About a Dog

When Hallie and I were in California the first of August to visit Kip and see how she's acclimating to her new life/apartment/job/territory, etc. we found out that she and Brandon had been investigating potential pets.

They wanted a great dane.

Nothing like starting small.

It's ok, though, because Brandon's family (The Hall's) have large pets.  His parents, Pam and Don own a St. Bernard named Huey.  He is pretty awesome.  Except that he was terrified of Hallie.

No one has bothered to tell him he is giant and could take her.  Didn't matter, she walked in, he walked out.  Pretty funny.

So, knowing Brandon wanted a big dog didn't surprise me.  Wondering how Kip was going to manage to ever babysit a dog in her apartment (No pets allowed), but knowing Brandon has a good backyard at his house, I was a bit surprised at their choice.  I was also more surprised that finding a great dane in California is a pretty expensive feat.  I threw out, "I could check in Oklahoma, there are rescues and such, and we could probably find you one pretty easy".

"I'd meet you halfway", says Brandon to me.

With those words ringing in my head, I ask a friend on facebook where she located her great dane.  24 seconds later, I was a proud grandma of a great dane.

Our friends, Matt and Jessi Sutterfield, had acquired their brother, Hunter's great dane puppy (She's a year old) and with Jessi doing other pursuits, the dog needed a new home.  (Great Danes are MAJOR people dogs).  The sweetest moment was in leaving, Payten (age 6) was overcome with remorse for her leaving (they wanted to get some chickens and it's tough with a chicken eating great dane in the vicinity) and Payten lamented as we got in the car, "I don't want chickens, I want Brielle".  Cute and sad. 

So on a handshake and a prayer, I got the dog a few days early, so we could "Bond" before we spent hours and hours in the car together.

Boy.  Was I a dummy.

Now, I consider myself a dog person.  I like dogs.  I think they are fun, and sweet and loving, but if you know me, I also believe that the dog is in the backyard, and the family is in the house.  This dog didn't get my rulebook before she came here.

For one thing, everyone involved kept reminding me that she is "Fragile".  WHAT?  She's as tall as a small horse, and poops like an elephant.  Nothing about her screams, "Fragile".  "She has to eat with her bowl elevated, and she needs a lot of interaction with her people."

She doesn't look too tough, does she??  She might lick you to death.

The fragile dog pooped in my house first thing, so she got her fragile self booted out doors.

She responded by eating her bed.

Kip had made the plan that she and Brandon would drive to one of his friend's houses south of LA, then drive the additional miles to get them to Gallup, New Mexico.

If you have ever driven from OKC to Gallup, New Mexico, I can just tell you right now, that prisoners could be sentenced to living along I-40 in New Mexico, and I'm pretty sure they would beg for mercy and ask for forgiveness and change their lives of crime to make sure they never live there.

There. is.  Nothing.

To add insult to injury Kip would send us mountains and the beautiful view she was driving by.  Hallie made this to show the vast difference of the drives we were making.

That sums up our 11 hour drive in a nutshell.

My cousin, Shannon, took pity on me and came up from Dallas and drove with me.  She helped me drive and MAN, do I love help driving.  I drove Hallie all over a 3 state area the last year in volleyball with no help driving, so MAN, I enjoyed sitting in the passenger seat getting somewhere.  Pretty crazy.  It's the little things.

We called this trip,  (Excuse me, don't get offended, people)   "Balls to the Wall, Ladies".  It was fast and furious and we stopped only for all the three of us and the big black female dog to get out and pee.  And that's it.  We ate out of a cooler, and pedal to the metal'd  it to Gallup, NM in about 11 hours.

Hallie sat in the back with Brielle.   She called it the "Big Girl's Backseat Club" and She was president and Brielle was Vice-President.

It really was quite entertaining. 

Then the new owners arrived, and she forsake us immediately.  Until she needed to go pee at 2 am, and she licked her lolly in the face and let me take her outside.

As they got ready to leave, we were standing at the door waving, and Hallie exclaimed,  "I don't want chickens, I want Brielle".  I kind of felt the same way.

She might have eaten her bed, and then her own poop, but she was a fun, sweet, sweet dog.

I may have let her watch tv with me on the bed at the hotel.

And she bonded with my friend, Kristen's dog, Sophie.  Kristen bravely invited Brielle over for a playdate her first day with me, and I think Kristen has never been so happy to see anyone in her life as she was to see me.  Sophie finally got disgusted with our 85 pound puppy and had to show her who was boss.

You can't tell it here, but Brielle has the biggest grin on her face.  She knew the ole gal had had it with her.

