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Certain Death

Now that the roof on the house is done, we’ve moved on to the workshop. After coming to “grips” with my fear of heights by emulating a tree frog  John has had me up on the roof of the workshop helping out again.

Reasons I hate the workshop roof:

1) It is only accessible via extension ladders, those are tall and scary.

2)Getting onto the roof from the scary ladder is even scarier.

3)I’m not even going to talk about getting back onto the ladder.

4) Once on top the roof is flat, but very small, falling in any direction would be certain death.

5)Five turkey vultures were soaring and circling, clearly they knew about the certain death.

So up on the roof, far, far out of my- feet on the ground- element I was, shall we say, a little testy. Later with my feet firmly on the ground I apologized to John and explained that I was just having a hard time dealing with the fact that one of us was going to pitch off the roof and die at any moment.

Then I thought about what I said.

I have since resolved to try to make my last moments with my husband friendlier ones.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Ivy’s recent quotable Dad comments:

“I don’t ask you nicely and politely I only ask dad nicely and politely”

“You don’t love me, DAD loves me.”

“I’m not your kid. I’m Dad’s kid, Clara is your kid.”

Now I like to think that I take all the snotty three year old comments in stride.  I don’t let them get to me, sometimes I think she’s  funny, and most of all I’m very glad that Ivy loves her Dad so much.  Nor do I feel unloved by my girls. Clearly since I am the one required to read bedtime stories, rock girls to sleep, kiss hurt fingers and wipe dirty butts I am dear to them as well.

But sometimes…

When every night when John gets home he is trampled at the door by the dogs and kids, and the only way for me to get my own kiss hello is to wade in pushing everyone else out of the way.

When Clara lights up when she hears him talk, and Ivy can go from problem child to angle at the drop of her hat on hearing his voice.

When unknowingly John will ask Ivy to do something that I had been waiting her out on, and she’ll jump up and go do it.

When Ivy asks where her Dad is ten times a day.

…it starts to get a bit grating in a  you-rotten-kids-do-you-forget-who-spends-the-whole-freakin-day-with-you sort of way.

So when I was the only one home when the girls came back from spending a night at Grandma and Grandpa’s I basked in my two minutes of fame. I loved the lit up faces, the hugs hello, and hearing how much Ivy missed me…

…right up until I heard, “Where’s Dad?”and Clara threw up on me.

I hear absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I’m planning my next vacation!

More Roofing!

While John and I had been talking hypothetically about re-shingling the roof since last fall it wasn’t until last weekend that we set a date, you may have realized by now that that date was only a week away.

I’d like to dispense a bit of free advice here and mention that if you are planning an epic project like this it would be helpful to set your date more than a week in advance.  I’d also advise you not to have your hot water heater die around 10pm the night before it starts, if that were to happen it’s possible you would spend the weekend without hot water. If you spend your roofing weekend without hot water I hope you have really nice neighbors that will let you shower, you’ll need one!

While our one week of planning was a bit frantic we did manage to make a plan, order supplies, and line up help.   Our help consisted of  a few friends that we were able to convince that what they would really like to do for part of their labor day weekend is give us a hand on our roof, and of course we got my family involved. In addition to the fact that they came with most of the know how (remember Memorial day weekend?) projects seem to be what my family does. I hear other family’s get together and eat, or camp, or golf… mine does things like, take down dead trees, build fences, clean barns, and roof houses.

There they were bright and early Saturday morning  ripping off the old shingles, lovingly working together…

… too much coffee was clearly not good for Tyler or my Dad so we cut them off and by midday my brother  had assumed the stance.

This is the,

“What in the…”

“How on earth…”

“Why did they…”

stance that anyone working on our house gets at one point or another.

This unfortunately brought us to the “Tyler?” part of the project.  At this point Tyler, who was in charging of telling his family what to do so we could ignore him and do it wrong, was being called all over the roof.

“Tyler now what do I do?”

“Tyler how do I put drip edge on here?”

“Tyler how do we fix this hole?”

“Tyler!?”

“Tyler?!”

