The Things Nighmares are Made Of - The Conclusion

                                    R.I.P. Malka  9/14/2012


Malka never fully recovered from that nightmarish January night.  Mentally she recovered but physically she never got the um-pf back in her step.  On September 10th she stopped eating and couldn't sleep.  No  matter how she laid down she couldn't get comfortable.  This is the Facebook post from September 11th.

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Back from the vet with Malka. Not good. We knew she had early stages of kidney disease and when she got caught in the leg hold trap in January it accelerated from the stress but the last thing I expected was an almost total shut down of her kidneys in the last two days. So the vet did "doggie dialysis" today and I'll continue it at home. She's sound asleep now, which is no surprise since she hasn't been able to sleep for two days. She even ate after dialysis and has kept the food down. She seems comfortable so for right now we take it one day at a time and do our best to give the end of her life the same love and comfort she has given us.
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On September 14th her pain became unbearable to watch and we couldn't bear to let her go on that way.  She passed away peacefully with her family by her side.   I still grieve for her and think about her almost every day. 

The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of- Follow Up.....

This morning I received a call from my vet.  She was wondering how Malka was doing and wanted to know if we had followed up with the local SPCA.

My personal beliefs are that you take responsibility for your own actions and as much as I was disturbed by what happened the facts are that Malka was not on our property and not under our control and that is why she wandered into a mine field of traps.  What ever my personal beliefs are, trapping is legal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  So anyway......

The vet was concerned because state law states that the traps have to be checked every twenty four hours once they are laid out.  Since several of the animals in the area were in various stages of decomposition obviously that had not been happening.  She suggested that I go over and take some pictures and forward them to the SPCA for follow up. 

She's right and I agreed.  I wasn't exactly excited to go there, to say the least, but I felt the purpose was worth it.  The Scientist agreed to show me the way. 

Baseball Boy, who has been working hard to come to terms with what he saw that night, wanted to go.  I didn't think that was a good idea at all, nope not at all.  He actually slept last night for the first time, why would he want to go back and refresh that picture.

Fortunately, I have learned from program and past experience to really listen when someone expresses interest in something instead of just blowing them off because of what I think. 

Baseball Boy makes his case.  He states that a large part of his fear came from the fact it was so dark he felt closed in and trapped.  He said he thinks he would feel better if he saw the area in the day light with me there to help him understand what had happened to the animals.  He also felt that seeing it without Malka laying on the ground would leave him with a better picture to replace the one in his head now.  I found myself agreeing to let him go.  I still surprise myself sometimes.  The Vet didn't want to go, so she stayed home, no explanation necessary.

As we are walking The Scientist and Baseball Boy are pointing out some of the areas they searched that day.  When we get close to the large branch pile we stop.  I confirm that they are up for this, since it's not really necessary for them to go any further.  Both feel they need to face their fear.  I am impressed by their courage.  I didn't want to be there and I wasn't there Saturday night.

As we walk around to the other side of the branch pile they pause.  It's not what they remember at all.  I am relieved.  As much as I would have liked to forward pictures to the SPCA for follow up I really didn't want to see the scene of the crime.  I am far from squeamish,  there was nothing there I hadn't seen before, I just didn't need to add another scene of carnage to the already full catalog in my head.

Who ever owns the traps must have heard what happened because there was not a trap to be found.  The only carcasses were the remains of two deer who had obviously been dressed, and they were together in the pile.  All the other remains were no longer there.  The innards of the deer that had been spread around as bait were gone.   The Scientist and Baseball Boy were able to point out where everything had been, clearly someone had put a lot of effort in cleaning up the scene. 

So there won't be a follow up with the SPCA who really needed pictures to start an investigation.  I don't care, I'm just happy that the traps are no longer laid out.  I'm not naive enough to think that they haven't been moved to another area but at least my children will not have to loose sleep wondering if any animals are losing their life back there every time they walk down that road.

