My Dog, Pinto

I really do not like dogs. They are slobbery, messy, and smelly. The things they chew up are unrecognizable afterward. There is no love lost between me and them. I do not like dogs.

Except we have one. She's a Catahoula, a breed of dog that Brian has wanted to own for a long time. Not only is she a high-energy dog, but she's a puppy as well. A six-month old puppy who weighs over 40 pounds. A six-month old puppy who currently weighs over 40 pounds and will end weighing between 70-90 pounds. It seems like madness to have a dog this big. And to have a dog this big in the house.

She is named Pinto (Bean) after a fun song I learned in high school:

My dog Pinto likes to roam,
One day Pinto left his home.
He came back, quite unclean,
Where o where has Pinto been?
Pinto Bean, Pinto Bean
Where o where has Pinto been?

The girls actually named her Pinto because, I believe, they love that silly song where we try to think of all the beans we can.

Honestly, I don't really mind her being in the house when she's not terrorizing the girls, eating whatever she stealthily snatches from rooms or peeing on the floor. I wish she wouldn't dig up the yard and then make dog tracks all over the recently cleaned, very beige living room carpet with her muddied paws. I wish she wouldn't eat systematically destroy shoes (at least 5 pair so far). The girls are upset about the complete desecration of many of their books. Including Darcy's Bible. Nothing left but confetti. I am grossed out by her licking the table edges and booster seats. And it's not that she terrorizes the girls on purpose, but a girl that is 40 pounds of skin and bones is no match for a 40 pound dog, made up of pure muscle.

It's really not Pinto's fault. It started out okay when she first got here. She was docile, never peed on the floor and never tore up a single thing. It was only after a 10-day trip to Houston where she spent most of her time caged up that things started going awry. As soon as we all got back home, she has made a point to let us know she was not happy. Brian hasn't had much time to exercise her, which she needs about an hour a day, because of the outage. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I cannot walk her and attend to the 3 kids that are here during the day. As my previous post reported, I am stretched thin as it is.

All of this seems like shades of Mocha, our last dog. Mocha was a Boston terrier. What in the world were we thinking? I don't like dogs, and therefore, I don't know anything about the breeds and who's hyper and who's not. I don't know what's a good dog for kids and what kind of dog might eat them. Mocha jumped on everyone who walked in through the door and if that wasn't enough, she peed on their feet, too. She would climb on my table and scratch it up with her nails. The daughter we bought the dog for, was terrified of her. I could not stand that dog. I wanted a cat. I still want a cat. Our lives seem to be too busy for a dog who needs an hour of exercise every day. I'd rather have a cat who will entertain herself, poop in a box and leave me alone. Is that too much to ask?

Once Brian gets done with the outage and isn't working 12 hours a day, he'll have more time to devote to Pinto and that will make everyone a whole lot happier, especially Mama. Because when Mama ain't happy....

With Four Kids

Since this latest addition to the family, I've been asked what it's like to have 4 kids instead of 3. For some reason, making the jump between 3 to 4, is a leap from what's considered "acceptable" to "excessive". If that's not what people think, it certainly feels like it. Lots of people report that they couldn't do what I do, although I don't think it's that hard to ignore laundry, not clean up the kitchen or fail to cook more than one meal a week. How hard is it to stay in your pajamas all day and make excuses to your husband?

I am becoming envious of people who have one or two kids because I know how much easier their life is. I also laugh when I hear someone with 2 kids complaining about taking them "all" to the store. What all? Of course, there are those with more than 4 who are laughing at me.

Every addition to this family has come with its own set of problems. Lily was the first. 'Nuff said. Darcy came along, 15 months later, during a hurricane evacuation. She was born at an unfamiliar hospital with an unknown doctor. We had a 15-month old, just learning how to walk and talk, and a newborn. Two children in diapers. And we weren't at our home. In fact, we weren't at our home for 6 months because of damage from that hurricane. Our life was stressful and uneasy. We only had one car.

Darcy and Reagan are 26 months apart. We had a 3 year old, a 2 year old and a newborn. Going from 2 children to 3 children is a massive undertaking. Brian and I felt outmanned, outgunned and overwhelmed. We didn't go anywhere for 2 months. Reagan was 6 months old before Brian ever took the 3 of them somewhere alone. When he finally did take them somewhere, it was on a 6-hour road trip to Beaumont. Two kids still in diapers.

And now 4 kids. Reagan and Joshua are 21 months apart. We have a 5-year old, a 4-year old, a nearly 2-year old and a newborn. I thought everything about this baby was going to be easy. Not the pregnancy, but life after delivery. I thought I would recover quickly from surgery, bounce back to a person who has everything under control in the house. That hasn't been the case. I run from one task to the next, just trying to keep the screaming to a dull roar. There are some days I feel sure Joshua believes he is being raised in the violent ward.

