Ah, Mother’s Day. A whole day to relax and be pampered. Mine started out with loud whispering, “Daddy, can I watch ‘Fantastic Four’?”, “SHHHHH, don’t wake Mommy. It’s Mother’s Day!” Nice try. I appreciated the effort.

Later , J.T. gave me three handmade cards. And by far, my favorite is the one he wrote in cursive that compared me to an amphibian, a pre-historic mammal, an anteater and a bird that picks gunk out of alligator teeth. Some might find this a little off putting, but knowing my animal loving son, these are the biggest compliments I could ever receive. 

The snake-like amphibian he compared me to, he explained, is known to protect their young. The pre-historic mammal provides food, the anteater represented giving attention, and the gator-mouth-cleaning bird symbolized helping other people. That’s tear jerker stuff right there, if only to this mom.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who protects, provides, helps and loves.

I wish I was a 5th grader. At least for this week. Monday night I spoke to two 5th graders who are in our nation’s capitol. George Lasko and Austin Keefe are with a group of students, parents and teachers from St. Timothy’s Preparatory School. They are two among millions who are eye witnesses to history. Their age affords them a unique perspective to this amazing event. 

After a day filled with sight seeing, I get the sense their group is absorbing every detail. Austin appreciated the stop at the Lincoln Memorial and offered up an interesting tidbit. There is a misspelling, or technically a mis-carving, on the North wall.  An “E” was supposed to be an “F” for “Future”.  The bottom line was filled in to correct the error. Austin said, “It was like Wite-Out!”  

He also told me the back of Lincoln’s head looks like Robert E. Lee. I had never heard that one before. But apparently the Lincoln Memorial is legendary for some interesting myths. Many visitors scope out the back of Lincoln’s head and see what looks like the face of Lee or U.S. Grant or even Jefferson Davis, but according to the National Park Service, it’s just how the tufts of hair flow. Still, those tufts must look pretty cool!

The term “cool” was used a lot. But with true enthusiasm. The inverted ‘V’ shape of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was, “cool” and so was the fact that it showed “everybody who gave their life to keep our nation safe,” as Austin reflected.

George’s favorite part of Monday’s tour was the Lincoln Memorial, “Just being at the memorial and seeing all of the bunch of history about him. The inscription on the wall, just seeing how it is, is just an amazing feeling.”  

Another memorable moment was at Arlington National Cemetery where 8th grader David Rechtin and 6th grader, Heather Park, laid a wreath on behalf of the group at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. And on a few smaller scales, they also saw a statue of Albert Einstein, ate lunch at Union Station and rode the Metro to dinner.

Tuesday’s adventure starts at 4 am for the group but as George immediately reminded me, “That’s 1 a.m. California time.” He also says it will take at least an hour to get through security in the morning. The shear excitement of what the day holds will hopefully energize them (especially the adults!) through the long day, which will end after they attend an Inaugural Ball. Very cool.

It seemed from the moment my beloved, albeit barky, Jack Russell Terrier, took his last breath the begging started for a new dog. J.T. wasn’t begging. It was my husband, Stephan. Ace died two summers ago while I was in Texas visiting family. Soon e mails began to arrive with photos of Labrador Retriever puppies. 

I was not gung-ho to get a new dog, let alone a breed notorious for non-stop chewing for the first couple of years. We still had our sweet desert rescued mix, Dolly. Wasn’t that enough for a while? But Stephan wouldn’t be swayed, “I’ve always wanted a big dog.” Now, I stay at home, so who do you think was going to truly be taking care of this new dog? Exactly. But, because I love him, I finally agreed.

Trout was from an “oops litter”. His mom & dad weren’t scheduled to hook-up, so to speak. As long as we promised not to breed him, he was only $100. For his argument, Stephan really pushed this tidbit, “He’s a pure bred Lab for only one hundred dollars, we can’t pass this up!” That excited utterance haunts him to this day. Me too.

