Social Skills Tip of the Day

Do not interrupt the person who is talking to tell them they have something in their teeth. This is considered rude. Wait until they finish their sentence first, then talk.

The Prognosis is Good...

Zane was sick this morning with a fever, so my husband stayed home and took him to the doctor. Zane does not like to go to the doctor, mostly because he hates for them to look at his throat. But Zane did relatively well today, and the doctor and my husband were able to have a bit of discussion. As Larry and Zane were leaving, the doctor asked "So how's the speech?"

"I think it's getting pretty good, actually," My husband replies.

"I do too," says Zane.

The doctor was still chuckling when they left, my husband reported.

Social Skills Tip of the Day

Check your shoes for the random piece of toilet paper, BEFORE you leave the bathroom, and make sure that your skirt is pulled down instead of stuck in your underpants.

Although that draft on your hind parts you feel might be refreshing...

Creeped Out

I was reading this article a couple of weeks ago. It's about UFO sightings.

http://www.cracked.com/article_18690_5-ufo-sightings-that-even-non-crazy-people-find-creepy.html

The last story in the article, about the pilot in Australia, for some reason just creeped me out. It didn't just creep me out then. Out of the blue, it showed up in my mind today and it STILL creeped me out.

For those with an attention span too short to look at the link, the story I'm referring to is about a pilot who was flying along the coast of Australia in the 70s. He called into a air control tower to ask about whether there was any air force activity going on where he was flying. When he was told 'no', he reported that there was some sort of aircraft that was flying around him and seemed to be chasing him at various points during his flight. He described what he could of the craft to the air controller over a period of time. And then he said something like "It's right above me and it's not an aircraft." That was the last time anyone heard from him, and they never found either him or his plane. EEEEK!!!!!

If something bothers me, I will research it and find out more about it. The idea that knowledge is power is something I buy into, and much of the time, it does help me alleviate any anxiety that I might have about whatever it is. I might still be anxious about something, but at least I'll have an idea about what to expect.

Not in this particular case! I'm actually getting creeped out(goosebumps are ACTUALLY on my arms!) right now just typing this. Now I don't know if I will even be able to fall asleep...great.

Declaring Independence

My son spent almost two hours this morning trying to put his own pants on. Zane was extremely determined to do this one task, and did not at all appreciate any help from either Mama or Daddy The one time I tried to help him resulted in a screaming hissy fit. Zane wants to be independent, and we are willing to let him try.

Finally, Zane stood up...and promptly fell down. Why? Because he put both legs through one of the pant legs! I didn't have the heart to say anything, because Zane acted really proud of himself as he hopped around the living room. He did it all by himself!!! I'm proud of him, but a little sad as well.

Parental Fears

Larry and I went to pick up Zane from daycare this afternoon. We were stopped at a light about a mile away when I noticed the flashing lights of emergency vehicles up on the hill in the direction we were going. My heart sped up a bit.

"I hope those are not at the daycare," I said. We drove through the intersection and up the hill. The lights got closer, we started to see that there was a fire truck AND an ambulance AND a police car, all congregated in the small daycare parking lot. In fact, there was no room for us to park because of all this, so we pulled up on the grass next to the police car. I could see people gathered around the back of the ambulance where the back doors were open.

I was terrified to walk around that ambulance, but I did it. The director and the assistant director were standing there. I could see a fleeting glimpse of little shoes on the stretcher. The assistant director saw us.

"It's not Zane." I felt myself take a breath. I hadn't realized that I was holding it while I waited to see who was in the ambulance. My rational brain should have reminded me that we would have gotten a phone call if something had happened to Zane, since we gave them about ten different numbers to call, but the rational brain takes a backseat when it comes to stuff like this.

We walked into the daycare, picked up Zane and walked back out to the car. We had to wait a couple of minutes in the car because another parent had parked behind us on the grass. Zane's chattering excitedly about "Happy Meal" and chicken nuggets from the backseat. Larry got a phone call from my brother, who happened to be driving by and wanted to know what was going on; while he's talking my initial numbness wore off. All those emotions-- fear that it could have been my kid in there, relief and thankfulness that it wasn't my boy, then guilt about being happy that it wasn't my child. Of course my response after all that was typical--I got all shaky and started trying to keep from crying. Larry just looked at me.

"Your sister's freaking out now," he informed my brother. I'm sure my brother didn't even act surprised.

I've probably got a lot more of these episodes to live with as my son grows up. He is a boy, after all, and an adventurous, spirited one at that. He's going to climb stuff, and trip over things, and sometimes he's going to get hurt, and it's part of being a parent to be with them through that as well as the good times. I just hope none of those future times involve an ambulance.

