Wordless Wednesday: Snowy Days Are Here!

Wordless Wednesday: Our House Is Never Dull

Wordless Wednesday: Llama Feeding Time!

What is the strangest animal you ever got to feed?

My Creepy-Crawly Month

If I see one more creepy crawler, I’m going to scream! We recently had to have some work done on our sewage pipes, and it stirred up a bunch of house centipedes. The first one I saw flitting across my bathroom at about 1:00 in the morning! And the last one I pulled out of the kitchen drain with my bare hands with some orange rind that my daughter accidentally dropped in the sink. Oh, I was NOT happy at all!

Fast forward only a few days. Several stink bugs decided that my house would be their perfect home. Eventually, one of them landed on my right cheek just as I was beginning to drift off to sleep. I don’t think I’ve ever jumped so high in my life as I flew out of bed trying to get away from the disgusting thing.

Then, this week tiny little gnats discovered they could squeeze through our window screens. Between them and the fleas that my dog brought home from the vet, my kids and I have been itching at every thought of pests. And I feel awful because my son and daughter are suffering from the first bug bites of the year.

So, a good part of today was spent stocking up on pest-killing gear (kid and pet safe, of course) and going all postal on these unwelcome guests! And on the way home, who should pop out of my heating vent in the car? It was a big fat wood spider! Why do these creepy crawlers love us so much this year?

After a lot of scratching, my daughter finally asked me today why some bugs have to be so mean. Honestly, I have no idea. I love so many insects: butterflies, ladybugs, fireflies, earthworms, fuzzy caterpillars, pill bugs, etc. They are so fascinating and exciting. Still, I sometimes wish the pesky, aggressive creepy crawlers didn’t exist. And I always wish that nature would stay out of my home. If my tiny crawly neighbors would stay out of my business, I’d gladly stay out of theirs!

Z: I'll Take a Zoo or Two

I am a huge animal lover. I have owned and helped take care of quite a variety of pets and exotic animals over the years. Cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, hedgehogs, hermit crabs, rabbits, a squirrel, a skunk, various small birds, iguanas, anoles, chameleons, fish, turtles, frogs, toads, goats, chickens, emus, peacocks, and wallabies—I’ve loved them all and cherished every second of taking care of them. I’ll even go as far as saying that I find cleaning out their cages/pens satisfying and relaxing (despite the fact that they can be a bit stinky and gross!).

When I was a little girl I dreamed that I would get rich one day, either by writing a bestselling novel or by becoming a famous singer. And with that money, I would help people and then buy myself a zoo or two. Oh, but it wouldn’t be a zoo with tiny cages. Each of my animals would have huge habitats that would keep them happy and healthy. And I would work all day long, loving and caring for my many animals.

Although I never shared this childhood dream of mine with my own son and daughter, they seem to have caught on to my zoo fever somehow. They have told me that they wish we could own a zoo so we could have lots of different animals to love. Better yet, they want us to have a huge farm where we can help sick, injured, or abandoned animals. They, so much like their mommy, wish they could adopt and love every unwanted animal in this world.

Perhaps love of animals is genetic. Maybe it is something that we all are born with. Or possibly, I subconsciously passed my compassion for animals on to my children. Either way it warms my heart and makes me proud that they care so much about animals and their wellbeing. Who knows? Maybe someday I will write that novel, and we’ll have the money to make our little animal haven. Then we could live the rest of our lives incredibly happy, doing what we all love together!

U: Underwear Under Where?

Our pants-and-sock-stealing cat is at it again. No longer is he content to steal socks or my children’s panys out of the laundry. He has now graduated to diabolical underwear raids from our dresser drawers. If we leave our drawers open even a tiny crack, he maneuvers his way in there and takes off with a fresh pair of underwear.

At first, we were oblivious to our cat’s new obsession. He was just too sneaky and careful to get caught. However, as I started spring cleaning this month, pairs of underwear started popping up in the strangest places. I was finding underwear in the couch, behind the TV, under the refrigerator, and even in my kids’ arts and crafts supplies. Either our underwear was beginning to creep around at night or something very fishy was going on in our home.

