In Doug’s right hand: a white flag. In his left hand: a bugle.
Allow me to introduce Miss Rosie the Dog.
This war is over.
Grab your bugle…cause here comes the beagle.
Happy campers
Slowly by steadily, our addition is coming along. Our crew of Albanians has finally knocked a hole through the wall so we can enter it from inside the house. This means Eva’s bedroom is now a hallway, and last night, we scrambled to find a place for her to sleep.
We ended up putting a mattress on Tyler’s bedroom floor, where she will sleep until her new room is complete. At first, I worried how the two siblings would respond to becoming sudden roommates. Here’s how it unfolded:
6:00: I employ the manpower of a good friend to haul a one-ton, king-sized memory foam mattress into Tyler’s room.
6:30: I reveal their new sleeping quarters to brother and sister. They stare at it. They’re not sure how to go about mending the hole in Eva’s wall.
6:35: The children have discovered that they can climb on Tyler’s dresser and jump into a giant, bouncy trampoline.
6:45: “Mama! Eva and I want to go camping! Can we have a bag of marshmallows?”
7:00: “Mama! We want to go to bed now! We have to go camping NOW!”
7:15: “Can we have a flashlight? We want to count the stars on our ceiling!”
7:30: “We don’t want to brush our teeth. We want to stay in our room!”
7:45: The two have removed their pillow cases from their pillows and placed them over each others’ heads. I wonder if they can laugh and suffocate at the same time.
8:00: Lights out. I kiss my campers goodnight and head downstairs for some peace and quiet.
8:01, as I am halfway down the stairs: “MAMA, GET EVA OUT OF HERE. I WANT MY OWN ROOM BACK!”
Sometimes being #1 just isn’t good enough.
After proctoring my tenth year of the Connecticut Mastery Test this week, I realized I have read the same set of instructions 80 times and watched kids fill out bubbles for a 72.5 hours (more than three days straight).
Through it all, I am left to wonder: if number one pencils exist, where are they hiding, and why is no one allowed to use them?
Man’s best friend or woman’s best therapist?
As the dog wars resume, I pointed out to Doug that a good hunting dog is just the kind of companion he needs when he’s out in the woods. (He’s only looking for deer antlers, he assures me.) Finally, we googled the top 10 hunting dog breeds and decided, with space being limited in this house, that we should get a beagle.
I wrote to my friend Jae La, whose beagle Callie is spoiled more than all three of my children combined. She told me not only are they in the top 10 breeds for hunting, but also for family dog choices. Not only that, she added, but in her research, she read they are the one breed of dog that is most in tune with human emotion.
“Can you imagine that?” I beamed to Doug. “We’ll have a dog that can help you find your antlers AND understand all my thoughts and feelings!”
He shrugged and replied, “He’ll think you’re f*cking nuts and leave!”
Without my husband, I would have absolutely no material.
The point of this story? If anyone knows where I can find a beagle who is NOT from a breeder, please let me know!