Introducing Tucker

The new-pet saga finally has a happy ending. Meet Tucker.

I compromised on only one thing. He's a male instead of a female. But considering we paraded half the female dogs in the pound in front of him to check his hump-factor, (yeah, it was a little like a canine booty call) I'm happy to say he passed the test and came home with us. He's also submissive, obedient, smart, house trained, mellow and cuddly. AND he sleeps through being petted, hugged, and all the screaming, shouting and running that goes on in this house.

Oh...and this is his happy boy.

The Disapearing Blog

Yeah. I disappear alot on this blog. I'm actually not dead or anything, just busy with real life.

We are still on a dog hunt. The stinky shelter my son was going to adopt a dog from pulled one final blow and adopted the dog to someone else, the day before they told US she would be ready for us to adopt.

Me thinks they didn't like us so much.

It was just one among many strange and awful experiences with this shelter.

So our search continues for the perfect dog companion for my son.

And we're not picky or anything. It just has to be....

female
spayed
house broken
adult (1-3 years old)
small to medium sized
pleasant, cuddly and not hyper
obedient
good with kids

ok, so we're picky.

I can't wait to do the post where I get to show you the picture of our new dog and my kids smiling faces.

It's a-comin'.

Oh Well...

Uh....yeah. She lasted 11 hours.

Nine of those she was sleeping.

(see previous post)

This Is What We Call A Homeschool Experiment

My daughter quietly handed me this note this evening...

My question......Why?

Her answer...

Uhhh....oh kaaaay.

I'm thinking she'll last just until she realizes that she has a friend coming over Sunday. What do you think?

Another Example Of Teen Listening Skills

I was explaining to my husband about the sweet Fathers Day card that I found to give to my dad. With a lump in my throat I explained the picture on front...

"It has a picture of a little girl standing on her Daddy's feet and he's dancing her around. I remember doing that with my Dad only he had different shoes but I'm wearing white tights just like the little girl in the picture."

Allegra pipes in at just that moment with total shock...

"Your Dad wore tights??!?!?!?!?"

Oh Lord, give me patience.

Visitation Day

You might have read about our adoption attempts earlier in the week. No...not the people kind, the DOG kind. We finally have a date. If no problems arise (ohplease ohplease ohplease)we'll have her on June 27th.

And with that good news we decided to go visit her yesterday.

We are very smitten.

A Much Easier Explanation

We were watching a move tonight where the main characters ended up getting married. And I guess (well, I'm hoping) that marriage reminded my five year old of his Mom and Dad. Because his wheels started turning and as his mind rolled around the concept of marriage he asked this question...

"Dad, where was I when you and Mommy got married?"

But before we could decide whether to come at this from a "birds and bees" angle or not, Gabriel decided to come at it from a different sort of angle and answered his own question...

"I think I was in Starbucks."

Obviously we drink way too much coffee in this house.

And This Is My Daughter....Grumpy

Our house is noisy. It just is. There are six of us and if you get us all together in the same room there are usually multiple conversations going on at once. Now, being the Mom, I'm able to have a conversation and listen to another one at the same time. I can ask someone a question, break up an argument, issue chore reminders, and still get back to the original question, all in a matter of seconds.

Years of practice folks.

So, we were all in the vicinity of the kitchen. The kids were talking at the table in loud voices and Chris and I were puttering around in the kitchen. It was noisy and busy and chaotic. I noticed Chris was looking kind of gruff so in an effort to make sure that he wasn't upset with me about something I gently asked, "Honey, are you feeling grumpy?"

I know. Maybe not the smartest question but I asked it in my best June Cleaver voice.

honest.

And our house just happens to be full of grumpy as well as multiple other mood swings because we have fresh teens just breaking their teeth on their new hormones. Such a fun....fun....fun time. (eyes rolling)

But just as Chris turned to answer, my daughter said this...

"Huh? Did someone say my name?"

Apparently she thinks her name is "grumpy" now.

Dog Terrorist? Nah. God Truster? Oh Yeah!

I admit it. We've been scoping the local pounds for the perfect family dog. We've looked at close to 40 and finally found one that we all fell in love with. This is no small thing for us. I've been anti-pet for years but when our teenage son came to us with his very own puppy-dog eyes and a written request and plan to pay all expenses himself (including a percentage put into a savings account every month to cover unexpected vet bills)....and then went out and found his own lawn mowing work and in a matter of one month raised over $150 dollars...I knew we were going to be adding a new family member soon.

We went into the pound and interacted with a beautiful American Eskimo dog. She was so obedient and patient and well mannered. She liked us...we all (yeah, me too!) fell in love with her...it was a match. I asked several questions...

How much will it cost?

Does she get along with other dogs?

Has she ever nipped at anyone?

Is she potty-trained?

Is she a purebred?

Is she fixed yet?

Come to find out she was in heat and couldn't be fixed yet. So my next question was (since she was a purebred, I know nothing about dog abusers and I'm a homeschooling mom..."What a great learning experience to let her have one litter and study up on stud service, the birth process, how a mommy dog cares for her babies") "Can we breed her once and then get her fixed?" Most likely we wouldn't have done it, but I thought I'd ask.

Uh...guess that was the wrong question. We were immediately declared puppy mill breeders, their tone changed and we were instantly the enemy. They wouldn't let us adopt her until after she was spayed, they wouldn't hold her for us, nothing. Case closed. We could call back once a week and see if she was fixed yet, but no promises.

Yeah, I feel a bit like I just walked through the airport screaming "I have a bomb!"

Needless to say I have a heartbroken boy. But you know what? What a great lesson and I'll tell you why.

All along we've been praying for the right dog to fit into our family. That the Lord wouldn't let us make any mistakes and that His timing would prevail over our passionate rush to get a new cuddly dog. I got to talk to the kids about trusting God's plans and timing, about my own moments of pain and struggle and the times I weathered the storm and looked back thanking God for those hard times and the fruit that they brought to my life. And their disappointment and anger began to soften and seep away.

And mine did too.

And at the end of the day a broken teenage boy kissed me good night and said, "I'm so glad you're my Mom. I feel so much better."

My guess is we'll still have a dog soon. The perfect dog for us. But the lessons we're going to learn along the way and the great story that we'll have to tell will make it an even deeper experience.

I'm Not Sure If That Would Still Be Considered Politically Correct

While I was off at a homeschool meeting all day Saturday, Chris took all the kids to their first Native American Pow-Wow. The only reason I found out was due to the fact that when I came home and walked in the door, Gabe was wearing only his underwear and had one kitchen towel tucked in the front and one tucked in the back loin-cloth-style. He was dancing around the house on one foot singing "Hubba-hubba, Hubba-hubba."

It seems that if he doesn't know the words, he'll just plug something in there that sounds familiar.

He also didn't quite get the phrase "Native Americans" because all he could tell me about the Pow-Wow was...

1. He saw a bunch of "Nekkid Americans" and


2. It is a fact that even "Nekkid American" children like to pick their nose and eat their boogers.

I'm not quite sure how he figured out number two, but I'm too scared to ask.