As I gathered up the pairs of underwear, my kids put them in the dirty laundry. Just as I thought I had found the final pair, our resident clothing thief came running out of the bathroom dragging the pile of underwear with him. I hurried up and rounded up the underwear once again. I tossed them in a laundry basket and carried them down to the washing machine. After putting a load in the wash, I went back upstairs to continue with my cleaning.

I went to my room to return a book that I had laying on the coffee table. I quickly put the book down on my desk and turned to leave the room. Immediately, I stopped in my tracks. From behind me, I heard this strange scratching noise coming from inside a dresser drawer. I crept slowly over to see what could be making the noise. I half expected to see a mouse scurrying around inside the barely opened drawer. But instead of a mouse, I saw a black fluffy tail sticking out of the dresser drawer. It was our underwear bandit striking again!

My kids keep asking me why our cat loves to steal our clothes. But to be honest, I have no clue. I can’t figure out why he is so fascinated with socks, pants, and now underwear. He has plenty of cat toys to entertain him. He has plenty of kitty companions to keep him company. And we spend a lot of time playing with our cats, so it isn’t likely because he’s bored. Perhaps he just loves the taste of my laundry detergent. Or maybe his nesting instincts are kicking in. Whatever the reason behind his behavior, it guarantees I never have to face a dull day…ever again.

Have you ever had a cat that stole clothing from dresser drawers? If so, what did your kitty like to steal?

O: Organ Oblivion

"Is there room for me, kitty?"

My family is a music-loving family. We play the radio, CD’s, cassette tapes, and records like they are going out of style. My children are growing up surrounded by music from the 40’s to today, as well as classical music--similar to how I did. My family has always had a solid appreciation of a variety of music and I’m happy to be passing on that love to my own children. I don’t know how to play an instrument yet, but one day, I plan to resume my guitar lessons. Maybe my children and I can all learn together because they’ve also shown an interest in learning the guitar (as well as other instruments).

For now, I have passed on the electric organ that my grandmother had given to me and my brother when we were still kids. I remember spending hours just making a joyful noise, trying to figure out songs, or making up my own. I thought that my children would enjoy it, too. Plus, I reasoned that it would be a wonderful way to nurture their musical interests even further.

I forgot one small thing though: that electric organ doesn’t have a volume button. And oh, is that organ loud and obnoxious! Of course, my kids love the thing to death. They are forever asking me if they can play it. Each time I am torn between my desire to encourage my children’s love of music and my fantasies of all the ways I can destroy that monstrosity. My love for my children wins in the end (except on days when I have a headache), but I find myself still trying to find somewhere--anywhere--to hide from the electric organ when it is in use.

I attempted to show my kids how to play it beautifully or at least tolerably. After a few demonstrations, my daughter is doing a little better. My son, however, enjoys making the organ screech and howl. (I know who will be doing our Halloween sound effects this year!) The more obnoxious and horrible he can make it sound, the better he likes it. Yes, boys will be boys. I’ll let him get his kicks from seeing how badly he can play.

But eventually, if he is anything like me (and I know he is), he will tire of making noise and long to make music again. It’s in our genes--in our blood--and he won’t be able to resist it for very long. Until then, I will be grimacing and cowering here in organ oblivion, waiting patiently until sanity returns to me again!

N: Now IS Later!

Impatient doggy!

I grew up around animals, so I came to understand that animals don’t have much sense of the passage of time. I can’t even remember how many times I left the house for only a few minutes and my dog Honey Bear acted like she hadn’t seen me in hours when I returned. Oh, and don’t get me started on how much my cats protest when I make them wait for breakfast each morning until I am awake enough to function. They act like by the time I get around to filling their dishes, they’ve been waiting all day for their food!

