Lil' Viking

My blogging skills seem to have crashed entirely.  Our family has been so busy trying to keep up with daily life and then starting a business on top of that.  It doesn't leave much room for other things.

I can't believe that the summer is over and my kids are closing in on 5 and 3 years.  We are working with Bear on potty training and he's doing very well thus far.  He doesn't always want to go, but with a little convincing, he does, and he goes.

The lil' munchkin is in her last year of preschool and I can't believe she'll be starting kindergarten in less than a year.  She's still enjoying class, although she would much rather stay home and play with her brother all day.  She's becoming quite the little helper and earns money for doing additional things around the house.  She bought her first baby doll with her own money the other day!  She was very excited about it!

The two kids are simply incredible together.  They play so well together... most of the time anyway! 

I am going to attempt to start updating regularly again, but we'll see how it goes :)

The lil' munchkin has been going to preschool since she was just beyond three years old... a year and a half.  You would think I would be used to it by this point, but for some reason as I loaded her and her big box of school supplies into the car this morning, I knew I would have a hard time dropping her off.  We made our way down the hall to the same classroom she's been in for a year.  But it was changed and as we searched to find her new cubby and looked at the names of all the students on the wall, my voice caught in my throat as I told her some of her friends that were back from last year that she hadn't seen all summer.  We made our way to the early room and I signed her in and she dragged me off to the play area she wanted to be.  She hugged with me such fierceness that she knocked me over.  I chocked back my tears as I looked at my little girl that suddenly doesn't seem so little.  This will be her last year at preschool.  This time next year she will officially be in kindergarten.  It's amazing that for someone that was never that emotional, can cry at the mere act of carrying a box of school supplies in.  But that little box held so much more than just construction paper and crayons.  It holds the promise of my little girl continuing to grow before my eyes. 

To top that off, I found out on Friday that Bear would be moving into a new classroom as well - the "older two year olds."  That was a huge smack in the face that he is beyond two and a half and is quickly moving towards three.  In the nearly eight months that he has been at school, he has developed completely into a little boy and continues to amaze me with not only his vocabulary, but his personality.  His imagination is simply incredible and the creativeness that emanates from my little lefty astonishes me.

Another school year is under way and with it comes the knowledge that my children are growing up.  Fast.  I will hug them as they go off to school and continue to blot at my tears of happiness in watching them grow to become the individuals that they are and will become.

So generally it's my guilt that I'm writing about - something that there's always plenty of.  But this week, I watched guilt - albeit well deserved guilt - wrap itself around my husband and make him rectify the situation within 20 minutes of the original action occuring.

Monday evening, we were all downstairs in the family room. Beloved was sitting on the couch and I was back in my office area behind the couch... with a perfect view of the events about to unfold.

The kids started ganging up on my Beloved and he began flinging them onto the couch.  They were having a blast.  Until Bear picked up his heavy plastic sword.  As the lil' munchkin was flying through the air onto the couch, Bear raised the sword over his head and brought it down squarely onto my Beloved's big toe where his foot rested across his other leg.  It was a blur for a few moments as my Beloved stood up, yanked the sword from Bear's fingers and begin twisting it to insure that he would never suffer the pain that he was currently dealing with.  He took off up the stairs and Bear began crying.  I heard the lil' munchkin taking the stairs as nearly two at a time as possible and yell at her Daddy, "That's my brother's sword!  Give it back!"  Her little voice shaking with indignity as she attempted to stand up for her little brother.  I sat at the bottom of the stairs and comforted my son as he cried for his now lost sword.

The lil' munchkin came down and crawled into my arms as well - completely distraught over not being able to regain custody of the now defunct sword.

They were both settled back down within moments and I went back to working at my computer.

Bear went upstairs (I later learned to say to Daddy, "Sword....Christmas?" in a plea that he could have another sword for Christmas) and returned moments later to sit with his sister.

From the beginning of the event, maybe twenty minutes had passed when my Beloved came down and told me he was going to run to the store.  I asked him for what and he simply replied, "To buy bub a new sword.  I feel bad."