This slowed down our progress by quite a bit and irritated Tyler,  but by Saturday night we had completely deconstructed the roof and had it sort of put back together.  The shingles were arriving via boom truck Sunday morning, and we were not quite ready for them…

Shingle delivery guys don’t care if you are done prepping the roof  they just show up when they are told. So Sunday morning there came the shingles, and the grey sky, and the evil, evil, weather forecaster who every fifteen minutes on the radio liked to remind us there was a chance of thunderstorms on Sunday night.

More help arrived and with my kids being taken care of and the weather looking iffy I went up on the roof…

Please note that this is not an insignificant thing. I do not like heights, I don’t like them at all.   But, the girls were being watched, and there was nothing to do on the ground so I went up to the shortest roof over the mudroom where there was also nothing to do. Then my brother looked at me and said something really inspirational like, “Shut up, get over here and help me.”

So I did.

I helped out on top of the house for the rest of the weekend.  This is why I have no more pictures of the project to share. I was on the roof, and I was doing it without crying or hyperventilating but I wasn’t about to use one of my hands, that I was really hoping were acquiring sticky tree frog-like properties, to do anything that wasn’t completely necessary, like take  a picture.

By Sunday night we had some shingles on, the rest of the roof was ready for shingles, Tyler went home, only my Mom and Dad were planning on coming back and the rain had started.

Sunday was a bad night.  Sunday evening we made a lot of phone calls.

Monday morning the phone calls had paid off and things were looking up. John’s parents whisked the girls away  first thing in the morning. Then my Dad’s friend saved the day by crawling around like a monkey and doing all sorts of things to shingle the highest of the roofs that I can’t even think about, much less type about, without wanting to sit on the floor. While John helped out on the high roofs, my mom and I finished most of the low with Dad pitching in where he was needed.  As we worked, I studiously avoided looking at anyone crawling around higher than me, walking near the edge or doing anything that looked like slipping. This is because I had learned that watching any of those activities made me really wish I was back on the ground. The problem was as soon as I wanted to be back on the ground the thought of navigating steep slippery roof and rickety ladders was also way too scary.  So instead I would will my toes to also acquire tree frog like properties and stick where I was.

I like to think I was persevering in finishing the job rather than that I was frozen in terror.

Just as we were really starting to get sick of anything that looked like a shingle, we had one last friend show up to help finish things off, and we did just before dark on Monday night!

Thanks to all our helpers. We never ever would have gotten it done without you all!

Tyler for all the work and the question answering.

Jeff, Steve, Stephen, our friends who like us well enough to help shingle a house.

Jessie who came to pick up her puppy Saturday morning and didn’t leave till she had helped do everything from tear off to kid care Saturday night.

Jess, who came along with her own baby and helped watch both of mine as well.

Tom and Chris who let us shower at their house since we had no hot water.

George and Lois who ran to Menard’s, cleaned the kitchen, and helped watch kids.

Mighty and Marcia, who lent us tools and told me what color to pick.

Rick, the man who saved us Monday morning.

Pat and Al, for taking the girls so we had a chance to not only finish the roof but do clean up unencumbered Tuesday morning.

Granny and Grandpa, who not only helped finance the project and sent along food everyday but also came out to help in the house and run to Menard’s on Sunday.

and to Mom and Dad who did it all, all weekend long!

Walking!

Clara is walking!  Sort of, in a three steps at a time kind of way, but you’ve got to start somewhere!

Please admire my blue eyed baby who is almost eleven months old (How did that happen?).  To do so you may have to ignore her dirt and food stains, (She’s much cleaner than when I caught her playing in Ivy’s poop earlier in the day!) and ignore the fact that she has no pants and her onesie isn’t even snapped (As near as I can remember that was outfit number four of the day).  Also it’s not that I don’t mow my lawn, it’s that she’s in the pasture, (Which we were in becuase my 15 min. tractor job had at this point taken almost two hours and I had run out of gas and the sky in the background isn’t just to match Clara’s eyes it was a major storm on it’s way in that soaked me while I tried to get the tractor restarted and finish my job. It’s  still not done.) while you can tell from her expression that she’s not super confident with the walking yet, she sure is trying!

If Clara can figure out how to learn to walk I’m sure I can figure out how to cope with one rotten dog and two poopy kids.

Today we were pretty shaky on our feet, I’m betting tomorrow we’ll both be better!