But it never occurred to me that children can have trouble with discerning passage of time, too. I’m a ‘later’ person. I’m guilty of telling people we will do things later without giving a specific time. I have every intention of following through on my promise, but I get so distracted by whatever I am doing that I don’t have enough cognitive function left during those moments to think in those terms. In fact, I only have a passing awareness of what time it is at that very moment, if at all.

My 7-year-old son is either more in tune with my way of thinking or very patient with me, so he waits until I’m no longer distracted to ask when this ‘later’ may be. My 5-year-old daughter, though, is the exact opposite. I swear every minute she will impatiently exclaim, “Ok, it’s later now! When can we do it?”

I try to explain to her that it isn’t later, but she insists that now IS later. Technically, we are both correct. We haven’t reached my idea of ‘later’ yet, while each second after our conversation IS actually later. We have gone round and round many times on whether or not it was actually ‘later’!

In the end, I’ve decided to try to stop for a moment, think, and come up with a better response than simply ‘later’ to explain to her when we can finally do what she is asking. It has been quite the chore trying to retrain my brain in this area. I still occasionally find myself automatically telling my kids that we will do something later. However, I remember all the now-IS-laters and debates I’ve endured over the last couple of years, and I realize that often it makes more sense to change a little for others than to endure endless frustration!

L: Look But Don't Lick!

Boomer, one of my daughter's inspirations

My 5-year-old daughter is obsessed with the idea that she has “cat powers”--super powers of a cat nature. She claims that she can run as fast as a cat, as well as roam silently throughout our home. She also insists that she has super cat strength and can always land on her feet. At first, it didn’t bother me. In fact, I found it pretty darn cute and hilarious. Unfortunately, with young kids, things can easily take a drastic turn for the worst!

In this case, my little princess has now progressed to adding licking to her cat power repertoire. She randomly goes around licking herself, others, or things in our home. She has even licked a cat or two. Despite my heartfelt protests (a.k.a., total freak-outs!), this is one bad phase I can’t seem to break.

I thought once the toddler years were over I’d never again have to tell my kids not to lick things. Nevertheless, here I am having a total breakdown because my mind can’t handle the idea of a human tongue on a furry cat! Once again, I wonder if my kids are going to be the death of me--or at least, the death of my sanity.

To try to understand why she finds it necessary to keep licking everything and everyone she can, I sat her down and had a little heart-to-heart conversation. I tried to explain to her that people shouldn’t be licking people or things because it spreads germs and can make them sick. She kept insisting that she’s a cat, so she is immune to people germs. Additionally, she reasoned that cats have to lick themselves because they can’t bathe themselves.

After 20 minutes, I felt like I was talking to an actual cat. There was absolutely no reasoning with her. Although I plan to continue to actively discourage her from this gross behavior, I have a feeling that in time, it will remedy itself…for what cat has ever gone very long without getting a disgusting hairball from all that licking?

C: Christmas Tree Massacre

April is finally here and signs of spring are popping up slowly here and there. And all I want to do is put this long, cold, germ-infested winter far behind me! You may be wondering, though, why I decided on a Christmas story as my C post for the A to Z Blogging Challenge. There are a thousand other possible topics I could have picked for my blog, so why a wintry tale?

Well, folks, there is a single and logical explanation: I’m still finding evidence of that fateful day…the day of the Christmas Tree Massacre. Hence, sit back, relax, and listen to my harrowing tale of carnage, destruction, and the end of Christmas joy.

There once was a family: a mommy, a daddy, a little boy, and a little girl. They lived in a cozy house. Christmas was their favorite time of the year. If it were up to the children, Christmas would never end and we would never have to take down the Christmas decorations. The mommy, still a little girl at heart, secretly wanted to Christmas to never end, too. So, after some heartfelt pleas from her children, she decided that the children could keep their own Christmas tree up indefinitely, while she took down the rest of the family’s Christmas decorations.

