Life with an Alien

I'm not sure when it happened, but one night I tucked my Angel Face into bed. In the morning someone else was in her place.

The hair and eyes looked the same. The voice sounded the same, but abruptly changed to a distorted, whiney screaming. About everything. Since that day, things have not been the same around here.

I expect the whining--that's just a kid thing designed to pay us back for all the things we did to our parents. Whining I dispise, but I can live with. The over the top reaction to everything is what sends us all running for cover waiting for it to be over.

Friends with grown kids reminisce about their kids' teenage years. I listen intently to their descriptions because they sound vaguely familiar. Its like living with an alien they say. You should just shake hands and make friends--they will be here for a while they tell me. A few years, maybe.

My quivering lip is mistaken for sadness at my baby growing up. Really it's just the thought of "a few years, maybe". They are talking about teenagers. I'm not.

7 is the new 16. Someone could have told me.

Work From Home Lunacy

I've learned a some things by working from home. In addition to learning that only a lunatic tries to work when kids are at home and awake, here's another....

I have learned that IKEA kitchen tables are really, really sturdy. Any time I took a work phone call my kids would wait a minute or two to see if I would be more than a few minutes.  Then when the time was just right....wait for it...they would jump on the kitchen table. I don't mean hop up on it, I mean step onto it with their dirty little feet and start jumping like its a trampoline. Together. At the same time. Their heads just missing the kitchen light that hangs over the table, but the breeze still making it sway. Somehow they avoid falling right off with the skill and precision of a circus performer.

There I am trying to pay attention to my client and sound professional. All the while I'm wildly waving them off the table and giving my very best crazy mom look to get them off. Mouthing "GET DOWN" in full shout. It failed. Every single time. Because really, what else was I going to do?

"Yes, very important client/colleague, would you please hold--yes, I just have go scream like a banshee at my children and lock them in the closet so I can finish this call. Thank you."

Somehow that doesn't sound right. Then they would hear the telltale words--the clue the fun was about to end. As I closed my phone call and said goodbye, the words weren't out my mouth a nanosecond and they were off the table and back to playing with their toys.

Kids are brilliant--and they have the memory of a knat for anything they have done wrong. The looks of complete confusion and "Who us? When? Doing what?" were Academy Award performances.

For a split second I think I've imagined the whole thing. Until the phone rings and the excited anticipation is palpable. I see them silently exchange an entire conversation with their eyes as they plan their ascent and their escape routes.

Yes, I have learned that to work from home with children around definately requires special tools. Phones, faxes and computers with internet. But most important is a very sturdy kitchen table. I would never have guessed.

Who Walks Who?

After we drop my daughter off at school, my son and I head home to walk the newest addition to the family. The last few walks have been tough because my son doesn't want to walk that far. He whines in that grate-on-your-last-known-nerve way that only kids can--for the whole 45 minute walk. Walk with me a minute:

Him: "I can't go any more"
Me: "We've only gone two houses. You can go farther."

Him:  "I can't walk farther"
Me: "Are you sure? You're a big boy who can do anything you want to."

Him: "I'm too tired" followed quickly by  "My legs are just tired"
Me: "But you did a four hour hike at Nahahi Ridge last year. And you are bigger and stronger now!"

Him: "Piggyback me, please? You can do it, Mooooooom!"
Me: "I can't walk Nakoda AND piggyback you--Mommy might drop you."

Him: "It's just because I'm so tired." (every syllable stretched as far as possible).
Me: "You shouldn't get up at 6am."
Him: "But Mooooooooooooooooooooom!" with full body flailing and head thrown back at an unnatural angle.

So I figured out the perfect solution: have him ride his bike. He loves to ride his bike! That will fix it. Nope.  I think he whined more. I tell him we are too far from home for me to walk his bike so he needs to ride it.

"Help me, Mom. I need a push." his sweet boy voice says with eyes glistening in plea. I melt.

Picture it: The dog walking beside me on the right. Me bending to the left, half jogging, pushing his bike most of the way home. At least Nakoda got 45 minutes of walking in--and I have new muscles to target in my workouts.

I was smarter the next day: the wagon--that will work! We had a whine free walk, I think.

The wagon is this green machine with horrible hard plastic wheels that vibrate over every pebble in a way that sends seizmic ripples up your arm. It amplifies every single rock, twig or ant it rolls over. It is noisy. So noisy that the dog keeps his ears down the whole 50 minute walk.

Is this really better than whining? Marginally. Every so often the wagon clips my heels then Nakoda's.

I tell myself the exercise is for the dog.  He needs the exercise to be happy.  It's to burn off his energy.

So why am I the one that is so tired?!

A Moment of Weakness

You know those moments when you think something sounds like the best idea ever? Then a while later you ask yourself: What was I thinking??? I'm living it now...

My whole family has been hounding me lately for a pet. Not  gold fish, a bird or any other caged animal. A "real" pet. My son wanted a kitten--but my husband doesn't like litter boxes because then the poop is in your house. Everyone agreed they wanted a dog or a puppy.

"A puppy?!" I thought to myself. "Are you nuts? I'm still recovering from baby sleep deprivation!" They are all crazy. I ignored them for a long time.

I countered with the ever popular winning arguments: they are expensive, they shed, they are a lot of work, they poop all over the yard.  Nothing worked. Maybe because secretly, I wanted one too. It seemed reasonable. We started to really think about getting a pet.

Everyone at least agreed not to put mom through Puppyhood right now. I'm too tired and too busy. I thought that was great because it would limit our choices. I mean really, how would we ever find a dog that was right for us that wasn't a puppy?



Looking at the Cochrane Humane Society web page yielded this adorable face.

I should mention that I find it physically impossible to go into a shelter and come out empty handed. I thought my husband understood that about me...apparently in 11 years of marriage that hadn't come up.

We called to make sure he wasn't adopted. Of course, he wasn't. We went to see this mush ball of fur and doesn't he come straight to the kids and lay at their feet. Hmmmm...OK so he's cute and furry. But he's big--about 50 pounds of dog. Neither of my children weigh 50 pounds yet. We play with him. We walk him. No pulling and no barking--he has some manners. He can sit and shake a paw. He's very charming.

Two hours later paper work is filled out and we go to leave without him (they have a rule that doesn't allow same day adoptions). Despite the valiant effort of a good friend to dissuade me. Both kids are sad to leave him behind and my son cries on my shoulder. My daughter says "He's the missing piece of our family, Mom." Well, who can argue with that?

My moment of weakness is named Nakoda.

He is home with us now. And I will spend my work time cleaning up dog poop and putting my flower beds back together.

What was I thinking?!