So how's Malka doing:

Malka's injuries were worse than they first appeared but fortunately she's recovering.  Apparently she was in worse shape than we thought originally.  The swelling in her leg has slowly gone down, and she only has a slight limp.  But on Monday morning when I took her out to potty she peed three times in different spots.  Not normal for her.  So I grabbed a urine sample and took it down to the vets.  We had the results later in the day.   Her already weak kidneys had begun to shut down.  They are improving but this caused a sludge type substance (has a fancy name that I can't remember) to be excreted through her urine.  She also has a lot of blood in her urine too.  The kidney failure caused her to not eat.  She needs good food and lots of extra fluid to flush the crap out of her kidneys so they can hopefully heal.  So I broke out one of my get the dog to eat tricks.  You take a pound of chicken livers and put them in a big pot and fill it with water.  Bring it to a boil until the livers are well cooked.  It is gross but just what the doctor ordered for a finicky dog.  A couple of pieces of liver along with a couple of cups of the water from the pot in their regular food and ta da the dog eats and gets extra water too.

Yesterday afternoon for the first time Malka showed definite signs of improvement.  She's eating more heartily and is acting more energetic.  She'll also be on antibiotics for a month so she doesn't develop any secondary infections.  She's had problems with her kidneys before.  In a few weeks we'll rerun the tests to see if her renal function has returned to her baseline normal. 

I'm just happy we have her back.  Even another hour out there and she probably wouldn't of made it.  Every day we have her is a gift.

The Problem with "Learning the Hard Way"

is that sometimes it results in death.  Hopefully not yours (although sometimes that the case) but in this case it was the death of two of our chickens.

When The Scientist was a toddler I used to ask her, "do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?  The choice is yours."  It didn't take her long to figure out that the easy way was the preferred choice.  Of course this came back to bite me later on when she was forced to do things the hard way to get the result she wanted, but I guess that part of the learning curve too.  As a small aside:  One day we were pulling into a shopping center and she asked what store we were going into and I said, "The hardware store."  She started to cry and said she didn't want to go to the hardware store she wanted to go to the easyware store.  Chalk another one up in the tell your therapist when your 30 column.  Anyway, no surprise, I digress.

In the winter the kids regret having chickens.  It's cold, the wind whips across our yard, it gets dark really early and they eat more, mostly because they are bored but also because they burn more calories keeping warm.  So for three months out of the year there is a lot of complaining about who's turn it is to care for them. 

Well, this winter they started getting lazy about making sure their feeder was always full.  It was rarely empty but instead of constantly filling it they would wait until it was empty to fill it.  The reaction that caused was subtle and not recognized until it resulted in a very painful lesson for them. 

You see hens have a pecking order (pecking/chickens/get it?).  We can't do anything about it and it changes as the birds age, new birds are added to the flock or just because, but if you spend any time observing them you will clearly see who's in charge and who's at the bottom of the order.

So what was happening, unbeknown to the kids, was the chickens were rationing their food because there wasn't a unending supply of food anymore.  The dominant birds were preventing the two birds at the bottom of the order from freely eating.  Even this probably wouldn't of been enough to kill them, they were getting some food.  Then the straw that broke the camels back occurred.

Every now and then one of the hens doesn't make it back into the coop at night.  For whatever reason they fall asleep outside and when the coop gets closed up they wind up spending the night under the stars.  This can be a problem if there are predators in the area but our run is enclosed so that isn't as much of an issue. 

The two hens at the bottom of the pecking order for a reason that will remain unknown didn't return to the coop one night last week.  What made this even stranger was it had been pouring rain all evening and they don't normally like to be out in the rain for long.  The kids are supposed to make sure everyone is in before they close it up, but that doesn't always happen.  It's dark, cold, windy, raining, essentially miserable; no head count usually occurs on those nights.

When the sun came up Baseball Boy went out to open up the coop for the day.  He found Oreo and Jersey laying in the run next to the coop.  Both were soaking wet and had died during the night.  The temperatures had dropped dramatically and I was surprised to find both birds were underweight.  I think that between being wet and too thin they were unable to withstand the cold overnight.