It seemed like a wonderful compromise. Everyone was very happy with mommy’s idea, except for maybe the daddy since he was a little bit of a Christmas Scrooge. However, the mommy and children didn’t count on grinches stealing Christmas when Christmas was long over. Little did they know that their little compromise would set into motion a horrible chain of events that would still affect them months later.

One morning, the mommy and children heard a terrible crash in the kitchen. They frantically ran around the corner, just in time to see a tangled mess of Christmas tree branches, ornaments, garland, and lights. And in the middle of it all, stood two of the family’s cats. In an instant, their grinchy felines abruptly ended the Christmas season, made the children cry, and caused the mommy to wail even louder!

The mommy spent the better part of that morning detangling and cleaning up the Christmas tree massacre mess. Simultaneously, she comforted her children and dried their tears. With the final box of Christmas decorations put away, that should have been the end to our sad story.

Yet, months have gone by and still the mommy keeps finding bits and pieces of the Christmas tree massacre: sections of broken off Christmas tree branches, lose Christmas light bulbs, and even some ornaments. In fact, the mommy even found another Christmas ornament when she was cleaning up for Easter. It is as though the grinches are sending the family a warning that no holiday or occasion is safe. All are as equally susceptible to their destruction. When will the injustice and plots end?

Cat Got Your Pants?

Not the best shot, but caught him in the act!

I love my fur babies to death! They offer comfort, love, and companionship to me and the rest of my family. But they are so much more. They are actually a part of the family. And I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

Just like my children, though, they know how to get into their share of mischief. In a recent post, The Cat’s Out of the Bag, I gave a prime example of how rascally my pets can be. One of my kittens, Mr. Fuzzy, has an unnatural attraction to socks. Clean or dirty, on or off your feet, he HAS to have them! Now that I know that he is the reason my house is constantly being decorated with socks, it’s actually pretty funny. I’m sure the novelty will wear off eventually, but for now, I chuckle my way though picking up socks and chasing the furry guy when he’s making off with another catch.

I have had cats that stole Barbie dolls, balls, pens, straws, hair ties, strings, and rubber bands, but a sock stealing cat? This is a crazy first for me! I had never imagined a cat could get so enamored with hosiery that he tries to steal them right off your feet. If anytime I had wished that I could read an animal’s mind, this is it.

The funny thing about fascinations, however, is they tend to fade and a new obsession often takes its place. Well, my four-legged sock thief has already expanded his fixations to include another piece of clothing—a much more important one at that: pants! Yes, you read that correctly. Apparently, whenever a tantalizing sock is nowhere to be found, pants make an excellent substitute.

Yesterday, as my son and I were engrossed in his online class, Mr. Fuzzy jumped into my lap for some attention. He then proceeded to leap onto my son’s chair, slink his little body behind my son, and then pounce onto an innocent, unsuspecting pair of my daughter’s pants lying on the couch. With lightning-fast speed, he grabbed the pants between his teeth and took off at full velocity, the pant legs dragging underneath him!

In complete disbelief, I grabbed my cell phone and managed to take a single photo before he disappeared into our bathroom. What in world would possess a cat to steal socks and now pants?! We all know the old expression ‘cat got your tongue?’ But I think I’ll have to add two more expressions to my vocabulary--‘cat got your sock?’ and ‘cat got your pants?’—because there’s no sign that Mr. Fuzzy is letting up on his clothing prey any time soon!

What are some of the strange things your pets have stolen?

The Cat's Out of the Bag

As parents, we try our best to raise our children right and give them a good example to follow. However, the human fallibility factor loves to pop up every now and then—sometimes in the funniest ways. I know I’m not immune to such moments, but I swear I get more than my fair share sometimes! A perfect example occurred this month at my house.

I don’t know about your children, but my children dislike socks. If their shoes aren’t on, their little piggies are bare and racing around the house. I can’t even remember the number of times we have come home from a friend or relative’s home minus a sock or two because my kids had stripped their feet as soon as we were in the door, without looking to see where their socks had landed.