We weren't supposed to see Arizona, but Kip drove off without her purse, and figured it out 3 hours down the road for them, when in loading, I asked Shannon why she left her purse laying on the counter, and she told me she had her purse, and I realized in about 35 seconds, that my ridiculously responsible daughter (cough) had driven off and left her purse.  A quick phone call, and a small (cough) decision to drive toward them and meet them on the road (1 1/2 hours to split the difference), made Brandon REALLY happy (I'm sure) and gave us a chance to see some of Arizona and a little better view.  Holbrook, AZ was halfway between Flagstaff and Gallup.  It put us 3 hours behind schedule so we rolled into Norman about 9:00.  Only 20 hours in the car.  That's all. 

Exhausted and road weary.  Kip and Brandon made it to Redding about 12:30 am, so their drive was MUCH longer, but they took home the prize.  I'm not sure if Brandon thinks it, since he had a very rested puppy on his hands, first night in.  Pretty sure he rigged a dog door today.  :)

Well, that's what I did on my labor day weekend.  I might be recovered by next labor day.  For.the.love.of.granddogs.

Surely

I am appalled at myself.

At the lack of input I have put into my blog in the last....say....12 weeks.

Or, all summer.

I need to blog about our Wear Purple Day for our angel.  I have pictures galore of that wonderful day.

I need to blog about how hard it is for tonsils to be removed from two kids at once, and not to do it.

I need to blog about sand/beach volleyball and Hallie's foray into the wonder of it this summer.  And how that took up every second of my free time.

I need to blog about my trip to California to see Kip in her new element, and the time Hallie and I spent there.

I need to blog about Lacey's new love, Tyler, and how effortlessly he has become part of our family, and how fortunate we are to have him.

I need to blog about the fact that I somehow pulled off, in the midst of all that busyness mess, to be in my company's TOP DOG contest and make the FINALS.

I need to blog about the fact that it has almost been a year since we lost our Austin, and that's it's just not possible that our precious ginger has been gone that long.

I need to blog about the fact that even in losing Austin, we are about to welcome his nephew into the world, Paul and Kat's baby, KevinPaul, or (KP, as I am going to call him because, well, KevinPaul is Paul and his dad and KP just makes me weirdly happy).

I need to blog about this giant dog I have acquired this week, because while in California, Kip and Brandon mentioned a Great Dane to me, and said they had been looking for one for a while, and were quite costly and hard to come by.  I just mentioned it on facebook, and acquired one in like 25 seconds, and she has been living (consuming my life) since Sunday, when I foolishly thought I should get her so she would get to "know" me before I drive her 12 hours to Gallup NM to meet Kip and Brandon and bring them their 85 pound 12 month old "Baby".  Horse.  Destroyer of flower beds and sleeping beds.  Eater of her own poop.  Licker of the face.  Friendly little lapdog.

It's a good thing she is cute.  That's all I can say.

Anyway, I need to blog about all of that.  And in a year or so, when things slow down.  I sure will.

Meanwhile, Hallie's JV team has won every single game (not counting tournaments) they have played.  Took 1st in their first tournament (undefeated), and then for the first time showed nerves at the Jenks tournament this last weekend, and took 2nd to Jenks.  I believe they will beat them at State.  The mom has spoken.

Meanwhile, Lacey is in love and she's all shook up.  Look for big changes for her soon, and all of them with mom's utmost blessings.

Meanwhile, Kip is doing fantastical in California.  She finally snagged a car, along with her awesome job with a superbical architect firm, and the cutest hubba hubba b/f in the world.  Looking forward to riding in the car with a crazy large animal for about 12 hours to go see her this weekend.  Good thing my cousin Shannon is going with me.  Between the two of us, we might make it there.

Meanwhile, the lovelies are all back in school and doing superlicious.  Lovely is tackling 7th grade with anticipation, LB wants to run for student council, and BB's finally learned the number 1.  (It only took 7 months).

Life is good.

Surely I  will get around to blogging about all of this mess.  Surely.
 

Update on Lovelies

As we are moving in on almost a year that I've had the older two, and starting our 2nd school year, I just want to give you an update on all that is happening with them. 

Much to my Lovely's chagrin, she was not old enough to stay home without someone here with her, so she and LB found themselves at the "College Kid" program at a local daycare. 

Not their favorite thing, but being the good sports that they are, they have weathered the daycare storm.  They are probably the two most anxious people in Norman to start back to school.  :)

They had a disastrous family counseling meeting a while back, and have steadfastly refused to talk to mom since then. 