We brought Trout home at 3 months old. Two months later he had to have double elbow surgery. In Orange County. By the leading dog elbow specialist in the country. Back at home, for 60 days he had to be crated, only let out by leash to potty. Medications administered. Follow-up appointments. And yes, I did the bulk of the care taking. I bonded with the little bugger during that time. Go figure.

His medical care costs aside, Stephan’s bargain dog has rung up quite the tab: 

• Chain Link Fence Repair, three times - Accent Fence Co. is on speed dial
• Carpet shredded in my car
• Carpet damaged in the house
• One lawnmower, seriously
• BBQ grill knobs & grill cover
• One scooter - ate the tires
• One bicycle - chewed a tire and ate the seat and handle bars
• Toys - too numerous, we’ve lost count
• Our patio furniture cushions
• The neighbor’s patio furniture cushions
• Cedar fence planks replaced - he pops them off and uses for chew toys
• Firewood - drags big logs to the yard to chew on
• Inflatable pool
• Numerous leashes & collars
• “Foreign matter” - according to an x-ray tech, Dr. Jessen is on speed dial too
• Shoes - surprisingly not too many, one of JT’s and one of my Mom’s
• Sprinkler system repair, twice
• Many dog beds, including Dolly’s

My Dad suggests we get one of those digital signs like the one that clicks off the national debt. I’m thinking we need to ask for a bail out. Not any crazier than Larry Flynt asking for one. Am I right? 

It’s not that we don’t keep an eye on him. All the listed activity was over the course of the past year and a half. If he has a moment on his own, he’s probably chewing something. He’s taught us not to leave him alone much. 

Trout is learning how to behave in the house. With minor lapses from time-to-time which include a recent attempt to scarf down a half loaf of cheese bread. (Not to worry, he’s laid back enough to let me reach into his gullet and pull most of it out without resisting.) And stealing the guinea pig’s water dispenser right off her cage. We’re not sure how or why, but it is brightly colored, could easily be mistaken for a chew toy.

Trout loves J.T., especially his toys. We often hear hollering from down the hall, “Trout! Not yours! Mine!” Immediately followed by a flash of black fur running by with a colorful stuffed toy in his mouth. 

While he may not be living up to all the promises made when he negotiated for Trout (guess who vacuums up more of the cat sized amounts of fur behind Trout’s kennel, me) Stephan truly loves this dog. When Trout broke into the neighbor’s yard and gorged himself on their dog food requiring a midnight trip to the animal E.R. Stephan pulled out a sleeping bag and slept right next to him in the backyard all night.  

Surprisingly, despite all his antics, he is the most lovable dog we’ve ever had. Everything he does is infused with a goofy innocence. He’s the epitome of happy-go-lucky. He’s a champ at the “Find It” game. And he’s provided a lot of laughs. Once while watching “The Real Housewives of the O.C.” I paused the dvr (for Stephan, by-the-way). Trout immediately began to bark at the wife frozen on the screen. (Those wives can be kinda scary.) Another time, Dolly was in the house alerting me to the presence of a pack of squirrels on the back yard fence. I looked outside, sure enough six squirrels. Trout was obliviously laying in the grass, playing with a bug. (I video taped it so my husband could witness his great hunting dog in “action”.)

Trout holding a big chunk of ice in his mouth.

They say once a Lab hits two (or three) you’ll have a great dog. And as we get closer to the two year mark he does seem to be (slowly) mellowing. After stealing toys and counter surfing he is content to lounge around the living room, snoring like a trucker. 

The point of this blog entry, while yes, to vent, is primarily a timely cautionary tale. With the recent release of a few dog themed movies comes the inevitable Hollywood induced desire for one of those lovable or well trained pooches from the big screen. Keep in mind, they don’t come with their own trainers or their own big movie budget.

Ah, Thanksgiving Day. A time of frenzied activity in the kitchen. In-laws, friends, distant relatives milling in and out. Turkey’s in the oven, side dishes being whipped up. Inventory check: plates, utensils, napkins, booze. During all the mayhem, who’s entertaining the kids? The one thing that didn’t make it on the long list of holiday prep and possibly the most important… keep the kids occupied! 

