pete. Of course when I saw the beer was on sale, we also picked up a case of Daddy cups (Bud Light) and Mommy cups (Bud Light Lime) and a treat for Daddy. Pete even picked a treat for Chester.

That's where my good day ends. Both boys fell asleep on the way home. This is only a problem because Pete is potty trained during the day, but naps are still a challenge. As I lifted him out of the car seat, he peed. On me, on the car seat and all over himself. Awesome. I quickly whisked him inside to his bed, pulled the wet clothes off and slipped on a pull-up. Tucked him into bed, and congratulated myself on making it through what I assumed would be my "challenging moment" for the day.

I put all the bags on the back porch and noticed that Daddy's treats were gone. Pete held the bag with the treats and held Chester's hand while I carried the beer to the minivan. He must have dropped Daddy's treat somewhere because it wasn't in the bag, or in the van. Sigh. There goes $20 worth of treats, and some lucky Coastie is wondering who left a whole log of Daddy treats in the parking lot.

Transferring Chester to nap was less eventful, just a few minutes of nursing and he happily snuggled into his toddler bed. I took a deep breath and congratulated myself again.

If only my day had ended right there. But instead, I headed for the kitchen to let the dogs out and found dog poosplosion all over the kitchen floor. Hudson is usually the guilty party, but it was irrefutably confirmed when I let the dogs out and saw a huge wad of dog poo stuck to Hudson's butt. After mopping the floor with Lysol, I headed outside with a pair of scissors and cut all the poop and hair off Hudson's butt.

I really find all of this amusing. So amusing and ridiculous, in fact, that I decided to start blogging so you can all laugh with me. Because after I changed out of my urine soaked clothes and showered to remove any lingering dog feces, I sat down to think how thrilled I am to take these boys to pick up Daddy from the boat tonight and how much fun we'll have at the circus next week. Today might have been ridiculous, but that's the price we pay to have such a ridiculously happy life.