Our caseworker quit, and we've inherited a new caseworker, and I will never, for a million years, EVER take for granted how good some caseworkers are, vs. other caseworkers.  For.the.love.

At last court hearing, the DA is now pushing to terminate parental rights.  That is tough.  The kids are completely on board.  We go next month to see if we go to jury trial (if the parents don't agree) or they just abdicate rights.  That won't happen, so we will have to go to court.  And have the kids testify, and they really are ready.

There are over 10,000 kids in the foster care system right now.  This state needs families to open their doors and hearts to these kids.  I like to think that there are only 9, 997 kids in foster care, because 3 of them are living with me in my little tiny house, with just little old me running the show. 

I'm not beyond begging people to consider foster care.  Or respite for foster families.  Or emergency placement for temporary placements.  You have NO idea the impact you can make in a child's life by simply saying "Yes" to being God's hands and feet. 

My lovelies are just three little kids that love the Lord and play and scream and eat their weight in Hot Cheetos.  These kids, and all the rest of them, deserve a chance at life, and you can make that happen by opening your hearts. 

Consider it, and if you are interested in more information, let me know and I can get you in touch with the right people.  "I know some people". 

There is no greater reward.  I just can't explain it. 

Tonsil Tale

If you didn't know, I had Lovely and LB's tonsils out last Friday.  Lots of memories have been flooding back.

I remember Kip getting her tonsils out, and I don't remember anything untoward happening.  Nothing that sticks out in my mind, except Cream of Wheat and popsicles.  Lots of popsicles. 

I had my tonsils out when I was 18.  That's freakishly old to have tonsils removed.  That was the beginning of my 40 pound weight loss.  I had tonsils, barely healed from that, and then my wisdom teeth, in short order.  It was a glorious summer for me. 

The only thing I remember about my tonsils was 1) my tongue felt like it had been taken out of my mouth and nailed to the table beside me, and then released from the nail and rolled back in my mouth. I tawt lit dis.  (I talked like this).  Except with a lot of spit rolled into it.  All very exceptional. 2)  I remember a lot of Popsicles as well. 

But the number one thing I remember most when I got my tonsils out, was the very day I got home and was still "Tawting lit dis", my mom had taken off work and was hanging out with me, and she was in the back yard puttering in the garden.  I was lounging on the sofa, just minding my own business, when she came running in the house, yelling,  "CALL THE POLICE!  CALL THE POLICE!!!  THE WILLIAMSONS ARE GETTING ROBBED!"    I was like,   "WALL?"  (What?) and she said,  "Where are your keys (to my 76 Dodge Dart 3 speed)?  I'm going after them!!!" and she grabs my keys and out the door she runs. 

OK.   I'm in a pickle here.   Clearly, in her panic to become Deputy Dog,  she has forgotten that I have the speaking skills of a squash.  And also, that she is now chasing criminals in my Car. 

I take a deep breath and call 9-1-1. 

"9-1-1, what is your emergency"

"MY MOB ISH UN MA CAH SHASHING RAHBUHS"

Excuse me, ma'am??

"MY MOB ISH UN MA CAH SHASING RAHBUHS"

Is this a joke??

"NUUUUUUU!!!!  PLEASH!!  I UM NUT KUTTING  (I'm not kidding), UH JUSH GUT MAH TUNSHILS UT UN MA TUNGHH ISH WARY SCHWOLLLN"

"Ma'am, this is 9-1-1 and we don' like Prank phone calls."

(Now I'm rolling my eyes to the ceiling, knowing my mom is being killed by robbers after chasing them down in my 3 speed)

PLEASH!!  EEUU HAB TO BELIEB MUH!!!  MUH MOB ISH CHASHING ROBBERSH!  UN MUH CAH!  PLEASH!!!!

Ok, we are dispatching a unit. 

THANK THE LORD.

I didn't realize they were coming to the house to arrest me for drunk and disorderly conduct.  7 minutes later, there are 2 policemen at my door and when I threw the door open, I started telling them what the problem was and that my MOM WAS CHASING ROBBERS IN MY 3 speed and they needed to go find her.....she drove up. 

With a kid's bicycle hanging out the back of the car, and a kid, panting hysterically, being hauled out of the car by one arm.  (I've been hauled that way before, and I can assure you, you know your butt is HISTORY when my mom has your arm).

SHHEEE???  I stutter to the officers. 

My bad ass Mom, hauls this yelling 12 year old up to the officer, hands him over and says,  "I only caught one, the other one got away".

Now, picture this with me, if you will. 