Bear was ecstatic to go to the store with Dad and pick out his new one.  On the short drive there, he kept telling Daddy that he wanted a "blue" one.  When they arrived back home, Bear was very pleased to show me his new blue sword (okay, technically it is a light saber, but it's retractable and then flings out). 

Let's hope he doesn't try to hit Daddy on the tip of the toe with this one.

When I was 19, I made a walk through a mall and had stopped at the petstore.  There towards the back sat a small black and tan dachshund that had gray dappling throughout his coat.  He seemed so sober and old even at his young 6 months and I knelt to offer him my hand.  He came to me and I petted him for a while.  The pet store owner came over and told me that she would take $100 off of his "price" if I wanted him.  He was getting older and most people were scared of his markings.  I had fallen in love with this little guy and agreed that I would take him home.

He joined my pomeranian, Delta, and was quite the unique little dog.  He was so laid back and generally rather lazy, choosing sleeping over most any other activity.  This did, however, make him the most absolutely perfect snuggler.

I would take my dogs on walks and he was always anxious to go.  Until he tired of it at least, at which point he would sit his behind down and it didn't matter if you dragged him.  He REFUSED to walk.  I always ended up carrying him back home.

People would stop me and ask me if he was old.  I always thought it was because of the gray dappling throughout his coat, but it very well could have been due to his demeanor as well.  He truly was an old man from the moment of his birth.

Dapple did not like change.  When he was a little over 4, I adopted a second dappled dachshund and I swear if looks could kill, I would have been dead over that decision.  That dog wanted nothing to do with the newbie and refused to even stay in the same room as him. I would hold the new guy, Dachser, and try to hold Dapple to have him look at him and it was like trying to overpower steel.  He kept his head turned and refused to acknowledge that there was another dog on my lap.

I had a roommate for a while and she took to calling him Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh and I always laughed when I thought exactly how apropos this description was.

He eventually settled in and grew to love his little brother and then his stepbrother, Buddy the Rat Terrier, when my Beloved and I married.

Dapple was very much my boy but did come to be the chairmate of beloved and would ultimately sit with anyone that would allow him to sleep.

On July 12, 2009, I knew Dapple was not doing well.  The evening before I had sat and held him and he absorbed my affection readily, but I knew something wasn't right.  He was wasting away before my eyes and it was devastating.

After dinner on Sunday evening, I placed Dapple in a laundry basket with some bedding and kept him by my side.  Without going into details, we knew by 8 pm that we needed to make a trip to the vet with him.  Beloved and I put it off as long as we could knowing that this was most likely our last moments with him.  My good friend B came over to sit with the kids so that we could both go to the emergency clinic with him.  Beloved took him downstairs to the other dogs to be able to say their goodbyes.

I held him on the way to the vet and cooed softly to comfort him.

After we saw the Dr, our worst fears were confirmed.  He was in liver and kidney failure at the age of 15.5 years.  There was nothing more we could do for him.

We took a few last moments with him and the dog that I had truly done my growing up with took his final breath in my arms.

He is now buried under the tree in the backyard where we buried Daisy only a few short months before.

Dapple, you were a great friend to me and we all love and miss you immensely.

TheKids0103

Dapple is second from the right.  Very somber - that was Dapple.

His final moments

Dapple's last moments

When my son was born, my heart expanded to make room for him and I've never looked back.  He's grown into such a mischievous little boy but yet still so cuddly.

His vocabulary took off a several months back and over the last two months, he's become less of a parrot and more stating what he wants.

He's often told me "I ove you" in response to me saying it to him, but last night... that magical moment occurred where he looked at me and out of the blue said, "I ove you, mommy"

My heart grew yet again as I embraced my precocious two-year-old and told him the same.

Both kids laid on our bed last night watching Disney's "Spykids" until 7:30 pm rolled around.  I told them it was bedtime and took them to brush their teeth and then read a story.  As I sat on Bear's bed reading to them, Beloved came in and declared, "Happy Jonas Brothers Day!"  Kissed the kids and left the room (I can only hope this was sparked by watching Disney and not because he is a closet follower of their music).  Lil' munchkin began to glow and told me "Happy Jonas Brothers Day!"    I responded in same and she immediately asked me if I knew which one she liked.  Uh...No?  I didn't even know she knew who the heck they were!