Chances are you have more children around than usual. They feed off the excitement/tension/stress in the air. They know the adults are distracted. They are poised to seize the opportunity to stage a coup faster than you can say, “Pass the crescent rolls.”  

Tipjunkie.blogspot.com recommends assigning age-appropriate duties: collecting coats, passing out appetizers, taking pictures or video. But might I suggest a little improv theater. Gather up the youngin’s, assign roles; Pilgrims, Native Americans, the Mayflower. The littlest ones can even be animals, vegetables or Plymouth Rock. Using crayons or markers, have them decorate their own costumes out of brown paper grocery bags. (You know the ones shoved under the sink or wedged together on a shelf in the pantry.) Once they’re all decked out they can reenact the First Thanksgiving from their perspective. (This could also be performed as a puppet show using smaller brown paper bags.)

This big time filler works for any number of kiddos. Last year we only had two younger children in attendance for Thanksgiving. So, J.T. was both the Mayflower and a Pilgrim. He drew a ship on the bag he wore and taped up a paper bag pilgrim hat. Our friends’ 5 year-old daughter was a Native American princess. The highlight of their performance was when the Princess went off script, savagely attacking the Pilgrim with a suction-cup arrow to the head. However, in the true spirit of Thanksgiving, they put the incident behind them and enjoyed a fun feast of plastic toy groceries. All the while, camcorder rolling, capturing the First Thanksgiving, or a loose interpretation there of, on video. 

Some Thanksgiving memories don’t require photos or video to leave a long lasting impression, they just stick with you. Once I was invited to a college friend’s house for Thanksgiving.  His wheelchair bound grandmother took one look at me, clutched her chest, sucked in a huge breath and held it for what seemed like an extremely unnatural amount of time. Startled and wide eyed, but still wanting to make a good impression, I shakily put out my hand and introduced myself. To which she relaxed, exhaled and responded, “Oh, I thought you were Jennifer, but she’s been dead for three years.”  I spent the rest of that day feeling her eyes follow my every move. 

Who was Jennifer? Good question. (I never found out.) And Twenty Questions is a good waiting to eat time filler for kids. One player chooses someone or something related to Thanksgiving, says, “I am thinking of a person, place or thing”. The other players try to guess what it is by asking no more than twenty “yes”, “no” or “I don’t know” questions.  And if the children at your Thanksgiving table have questions about the holiday (let’s face it, as parents we don’t know everything) you can find plenty of answers at www.thanksgiving-day.org.

If Twenty Questions doesn’t do it for them, turn them on to http://blackdog.net/holiday/thanks/ where you’ll find a Turkey Matching Memory Game (be forewarned about the somewhat freaky gobble-gobble sound when a match is made) or Turk-Tac-Toe. As the “knife & fork” symbol you attempt to beat your opponent, a turkey. (I won 3 to 2, tying once. That turkey is a shrewd competitor.) Also on this site, create Your Own Thanksgiving Story. Your child answers a few fill-in-the-blank questions and their own Thanksgiving story appears. (I inserted answers for J.T. and the story ends with our dog Trout causing quite the ruccus. Which is not just relegated to the holidays, just as likely to hold true on any given day.) 

Speaking of pets wreaking havoc at Thanksgiving. Anytime you’ve got something good cooking, the pets are bound to notice. As is evident in one of my all time favorite Thanksgiving stories. This actually happened to a childhood friend. Her dad insisted on using an outdoor smoker to cook the turkey and a ham.  As she recalls, it was a big production with dad staying up all night. Sweet in retrospect, but usually sparked drama between her parents. And, she says, the turkey was usually dry. One holiday morning while her dad took a quick nap, she, her mom and brother walked out to find their dog had knocked over the smoker and was going to town on the not yet fully cooked turkey. The ham however was undisturbed.  Her mother grabbed the turkey, washed it down with the garden hose, put it back on the smoker and swore them to secrecy. The turkey was later carved before being served to their unsuspecting extended family. All commented on how tasty and moist it turned out. (They assume the water hose did the trick.) My friend, her mother and brother, needless to say, ate the ham.