I have never in my life felt as I do now that someone always wants something from me. Someone is always calling my name, getting into a loud altercation with their sister, needing to be fed, changed, wiped, gotten up, gotten down, dressed, hair fixed, bathed or taken somewhere. Even the dog makes demands on my time: let her in, let her out, feed her, keep her from ruining yet another pair of the girls' shoes or tearing up another book. Life with 4 kids (and the dog) is much harder than I ever thought it would be.

I am frustrated that it seems to be so difficult and I look in the mirror and see someone who is frazzled and tired and worn-looking. It's not a surprise; that's exactly the way I feel. Frazzled, tired and worn.

When I was 20, I left the good life at Sam Houston State and moved back home with my parents to live. I had 4 jobs (at the same time) making no money, working about 90 hours a week. The worst days of it were Saturday through Monday. Tuesdays were my only day off for the whole week. At about 10pm on Sunday, when I was about to start my 3rd job of the day, having already worked 13 hours at the other 2 and gearing up for another 8 hours, I would think about just making it until Tuesday when I could get some sleep.

I keep trying to look ahead to when I might have some relief and there doesn't seem to be a Tuesday in sight. I have to keep reminding myself that I am now the mother of 4 children under the age of 5, and frazzled, tired and worn is now my life. I don't remember feeling this way when I only had 3 kids, not including pregnancy. So I guess the answer to the question, what's it like to have 4 kids so close together, is this:

It's freakin' hard.

Must....Update.....Blog

Although I don't know why. Does anyone even read this thing anyway?

I see the last time I updated was describing Brian's eye dilemma. Since then, we've had issues with the house, a new baby, and my mom passed away.

Joshua Peter was born Monday, July 20, 2009 at 11:11am. No unusual complications for mom or baby. It's hard to believe and amazing that we are only 2 weeks away from the 3-month point. He weighs over 15#, and is a sweet, calm baby. A sweet, calm baby who is grunting and wiggling right now. A glance at the clock lets me know it's about time for him to eat. I'm grateful for my in-laws who picked up some clothes for him yesterday becasue he literally didn't have anything to wear. I never believed he would be wearing 6-9 months clothes at 2 months old. At least I don't have to worry he's not getting enough to eat. His fat rolls have fat rolls and when he smiles, he looks like Chinaman Charlie.

He still doesn't sleep through the night consistently, but under normal circumstances, I can live with it. This past weekend, Brian has been out of town helping out at another nuclear plant leaving me to manage everything alone, which generally ain't too bad.

Except this weekend we had planned a birthday party for Darcy that had already been rescheduled once, and Monday, my busy day, was busier than usual with an extra soccer game and a doctor's appointment in Fort Worth complicating matters. Luckily, the soccer game and the eye appointment was canceled making life a little less complicated.

I Am Jack's Detached Cornea

Brian finally went back to work this week after being home the whole of last week with a detached epithelium, the first layer of the cornea. This is the 2nd time this has happened. I hope we don't have a 3rd time.

The first time this happened, we treated it as pink eye for 2-3 days, with no improvement. Finally after days of suffering, we saw the opthamalogist who took a Q-tip and scraped the old, loose cornea away, patched it up and away we went. Except Brian couldn't stand to have the patch over his eye. After 3 very long days and nights, the patch was removed and everything seemed to be mended.

Fast forward a few weeks, and 3am on a Saturday finds him bouncing off the walls of the bedroom with more excruciating pain in his eye. After getting through the night, there were hard decisions to be made. The doctor couldn't be reached, so we decided to go to the ER in Fort Worth. But take the kids? My last trip to L&D for contractions proved taking them anywhere like that was a very bad idea. Could we call someone? Who knew how long we would be there? So we called Brian's mother to come all the way from Beaumont so I could take him to the emergency room.

There, we were told that the cornea was not detached, there was just an abrasion on the eye. Another patch, pain meds and instructions to follow up with the doctor on Monday. For all this, I see they are billing our insurance $1100.

Thankfully, Brian's mother stayed through the weekend. She took care of the girls while I took care of Brian. And took care of the yard, did the laundry, bathed the girls, and swept and mopped the kitchen, prepared meals, went to the grocery store.

Monday, we waited 2 hours to be "worked in" to see the doctor at which time we were told that he can be reached at home after hours. At his house. With the number listed in the phone book. I guess we'll know for next time, and hope that next time never comes. He also confirmed what Brian already knew...not only was the corena detached again, but it looked like it had never reattached in the first place. Blast. Then, Dr. Terrell, doctor who can be reached at home on the weekends and after hours, took a needle and proceeded to do vile things to Brian's eye.

The few days following that were horrible for everyone. Brian couldn't see a thing, he was in terrible pain that narcotics barely took the edge off and not getting any sleep at night which meant I wasn't getting much sleep either. I don't know what I would have done if I'd been on my own with the girls, too. I think I would have been melting down every quarter of an hour.

I get so frustrated with my inability to do it all and be everything to everyone. I find in these situations that I become even more selfish than usual. But maybe I can blame it on being very pregnant. It's all I can do to haul myself around.

