Poop patrol

We have 3 dogs. They generate a lot of "by-product".  It has to be picked up, in order to allow for safe passage in the backyard.  Enter the Poop patrol.  Owen has become somewhat obsessive about the poop.  Maybe I've made him that way, or maybe it's the age.  (We are working on restricting the potty words to potty time.  He and his friends seem to relish saying "underwear", "poop", and "pee"....go figure.)  Regardless, when we go outside to play, I always take plastic bags and go on patrol.  Owen used to stay on the patio asking repeatedly, and LOUDLY, if  I was picking up poop.  All the neighbors know when we are outside, that's for sure.
He used to travel to the playhouse one step at a time, asking if there was any poop "right there" before he put his foot down, then repeating the question before placing the next foot down, etc etc until we reached the swing.  He's much more casual about the whole thing now.  However we have some issues with action verbs, it seems....he was playing on the patio last week while I was down on the bank picking up, when he suddenly yelled (LOUDLY) "Mom! Are you finished pooping yet!?" I quickly yelled back (EQUALLY AS LOUD) "...picking UP poop, Owen! I'm picking UP poop! NOT pooping!"

Step-granddog

Yes, I know it's another dog post.  Bizarre probably that what has gotten me off my duff and posting again are the dogs.  I was cleaning out pics from my camera.  There were pics from Halloween on there. :( But there were also pics from Christmas on there. No, this pic is not from Christmas. This pic is from September 2007-ish.  That's Ashley, snoozing with Owen.  Having direct contact with him was really the only way she ever let herself relax and sleep.  Otherwise she was diligently on-guard, watching the rest of us to make sure we didn't screw this up. :) 

 Ashley and Isabelle were buddies, too.  Isabelle still misses her.

Ashley and Owen, 2 months before she passed away.  Notice the body contact....

Owen was feeling a little puny this day, and fell asleep on the floor....That's Ashley piled up there next to him....contact again. :)

Fast forward to this Christmas 2011.  My step-daughter and her family have a puppy.  Not just any puppy, but an Aussie....The coloring isn't the same as Ashley's, but the body type is.  And this puppy's personality now, is Ashley's personality in the last half of her life, after Ash overcame a lot of the issues caused by her early abuse. 

This video is of the puppy (my step-granddog) and my sister-in-law's dog, playing at my step-daughter's house.  Yes,  I filmed more footage of the dogs than the kids on Christmas day. HA! To say that I'm in love with this puppy is understating it.  I've made it very clear that should anything happen that they feel compelled to give her up, she is to come to me. They are NOT give her to anyone else.  She is MINE...they just don't know it yet. :)

Notice the butt-wiggle that turns into a full-body wiggle...characterizes the Aussie to a T. You can't watch this video and not fall in love with Aussies....

The Frog Dog (formerly The Monkey Dog)

Most of you reading won't remember when Isabelle first came to live with us.  She was a foster from the local humane society, and COMPLETELY different from all my herder-type dogs.  I've been told that Schnauzer-type dogs are just like she is, but to us, she was just DIFFERENT (understatement). She did not walk on the floor for 6 months. She hopped from couch to table to arm chair to as far as she could jump towards the door to go outside.  ....

She wanted to carried like a baby, with her arms around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waste (hence Monkey Dog)

She also refused to be left in the house with no means of egress.  I used to say she refused to be potty-trained, but that's not it.  She's the most obedient dog I've ever had, albeit the one with the most hang-ups (yes, she even tops Ash in that department). We would go outside, go potty, come back in, and I would shut the door, she would look at me and promptly squat and go.  I put in a doggy door, which fixed everything,  except on the days the lawn guy game, when I would lock the doggy door to keep them inside.  She would watch me lock the doggy door, and promptly squat right there in front of me

Isabelle was 9 in December, and while she's losened up quite a bit as she's aged, she still took me by surprise by reverting to a behaviour I haven't seen her do in awhile, a remarkably youthful frog-dog pose.   

For some reason I consider these to be the doggy version of the Splits, an activity that most adults can no longer perform after the age of 16...

My baby is growing up

I took this picture at the park last week.  Cheeto crumbs aside, I was shocked at how grown up he looks all of a sudden.                                                                    This is Owen and his niece Kaili at the park.