This isn't the first time we've gone out in the morning to find dead hens.  You learn to accept that farm animals do not have the life expectancy of family pets and they in general live a riskier life.  But that doesn't make it any easier on the kids who almost instantly realized what happened and that the birds being underweight contributed to their demise.

So they learned a lesson the hard way, and Oreo and Jersey paid the price.  I'm sure that they would would cry and want to learn it at the easyware store, if only that were possible.

The Stuff Nightmares are Made Of

Malka

Doesn't she look innocent.  Like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.  In previous posts I've referred to her as Houdini.  A nickname that will have to change due to an addition to our clan who now bares the name.  Even though her nickname will change her ability to escape, sadly has not. 

Saturday almost became her last day on earth.  I don't know what was going through her head when she pushed the fence out and slipped away but it was almost a fatal mistake. 

If not for the persistence of three very tenacious children she might not be with us today.  One of whom got an ambulance ride to a local hospital for the effort and Malka who got a ride in a fire rescue truck for her part.  Yes, it was a very interesting day.

As most "interesting" days it started out as any other routine Saturday.  The Engineer and the kids had chores to do and errands to run.  They returned home around four in the afternoon.  Someone let the dogs out and about 15 minutes later the entire course of the next 10 hours changed dramatically. 

It's cold outside and Mickey does not like cold weather.  It took him fifteen minutes to burn off a little energy, do a perimeter check for errant squirrels and bunnies and do his business.  His latest trick is to jump up and ring the door bell when he wants to come in,  when we answer the ring both dogs are usually standing there patiently waiting.  That was not the case yesterday.

Only Mickey greeted The Engineer when he answered the door.  A few minutes later when Malka hadn't returned he started calling her.  The beginning of hours of yelling her name.

Faithful readers know this isn't her first escape.  The few times she has gotten out she returned after we called her.  When she didn't come this time the kids bundled up and started walking, calling her name.  The Engineer got in his car and started driving.  I was at work unaware of the drama playing out at home.

Later on when it became obvious that she wasn't coming back I received my first of many panicked phone calls and text messages from the kids.

As darkness fell along with temperatures the wind picked up and our hopes for finding her plummeted.  We notified local police departments and a large veterinary clinic in the area (the only one open late on a Saturday).   Her tags are up to date and she's micro chipped but that was little consolation with the weather and her lack of street skills.

At 11 PM The Engineer returned home to heat up some soup for some frozen kids who refused to give up.  About fifteen minutes after he got home the kids, who insisted on staying out looking, heard a dog bark.  A quick phone call to The Engineer and all four of them were slogging through a swampy field in the direction they thought the sound came from. 

The wind was whipping across the field so hard that even yelling it was hard to hear.  Nothing else could be heard above the sound of the wind. 

Even with flashlights finding a black dog on a dark, cloudy night seemed hopeless.  As they came across an area with large piles of branches they stopped to listen.  That's where they found her.  Laying silently on the ground, her front paw caught in a trap.  When they bent down to touch her fearing the worst, only the end of her tail barely wagged.  Relief was shortlived when they saw the trap and realized that getting her out of there was not simply going to be a matter of picking her up and hiking back out.  The trap had her paw tight and it was frozen to the ground.

The Engineer, shining his flashlight around looking for something to try and pry the trap up saw what can only be described as a horror movie come to life.  It turned out all three kids and The Engineer were standing amid an entire area layed out with traps all set to snare unsuspecting animals.  A recently gutted deer was spread around as bait, several skinned animals (believed to be foxes) were thrown about and numerous other animal carcasses in varing stages of decomposition were everywhere. 

At work my phone rings and I am instantly relieved that Malka has been found, but my relief didn't last long when the details of their situation became apparent. 

Fortunately, one of the pluses of living in a rural area is the local volunteer fire company still does animal rescues.  Describing their location was a little complicated but it wasn't long before help was on the way. 