Not to add to your long Thanksgiving To-Do list, but you might throw an idea on there to keep the kids occupied, and maybe one for the pets too. 

If you already have a fool proof idea on keeping the children entertained, please, share! Otherwise, I would enjoy hearing about your favorite Thanksgiving story. Even if it happened to someone else. Those are often the best.

Confession: I hate grocery shopping. I do. Not the stores, just the task. I simply dread the (at least) once a week mandatory trip. I make a list, sometimes it’s just in my head, which guarantees I will forget a lot of stuff and have to go back. I am easily distracted by all the pretty colors, packaging, and things I didn’t know I needed until I saw it. In an attempt to alleviate the monotony of grocery shopping I’ve tried using the time to catch up with family and friends on the cell phone. But I have found this really screws me up. I can’t do both. I’ll get engrossed in chatting and cruise through whole aisles missing items from my list completely. Which means I gotta double back and start over.

And don’t get me started on going with children. Ah, too late.  As many of you have experienced, this can be equal to the discomfort of a root canal. “I want to ride on the cart.” “Why will it flip over?” “Can I have…?”, “PLEASE?!” “But whyyyyy not?” “What’s high fructose corn syrup?” “I like syrup.” “But the (insert ANY cartoon character here) popsicles are way better than the all fruit ones!” Nails on a chalkboard.

But I have discovered the grocery store holds some mild secret entertainment. The other day a product stopped me in my wobbly grocery cart tracts. Foca, liquid detergent for clothes. When I read the product name a spontaneous laugh slipped out, causing another woman in the aisle to give me that we-don’t-have-fun-at-the-grocery-store glare. Foca, in big red letters on a blue bottle with a seal on the label.  Now, I actually knew (learned it from a Goldie Hawn movie, but double checked on the internet) that Foca is Portuguese for Seal. Despite knowing it has a true meaning, still funny. Say it out loud, and just try not to giggle.

This next one I spotted by chance in the little organic food section at the neighborhood store. Soyrizo. Soy-rizo. I did a double take. Then took a photo, e-mailed it to Stephan and jokingly inquired if he wanted me to pick some up. If you’re not familiar with Mexican food, Chorizo is a spicy (and I mean spicy) pork sausage. A very manly food. Puts hair on your chest. It is my husband’s first love. My dad would probably put it in cereal if my mom would let him. And my brother-in-law is completely insulted if it is even remotely suggested he have a bean & cheese breakfast taco, hold the chorizo. The fact that it’s a pretty hearty sausage with no redeeming healthy qualities, makes it incomprehensible that Soy-rizo can come close to tasting like the real thing. In my opinion, it’s just wrong! 

In the pet aisle, Kitty Grass. Pricilla’s Kitty Grass, “It’s not just for kitties any more.” Live Kitty Grass, $4.99. I just.. can’t… won’t say anything about that. 

And I don’t think I need to elaborate too much on Boudreaux’s Butt Paste (for severe diaper rash, incase you didn’t know) or from the meat counter, big sign overhead, “Pork Butt Special”. Seriously.

The pharmacy aisles don’t disappoint. There I have discovered Super Macho Supplements and Dr. J.H. McLean’s Volcanic Oil, Turpentine Oil Pain Relieving Liniment. The supplements are packaged in an eye-catching bright yellow box with a stud-ly bull head on the label which immediately appealed to my pure curiosity. On the label, “high potency formula with bovine glandular concentrate”.  That’s where my curiosity ended and I put the box back on the shelf. Some things I just don’t need to know about. 