An Extra Birthday Gift

Last night as John and I were out and about celebrating his birthday, we traveled around a good chunk of south central Wisconsin, hiking, touring the new plant his work opened up and then we went out for a bite of food  and a few drinks downtown Madison.  We eventually ended up at the Nitty Gritty. For those of you who don’t immediately get the most annoying happy birthday song ever stuck in your head at the mere mention of the name the Nitty Gritty is Madison’s birthday bar. If it’s your birthday you get a mug with a balloon and free beer all day, once an hour they play the birthday song and shout out all the celebrants that are there that day. Not surprisingly it is often filled with college kids, (you did hear me say “free” and “beer” in the same sentence right? ) As it turns out it’s also a great place for those of us who are following Dave Ramsey and his cursed, I mean lovely plan. Birthday boy drinks free and designated drivers get free soda, it was right up our cheapskate alley.

So we were standing around, making fun of the current fashion, enjoying our free drinks and having a lovely time. Then on a trip to the bar John got another little birthday present. A younger guy with his own birthday balloon said “Hey man, Happy Birthday” as John went by.  Not unusual, drunk people are pretty friendly. Then as I followed John by, he says in a voice laced with disdain “What are you like, 28?”

When I caught up to John I related what I had heard, his face fell for an instant, and then lit up, “Yeah, I am like 28!”

Happy 33rd Birthday honey!

“Nnnn…ummm…OK.”

Since Ivy was born I have been a big fan of the theory that everyone should sleep where everyone in the house gets the most sleep.

I became a fan of this theory when we co-slept with Ivy the first night she was born. I hadn’t been specifically planning on co-sleeping, but we did it and it worked great. Why mess with a good thing? Ivy shared a bed with us for a few months before moving into her crib in a separate room.  We also co-slept with Clara up until she started the dreaded “sleep crawling.” Now Clara has also moved out into her own room and crib across the hall from Ivy’s room where she now sleeps in a regular bed.

Or should I say where Ivy slept in a regular bed. We have now entered a new phase of sleeping arrangements that I did not foresee.

It started when Ivy kept showing up in our bed in the middle of the night. Going with my theory if she was actually sleeping when she showed up, I probably would have left her there.  Ivy is not fun to sleep with, first she spends far to long, talking, whispering, wiggling and touching my face, then when she does fall asleep she turns into a dead weight that is impossible to move off your pillow and is only revived when it involves wiggling and flailing around to take up more of the bed. Ivy in our bed is not a plan where everyone gets the most sleep.

Here is how it would go:

Ivy would come into our bed.

I would try to ignore her.

It wouldn’t work because she would do really awful things to me (like set paper snowflakes on my eyelids, and if that doesn’t sound awful then clearly you’ve never been subjected to it!)

I would get up and put her crying back into her bed.

She would want to snuggle with someone.

Depending on my level of kindness (directly related to amount of face touching I had endured in the last few minuets) and time of night, I might lay down with her for a few minutes.

I would get back up and go back to bed.  Or if John returned her to her bed he would fall asleep there and I would never see him again.

Ivy would show back up…

If  you add into that the fact that Clara still wakes up in the night you have the recipe for one grumpy sleep deprived family!

One memorable night recently I put her back in bed three times only to find that when John got out of bed in the morning she had been sleeping on the other side of him! Something had to change.

A few daytime discussions about how we all sleep in our own beds was getting me nowhere.  Ivy’s room was “Not for sleepin’ in”, she was lonely, her room was dark and before we knew it she would be back in our bed poking at my face. Then Ivy told me she wanted to sleep with Clara. I said,  “Nnnn…. ummm…. OK.” And we tried it.  Thank goodness I was able to curb the automatic “No.” that almost slipped out!

Clara goes to sleep about an hour before Ivy,  Ivy goes through her night time routine then slips into Clara’s room and sleeps on the bed we’ve made for her on the floor in there.

Since sleeping with Clara, she has not: come into our bed,woken Clara up, been woken by Clara (how, I have no idea, I think the girl could sleep through WWIII),or been woken by John or I (she has been stepped on at least once with no reaction).

Then in the morning Ivy likes to tell me that I can’t come in when they wake up because they are playing.  Really could life get any better?! I have been able to laze in bed for an extra half hour or so while I listen to them play- I have nothing but good things to say about our current arrangement!