As The Engineer tried to reassure the kids and block them from the frigid wind Baseball Boy said he didn't feel good.  Before anyone could respond his eyes rolled back and he fell backwards, passed out cold.  Lifting him up brought him around momentarilly, but Baseball Boy only mumbled something about being tired before going out again.  Once again my cell phone rang and the panic in The Scientist's voice was palpable. 

Another phone call to the fire company and an ambulance was dispatched along with them.  That's when I left work.   The 45 minute ride home took about 30 minutes.  About half way home The Scientist called me with an update.  The Engineer and Baseball Boy are on the way to the hospital and the fire company had brought Malka and the girls back to the house to wait for me.

I walk in the door and I'm greeted by Mickey, his usual exuberance muted, even he realizes that something is wrong.  I find Malka laying on the sofa.  She doesn't lift her head but the tip of her tail is wagging.  The girls are flanking her, both pale, and obviously exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  I quickly check her paw and am relieved to find it firmly attached, it was swollen but didn't appear deformed.  She's too weak to get up so I pick her up and carry her out to the van.  On the way to the emergency clinic I call ahead and they were waiting for us when we arrived.

She is an American Pit Bull Terrier.  Stoic doesn't begin to describe her.  The vet wanted to see if she could stand or walk.  I reluctantly put her down, she wobbles slightly, then pulls herself together.  With some urging she hesitently takes a few steps.  It's obviously painful but she puts weight on her injured paw.  The vet goes over her from head to toe and cleans her injured paw.  She was very lucky.  No bones appear to be broken.  We pack her up and take her home. 

The Scientist, The Vet and Malka all tucked in safely at home and I head to the hospital.  I find Baseball Boy awake and alert with The Engineer sitting by his side.  Baseball Boy is wrapped in what looks like a giant space bag inflated with circulating warm air.  It appears that Baseball Boy was overcome from the combination of hypothermia and stress.  A follow up this week with his doctor should confirm that diagnosis.

Malka's leg this morning was swollen to twice it's normal size.  She can barely walk on it but she's still so exhausted she not in any rush to go anywhere anyway.  We're all tired today and the kids are still processing what they saw last night.

Their tenancity, which can drive me insane sometimes, saved Malka's life.  She wouldn't have survived the night out there.  They wouldn't give up looking for her. 

I bought rebar today to secure the fence where she got out,  Mickey and Malka will not be outside unsupervised until it's repaired.

"You Can't Make Me!"

If I had a nickle for every time I've heard that in the last few months I could retire. We'll technically The Vet is right, I can't make her.

But (yep there it is again folks, some things don't change), I am only legally obligated to supply you with food, shelter and clothing and that can be arraigned. On the menu for tonight's dinner, by special request, sardines (protein), potato flakes (starch) and okra (veggie). Enjoy. Oh you don't like such foods. They assault your tender pallet. Bummer, you can't make me cook anything I don't want to. Bon Appetite.

Meet Marty..

He's 3 years old and at least 3 1/2 feet long. Right before he sheds he likes to lay in his water bowl. That's what he's up to here. Curled up tight as he can and jammed in snug as a bug in a rug. He is a corn snake and a typical orange color. He is lovingly cared for by The Scientist.

You see last summer I signed all three kids up for a pet care program at the local library. I should have known better. I figured they had an assortment of the pets so what else could there be, right? Will I ever learn? These are all rhetorical questions since I've been been down this path before.