In the winter time, it’s a constant battle trying to convince them that they would be warmer if only their socks stayed on their feet. And the majority of the time, I lose these battles and am left with barely worn socks strewn about our house…much to my exasperation.

For years, I have worked with my kids to try to get them to clean up after themselves. And happily, we are making leaps and bounds every day. But for some reason, those darn socks keep ending up all over--behind furniture, under cushions, stuffed in corners, and lurking in the unlikeliest places. With semi-dirty socks scattered throughout our home, it’s not our washer or dryer’s fault usually when a mate goes missing.

Since we moved into our own home near the end of last year, I decided that this was one bad habit we were going to break! At first, my children grumbled and moaned every time I reminded them that dirty socks belong only in the hamper. In time, though, it was becoming more and more like second nature to them, and more socks were ending up in the dirty laundry without a single word from me. Victory!

Then, this month, I noticed something strange: I was finding tons of my children’s socks all over the house, from the kitchen to the bathroom to their bedrooms! Suffice it to say, I was not amused at all. Day after day, I went around the house picking up socks, and time and time again, I sat down with my kids and explained why I wasn’t happy. My displeasure grew more and more as my kids continued to deny that they weren’t the ones who left their socks lying around.

Finally about a week or so ago, I was about to snap! How could my kids deny that they had left their socks around the house? Who else would be leaving them all about? I strongly believed that someone had to be lying because there simply wasn’t any other explanation. I was going to get to the bottom of this!

Just as I was about to confront my kids yet again about their dirty socks, I heard a strange noise in the bathroom. Curious, I started down the hall. As I neared the bathroom doorway to investigate, a black furry blur bolted between my feet, dragging one of my dirty socks behind him! It was our kitten Mr. Fuzzy. He had stolen one of my dirty socks out of the hamper and was taking off with it like it was some prized catch. I was beside myself with utter shock.

Immediately, my son poked his head out of his bedroom, looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and sighed, “See, Mommy; I told you we weren’t the ones putting socks everywhere!”

Just Horsin' Around!

Both of my kids are out-of-the-box thinkers. The silly, inventive, and outlandish things they come up with to entertain themselves at times ensures my life will never be dull. Their many creations and concoctions remind me of my own inventive childhood. And as long as they don’t decide that trash bags would make perfect parachutes or drinking bubble solution can make you belch bubbles (as I once did), I think I will sit back and enjoy the show!

Just a couple weeks ago, my son and daughter decided they wanted to play horses outside in the backyard. Since riding ponies at the county fair a few summers ago, they have been obsessed and can’t get enough of horses and ponies. Expecting my children to run for their stick horses or to gather up their horse figurines, I was surprised when they met me at the backdoor empty handed.

As they put on their flip-flops, I asked them if they were still going to play horses outside. Immediately, my 5-year-old daughter chimed in, “Of course, Mommy!”

Even more confused, I asked further, “But what about your horses? How are you going to play horses without any horses?”

My 6-year-old son just smiled at me and laughed, “Oh, you’ll see!”

Growing more and more curious, I opened the door and sat on a chair on the back porch. They started digging through the plastic totes that we use to store their outdoor toys. Smiling and giggling, they went through each one, whispering back and forth to each other. After a while I grew distracted and went to work sweeping off the back porch.

The next thing I knew, I heard excited, laughing voices behind me. “Hey, Mommy! Look! We‘re horses!”

I turned around and immediately started laughing myself. They were horses indeed! My children had taken the plastic horseshoes from my ring toss and horseshoes set and wedged them between their feet and their flip-flops. As they animatedly walked across the back porch, it sure sounded like a couple of horses, too!

Of course, as what usually happens whenever my kids do something cute, silly, or funny, they simultaneously shouted, “Mommy, take a picture of us!”

I snapped a few photos and then we laughed some more over how silly and cute they looked. Someday, I need to sit down and make a photo album just for these types of photos. Just imagine the crazy memories and laughs we will be able to share when they are grown and have children of their own!

