Gone to the Dogs

For the past 6 years I have volunteered in numerous ways for an English Pointer rescue called PointerRescue.Org.  We have had around seven foster dogs in and out of our house over the years.  Today, Wyatt and I picked up Zeke.  We will only have him for a couple of days so I can't really count him as a foster dog but nonetheless, he is sleeping in a crate in the house, trying to adjust to this new life ahead of him.  Zeke was found by a hunter here in Kansas.  He was most likely dumped because someone didn't like his hunting ability and was left to fend for himself.  The hunter said he was freezing and he just couldn't leave him there.  Now, Zeke is staring in the face of a pampered life.  He will be taken care of, fed, given water, played with, etc.  His new foster dad is a hunter so he will probably get to do some of what is in his genes and with a person who will not just dump him in the middle of no where but stay by his side and work through his fears.  He hasn't eaten or drank any water yet for me but tomorrow is a new day.  He is nervous in the house and probably hasn't seen much of one, ever.  When I crated him after his bath today, he started whining which got my wonderful son thinking.  Wyatt sat in front of his crate and sang to him.  He then went to his room and picked out a book to read to Zeke.  Back to the crate where he sat and looked at the pictures with this new dog.  It was the sweetest thing ever.  I have always had a soft side for animals.  My Grandma has always had the "touch" too so it is so sweet to see that my son quite possibly got the gene too.  I believe a person who is kind to animals has a good kind heart themselves.  I so wish this on my son.  Zeke will move on in a few days and our house will be back to some sort of normal but there is always another dog out there waiting for a forever home or just a foster home to stay with for a while.  Good luck Zekemeister!

Family Time

A week ago yesterday my Dad had prostate surgery.  Due to the snow storm we had, I wasn't able to travel to the hospital for the surgery so we loaded up the house and took off for Western Kansas over the weekend to visit him.  We had a good time and even though Dad was a little on the slow moving, grumpy side, it was nice to be back home for a few days.  He is doing great so far and is back to work at the farm/ranch as we speak. 

Having a parent that goes through surgery or another medical issue is difficult.  I am in the oldest child, living the closest to my parents category so it is often that I feel the responsibility falls to me to make sure they are doing okay and have everything they need, including support.  My Dad hasn't had surgery of any kind since the 60s and did not take to this experience like I expected.  I have thought many times about how men seem to not take their health seriously.  Women seem to have it thrust in their faces everywhere and thus, I think we are better prepared in a sense to deal with what life throws at us.  Maybe my Dad would have been able to talk more openly about his medical issues and not close himself off if he knew his friend down the street had the same surgery (true story).  I felt I had to pull his teeth out to get any sort of information about how he was feeling.  The exception was when they had him on morphine in the hospital!  It was difficult for me to be here and not at the hospital with them.  It is hard sitting by the phone waiting to hear how things went.  I just hope he learns from this and is more open about his health, though I am not holding my breath.  Wouldn't men all be a little less modest about things if they just had to give birth once? :)

Sunday before we came home, my Mom had lunch for everyone after church.  My Aunt Sharon and Uncle Charles from California and my Aunt Coleen from Kansas were there.  I don't think I had seen Aunt Sharon and Uncle Charles since my brothers wedding five years ago.  Uncle Marc was also there and brought Wyatt's cousins (his grandkids) down to play.  Crazy group of people!  In the middle was the matriarch of the family, Grandma Dolly.  Ninety Three years young and still going strong.  I could tell she enjoyed having all four of her kids under one roof.

 Grandma Dolly, her kids and the great grandkids that were present.

My Dad and Grandma Dolly

Snow Day!

Yesterday was a big day for the Wyatt-man.  He woke up to a few inches of snow on the ground and couldn't even wait until after breakfast to "throw a snowball at Dad"!  You forget how excited you were as a kid to play in the snow.  His eyes were so bright and he couldn't stop laughing as he trudged through the snow in his too big snow boots. 

                                               Throwing a snowball at Mom!