As for the liniment, I got the impression from the packaging this product has been around for a while. Yep. Developed in the 1800’s by a Mr. McLean (medicine was more of a hobby) to treat various ailments from muscle aches, sprains, bug bites and it’s even a “convenient home liniment for livestock.” (For external use only) The product contains pure gum turpentine and sassafras. All funny stuff. But you’ve got to wonder, if a product has been around for over 120 years, it might actually be worth trying. My great Granny-Bo had a home liniment recipe and we all swear by it. Smelled awful, in a clear-your-nasal-passages way, but it worked great. 

So if you find grocery runs tedious, monotonous, draining or boring, next time be on the look out for the funny side of shopping. It won’t take more time, all the items listed above were discovered at various stores over the course of numerous regularly scheduled trips. (Just to clarify, I wasn’t some nut job running from aisle to aisle reading labels and laughing hysterically by myself, in case that’s what you envisioned.) I’m not promising you’ll actually look forward to the task of grocery shopping, just a slightly more bearable experience. But try to keep your giggles to yourself so as not to disturb the other shoppers.

The topic of this entry was inspired by a friend out in Colorado. She’s in the trenches of potty training her son and recently expressed wonder as to why her friends had never warned her that potty training can be scary. Which got me to thinking, ’tis the season to share scary stories! (And what’s scarier than poop?)

I’ll start… About five years ago, we were out and about when J. T. announced he had “poopies”. We were in “training” at the time and I’d taken a chance putting him in “big boy” underwear, aka, underwear with a superhero on them. (As if the presence of the superhero would influence our son to use the toilet.)  As his shorts sagged with the extra weight I guided him to the nearest public restroom. I carefully removed his underwear, leaned over and proceeded to discard the remnants into the toilet, which created a splash that, as if in slow motion, soaked me full on in the face. Not enough abrasive facial cleanser in the world. 

A friend in Pennsylvania sent me this little gem. Her son was taking a shower while she helped her daughter with homework. Until he walked into the kitchen with the shampoo bottle, handed it to her and then, in her other hand, he placed a “huge, man sized…” you get the picture. She turned to her daughter and they broke out into uncontrollable laughter. After reading that one, I came close to having my own potty accident. When the tears cleared, I thought, now what other kiddo would have the courtesy to not leave it in the shower for someone to stumble upon later. If you think about it, it was really a thoughtful gesture on his part. Falling under the category of picking up your own mess… but then handing it to Mommy. 

And then there is the Poop v. Slide story. This hails from Texas. And yes, it’s a whopper. My sister took her two daughters to a fairly chi-chi park in Fort Worth. Now, if you have the common misconceptions about Texans, you’re envisioning moms dressed to the nines with every big hair in its place. In this instance, you’d be right on. So you can imagine my sister’s sheer mortification when she realized that her 2 year old had not only pooped all down the slide, leaving a generous dollop at the landing, but that another woman’s child had actually slid through it. I’m pretty sure Sis will not be returning to that particular park. Or even that she’d be allowed back in.

Back to my friend in Colorado, so far she’s been playing offense in the battle to potty train her son by always being prepared. After a successful week she was feeling pretty confident. (And we all know that’s when they get ya.)  After a park outing he announces he’s pooped (and I don’t mean tired). They head to the truck and well, let me let her tell it… “He lays down for me to change him.  As I take his shoes off, blue jeans, and then go for the underwear, yep, a big poop. I am trying to get the underwear off, so as I get it, the poop gets on his legs and starts to fall out, I grab it with my hands and the poop falls out of his underwear and lands on his chest. He screams, my eyes pop out.  But, I have to stay calm.  I just pick it up.  And put it into a doggy bag.  I now have poop on me too.  I stay calm although I want to scream. I then clean everything up and take a wipe to clean myself and him. The whole time I am thinking of the slide story and really want to just puke! I then have to drive around town with a big poop in a bag in my backseat until I get home. I placed everything in my trash can, his underwear included.” 

(I’ll give you a moment to take a breath and remove your hands from your gaping mouth. Well, at least I needed that moment when I originally read her story.)