Time Flies By So Fast

Our three young robins preparing to leave the nest!

Today I was reminded of just how fast time truly passes. After nearly a month of having to dodge the mother robin nested on our front porch, my kids and I witnessed the young robins become confident enough to leave their mother’s nest forever. This morning, the three little robins sat in their nest looking down at us, chirping and flapping their wings.

Suddenly, the first robin took flight. Then the second one took off, followed by the smallest of the young birds. They hopped and twittered on a branch of the tall maple tree in front of our house for a few moments and then flew off, flapping their wings desperately to try to caught up with their mother. They have yet to return and it is late into the night. All that remains of our cute birdie friends is an empty nest.

It was such a small event in this vast world, but tears formed in my eyes. Although human children take much more than a month to grow up and become independent, I know one day I will have to allow my own children to spread their wings and fly. It is the natural order of things, but I know it will be a bittersweet time for me. I will be so proud of my children and be happy that I raised them well. Yet, my children are my world, so I know it may take an army to pry my arms away from them when the time comes.

One day, it will be my own empty nest that I will be checking frequently to see if my young ones are truly gone. Some people may insist it is much too soon for me to be dreading the empty nest. My children are only 5 and 6 for goodness sake! But part of me wants to remind myself of it every now and then so I don’t ever take these precious years for granted. I want to make the most of now because time flies by at an incredible speed. I want to relish these Mommy years and savor every second I spend with my children. These truly are some of the best years of my life!

Milk Is Moo-Moo Goo?!

My grandmother is eager to take my son and daughter to the farm to show them where food comes from. I’m all for teaching my kids about fruits, vegetables, and grains. However, I am extremely hesitant to show them where meat comes from. I, for one, don’t like to dwell on that subject. However, my 5-year-old daughter is super sensitive about animals. About two years ago, I learned just how sensitive she really is . . .

During one of my grandma’s visits to our home, she brought me some bread and milk to save me a trip to the store. The brand of milk we always use doesn’t have any photos of cows. The gallon of milk my grandma picked up, though, had a cute cow grazing on the front label.

Since my kids were so excited to see their great grandma, they didn’t notice the milk until the next morning at the breakfast table. As my children and I sat down at the table to enjoy our cereal, my daughter made a face and exclaimed, “Great Grandma got the wrong milk! People don’t drink cow milk!!!”

I chuckled as I poured some milk into her bowl. I explained that the milk we have been drinking all these years comes from cows and that this milk would taste the same. It just had a different container.

My explanation, though, only made the situation worse. Her face turned pale and she became visibly shaken! I asked her what was wrong and my princess began to sob. “I don’t want to drink cows! Cows are so nice and cute. I love them!!!”

She ran out of the room crying and raced back up to her bedroom. When I finally caught up with her I found my daughter hiding under her blankets and hugging her teddy bear tightly. I gave her a big hug and then I tried to make her understand that milk comes from mommy cows. It isn’t cows turned into gooey liquid.

After our talk she looked truly relieved. Then she started giggling and asked me, “Mommy, can we go have some milk now? I love moo-moo goo!”

Every now and then she still calls milk “moo-moo goo” or “moo-moo juice,” and I laugh about that crazy morning. But I remember the sheer horror on her face when she thought that milk is made out of cows. As such, I don’t think our family will be going to any meat farmers anytime soon!

When Nature Comes Knocking . . .

The robin's nest on our front porch

As some of you may know from my previous writing, I’m a huge nature person.  I love the sun, beautiful landscapes, plants, and animals . . . the whole works.  In a perfect world, I would stay outside all day, every day, and then sleep out under the stars.  The fresh air is so exhilarating and the beauty of the nature leaves happy and content!

However, when the indoors and outdoors clash it often means disaster!  Yesterday, my family and I were reminded of that very truth.  Most of yesterday was a normal day and passed with little event.