And this is Owen and his first cousin once removed (or second cousin, I forget how that works) Adison at Memaw's.  How about those Terminator shades?!

And this is US...the Fam.....on Owen's 4th birthday.  All  he wanted was a Spiderman cake.  While that's not all he got, I had to make sure that we got the cake!

"I'm a good helper..."

Owen's mantra these days is "I can do it. I'm a good helper!" 

 This picture makes me happy and sad...I can see the young man he'll be, washing his first car in the drive way, in this pose....snif!

 He's watering the bricks flower beds out front...

 Repotting some plants.....

 I love these next two pics....he's taking his job so seriously!

 New sand in the sandbox...last year's sand somehow made it's way out onto the pavers over the course of the year!

He's right...he is a good helper!

The power of Batman!

Most of you know that we've struggled with Owen's ability to sleep (at all) since he was born.  Once we reached the point where he slept (at all), he still woke often, and we've resorted to some extreme measures so that everyone could get some rest....

Mom says that when we were all little, the doctor told her that 4 was the age of reason, and if she could hang onto her sanity until each of us was 4, it would all get better! So, we took that mantra to heart and targeted Owen's 4th birthday as the time we would reimplement strategies to get him to sleep in his own  room, by himself, all night. With that goal in mind, we implemented chore charts about 3 weeks ago, to familiarize him the concept of getting a prize for doing a thing several days in a row.  These beginner chore charts consist of making the bed (he puts the pillows on after I straighten the sheets and blankets), brushing his teeth, getting dressed, picking up his toys (I count stuffing it all in his closet as "picked up" at this point),

brushing his teeth again, taking a bath,  putting on his pyjamas and getting into bed.  The future chore chart is going to consist of gong to bed and staying in bed by himself.

In just three weeks, I've learned the value of a good reward.  He wanted to brush his teeth 6 times in one day when he'd decided on Gnomeo and Juliet, the movie, as his reward.  I was back to getting "in a minute" when I called him for a bath when his choices were an "Iron Man" cartoon DVD or another superhero DVD. (Surprising, I know, consider his obsession with "superhewoes"...) 

So, shopping at Kohl's on Wednesday, Owen spied a set of action figures consisting of Batman, the Joker, the Riddler, the Penguin, and Two Face.  He started pleading for it, and I did my best to resist, but ended up caving and telling him we would get it and he could choose it as his prize for completing the current chore chart, but he couldn't OPEN it until he completed the chore chart (We wouldn't normally finish it up on Saturday).  I know you think I'm nuts for thinking he would be able to wait, but he did really good, just staring at the box, turning it over, and looking at the advertising on the package.  Periodically, he would ask if he could open it now, but I'd say 'when the chore chart was complete' and he'd drop it for several hours.  He slept with the box Wednesday night, and by Thursday afternoon, I was trying to think of ways to give him what he wanted without going back on what I said.  Jim suggested that we see if he'd be willing to try to sleep all by himself Thursday night, and if he tried it he could open the box Friday morning.  I suggested it to Owen, and he readily agreed. I admit to not being optimistic, thinking he would agree to anything to get the toys, not understanding what it entailed.

But Thursday night, he asked to go to bed early, he went to sleep and he slept through the night without a whimper. He got up by himself and came into the kitchen the next morning and said "Mommy, I slept all by myself!"  We prormptly  dug the box out from under the covers, where he had slept with it again, and opened it. 

This could well be a slippery slope we're on, in an attempt to get him to sleep by himself, but so far it's yielded some great returns! :)

Pickles!

I love pickles. Or more specifically, I love dill pickles.  My cousin Stephanie and I ate almost a whole gallon of dill pickle slices one day when we were kids and she and her sister were over to the house.  A sibling (who shall remain nameless due to the incriminating nature of this post) and I would fill up coffee cups with dill pickle slices, and even play "communion" by passing them out to the other kids.  I still love pickles. 

Enter Owen....he loves pickles too, just not the skin.  He requests that I peel his pickles (and his apples, too.  I don't know where he got that?!)  So, I wasn't surprised when he asked for pickles as a snack, the other day.  I WAS surprised when he started drinking the juice right out of the jar, however!  So I poured it into a cup for him, instead. :)