I searched the net for more hilarious horror stories. (Really, once you get past that gag reflex, these stories are funny.)  I came across a site where one mom, so obviously frustrated with the messiness of parenting, posted a desperate plea for some funny potty training stories. She went so far as to say do not send advice, she’d had enough. Just needed a good laugh to get her through. I scrolled down thinking I’d hit the jack-pot, but not one response fit the bill. They each included words of support, advice, tips. Not a scary story in the bunch! I felt for her. We’ve all been there. Those times when you can’t take in any more advice, ya just need a good laugh.   

There are no magic words of advice that can get you through the horrors of cleaning up poop or to help get passed the “I need to be scrubbed down like Meryl Streep in ‘Silkwood’!” feeling. I believe, you just do whatever works for each child, whether it’s M&Ms (1 for No. 1 and 2 for No. 2) or piddle targets or cheering like a college co-ed when you hear the most successful sound to a potty training parent, “Plop!”. So when it gets scary out there, do what my friend in Colorado did, stay calm and then what girlfriend out in Pennsylvania did, just laugh. And my only advice, is be mindful of the splash!

Recently one morning I was watching the news as J.T. ate his cheese toast (a traditional family recipe) when he blurts out in a truly exasperated tone, “Enough with the election already, I just… want to know… about Halloween!” I can relate. The on going news coverage is relentless. It’s draining. You can’t escape it. It’s affecting everyone.

For example, two friends were over one afternoon last Spring when they broke out into a heated debate about the potential presidential nominees. Both parties were represented so it was a true debate. “My mom says so-and-so should be president!” “Oh, yeah? Well, my dad says so-and-so should be president!” (Did I mention the two friends were 6 year-olds?) At one point, I guess in an attempt at a tie breaker, they both turned to J.T. and asked, “Who are you voting for?” He said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

It dawned on me, it’s time to have “the talk”, the real tricky one about patriotic duty and the executive branch. We held out as long as we could, really just leaving it up to “School House Rock”. So, in the simplest terms I explained how our president is elected, how historic this particular election was shaping up to be and how you choose a candidate based on whether they believe in the same things you do. Throughout my explanation, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. I quickly emphasized how he really didn’t have to worry about it until he turned 18. I was wrong. His school is holding a mock election on November 4th. So J.T. will have to make a decision, a few years early.

Apparently the simplest way to demonstrate the voting process is to take your child with you when you vote. (www.takeyourkids2vote.org) I’ve done that but I may have started too early. When J.T. was about three I told him we were walking over to Crockett Elementary to go vote. He immediately donned a safari hat and vest and grabbed his binoculars.  I thought he was gearing up for the walk until half-way there he said, “I can’t wait to see the Crocket-dile-mentary on the boat!” He was sorely disappointed. No crocket-dile and no boat.

Despite the full throttle election coverage, Halloween is actually the most important topic at our house. Come to think of it, it’s very much like the election process. Discussions start in November of the previous year. J.T. begins to compile his list of potential costumes. It’s a living breathing list, changing and morphing through-out the year depending on what he reads, sees or can imagine. He weighs the pros and cons of each get-up. He even does periodic polls, “Which costume do you like best? What is your favorite costume idea? Which one do you believe is the best possible costume?” Costume candidates are systematically voted out. Lately, I’ve voted for the ones that require little money and even less work to put together. 

Quite the change from last year when we suggested he draw his own costume. It was a monster with brown fur, purple spots, yellow teeth and 4 green googly eyes, called the “The Chupacabra”. However, I didn’t want him to translate “Goat Sucker” at his elementary school. He changed it to “The Creeper Monster”. So, with some faux fur, felt and styrofoam balls we whipped up what he had envisioned. I think the commitment to J.T. having a costume he loves stems from when I was 7 and wanted to be a Mummy. But a last minute major glitch with the toilet paper based garment scrapped that dream and I ended up being a sheet ghost. It was a very Charlie Brown moment for me. But we all have those, right?