In the morning, my 5-year-old daughter and I found a bird’s nest on our front porch.  Thinking it was abandoned I considered knocking it down.  However, ever curious, I decided to use my cell phone to take a photo of the inside of the nest, just in case it broke it apart while removing it.  To my surprise and excitement, there were 3 beautiful blue eggs inside the nest.  I was overjoyed to share with my kids their first robin’s nest, but I warned them that we needed to keep our distance to avoid provoking the mother bird.

Later, in the evening, my 6-year-old son and I were in our dining room, getting ready to leave for some errands.  When suddenly we head a LOUD commotion behind us.  I jumped around and there was our cat Tigger running at full speed towards the living room.  Rather than wait for someone to open the screen door and let him in, he had jumped through the screen and kept running without skipping a beat.

Immediately, I noticed Tigger had something in his mouth.  Since he is a wonderful mouser, I thought perhaps it was a mouse or a mole.  As I got closer, though, I noticed it was pretty big and dark brown.  It certainly wasn’t a rodent.  As I continued chasing him into the living room, I decided no, it had to be a bird.  He had caught and killed a bird a couple weeks ago and had attempted to bring it into the house.

Yet, when I finally caught up with my pudgy kitty I realized in horror that it was a chipmunk--a VERY alive one at that!  My kids and I started yelling and screaming, trying to get Tigger to let the poor thing go.  But that only provoked Tigger to run back towards the back door, hoping to escape with his prize.  As he neared the back door, I all but pounced on top of Tigger, frantically telling my son to open the door.  I hoped to get our kitty to release the chipmunk and try to shoo the frighten creature out the back door.

I managed to get Tigger to let go by the grabbing the skin on the back of his neck.  However, instead of running out the door, the disoriented chipmunk ran back into the living room!  Almost immediately, Tigger broke free and recaptured the chipmunk . . . and once again, my children and I were chasing the cat all through the downstairs again!

Finally, in total desperation, I tackled Tigger in the living room and the chipmunk pop out of his mouth, flew through the air, and then scurried under our computer desk.  Not wanting to risk having the whole scenario repeat itself, I snatched up the very unhappy kitty and closed him in the basement.  Then I turned my attention to how in the world I was going to get a frightened chipmunk out of my house.

I told my kids to stay back because chipmunks bite and I didn’t want them to scare him enough to send him scurrying through the house again.  I crept up to the desk with a small paper waste basket and a shallow cardboard box (to use as a makeshift lid).  I was in position and ready to trap the chipmunk when out of nowhere my daughter came running over yelling, “Did you catch it, Mommy?!?!”

That was all it took to spook the chipmunk once more.  It shot out from under the desk like a thousand cats were on its heels.  Of course, that’s when my dog finally noticed, hey, there’s chipmunk in the house!!!  She took off after the poor critter, and they zigzagged all over the downstairs until the chipmunk disappeared, hopefully out the open back door.

We searched the house a little longer but could not find a trace of the chubby chipmunk.  Since we were running late, we decided to leave for our errands and then resume our search later.  Although all was quiet on the home front when we returned, at least with the chipmunk, my crazy evening was topped off with another surprise!

Forgetting all about the robin’s nest on the front porch because of the chipmunk chaos, I opened the front door to get the mail.  As I reached my hand into the mailbox, I heard fluttering of feathers and angry chirping.  Then, the next thing I know, I had an angry mother robin diving straight for my head!  She chased me around the front porch.  Miraculously, I made it to the front door, flung it open, and slammed it shut behind me--thankfully, with the bird outside, not inside!

Even I, the nature lover, was in total shock over such an insane evening.  It makes you think twice about wanting to live free in the open air, doesn’t?!  I know it did for me!

Faithful Furry Family Members

Honey Bear, our 8-year-old poochie

For those of us who are animal lovers, our family is incomplete without our fur babies. With their sweet faces, loving behavior, and funny antics, they bring added joy and laughter into our lives. We love them to pieces and they fill a whole within us we never knew even existed until they came into our lives.