I’ll admit it’s a little odd,  I never thought I’d have a three year old who would want to sleep on the floor in her baby sisters room. I also never thought that when I said “OK. Great!” when I was informed by that same three year old that she was peeing in the bathroom that I should inquire if she was using the toilet… clearly there is quite a bit of this parenting gig I haven’t thought of yet.

Dogs and their Owners

They say that dogs and their owners often look alike.

It is less common but it has also been put about that dogs and their owners act alike.

Personally I choose to believe that I am nothing like my dog.

I rarely drool, the only spots I have are freckles and while I’ll never be called petite I certainly don’t tower over my friends.

Piper hates to be disturbed when sleeping, sleeps late whenever possible, and has a tendency to think she’s in charge of everything, clearly we are nothing alike…

Right.

Right?!

There are two things that have been brought to my attention recently that I can’t dispute.

The first is that Piper and I go up and down stairs the same. I’m not sure why it bothers so many people but apparently tromping up and down stairs like a herd of elephants is not considered ideal. Piper and I are united on the stand that dainty stair climbing is  for wimps who have no sense of urgency in their life.

The other thing that I’m afraid I can not deny is that Piper and I are resistant to change on our home turf. Especially if this change were to be carried out by someone else while we were not watching.

Piper dislikes new items in the yard, brought by man, fallen out of tree, fallen out of sky, four legged or two legged, however it got there, whatever it is, if it hasn’t happened on her watch it is not OK. The very large tree branch that fell down in a recent storm got a thorough barking by Piper.  As loud as that was you wouldn’t want to be a  opossum or a cat that happened to cut through the yard.  Once Piper even barked at a headlight I had replaced on the truck, no idea how she knew it was different but she did!

As for me, well, you can ask Sarah how I feel about such things. She will probably agree that in two straight years of living together the only time we had serious issues was when she rearranged our room without me…

Ivy’s Michigan Stories

Ivy went along on the trip with John to Michigan. Talking to her you’d never guess that they were there for Storms surgery, nope, clearly in Ivy’s world the trip to Michigan was all about the pony ride.

It comes up in conversation (or out of the blue) like this:

-“MOM GUESS WHAT? …  I got to ride a pony!”

-“MOM you know what I did? … I rode a pony with Uncle Jim!”

-“MOM you know what feel you better? … Riding a pony!”

-“MOM I rode a pony with Uncle Jim like at the fair.  …. It was better than the fair.”

-“MOM we go to Michigan again and I ride a pony?”

Clearly the pony ride was a big hit!

Only two things can compete with the pony ride.

The stuffed pink poodle that she got as a gift that she actually threw(? lost? dropped?) out the window on the drive home. Lucky for Ivy Dad was the hero and went back for it.

“Mom, my puppy flew out the window, and you know who turned around and got it? DAD! And it wasn’t even dirty!”

Since it’s rescue it has accompanied her everywhere and has been called either Grandma Mary or Finley, she might not be sure of the name but it’s not getting let go of long enough to fall out a window again that’s for sure!

And my favorite, her story about the kitten:

“Mom you know what I did?”

“I held a tiny kitty, I held it like this” – mimed cupping hands against chest

“It was soo tiny and so black Mom, it was so black”

“And, and it’s eyes were closed!”

-I asked how big it was-

“It was NOT big Mom it was TINY!”

After our conversation I saw the picture, she was right it was tiny!

Keeping It Elevated

Over the weekend my Uncle Jim (you may remember him from the Pewaukee Triathlon) and his super staff fixed Storm’s knee.  While Uncle Jim makes a pretty good biker for an OFG we are fortunate that he is a far better veterinary surgeon than triathlon team member. Nobody in this family is going to talk smart about out-suturing him, we just come visiting with our broken dogs and make sure to say please and thank you! Uncle Jim had a big job with Storm’s knee, from what I heard about it everything in her knee was messed up in some way, a few of the major items: grinding off extra bone growth and replacing her ACL! All reconstructed in her bright pink bandage (chosen by Ivy of course) Storm is back at home and doing well. Right now Storm is confined to her crate and while she may get tired of that in the weeks to come today she’s going with the flow, and making sure to keep that leg elevated!

And no, I don’t force her to lay like that it really is her preferred sleeping position!