Niko

She came to us as a 6 month old puppy, fully potty-trained, beautifully marked with a black heart on her back, frisky and funny and already showing signs of sneaky and naughty.

She had five jobs:  1)  Alienate the neighbors, 2)  share food with the toddler (we went through four of them with her), 3)  lick small chilren, or really, any victims on the face--especially during family tussles when the weaker person was pinned by the victor, 4)  push basketballs around the yard, 5) poop in high-traffic areas. 

She also protected everyone from the vacuum, ate cat poop, barked at visitors as they left our home, hid at bedtime to avoid the crate, and met every person at the door as though they were long-lost friends.

She climbed a tree once, played one-sided fetch (I'll fetch, all right, but you have to chase me around to get it back) and was able to escape any fence.



The lawnmower and any moving vehicle were subject to attack at any time when Niko was on duty.

These previous two "skills" were the Darwinian personality quirks that finally did her in.

Last Thursday as we piled into the van, Niko piled in, too and was ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa's home for dinner.  No way!

So we chased her around the van and tossed her into the back yard.  (I really don't know why we even bothered--we all knew it would only be a matter of a few minutes before she was free to roam the neighborhood.)  All of the bricks around the bottom of the fence were secured, and the previously used 'stepping-stones' for climbing over the fence had been cleared, but unfortunately the gate was not tightly locked.  Really, though.  It didn't matter.  She was Houdini.

We weren't surprised to return and find the back yard empty, though it was weird that she didn't show up to greet us as we pulled in and tumbled out of the van.

After the dust settled, Handsome Prince went out to look for her.  Nothing.  Stupid pooch; must be out gallivanting.  Bet she'll show up about 2:00 a.m. and wake us up. 

Nope.

So the next morning I made a few phone calls, and sure enough, she'd gotten herself arrested without a collar.  I tossed the three Littles in the car and we went to bail her out of the clink.

They were sober when they met us--I was too embarrassed at first to notice.  We had never licensed her when we moved in, and she was a couple months late for a rabies shot.  They were very understanding as I shelled out $50 bail--just like Monopoly--and they took us back to a quiet cell, and finally stopped us to gently tell me the news.  Niko had been hit by a car.

Oh.

I carefully carried a sad, sorry dog out to the van, loaded the kids, and headed for the vet.  Caboose threw a tantrum as we slowly made our way into the vet's office; she wanted me to carry her.  One lady said to me as she held the door, "Oh, I am so sorry for you!"  Nice.  Me, too.

True to form, they had to sedate her to even handle her.  Niko has always had vet issues.  It was encouraging to see that she still took nothin' from nobody.  $380 later, we learned that her useless front leg was not broken, but paralysed, and her back hip and leg were broken, and she was a mess...

Everyone got a chance to visit and say good-bye.  L Nellie came back with me and held her while they put her down.  (By this time we had racked up another $130 and we were NOT shelling out another $60 to have her creamated.)

She was nippy at toddlers, stupid-selfish with bones and squeak-toys, woke us up almost every night, stole food and gum from the trash and drank from the toilet.  (But I must say that she showed promise as a writer...)

She was a twit and a pest, and I can't deny that her passing brings me a lot of relief.

Still. 

You can't be all bad if so many cry when you're gone.  We're gonna miss that crazy dog.

Good dog, Niko.  Thanks for everything.

More About the Swiss Cheese Kid

Last night, I lay pondering the post I made yesterday, and Kristen's article.

I thought about Mr. Cool, and the year we've had together.  I couldn't believe the range of emotions that he has provoked just this year alone.  I've been more frustrated than I ever thought possible, and yet more amazed and inspired by his wisdom and maturity.  I've been richly rewarded by his actions, and have also encountered huge anxieties for him.  Heaven has never been closer as I've hit my knees in his behalf.  I'm honored to be his mother, and hope I can keep my cool so that he can live another day.  (Kidding--about the live another day thing.  Mostly.)

Then I took each child in my mind's-eye and had the same year-end review.  I'm amazed at the progress they have each  made, and overwhelmed by my concerns and hopes and love for them.   How can I hold all of these people in my heart?  It threatened to burst and I had to quickly give them all back to God and just trust that He will use me as his instrument in their behalf.

 It's painful to me that each one of them has choices and could choose unwisely and experience harsh consequences.  And yet I can't take this away from them, and wouldn't even if I had that kind of power, because I would also take away their growth and joy.  I have to trust the Lord to help me to teach them and then trust them to choose wisely and then just be so very grateful that the Savior bridged the gap for all of our imperfections.

I've also gotta stop having these little thoughts at night because I get so worked up that I can't relax and go to sleep.  This Motherhood thing is not very conducive to a well-rested existence!  (Everyone slept through the night last night--when has that happened last!?!--and instead of sleeping I was winding myself up with these thoughts.  Sheesh!)

(Also, it's a good thing Mr. Cool is at school and not following me around today with a video camera, as all I have done thus far is sit in the chair and 'play' on the computer!)

A Friend's Response

From my friend Kristen:


My mom found this on a quilting site and sent it to me. You'll see the wisdom in it.

"author unknown" 

"I just realized that while children are dogs -- loyal and affectionate -- teenagers are cats. It's so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around. It puts its head on your knees and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it. 
Then around age 13 your adorable little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your footsteps, it disappears. 
You won't see it again until it gets hungry -- then it pauses on its sprint through the kitchen to turn up its nose up at whatever you're serving. When you reach out to ruffle its head, in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare as if trying to remember where it has seen you before. 
You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It won't go on family outings. Since you're the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. 
Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave. 
Only now you're dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it, and it runs away. Tell it to sit, and it jumps the counter. The more you go toward it wringing your hands, the more it moves away.

Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you have to learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door, and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and affection too. Sit still and it will come, seeking the warm, comfortable lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it. One day, your grown up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, "You've been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.” 

"Then you will realize your cat is a dog again."

Mr. Cool and His Swiss Cheese Brain

Several recent scientific findings show that the average teen-aged brain has a hole in it.  For example, a Pediatric Neurologist in Boston, Dr. Frances Jensen was quoted in an article by Richard Knox,

"Scientists used to think human brain development was pretty complete by age 10. Or as she puts it, that 'a teenage brain is just an adult brain with fewer miles on it.'
But it's not. To begin with, she says, a crucial part of the brain — the frontal lobes — are not fully connected. Really.
'It's the part of the brain that says: "Is this a good idea? What is the consequence of this action?" ' Jensen says. 'It's not that they don't have a frontal lobe. And they can use it. But they're going to access it more slowly.'"

Uh, huh.  Yep.  I could have saved the researchers a whole lotta dough if they had just asked my opinion.

Here's the story:
So.  Mr. Cool came home from school yesterday, and I greeted him with homemade cookies (healthy and tasty!) and a,  "How was your day?"


After listening, empathizing, and just slathering the boy with love, I gently asked him to do two things:

1)  Go next door and help the sweet elderly lady in her yard for 30 minutes, and

2) Clean his job and bedroom.

I left to pick up the elementary school kids from school.  As I left I added that when he was finished, he could go to his friends house and stuff his brain with video games.

When I returned a little while later, Mr. Cool was on the computer checking the latest sports news. 

I opened the discussion with a letter I had just received about a HS that had sent us some info.  It works with an adjoining college, which allows the students to earn credits for both schools, and graduate from Hs with an associate's degree from the college.  I talked him into letting me put his name into the lottery for the school, while he applied online for another similar school nearer to our home.  He's a smart kid, and could save himself a TON of time and money if he does it this way. 
 
So far, so good.  Then...

"Son, did you go next door?"
"Nope."
"Is your job done and your room clean?"
"Yep."
"Great!  I'm going to vacuum, so stick around a minute in case there is more that you need to do in there, and then when you're finished next door, you're free."  I said all of this very brightly, with only kindness.


(Artist's Rendition of what I found--minus the candy wrappers and crusty dishes.)

So, I put on my authoritative voice and called Mr. Cool to task.

After twenty minutes of nagging and cleaning (I worked right along with him), the Family Room was done, and the bedroom was coming along.

Then the friend called, and the battle ensued.  (Red ink is Mr. Cool speaking.)

"Mom!  You LIED to me!"

"What?  I told you that you could go when you were finished.  Finish your room, and then go next door and work in the yard for 1/2 hour, and you're done." 

This is what I said, but what he heard may have been more like, "BRUHAHA!!!  YOU'LL NEVER BE FREE!  YOU'LL BE TRAPPED IN THIS WHITE-SLAVERY RING UNTIL YOU'RE TOO OLD TO HAVE YOUR OWN TEETH!"

"I've been working for you for FOUR hours!  YOU never do ANYTHING!  ALL day long, you're in the chair, on the computer--I'm gonna follow you around with a video camera!"



"Son, you haven't even been home for four hours, and if you hadn't gotten on the computer when I left to pick up the kids, you would have been done with your jobs and could go play.  And, you lied to me when you said your job was done and it wasn't."

What he possibly heard, "BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH."


"All afternoon I've been helping you and making you feel good about yourself by letting you think you were getting something done!  I should be able to go and relax!  That's all you've been doing today!"




Pretty much all I could do at that point was laugh at that absurd little guy and tell him to let his friend know that he wouldn't be coming.

For the record, Mr. Cool was grouchy for a while longer, but later that night he apologized.  (He never did go next door, but he'll be home from school in exactly four minutes...)

I apologized for laughing at him.  And now I apologize for blogging him, and to all the copyrights I violated in this one blog alone.

SO SUE ME! 

"Hey, SON!..

Christmas Miracles

Christmas 2011 highlights:

The Princess worked hard one day to earn some money for Christmas.  I took her and some of the others to the Dollar store later, and as we were leaving, she showed me all the cool stuff she was able to buy herself.  Uh.  I reminded her that we were there to buy Christmas presents, but she reassured me that she had a great idea and that it was all good. 
Christmas morning, I paid special attention to the gifts she had given everyone.  Several of us received some of her old toys and stuffed animals, some got pictures she had drawn, etc...  Cracked me up.  It was a special Christmas Miracle.  Snort.



The day after Christmas I walked out the front door to find "The Hobo Hotel."  Lil' Mama and Mr. Lamadingdong had build a magnificent structure in the front yard out of all the cardboard boxes from the day before.  It was glorious, and they have spent more hours with those dang boxes than with any of the other Christmas stuff.  Hilarious!  I know what they're getting next year...
(Thanks for the picture, Grandpa!  One might want to ask why we were wearing Halloween capes?..  Nah, goes with the general theme, I guess.)

Mr. Cool came to me after all of the presents were open to comment that his Christmas wish was unfulfilled.  WHAT!!!  Where was the $60 Wii game that I had bought and wrapped?  We looked everywhere.  No game.  The only thing I can think of is that it managed to become a Christmas Miracle for the Sub for Santa 15 year-old boy whose family we helped.  Well, OK.  We finally bought Mr. Cool another copy for himself.  If  the other shows up, we'll return it.  He was a really good sport about the whole thing.  Nice kid.