It’s now down to the wire and J.T. is leaning towards a simpler costume, the Cairo Swordsman from “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. Black robe, sword, beard. Simple. And as the election looms and the economy wavers I’m sure more families are looking for simpler and cheaper costumes. Check out www.coolest-homemade-costumes.com for some very interesting ideas like a Flyswatter, Loofah, Pinata and my personal favorite, worn proudly by what appears to be a 10 year-old girl, the Easy Mac ‘n Cheese.  For some great step-by-step costumes, www.familyfun.go.com. And for the procrastinators out there, the night before or even day of is not too late, go to www.familycrafts.about.com for fast and simple last minute ideas. Let me know what costumes win in your family.

Of course you could just dress ‘em up as your favorite Presidential or Vice Presidential Candidate. We just can’t get enough of those characters!

“Mommy, next time you go to the store would you please get a cucumber so I can put it in water and make a pickle?” J.T. recently made this request. And immediately, in my head, I’m saying, “What tha?! Why do we need to make a pickle? Why can’t I just pick up a jar of pickles, already pickled?” Of course, that’s not what I did. I bought a cucumber and am now in the process of finding out how to make a pickle. 

I freely admit I am intimidated by cooking and pickling is no exception. I tend to develop a form of dyslexia when reading recipes, always leaving out an ingredient or misreading the measurements or simply skipping steps altogether. I’ve started fires on the stove and in both the toaster oven (in my defense a corn dog does come on a wooden stick and that is pure kindling in my book) and in the microwave, one time even resulting in an small explosion.

So with great trepidation I go online to scope out the pickling process and come to find out I’ve already screwed it up. I’ve picked the wrong kind of cucumber. Apparently it should look more like a pickle as a cucumber than like a cucumber. I’m so confused already.  And just what exactly is “de-scumming the brine”, sounds very painful. At this point I’m hoping J.T. forgets about this request. 

Which could happen, he is amply distracted since we’re adding to our pet population. Currently we have two dogs. Dolly is a desert rescued shepherd-mix with a gimpy foot that doesn’t slow her down. And then there is Trout. (Deep breath. Sigh.) Trout is a year old Black Lab. He’s my husband’s dog. To tell his story will require a separate blog entry and a calculator. So stay tuned for that one. I apologize in advance, it will be more like a venting session for me. 

As little boys will do, (and some times big boys when they really, really want their very own big dog)  J.T. has been heavily negotiating for a new pet. So far he’s asked for any one of the following: chinchilla, bearded dragon, snake, tarantula, chameleon, gerbil, frog and turtle. Oh, and when he was 3 he asked to bring a baby gorilla home from the zoo. 

Despite still reeling from the last time I agreed to a new pet, J.T. managed to soften me up to the idea.  So we asked our vet what he thought would be a good choice for a 7 year-old boy.  He recommended a guinea pig. And, turns out, a classmate’s mom had one too many and was looking for a good home for their extra guinea pig. We brought her home last week.  

We have since discovered there is a huge community surrounding the love and even borderline obsession for Guinea Pigs, who knew? There are extensive discussion boards with forum topics ranging from adopting a rescued piggy (once again, who knew?) to ‘In Memory Of…’ (very sad, don’t read those without tissue handy).  And apparently those who truly revere their furry rodents, post videos of them doing things like dancing to “Jungle Boogie” or singing “The Banana Boat Song” and even dressing them up in super-hero costumes. I won’t go into detail about the ones of guinea pigs giving birth. (Why? Why?! I’ll never get that image out of my head!) 

But our family favorite has to be the instructional videos on guinea pig care. These are done by a sweet British woman who demonstrates things like giving her pet a bath. Who, as she holds her little pig on it’s back under a running tap, pleasingly states, (use a British accent here) “Oh, she pretends she doesn’t like it, but I think she really does!” Meanwhile, the little critter is obviously frozen with fear. It’s kinda like watching Julia Child but with a soaking wet guinea pig instead of a succulent pot roast. Oh, that reminds me, just in case you should do your own guinea pig research, be forewarned, they are considered cuisine in Peru. Seriously.

