Fast

Our pastor has called the church to fast for three weeks, starting this Sunday.  One of things he suggested fasting from is complaining, so our family will be doing that.  When Mike and I were talking about it, I said, "What are we going to talk about it if we can't complain?" and he said, "I guess we just won't speak."  What am I going to blog about? 

I guess I have to air all my complaints now, before it starts. This morning we woke up to a nasty surprise in the closet.  Marty had peed, made two piles of poop, and sprayed the wall with poop.  I bagged up the poop and delivered it to the vet, though I don't think there's anything physically wrong with her.  She's a nice girl, but she's obviously harboring some deep resentment.  I didn't have time to ponder that, because when I got home, I had two wicked kids to handle.  I was gone ten minutes to the vet, and when I got home, Sarah was sulking in her room, and Noah was waiting at the door to explain how he didn't mean to kick her in the face.  Yesterday I had to spank him for the first time in years, and today his ipad privileges have been removed.  Sarah's attitude and behavior have been mostly atrocious for the last two weeks, and mine haven't been much better.

Guest writer--Snickers

Here I am, in another Mexican standoff with my sister.

I've obviously annoyed her again.  All I wanted was just to be close to her.

Oh no.  She's punching me again.  And she did it so fast that it's all a blur.

Mom! She's being mean to me again!

Let's try a reverse Mexican standoff.  Maybe that won't bother her.

Help!  She's making herself even bigger!

Stool

A few weeks ago, Mike found poop in the garage.  He told me about it, and then I forgot about it until my foot brushed up against it a few days later.  My unspoken rule about messes of all kinds is: finders cleaners.  If I'm the first person to discover puke in the hall, I'll clean it up before somebody steps on it.  So I didn't take ownership of the pile in the garage.  For several days, I steered around it.  One day, in a moment of divine justice, Mike stepped right in it. The next day I noticed it was gone.

Then poop started appearing in our closet.  I couldn't figure out which cat was doing it.  There was blood in it, so I called the vet and was told to bring in a stool sample, which leads me down a little rabbit trail about euphemisms.  I thought about trying to write a blog post entirely out of euphemisms, but that would probably take up way more time than I want to give.  I'm not a big fan of talking around unpleasant things.  Why can't we just say someone died instead of "passed away"?  Being "vertically challenged" myself, I have to employ stools often. There's one in my pantry, one in my closet, etc., because I can't reach things on high shelves.  So how did my friend the stool become a euphemism for poop?  I fantasized about sawing off a corner of my pantry stool and bagging it up for the vet.

Anyway, I bagged up the fecal matter and delivered it to the vet.  They tested it and didn't find anything unusual, so they wanted me to bring in the offending pet. I didn't want to pay to have both cats examined, so I said I would wait until I could determine which one it was.  They were both highly suspect, but I was leaning heavily towards Snickers.  The next day, I caught Marty in the act of dumping a load in the closet.

So yesterday Marty went to the vet.  After some tests and an exam, the vet determined that he didn't know what the problem was. So I came home with an expensive tube of tuna-flavored laxative and a bill for $72 for the privilege of having the doctor tell me he doesn't have a clue.  This morning, I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to the unmistakeable smell of cat poop.

Beauty

We were out in public today, and a stranger came up to Sarah and said, "If you're as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, you're a gem!"  I thought that was a super nice thing to say, especially considering that Sarah hadn't showered or even brushed her hair, and she was wearing some wacky outfit as usual.  She was also singing songs that included lyrics about social disease and "My sister wears a mustache, my brother wears a dress, goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess!" thanks to her father's introducing her to West Side Story. 

Why animals aren't allowed in public school

 I was just pushing the button to take a picture, when Marty stuck her gigantic face right in the lens.  Too funny to delete.  :)

 We all know how much Marty loves math.  It turns out Snickers is very interested in it too.  She's sitting on the chair with Noah.

 He's explaining fractions to her.

 She doesn't really get it.

 Coming closer for a better view.

 She's got it now and wants to grab that pencil!

She helped Sarah too, by chewing on her book.

Sarah is working on spelling.  Click on the picture for a better view of Snickers saying, "WOW! You really know how to spell that?!"

 She's also helpful when it comes time to practice piano.

Can't we all just get along?

 Snickers really wants to be Marty's friend and keeps trying to get close to her.  This is the first time Marty allowed it.  She was sound asleep when Snickers jumped up next to her, so all she managed was a glare before she went back to sleep.

But soon after that, Marty punched her so hard that she actually rolled her over.

Snickers came up swinging.  First time she's defended herself.

But today there was a nice patch of sun coming in, and they both wanted to bask in it.

Their feet are ALMOST touching!

Dilemma

Sarah:  Mom, I did something bad, and I know you're going to spank me.  I dropped a rock and got paint on the carpet.  I'm sorry.
Me: What rock? What paint? Where?
S: This rock (holding up a rock, wet with paint).  My new Christmas paints.  In the school room.
M (voice louder than it needs to be): Why are you painting rocks in the school room?!
S: I...um...don't know.
M: Are you supposed to have paint in that room?
S: No.
As I'm staring at her, 1 John 1:9 pops into my head. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."  Which brought up the dilemma.  She knows that if she purposely does something she knows is wrong, she gets spanked.  But she did confess and apologize.  I mulled it over for a few seconds.
M: Do you remember what 1 John 1:9 says?
S: If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.
M: Good. I'm glad you confessed, instead of trying to cover it up or letting someone come along and step in it and make it worse.  I forgive you.  But you are going to get spanked, because you used paint where you know you weren't supposed to.  That's the purifying part.
S (wincing and putting her hand over her bottom) Ok.
M: It's going to be a light spank, because you don't deserve a hard one.
I gave her a little one that probably didn't even sting.  Fortunately, the paint was brown, and so is the carpet, and I was able to clean it up enough that it's not noticeable.  Unfortunately, Sarah did earn herself a good spanking later in the day for something else.  

Then when Mike got home, she backtalked him, and he threatened to send her to her room.  She continued to mouth off, which earned her a personal Daddy escort to her room.  I don't know what happened after that, but I'm betting he knocked Her Highness down a peg or two.  Suffice it to say that parenting her today has not been enjoyable.  I suppose from her perspective it hasn't been real fun being our kid today either.