Cat Tales, Part 33457

Tiger loves to chase other cats. It's just about his most favoritest way to pass the time other than eating and barfing on the carpet. So when he's outside, he chases cats. When he's inside, he chases the other two cats. Well, he chases one cat in particular: Pounce.

Pounce is a calico cat, and calicos have a reputation for being a special bucket of crazy. She is no exception. She is more likely to leave claw marks on your leg from trying to get away from a loud sound on the television than any other cat on the planet. She hides under the bed at the slightest ruffle in her routine. Since Zane came along, she pretty much lives under the bed, and only ventures out when she thinks he's asleep or not here. We have had my mother-in-law and her yappy dog staying here, so Pounce has not ventured downstairs for many months. So when she does come downstairs to look around and maybe nap by the window, she also has to contend with Tiger and his cat chasing ways.

It wasn't always so. When Larry brought Pounce home as a kitten, Tiger decided that he was her mama. We would often find the two of them curled up together, or Tiger giving Pounce a bath, or some other cute domestic scene. Tiger even defended Pounce from Morris, at least once Morris noticed that there was another cat in the house(about six months after we brought Pounce home).

This morning, since Zane was at school and the MIL and yappy dog are at their own house, Pounce crept down the stairs. She came in the kitchen to greet me as I was washing dishes and then went to hang out in the living room. I noticed Tiger stalking her, but I was doing the dishes, so all I did was say "Tiger! No!" in my firm voice. Tiger is a smart cat, I've learned over the years. Tiger knows his name, and he definitely knows that 'no' means to stop what he is doing. He doesn't always listen, of course, but he knows those words. I also know that he heard me because he stopped and looked at me. Then he went back to stalking Pounce, and I got busy with the dishes for a few minutes.

All of a sudden I heard this horrible sound, and I turned off the water. It sounded like a cross between a baby crying and some sort of yowling. It sort of raised my hackles, because my first thought was that something had happened to Zane. Then I remembered that he was at daycare. When I investigated, I found Pounce wedged in the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs. In her haste to run away from Tiger, she forgot that she is too darn fat to get through the bars.

She was yowling, trying to pull herself through, but she had only been able to get her head and front legs through, and that was that. Tiger was hovering about--he actually looked concerned for Pounce for a second. Then he put his paw out to smack her on the butt.

Larry had been upstairs but also came to investigate when he heard the yowling. Between him pulling the bars apart and my holding Pounce(and with her frantically trying to continue to pull herself through the bars) and folding her front legs underneath her, we were able to extricate her from the gate. Tiger wanted to chase her again, so I grabbed him and put him outside for a few minutes. After Larry and I got Pounce calmer and made sure that no vet visit was needed, I let Tiger back in.

Pounce had settled herself in front of the window for a nap, and here comes Tiger, ready to stalk. This time, I made sure the baby gate is open.

My Brother is a Genius

My brother is younger than me, and when we were kids we used to have a lot of fistfights. Knockdown, dragout fights. Mostly we fought because he insisted on touching my Donny Osmond albums, which at the time was tantamount to invading a small country as a criminal event. Even today, the one person who can find and push my BIG RED BUTTON is my brother. Sometimes he does it just for fun, but it's a sibling thing, I guess. We can go out of our way to torture each other, but we are not okay with anyone else trying to do the same. I can remember times when we were growing up where someone would pick on me and my brother would jump in the middle of it all. I did the same for him. It's a good feeling to know that no matter what happens, your brother has your back.

So the other day I called my brother to talk to him about an issue I was having with someone at work. I guess I expected him to commiserate with me, at least a little, but what I really expected was for him to help me solve my problem. Because that's what he's good at. My brother can size up a business situation quickly and give you a solution to the issue, whatever that issue is. You may not like the answer, because part of your problem might be YOU. We are often the authors of a number of our own problems, and this was the case for me. I have come to terms with the fact that my number one vice is pride, although most of the time I ignore that, and this time my problem at work boiled down to my pigheadedness and pride. My brother immediately pointed this out to me, and told me what I needed to do to fix my problem. The solution involved me approaching the person I had an issue with and talking to them about it. So simple, yet so difficult, because of my pride.

It took everything for me to open up and talk to the person at work, but I was glad that I did. So I need to give credit where it is due. My brother is a genius. Unless he tries touching my Donny Osmond albums. Then I'll probably haul off and slug him. :)