It was a 4H program and the kids really enjoyed it. On reptile day The Scientist came home with all sorts of grand ideas about reptiles, especially the snakes. Her latest obsession was born. Immediately she wants to get her own snake. Are you kidding me, a snake!! I'm not afraid of them, I just don't consider them pets. They're more like a wild animal to me. I'm more a mammal kinda girl. But The Scientist will not be dissuaded. So I send her on a mission to learn all she can about snakes, hoping (but secretly knowing better) that she will burn herself out and get over it. A month or so later The Engineer takes all three kids to a small local zoo that was having an open house. I'm at work oblivious to what's happening. Later that night I hear how The Scientist found an error on a sign attached to the snake cage. She took her findings to the owner of the zoo who was very impressed with her knowledge of snakes. He gave her the inside tour of the zoo and offered to give her a baby snake when one became available. The Engineer was impressed and I was stunned when he reversed his decision to let her get a snake. What the heck, I was depending on his resounding "NO WAY" to get me out of this.

The other part of the deal was we weren't going to foot the bill for this little critter.

Tell me, do you think that a snake still technically qualifies as a critter? Never mind....

Somewhere along the line The Scientist and The Vet got a regular babysitting job. Both had been working together and saving their money. It wasn't long before The Scientist had the cash for a snake. All along she had been researching reptile rescues and corn snake forums (all her research showed a corn snake to be the perfect first snake) so when the cash became available she knew what she needed and was all set when the zoo called and said, "We have one for you."

If you'll follow the time line you'll see that this happened late last summer, and that they offered her a baby snake, which is what she got. Back track to the first paragraph and you'll see Marty is 3 years old. It doesn't take a math wiz to figure that Marty wasn't her first snake. Her first snake was a baby girl. Her short stay with us is a topic for another post and another layer of fodder for her to share with her therapist when she's thirty.

Back to Marty. About one week after Marty came to live with us The Scientist and The Vet were laid off from their babysitting job. The slump in the economy knows no age limits apparently. Fortunately, after the initial start up fees reptiles are pretty inexpensive to keep. Well, as long as they are healthy. I'm in denial about vet costs for reptiles, so I'm not going there. We have a bag of frozen mice in the freezer that will hold for a while so he's happily fed without tapping into my budget.

So Marty has grown on me. He loves to wrap around my neck and crawl through my hair. He's even rested his head on my glasses a few times. He's a very gentle snake. Easy to hold and is especially fond of The Scientist. He's certainly not cuddly but he's not a wild animal either. I have some better pictures of him and hope to add them soon enough. And of course like every animal that finds it's way into our home, he has his own set of stories to tell.

You're the Worst Mom Ever!

SLAM

That would be from The Scientist. Ah, the preteen hormonal period of a child’s life.

The Vet was mad because they are not going out to play until they locate three overdue library books. Her response to me calling her over to tell her the names of the books was "What!" For her nasty response she was slapped on the arm. I can not remember the last time I slapped one of the kids. I don't really believe hitting or slapping solves anything. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Lately someone has taken my three usually well mannered kids and replaced them with three mouthy, rude, name calling whippersnappers.

Today the final straw occurred with the nasty "what." I slapped her bare arm without even thinking. I believe all the so called child specialists will tell you that if you do decide to use physical punishment you shouldn't use it in anger. Oh well, I've always been a rule bender anyway.

I also think since "child specialists" have started spouting their rhetoric more kids are screwed up than ever. But, that's going to have to be another post.

That slap created a tirade by The Scientist screaming that hitting your kids is illegal and she's going to call the cops. I told her to get me the phone and I'd save her the trouble. By her passionate response you would have thought that I had hit her or beaten her on numerous occasions. I believe the only time I have ever laid a hand her was when I pulled her arm to teach her how much it hurt the dog to have his tail repeatedly pulled by her when she was a toddler. Everything else we tried to get her to stop had failed and quite frankly the dog was getting pretty fed up with it and I was afraid he would take matters into his own paws or worse yet teeth. After that she no longer pulled the dogs tail.

The other two jumped on The Scientist’s band wagon and before I know it all three kids are screaming at me and then at each other. This is going down hill fast. There is no way I'm going to be able to talk rationally with these three so I send them off to their rooms to calm down. That's where the post title comes in. I will not speak to them or get sucked into their arguments if they can not speak rationally and respectfully.