My mom, who is in a hair net and shorts (Because she is out working in the garden and can't let her weekly shellac'd hair, get out of place), is driving my little 3 speed like a bat out of you know where and has chased these little pipsqueaks, (Who had robbed 12 houses in our neighborhood) until they split and I guess, to this day, I'm not sure how she got her hands on that one, except to run him down with her car, or catch him on foot, because when ticked off, that woman could run.  (This I know from experience, as well)

Ended up getting back most of the stuff from the little thieves and my mom was a celebrity at all the Neighborhood watch parties for several years. 

I didn't get arrested for prank phone calls, either.  Nor did I get a medal for best accesory in a pinch. 

But my mama, she is one mean hombre.  Don't be breaking into our houses if you know what's good for ya. 

Spiders and Snakes

I loathe snakes.  There isn't anything about a snake that I like.  I mean I carry that loathing over to worms, which isn't fair to worms, because they really aren't snakes, but anything that is round and slithers on the ground without legs, is close enough to a snake that it wigs me out.

Spiders are another thing.  I've been a single mom most of my adult life, and spiders are an essential part of being in charge of your house.  That, and heavy lifting.

So I've never met a spider that has freaked me too bad.  Lacey & I had a near incident once in the garage, but today.

Well, Today, was the day.

I had dropped the lovelies at daycare, and was rushing back to get Hallie to get her to beach volleyball, and we are on a TIGHT TIGHT schedule in the morning.

Hallie knows the routine, I honk, she comes.

I honked.

Nothing.

Honked again.

Nothing.

My cell rings.  It's Hallie.  Whispering.  "Mom, you need to come in here"

My heart almost falls out of my chest.

As I rush in, I find my 6'1" 14 year old standing in the middle of her bed, pointing to the floor.

Whispering,  "LOOK"

As God as my witness, the first thing that went through my head was,  "We have to move".  Just take what we can grab as we are running out the door, and buy all new stuff later.

It was like a small baby.  with legs.  on the floor.  just staring at me.

Like,  "What.you.looking.at"?

The urge to jump on that bed with my quivering daughter overwhelmed.

I ran to the kitchen for the flyswatter.  I needed a good foot between me and that spider if I was going to battle.

No flyswatter.  BB uses it as a sword and who knows where it is??

I race back to my whimpering baby on the bed, and the spider was still sitting there just waiting.

I grabbed her size 13 shoe, deciding it was better than a flyswatter and prepared my shaking hands for battle.

I knew I'd have one swing, and I had to get it, because Hallie had LEFT HER CLOSET DOOR OPEN.  And if anyone has a 14 year old teenager, you know the closet is the ABYSS of the room.

I swung.  Spider laughed at me, and ran into the abyss.

Screaming ensued.  Hallie finally told me to get a hold of myself and find that spider, that she could not live in this room if she knew it was here.

I started tossing things out of the closet.  This was no easy task.  At least we found some things we have lost for a year in that search.

Everything is shook (far from body, so in case the terminator is in there, it won't fall on my arm) and tossed behind me.

I'm starting to sweat.

Yes, I'm dressed for work, in a dress.

On I trudge, until I've cleared the closet and back in the corner sits the interloper.  Just waiting.  And smiling.

Now I'm pissed.

No spider is going to smile at me while I am sweating in a dress, running 15 minutes behind schedule now.

I go to the garage and find something to render it unconscious.  Anything.  Spray paint.  Ant Spray.  I setttle on hornet spray, because I loathe hornets and it shoots a 6 foot stream.  I'm there. 

Hallie hands me a flashlight which I tuck in my teeth, and I grab her size 13 in one hand, and my hornet spray in the other.  When I flash light on the villain, he rears back and shows me his teeth.  (Ok, I made that up)

I shoot him with 12 oz of hornet spray, nearly asphyxiating Hallie and myself in the process, and the spider looks like a snow pile has landed on him.  Then I swear on the bible, He shakes himself off and lurches himself at me.

Screaming ensues.  Even Hallie is screaming at this point, because I am screaming, and I think even the spider screamed.

Size 13 won.  As the drunken arachnid tried to find it's way out of the closet into clear air, I landed that big ole shoe on it's big ole gross spider head and sent it on to spider heaven.  I wrapped it in a paper towel and flushed it, just in case it ever thought of coming back to life.

As we looked around the room, in the pile of CRAP that I had tossed behind me in my frantic, panicked search....Hallie said to me,

"All that for a little ole spider"??

I know why some species eat their young.

Mean girls

I just spent an entire day sweating my proverbial tata's off at Hallie's beach volleyball tournament in Galveston.  It was glorious this morning (at 7 am), then by 10, it wasn't so glorious anymore.  I used one million SPF sunscreen, so I think we escaped serious damage.

