Men at Work, Dogs in Therapy....

I have no wisdom to spout here today, no funny stories, no energy for anything really.

I am having a weird and fairly unproductive day.

I can't seem to get ahead of the housework anymore, 

This has been the norm practically since Daniel was born. He is a sweet "easy" baby... but he is a baby.

So we have more to do... less time to do it in... and I am tired.

Bone weary.

And if I'm tired then Tom must be near death.

The man never stops working! He always has something he needs to be doing lately and so tonight I'm on my own with the little ones, probably until Letterman comes on.

I'm glad he is a hard worker though... I'm even more glad when he is hard at work right outside my kitchen window where I can stare at him like a thirteen year old who is in love for the first time...

 I'm so glad he doesn't wear a suit to work everyday... this is a way better look in my opinion.

 When I took this picture I told him it was the "money shot"... I love to make him blush by telling him I"m going to blog about him!

So the tree house is progressing slowly, it has been unseasonably cold the last few days, and Tom has been busy, but this weekend looks promising.

When i say "promising" I mean warm enough to sit outside and watch him work all day...
after he lets me sleep in on Saturday.... 

Are you reading this baby??? 

Plleeaaasseee??? Just till ten thirty?

Anyway..

We have been enjoying the great indoors too. Camping out between the boys cribs.

And I am brightening up the cold cloudy weather with my happy toes.

They make me disproportionately happy.....

Here are some more pictures of the kids "campin" without my freakishly long toes in the way.

 

Ahhh poor Jack...
I think he need to get outside more than the average pup. I read that boxers get destructive if they don't get enough attention....
remember the snow white massacre?

Well in the last few days he has eaten  her friend sleeping beauty, 

the back legs of a large plastic grasshopper, 

a toy frog,

a stuffed elephants trunk,

an earring,

a barbie hairbrush,

an Easter egg filled with bubble stuff...

and a partridge in a pear tree.....

See!? ... this is why I blog... now that I wrote it out like that I'm not nearly as angry...

But still this has to stop!

I bought those toys for my children to destroy... not my dog.

Also I'm afraid if he continues down this path of destruction and crime
I will have to hide Isabella's favorite Snow White dress...
Does anyone else think he is looking at her like she is dinner?

Does anyone know the number of a good Doggy therapist?

And I guess I lied... I did have a funny story after all.

Jack be Nimble, Jack be Sick

You know the old excuse, my dog ate my homework!?

*sigh*

.... I have a story..... 

I wanted to help out my sister in law, Kristin,  last weekend, she is always doing, helping, getting, buying, organizing, and blessing everyone in her circle of family and friends.  And beyond that I'm sure.... my point is, this girl deserves a break!  (she also deserves her own post... coming soon!)

So I offered to make some salads for a bridal shower she was throwing for a mutual friend. Ham, egg, chicken and my least-favorite-food-in-the-whole-world-ever-and-beyond.....

Tuna.

My hatred for tuna stems from my very first experience with it. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I have always been a picky eater, so the first time I tried tuna was when I was pregnant with Isabella. Tuna noodle casserole to be exact, I enjoyed it at the time but later that night it sent me into the only bought of "morning sickness" I had that whole pregnancy. Ever since then, even the smell gives me a headache.

Tom tried to make tuna for himself during my next pregnancy with Tommy and world war three broke out in our kitchen, mostly due to my hormones I took temporary leave of my senses and decided that since he knew what kind of pain the smell of tuna caused me... he must not love me....

I see now how I over reacted a bit.

But it was a tad insensitive...

just sayin...

So I made the tuna salad... gagging the whole time.

When it was done I quickly removed all traces of the disgusting substance from my kitchen, sprayed everything with strong smelling cleaner, loaded the dishwasher, and took out the garbage.

And still I would swear to you I could smell it. Since there was no room in my refridgerator my husband was going to take them over to the church for me that night. So I set them on the bench in our mudroom near the door.... this is also very close to Jack's cage.... meet Jack....

Our nine month old Boxer mix. I know, I know... I have three kids, why do I have a puppy??? That is a long story, kind of a sad one too. But to make it short, he is cute and you can't reason when you are in love.

Here he is when we brought him home...

SEE ? You would have fallen for him too. No one can resist a puppy... even tired desperate Mommies of preschoolers!

But I digress.... I thought Jack might try to eat it so I put him in his cage...

I swear to you that I locked the cage when I put him in it..... I think...

99% sure anyway.

It is possible and probable that I locked it and most likely Tommy came along behind and UNlocked it.

So right before Tom was to leave we all went upstairs for our "Before-bedtime-(Daddy-is leaving-and-mommy-is-desperate)-movie"

Tom helped us get settled and then headed downstairs to leave. He was going to church for a ministry we help with, and was supposed to be speaking that night.

First was the crash,

then the bellowing,

then the loud yelling,

then the cage door slamming....

silence...

running water? uh-oh

I went to the kitchen to find him leaning over the sink in pain, blood running with the water.

Apparently Jack likes tuna.

He knocked over the huge ceramic mixing bowl and ate nearly ALL the tuna salad.

Tom swung at him (yes we smack our dog when he needs it.... at least we don't bite him like his own mother would!)  and instead of Jack he made contact with the broken edge of the bowl, resulting in a very deep cut on the inside of his knuckle.

The end result, Tom was late for church, the kids were late to bed, the shower went on without my tuna salad, and Jack is being watched like a hawk for signs of  sickness... and my house STILL smells like the awful stuff.

The moral of the story is.... Don't make tuna salad?

...Don't do try to do good deeds?

...Don't get a puppy when you also have a mischievous two year old boy?

...Don't swing when you are blinded by rage?

Either way... I don't want to forget this story because "they say" that someday I will look back and laugh.

How long will that take exactly?