After about 10 minutes The Vet comes out and apologized for speaking to me so disrespectfully. Not long after Baseball Boy joins her. The Scientist is the last to come out, but she is more concerned that I will cancel our trip on Wednesday to a local science museum. Hey, whatever, at least the screaming is over.

So we talk about what happened. They get down to looking for the books, which started this whole thing, and within ten minutes all three missing books are sitting on the coffee table and everyone is off to play.

I think I'm the only one who realizes how much easier it would have been for them to just look for the books in the first place.

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I just yelled at all three kids to stay in bed. Would you look at the time!

One disappointment after another

Normally I don't feel too bad when something happens and my kids are left disappointed. Life is full of ups and downs. If they don't learn to handle the downs when they are young and relatively minor (at least to the adults) how are they going to handle the biggies when they are older.


It seems like every time they turn around lately something doesn't work out that they had been excited about.

A much anticipated play date canceled because of a change in religious school schedule.

A reading class one of them had been looking forward to canceled due to a death in the family of the teacher.

Having to leave their theater group early because of a dentist appointment.

A "date" that had to be postponed due to illness.

A mothers helper job postponed due to illness.

A trip to the zoo canceled due to a broken toe.

A sleepover canceled due to one of the kids not being ready to do it.

All of this occurring over the course of a week. At times like this I repeat to myself "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." But, as the tears fall over and over again even that seems hollow.

How the heck did a full time working Mom wind up being a homeschooling SAHM? Part 1- Workaholic?

Hello, my name is Rusty's Mom and I'm a workaholic. I could picture myself standing in front of a group of others saying those words. Now is it denial or reality when I say, not really? I enjoyed my job but I also enjoyed my home time and looked forward to spending time with my husband and children. I mostly enjoyed making my own money, having the security. What if The Engineer died suddenly or found some cute hottie and I was left to raise three young children alone? Even BK (before kids) work was a huge part of my identity. I was a 911 dispatcher and had been for 21 years and worked at the vet's office too. I never hesitated to take home the on-call pager to pick up a little overtime either.

Helping people and animals and making decent money doing it. A great husband and three cool kids. The best dog ever. My life was sweet. Exhausting but sweet.

Because I worked 12 hour days the kids were only in day care two days one week and three days the next. It felt like a perfect balance between work and home. It also gave The Engineer full time parenting days because I worked every other weekend.

So what happened to change all this? Actually, it was two things. It started back when hubby and I decided to add another two legged kid to our family. That kid turned out to be Baseball Boy. But before conception occured I was bitten by a cat at the vets office. The cat was very ill when it was brought in. A family found it as a stray and wanted to help it. During the exam the cat bit me on the hand, drawing blood. Two days later the cat passed away and because of it's symptoms and subsequent death the vet decided to have it tested for rabies.

Some people say if they didn't have bad luck they'd have no luck at all....

Reason #3 why we homeschool

The Dramatic Rise of Anxiety and Depression in Children and Adolescents: Is It Connected to the Decline in Play and Rise in Schooling?

by Dr. Peter Gray

Someone posted this article on one of my home school groups. It's got it's share of psychological gobbley gook but cut through that and it makes some thought provoking points.

In our quest to "prepare" our children for their future are we damaging the foundation that their future rests on?

When I found out that our local school district only had half day kindergarten I was appalled. What the heck are they going to accomplish in 2 1/2 hours. Then when I found out that a short recess was apart of that time I just knew that this was going to be a complete waste of time. It's amazing how much I've changed since my first born boarded the school bus for her first day of school. Back then, for me, school was the best place for my kids to learn. They were giant sponges and school was the ocean of information where they could absorb all of it. They needed to be there to gain the knowledge to succeed. HA, how naive I was.