I was reminded this past weekend of the connection between animal lovers and their pets. Our beloved bunny, Boo, who we had for 3 years, became ill suddenly, without warning. There wasn’t anything to be done, so Saturday, we had
to say goodbye. My kids and I had a long cry together, and we spent Sunday mourning our lost friend and family member.

Some people might laugh or not understand our tears, for Boo was “only” a rabbit. Yet, to us, he was a part of our family and we loved him dearly. We have many fond memories of watching our bunny hop around with glee or racing around with the cats in their own version of tag. My kids enjoyed making Boo special salads from the yard and picking handfuls of dandelions every day during our walks. Believe me it was hard for us to say goodbye to our sweet bunny, and it still hurts immensely to not have him here with us anymore! 

Tigger, our 7-year-old kitty

During this difficult time, I noticed that our other furry family members sensed our mourning and the loss of Boo. Our little dog, Honey Bear, spent most of the weekend moping and whimpering. Our oldest cat, Tigger, (who was Boo’s best friend) spent a great deal of time during the day sleeping where Boo’s cage used to be. At night, Tigger watched over my kids, taking turns to stand guard over my son, then my daughter . . . back and forth.

Tigger is especially loving and faithful. Every night when I’m tucking in my son and daughter, he comes to tuck them in as well. He has done this since the day my children were born. Whichever child makes it to bed first, that is the one he tucks in first. He kneads their blankets, purrs up a storm, and gives them goodnight kisses. And then it’s on to the other child after they are comfy and relaxed.

If someone is sick in bed, Tigger senses it and stays with them most of the day. He lies on their feet or snuggles up against them. He sleeps whenever they are resting but watches intently when they get restless. Out of our 4 cats, Tigger is the most in tune with us and he continues to surprise me.

Although it’s difficult to lose a pet, I wouldn’t give up the rest of my fur babies for the world. All the wonderful things they bring into our lives are worth a thousand times more than the hurt when losing them. Certainly, with pets, the old adage “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” could never be more accurate!

Zebras: The Animal Kingdom’s Authority on Women’s Undergarments

Credit: Gary M. Stolz/US Fish and Wildlife Service (Public Domain)

Have you ever played the Telephone Game?  For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, let me explain the game.  Basically, you line a bunch of people up in a row.  The first person whispers a message into the ear of the next person.  Then that person whispers the message into the next person’s ear and so on down the line.  Finally, the last person repeats the message out loud for everyone to hear.  Suffice it to say, the message is never the same, slowly condensing in length and becoming twisted in often hilarious fashions.

Often, whenever I am communicating with my two young children I feel it is no more productive than this silly party game!  I am reminded time and time again how easy it is for children to misunderstand the simplest of things.  An excellent example of this profound truth happened nearly 2 years ago.

Two summers ago, my children and I were pretending we were animals.  My daughter, then 3, decided it would be a wonderful idea for all of us to dress up as an animal and continue to play.  We all ran off to create our own costumes.

My son (5 at the time) returned to the living room first hopping around in footed pajamas and bunny ears.  He made quite an adorable bunny rabbit!  I followed right behind all in black with a tail and cat ears.  My son laughed as I purred and meowed.  We were having quite a wonderful time!

Fifteen minutes later, we were still waiting for my daughter to return.  Finally, I yelled up the stairs for her to come join the fun and she called back, “Coming, Mommy!”

About 5 minutes later, my little princess came running back into the living room.  She had on a black dress.  Over top of it was the pink training bra she had begged me to get her for her birthday (since she wanted to be just like Mommy).  Underneath her dress, she had her black and white striped leggings.  Confused, I asked her what animal she was supposed to be.

She giggled and grinned from ear to ear.  “A zebra, Mommy, a zee-BRA!  I have my stripes and my bra.  See?”

I started laughing, thinking she had been creative and used a play on words . . . quite ingenious for a 3 year old.  However, she immediately dashed that conclusion when she further explained: “Too bad my bra is pink and not stripped like a real zebra’s bra . . .!”