All I know, after this past week, is how I have been reminded how MEAN girls are.

I mean, for REALS.

I remember it started when Lacey started middle school.  We went to Edmond schools for a minute, and as a single mom, we wore Skechers, instead of Doc Martins, and she came home from school in tears the first day because the girls made fun of her clothes.

Once we moved to Midwest City, she found some friends that didn't own Doc Martins either (though by this time, I had scraped enough to get some for her).  So it didn't really rear it's ugly head until she made pom her sophomore year.

She came home crying almost every day.  The older girls (except for one) were just horrendous to her.  I have never seen a kid practice double turns and toe touches more than my Lacey.

It is just a heart breaker for a parent.

You try to FIX everything for your kid and make it smooth, and sometimes, you just can't.

I was lucky with Kip.  She walked to the beat of a different drummer, and very little affected her calm zen self.  She wore what she wanted, did what she wanted, and it mattered NOT to her what anyone else did.  Made life fairly easy.

Now we have Hallie.  She started out 9 lbs 9 oz, so I should have had a clue she was going to be a special mess.  In kindergarten, I went to a parent teacher conference and there was one adult desk in the room, along with the teachers, and all the other little bitty desks, and the teacher sheepishly explained to me, that Hallie just didn't "Fit" in the little desks.

She's always been a tall chick.  She has had to embrace that fact.  Volleyball has helped because it's intensely fantastic to be a good volleyball player and TALL.  So that has helped.

Mean girls exist almost everywhere.  I don't know if Mean Little Girls grow up to be Mean Moms, and begat Mean Girl Children, but there are a plethora of Mean Girls out there.

I overheard an 18 year old team of girls, just dissing the crap out of another team, and I just shook my head.  I mean, I understand competition, and the need to be the best.  That runs rampant in our family.  But, taking it to a mean level and cutting down another person to make yourself better???  Gets all over me!

I try to tell my very tall, very self consciously aware of her tallness child, that most of the bitterness out of other girls mouths come from jealousy. (sometimes I'm totally jealous of her) Still, It matters not.  It cuts this gentle giant's heart, and it makes me intensely sad that I can't protect her more.

Even on the JV team, that she worked her BUTT to get off on, you'd think those girls would be THRILLED to have a tall middle, that knocks the bejeebers out of a ball, but NO, they would rather say tacky, horrible crap and shake her self confidence.  I just do NOT get it. I have told her that once they start playing games, those terrible upperclassman will be happy that the FRESHMAN won the game with her wicked slams.  It almost helps. 

Can't we grow up a generation of children that are kind?  It just wears me out.  I'm sorry, I had to vent.

I love my kids.  I love other people's kids.  Just say NO to meanness. 

All about loving a baby......

This day kicked my booty.   Even with the constant flow of love on Facebook, and my cellphone, and my email, I still missed Little Miss with a deep, constant pain.

You would think with time that it would get easier, but it doesn't work like that.   You will be rolling along and think, "OK!!! I am over the hump", then something small, like finding one of her toys, or a picture smiling at me on my phone, or unearthing one of her bags of blankets during the garage sale, and watching someone leave with her personalized towel (that she never got to use because it was WAY too big for her).  But still.....it was hers.

Just hard.

It has become increasingly evident to me, over the last few days, that God is abundantly faithful.  Though I wanted Laynie to heal and live, she served her purpose here on earth.  Our friend, Trent Austin, summed it up so perfectly at her celebration of life, "Laynie impacted more lives in her short time on earth, than some of the 70 year olds in the room". 

It's true.  We all are different.  One thing that I know for sure, is I could have never bore the pain of losing her, without Jesus Christ at the helm of my life.  He delivered me and my family through an insanely hard time.  God didn't cause it, God didn't stop it, God just carried us.  Because He didn't say, "Oh life is going to be a big ole bowl of cherries and ANYTHING you WANT you just let me know". 

He says, "Life is going to be troubled, and if you seek me and trust me, I will carry you through it"  and that...my friends....is the joy I feel in the sadness.

Now that some time has passed, God is revealing "The Bigger Picture" and it's more than any of us ever dreamed.

If Laynie taught me anything, it's LIVE IN THE MOMENT and Trust that whatever crisis you are in at the moment...it will pass, and God will get you through it, and make you a stronger and better person.

I have a bunch of Laynie pictures to share, and I will Do that soon.....because wow, we have friends that rock my socks off.  And Lacey's socks off....

And I know a tiny angel in heaven smiling down on all this stuff and running...and running...and running.

God is good, all the time.