By sending my kids off to school the opposite of what I expected happened. They went from sponges to rocks. Sinking instead of absorbing. My oldest went from being a curious, questioning, excited about learning kid to a miserable, bored kid. Depression and anxiety was starting to rule her life by the end of first grade. There was no room for pleasure in learning when everything she did was micromanaged. Even if she finished her work early she was made to sit quietly and was punished for "sneaking" a book under her desk to read. Kids today don't even get away from it when they come home. Even in first grade they have homework and projects. By the time she finished all that she didn't even want to pick up a book and read for pleasure. She was too tired to go out and play. She just wanted to veg out in front of the TV for some mindless entertainment.

Child specialists say you should expose your child to as much as possible when they are young. Doesn't that contribute to the over scheduling that our children (and us) live with daily. Isn't too many choices adding to our anxiety and stress levels. Maybe we should go back to letting kids be kids and not filling their time with activities. It's something I need to work on myself.

By treating all children like they were cut from the same mold and by expecting them to all follow the same path we are destroying their creativity and individuality. We file them into classrooms and teach to a test. Grades are more important than learning. School is a period in their life that they just want to get through. Kids today often feel like their life is over before they reach their senior year in high school. Many of them don't even know what they want to do because they have had their hands held for so long they can't make a decision without help. Oh, they can give you open ended answers like go to college or join the military but what direction do they want to take there, so many kids just have no idea.

I hope you take the time to read the article. My ramblings don't even touch the surface of what the article was about. Even if you don't completely agree with it you can't deny that children today suffer from anxiety and depression in record numbers. Unlike what I call the "syndrome of the week" I believe that anxiety and depression really are becoming epidemic in our children.

Stitches- outta there

This morning I took The Vet's stitches out of her knee. Yep, you read that right, I took them out. She doesn't want anyone but me taking them out. I took them out the last time she needed stitches too. It looks like it healed nice and clean. She still has a sore spot on the side of her knee that I don't like. I'm going to give it a week, if it's not feeling fine by then she's going to the doctor, whether she likes it or not.

Don't worry about what the doctor will think when he finds out I took the stitches out. He's used to me.

Everyone in my class but me

The Vet said, "Everyone in my class has a cell phone but me." The Scientist quickly pointed out that she also was the only one in her class without a cell phone. The Vet is 10 years old and The Scientist is 11 years old.

I've heard this before but after the new year they started up again on their crusade to get their own cell phone. It went something like this:

S & V: Mom, everyone in our class (@Hebrew School) has a cell phone and we think we should have one too.

Me: Well if everyone jumps off a cliff are you going to jump too?

S & V: (with eyes rolling) Mom we need our own cell phone. Remember that time you were late picking us up from religious school? It was so embarrassing, we had to ask to borrow someones phone so we could call you.

Me: That's not a reason. You should have just waited until I got there. You didn't need to call.

S: Remember when I was in kindergarten you fell asleep on the couch. You were 10 minutes late picking me up from school. If you wouldn't of woken up who knows how long I would of had to wait.

Me: It's not like your teacher would have just left you out at the curb till I came and there are lots of phones in the school to use.

S & V: But what if we have to make a phone call? It's not that much money to add a line on. We checked on line and it's only $9.99 a month.

Me: We have the house phone and I have a cell phone that you are welcome to use when you need to make a call. Then I really put a nail in it by telling them that if they were going somewhere without me and I felt it was necessary for them to have a phone they would use mine.

At this point desperation was setting in. They couldn't think of a good reason and they knew it. Finally they just asked how old they would have to be to get a cell phone. When I told them 16 years old and they'd have to pay for it themselves they were speechless. That almost never happens, it made my day.