For the most part we’re finding guinea pigs are pretty simple critters to care for, as long as your little one agrees to do his part. When we talked about bringing “No-name-yet” home we asked J.T. what we should do if he complains about cleaning up after her. His prompt response was, “Well, I don’t complain about picking up the dog poop?” He had us there. He really doesn’t complain about it. Just does it. Although he reserves the right to comment on all the chewed up toy parts that turn up in Trout’s droppings. 

So the debate about what to name our new furry friend is on going. Stephan calls her “Guinea-guinea” in a sort of a sing-song-y way. (It’s kinda cute.)  J.T. initially wanted to call her “Zoey,” but then changed it to “Padme” (as in Luke’s mother from “Star Wars”) then to “Furry” and now to a name Stephan and I keep mispronouncing and flat out forgetting. It’s another “Star Wars” reference, so we’re told, but it just isn’t sticking. I personally think we should name her “Pickles”.

If you’ve got a pet name suggestion, pass it along. If you’d like more information on pets check out: http://pets.vvdailypress.com/. And if you’re interested in the pickle making process go to,  http://www.pickyourown.org/makingpickles.htm. Let me know how it goes, but please, dumb it down for me. 

When Gretchen Losi asked me if I would be interested in doing the Mommy Blog, I thought, ‘Does the world need another mommy blog? I mean, really?’ According to an article in The Wall Street Journal there are over 200,000 parenting and family blogs. That’s a small number compared to what pops up on Google, over 760,000. Seriously? 

And there seems to be a different topic or spin on each one, ranging from basic tips and trends in parenting to one family that blogs on their efforts to live “Car Free”.  (I’m all for living green, but living car free will not be the focus of this blog. Ever.) 

In my extensive online research, (Okay, I just googled a lot while watching d.v.r. recordings of “Law & Order”.) I found blogs with cutes-y banter about toddlers and their bathroom habits, (have I got a poop vs slide story for you, thanks to my niece, and it ain’t cute!) to Stay at Home Dads offering up their unique perspective on day-to-day life. 

I even learned a few things, like “fursing”.  Well, I actually knew about it, just didn’t know it had a name. A blogger from Australia clued me in. It’s what most parents do (except for my husband) after having kids, it stands for “fake cursing”. Like “Fudge!”, “Cheese and crackers!”, “Son of a biscuit!” Fake cursing. I admit, I don’t use it as often as I should. Case-in-point; while on a Utah trip when my son was 3 we had him bundled up like that kid in “A Christmas Story” and I was struggling to strap him into his car seat. He looked up at me and asked, “Mommy, do you need to say ‘damn it’?” I did. But I didn’t. Just giggled.

Another thing I learned in my “research” was that despite there being hundreds of thousands of parenting/family blogs, there’s only one in the High Desert. This one. Oh, that’s not to say you won’t find lots of results for ‘High Desert mommy blog’, just not an actual Mommy Blog. You might find, however, a local man who impersonates Ozzy Osbourne. I did. And it startled me. The likeness was uncanny. (I want him at my 40th Birthday party.)  So, since the Ozzy impersonator is not a mom, at least his MySpace page didn’t give me that impression, I humbly accept the task.

I’ve been a mom for 7 years, to J.T. (We’re going to go with initials for the kiddos on this particular blog. No reason, just saw it on another blog.) His dad, Stephan, and I have been married 12 years. Before I had J.T. I worked in television news, before that, in radio as a copy writer and way before that as a late night D.J., spinning the best of the 70’s, 80’s and today - it was the early 90’s. We’re from Texas, so on occasion you will read the term, ‘y’all’. Just giving you a heads up on that one. We’ve been in the High Desert for about 4 years and can’t get enough of those fall early morning temps.

I will attempt to continue the tradition of letting you know what is going on for families in our area and I’ll probably even throw in some tips, trends and green living ideas. In the meantime, I’d love to hear your creative “furse” words. I’ll pass ‘em on to my husband. (Stephan, only J.T. & I can hear you when you yell at other drivers.)