I replied that I would love to know and she told me that it was the one in the middle with curly hair... and the good face.

Jonas-brothers

She told me if they come to town she wants to hug him.

I'm totally not ready for this.

When Beloved arrived home yesterday with both kids in tow, he told me that he had to sign an accident form for Bear.  Another child had bitten him on the hand.  Of course, the school won't tell you which child bit him, so I simply asked Bear if had been bitten today.  He held up his hand and told me, "bite my hand."  I then simply asked him who bit him.  "Wyatt bite my hand."  There you go.  I have the bad apple.  I told Beloved who had to restrain himself from showing Bear how to box.

I did (repeatedly) tell Bear to go to school today and tell the suspect, "No biting me, Wyatt!"

I just posted a couple weeks back about the lil' munchkin losing her first tooth, even though she's not even quite 4 and a half.  The permanent tooth had poked its head through the gums and is making sure that soon my little gap-toothed muchkin has a snaggle tooth smile with both big and small teeth splattered throughout her smile.

A few days after she lost her first tooth, I noticed that its neighbor was a bit wiggly as well and declared to Beloved that it would be gone before the end of the month.  Throughout the weekend, I know the lil' munchkin had to grow tired as I continually asked to see her gap only to inspect the neighbor and see how much it wiggled.  by Saturday, it could lay nearly all the way forward and I was convinced it was coming out. 

By Monday evening, she showed it to me and Beloved lovingly joked that we needed to pull it out.  That earned a finger wagging lecture from the lil' munchkin, "I said in the car that NO ONE is pulling my tooth out!"  We finished our dinner and I began to look for a dessert that she would have to bite into and remembered the brownies I had made the night before.  She happily accepted none the wiser to my ulterior motives and devoured it within minutes. 

As I cleaned up the kitchen, she headed upstairs to get pajamas on and I suddenly heard the pitter-patter of littl munchkin feet and the excitement radiating from her as she yelled, "Mommy, my tooth came out!"  She brought it down to me and I saw the newly vacated gumline. 

She then had to call both sets of grandparents and inform them, "I lost two toofs."

Can this child do anything slowly?

Lost teeth

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Bear will be two and a half on July 10th.  His diapers are not getting any better and I'm hopeful to have him potty trained before he turns three.  The lil' munchkin was a breeze to potty train and we managed it in a matter of a few days.  Bear has been a little more reluctant with the potty seat preferring to use it as a step stool than any other type of stool...

But as the little guy progresses in age each day, I become more eager to train him in the fine motor skills of the bathroom.

I've stocked up on M&Ms and am ready for him.

I asked him last night if he wanted an M&M as I showed them to him.  He said yes, he did want one so I told him he had to sit on the potty for it.  In we went with Big Sis tagging along for moral support.  He dutifully allowed me to remove his diaper and he sat down on the potty seat.  I plopped an M&M in his mouth and he munched happily.  As I crooned as to what a big boy he was, he stated, "MORE M&Ms."  I looked at him and matter-of-factly told him, "Put peepee in the potty and you can have another one."  A look of concentration stretched across his face and he looked down.  I thought he might be actually going, but wasn't quite sure.  Another moment passed and sure enough, I saw the glorious stream of urine (I know I know - using glorious and urine in the same sentence is a little weird, but parents understand).  I began gushing about how proud I was of him!  Sis reached down to give him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and Daddy came in to join in the festivities. 

I allowed him to put on his beloved "rocket" underpants and run around in those for a while and he knew he had done something really good.

I know we have a while to go, but let's just say I'm convinced of the magic that M&Ms hold and I have stocked up.

After I recovered from the lil' munchkin losing her first baby tooth (at 4 years old!!!) I sat stunned again to realize that her second tooth - the next door neighbor - is loose as well.

Not only that, but as of last night, Her very first permanent tooth is peeking through those little gums of her.

She really is "growing a great big tooth"

What next, a driver's license?