We don't get snow here like we used too.  We had blizzards when I was growing up.  Snow drifts as high as our elementary school building so we could climb up on top of the building and sled off the top.  There was even one or two winters that the military helicopters from Fort Riley had to come feed our cattle.  There was just too much snow not to drop the hay in from the air.  I can remember spending hours outside in the snow as a kid.  It was never too cold.  Ooooooh, and the snow ice cream my Mom used to make!  Yummm!  She would send us out to collect snow in a big bowl and then make the ice cream for us. 

Things are a bit different now.  I am older and the cold gets to me a lot faster than it used too, but I saw yesterday that the excitement the white stuff generates in a kid is still the same.  You can't trade that for anything and I hope Wyatt has some fond memories of the winter when he gets older.  I will definitely have to dig out that ice cream recipe and buy him a sled!

Potty Training...... DONE!

It has been 5 days now since we started potty training Wyatt and holy cow I am excited to report he seems to have it down!  Now, for someone like me who wasn't blessed with tons of patience, this happened quick and makes my day.  Of course he is 3 so he should pick up on it fast but I have to say, this was easy.  Day one was stressful.  I was nervous for some reason about him having accidents.  Not so much because I didn't want to clean up the mess but I think more so because I didn't want to see the disappointment in his little chubby face.  While he plays tough with his Dad when the football or basketball comes out, he is a sensitive little guy.  I can read his emotions like a book.  When something doesn't quite go the way he thought it would, he gets so sad.  He gets embarrassed and hangs his head.  Breaks my heart but part of life I guess.  He is sleeping soundly in his big boy Lightning McQueen undies and is so proud of himself.  I am proud of him too.  One more notch on his belt in the game of life and one more thing that makes me realize he is growing up, and too fast.

Christmas Ornaments

My Christmas tree was finally put away today which always allows me to reflect on years past because of the ornaments on my tree.  When I was born some odd 33 years ago, my parents received a couple of Christmas ornaments as gifts to remember my 1st Christmas.  Those ornaments have led to an all out collection that now spans more than three decades and more than 100 ornaments.  My son and husband now have a collection started as well and we give our son an ornament that relates to the theme of his birthday so we can remember each happy year.  I have ornaments that belonged to my late Grandma Kohake, ornaments from past classmates and ornaments from my godparents and parents.  I painstakingly spend time individually packing them to preserve them and ensure they will be around for many years to come.  I know that some decorate their Christmas trees with themes or certain colors.  I for one will always have a tree decorated in a multitude of colors and no certain theme.  What I will have are ornaments from top to bottom that each represent a special person or time in my life, my husband's life or my kid's lives.  And you can bet I will be able to tell you who gave me each one and the circumstance behind it.  Truly, my Christmas tree is full of blessings and wonderful memories!

Potty Training Wyatt-Man

My son, Wyatt, turned 3 years old two days before Christmas.  And no, he is not potty trained.  I know, I know.  Some of you just gasped for air.  Others are empathizing with me right now.  With baby number two coming in 3 months, Mom and Dad want a break from diapers, no matter how small.  

Wyatt has had such a dislike for anything to do with the big boy potty that I have been dreading today.  It isn't that I don't want him to be free from the diapers, it is just the power struggle that he seems to think this has to be that has me shaking in my boots.  We were given a book that said this can be done in three days.  Perfect for me, Wyatt wasn't having any of it.  He yelled and yelled, "I don't want to be potty trained!".  Of course I told him if he was old enough to tell me that, he was old enough to go on the potty!  He wanted pants on instead of the underwear and just the thought of going into the bathroom was enough to send him into fits.  But, alas, day one is done and Wyatt is in bed sleeping with his big boy underwear on.  I am on the couch hoping he continues his usual dry bum in the morning.  Hopefully tomorrow will be easier on him and he will realize this isn't a power struggle, Mom and Dad aren't trying to make his life more difficult, and M&M's are really worth a trip to the potty.