They think I'm a rotten parent...oh well they're mine to screw up if I want

My kids love going to the park. They can spend an entire afternoon at a playground. I love it. I find myself a nice spot to sit and pull out a good book. Out of the corner of my eye I see what their up to but usually it doesn't take long from me to get lost in my book. The kids are all over the playground. Climbing all over everything. When they were younger the rule was if you can't climb up it without help you're to small to be climbing on it. They knew when we were at the playground they were on their own. I'm not one of those parents who follows their kids around on the playground helping them do it. I didn't push them on the swing they learned to swing their feet. I didn't help them up the ladder for the slide, if they couldn't climb up they shouldn't be up there. But it didn't take long for my kids to notice all the other parents tagging along behind their kids. To put it bluntly, this pissed them off. Why don't you lift us up? Why won't you push us? My answer remained the same. This is a playground for kids, if you aren't big enough to do it by yourself you shouldn't be on it. Unfortunately, in this instance anyway, I also taught my kids that if they need help and Mom and Dad aren't around, ex. we got separated in a store or something, they should chose someone to help them, a woman with small children usually being their safest bet. If someone comes up to them and offers help to avoid them. It's always better to pick someone that to let someone pick you. So the Three Musketeers decided to put that advice to good use and played the poor me card. "Ma'am can you push me on the swing?" Of course, this causes the woman to look around and see who the horrible parent is who left their kid to play in the playground by themselves, horrors of all horrors. Sometimes my kid would point to me and I would wave with a smile. Needless to say many parents didn't agree with my attitude and I got a lot of nasty looks. I also let them climb things by themselves. A few times they got up to far and needed rescue but I took my time getting there and amazingly they often got down on their own before I arrived. I wanted my kids to learn their limits, even if they got some bumps and bruises along the way. What I ended up with is kids who know how to ask someone for help if they need it and know what it feels like to trust your feelings when you talk to an adult. Not a bad trade off. Even if half the parents in the playground think I suck as a parent.

We're Weird, thank you very much.

We're weird. I'm weird, my kids are weird, my husband thinks we're normal and everyone else is weird. I like being weird, wouldn't change a thing. Raised my kids to be weird and intend to keep raising them to be weird. It saddens me because we are not the norm. Do you know why we are weird? Because we believe you should take responsibiltiy for your own actions. That your family is the most important thing. Children should treat adults with respect. Manners and grammar count. Because G-d will be there for you, if you let him. Because those who die with the most toys don't win. The most important thing you have is your word and your name, take care of both because once they're gone it's almost impossible to get them back. Because when we wanted to adopt a dog and found one we really liked at the SPCA we didn't walk away because she was a pit bull, we took her home. We homeschool, not for religious reasons, or because I think the public school system is a great government plot to take over our children or because they can't educate my kids. We homeschool for reasons which you'll get to know about the more you follow along on this journey. I don't like to beat around the bush, just get to the point. I love a good discussion, hard to find anymore. Can't be bothered keeping up with the Jones, don't even like the Jones most of the time. Comfort over fashion any day. If you tell me I can have both, I'd agree but I'm still only going to wear it if I like it not just because everyone else does, then I'm going to wear it until it's worn out. I drive a van with 150,000 miles on it because it's paid off and I'll run it into the ground, just like the last one. The Engineer's car, a Saturn, is at 280,000 miles and still going (knock on wood). I don't have time for people who kiss butt to get what they want or the ones being kissed giving them what they want. Politics, oy, don't even get me started. Reality TV, oxymoron. Give me a book over TV any time. Newpaper over TV News. I used to love sports, still love the sport but the players, what a spoiled bunch of overpaid, self-centered curs, my apologies to the one player who doesn't fit that description. I'm sure someone does... I hope... anyone..... please.....

The Genius, Oh My

I let my spawn, oops I mean children choose their own names for the blog. I regretted it almost immediately. My oldest daughter chose The Genius. Are you kidding me???? I tried to remain calm and not just call her arrogant. I twisted it to "Don't you think that is arrogant?" Her response was, "No, I'm just smart." Okay, yes your smart but to name yourself The Genius seems a little, and here I paused looking for the right word. She jumped right in and said, "Narcissistic". Yes, that's it. Her response, "So what, it's my name and you said I could pick it." Like so many other times with her I have nothing to say.

***edited to add on December 19****

The Genius was offended by this post and denies the conversation took place. Even denying knowing the meaning of the word narcissistic.