Brian is finally doing better and back to taking care of me so all is right in the world again.

Late Night, Early Morning

I am a night owl. I have always preferred to stay up late and sleep in. The more our numbers increase, the harder it gets to indulge. It doesn't help that I take big naps in the afternoon with the girls and just can't go to sleep until the wee hours.

Last night, it was 2:30am. Why? I was watching my newly arrived Netflix DVD, Grey's Anatomy. I started with watching only one and felt compelled to watch all of them on the DVD. I initially ordered it wondering what all the fuss was about, and now I know, and I have been sufficiently sucked in. This was after watching the other movie with Brian that also arrived yesterday. This is what we do instead of watching TV. We don't have TV. No cable. This is what we do for entertainment.

But of course, my girls were up-and-at-'em early. We have reworked the sleeping arrangements so that things will go smoother at night, but failed to establish rules for in the morning. My earliest bird decided to go into her sister's room, turn on the lamp and start playing with the loudest toy in there. Needless to say, that sister was unhappy. She came and woke me up to report that she couldn't go back to sleep. Not the way I wanted to start my day. Actually, starting my day the way I want is pretty unlikely on a weekday.

But I am feeling more motivated than usual to trudge through putting my house together. I just cannot stand the way it is right now. I will put my little crumb-snatchers to work to help minimize my exertion, and thus, my contractions.

Neglecting My Blog

I admit it. I've neglected my blog. Facebook is more compelling and requires less work. Since my last update:

• I signed up to become a Close To My Heart scrapbooking consultant because Brian and I were convinced we would be moving back to the Beaumont area. I thought that would be an excellent area to introduce people who didn't know how much fun scrapbooking could be. The new job didn't happen, but I was already in. Teaching scrapbooking and card classes wasn't as difficult as I thought it was going to be. Some people seem to actually enjoy it which makes me feel good!
• I actually completed the binding on Darcy's quilt so she could use it. Not nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be. Just took a couple of days of stitching.
• We found out we are having a boy. I don't know that I'll be entirely convinced until I actually see it for myself. Although 2 doctors and an ultrasound tech have reassured me that I am indeed carrying The Welch Heir. Finding out this information was very exciting as I was at the maternal-fetal specialist making I sure I wasn't having serious problems and I got this news first. Then the doctor told me all was well on the inside. Double blessings.
• We have moved to Granbury which seems to suit us better. Of course, leaving the old house was a stick in the eye of gigantic proportions. Who would have thought that a two-year relationship would end like it did? As a person who does not prefer confrontation and must be pushed, pushed, pushed to that end, I cannot believe the accusations that were leveled at us. We were accused of abandoning the property because we were not all out by the time we had indicated in writing, which was 2 weeks before the end of the lease. Even though we still had stuff there. Even though Brian had called and informed her that we would need more days, and she agreed. Our deposit was hacked to pieces for "expenses" incurred during our first year of residence. A plumbing expense we would have gladly paid at the time. Et cetera. It was not going to be worth all the hassle, and we certainly didn't want to preserve a relationship with them. In fact, I hope I never see that affected, marytred, woe-is-me woman again. Ever.
• And now we are in a new rental house in Granbury. In which the owners have filed bankruptcy. We like the house and think it would be a good fit for us for a while, but I am hoping that the bankruptcy court does not cancel our rental agreement, as they are within their power to do.

Well, that's enough for right now. Life is moving on and I am less than 6 weeks away from my scheduled delivery date. I am not ready for the baby, and don't have the energy to get ready. Brian's plate is fairly full as it is, picking up my slack. But what a guy. He never complains, but assures me that things will be better soon.

Adventures of Toad

Once, some girls went out to play. They came in to tell me about a toad...said they needed a basket to catch him. So I gave them one.

"By the time we got the shovel", Lily reported, "that toad got away! He was just too fast!" Lily is sad because she wanted frog legs for lunch...

She said they might be good. She said, "Maybe Daddy has had them and he thinks they're good." Darcy chimes in, "Uncle Greg ate a shark!"

After Reagan's nap, I took her outside and we were were a sight walking around the perimeter all holding hands, when we ran into the toad again.

"There he is!" Lily shouted.

"Catch him with your hand," I told her.

"I can't. I'm too afraid," she said. Then she ran back to the porch to get the basket. I guess they thought he was going to just jump in the basket and head off willingly to certain death.

"Darcy," I said, "Catch that toad with your hand."

"Okay, Mama. Oooh, I touched him. Lily, I touched him."

Finally that poor, fat toad found a little hole to crawl into and die from a heart attack instead of at the hands of two relatively ambitious toad-hunters with a basket from the dollar store.

Then the girls and I went to the swing set to swing where Lily proceeded to do the exact opposite of what I told her. She had to sit on the porch where there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Reagan loved swinging and was laughing and laughing. Finally Mama was tired so Darcy, Reagan and I joined Lily, already banished inside for her outburst.

The End.