Battle

There is a war going on in my house.

I will concede that I have just lost a battle, but know that I am determined to win the war.

I had a beautiful wandering jew plant in my kitchen.  It hung gracefully down the plant stand.  Full and lush.  Then it met Rocky, who strategically shredded it within days.  Rocky was cunning too.  He did his damage at night when he knew he wouldn't meet the fly swatter.  I had to resort to the fly swatter when the water thing didn't work out in my favour.

I saved the few pieces of plant that I could.  I'm starting to root them all over again.  You can see the spider plant babies in the background were a casualty of war too.

After careful observation I determined that Rocky wanted two things -- one to play with the plant and two, to have the windowsill they were sitting on.  See, the sunlight there is perfect for a napping kitten, unfortunately that's why it's the perfect place for my houseplants to flourish. 

In the end, I conceded.

I moved plants around so that there was a napping space available.  This is Rocky "hiding."  He didn't know he'd beaten me yet.

This is Rocky enjoying his victory.

I lost this one, but I resolved to stay firm on the "no cats at the table" rule!

new contraption

My friend calls our backyard "the Camp" because there are so many kid things to do.  In truth, I think it's as much fun for DH as it is for the gang.












We have a new contraption.  It's the swingset that looks a bit like a shop chain-fall behind the shed.

It's 13 feet out of the ground.  There's 6 feet in the ground.  The construction of the mighty swingset was quite the production.  We had the loader, tractor and gator all involved.  All that horsepower and I only got to run the level and hold the ladder.  The gang got the motorized stuff.... 

But I'm okay with that -- less responsibility that way. 

It's so high that you get a really nice swing going; even I have been swinging.  As long as I don't put my head back, or close my eyes, or go too high I don't get any vertigo or tummy oopsy-daisies.  It's a really good ab work out too.

So if you call, and I say I'm working out I might be on the contraption...

I don't know what to call this post....

So I'm in the kitchen chopping rhubarb yesterday when I hear the unmistakable sound of a snowmobile.  Snowmobile?  It's July.  It's 28C outside.  Couldn't be.

This is what I see.  This is the Boy on our old sled.  In the field.  In his flip flops.

Then this is the Boy on his dad's machine.  Still wearing flip flops (but notice he has a helmet on too!)

I know, I know, you are thinking what parent allows their child to race around on a snowmobile in July.  I guess I should have sent him back to the shed instead of getting the camera out.


This is what the other responsible parent chose to do.....

Sigh.  Only in Canada   in Small Town on the Estate. 
I am a RedNeck mamma.....

parenting

So DH and I had this plan.  We figured that if Rocky scratched the furniture or jumped on the table etc. then we would squirt him with water.  We assumed that if we did that a few times he would learn not to do certain things.  He's a smart cat, he'd catch on quickly....

The other night I caught him on the counter, in the kitchen sink.  Perfect place for the water discipline plan.  I turned the tap hose on him.  He did not leave the sink.  I don't think he even blinked.  I soaked that wee guy and he did not care.  Then I felt really bad cause he seemed to be half his size and he was dripping wet.  I set him on the floor and carefully dried him off with the closest tea towel.  Clearly, the discipline plan we had so carefully worked out was not working as we had assumed it would.

Next day we had Rocky outside in the garden.  He discovered my fountain.  Interesting.  Then he discovered he could walk around in it.... and splash.  Cool. 

We've  nixed the squirt bottle plan.

New plan? 

Beat him.

And then he does cute things like sleep on my phone books and I know I'll never spank him.  He now has licence to run amok.  Someday I'll be saying things like "playing on the table again?  Okay.  Just this once." Or "it's okay that you've shredded my wandering jew plant, it only took me two years to get it that full and lush." 

It's a good thing the Boy and Girl understand "time out."  My parenting options of squirt bottle, beating or spoiling completely are pretty limited. 

More Rocky

Conversation with DH last night
Me:  DH, Rocky has been chasing his tail for 20 minutes!  What do you think that says about him?
DH:  You've been watching a cat chase his tail for 20 minutes.  What do you think that says about you?
End of conversation.

Again, not mother-of-the-year

The Boy played in a baseball tournament this weekend.  I had second thoughts about letting him play because he's been sick and on the couch for the past week.  He begged, and gave me those big blue eyes and a "please, mommy."  I never get "mommy" unless he wants something, I shouldn't be so suckered in....

We left for the tournament at 6:30am on Saturday morning. Yep, 6:30AM (while DH and the Girl slept in.) The first game was at 8:00am.

At 7:55am I gave the boy some cough syrup.  I didn't want him to do his cough-bark during the game.....

At 8:30am I thought the Boy was moving a little slowly.  But he wasn't coughing, so I wasn't too concerned.

At 8:35 I realized that something just wasn't right with his movements.... then it dawned on me.  The cough medicine comes with a warning -- may cause dizziness....  Clearly caused dizziness. 

After the game I asked the Boy how he was feeling.  He said "a little light headed.  But I did okay, I just tried to catch the middle ball."  The middle ball?  "Yeah, sometimes I saw 3 coming at me, so I just put the glove towards the middle one......" 

Next game I didn't dope him up.  I figured a coughing fit was better than a ball in the head....  Yep, that's mother-of-the-year thinking right there, folks.

Rocky the Great

Rocky loves shoes.  I know, I know.  A cat after my own heart. 

He attacks the Girl's flip flops on a regular basis.  That's why the kids don't put their shoes away.  Yeah, that's why they don't put their shoes away.....

But this is what I don't get.....

These are the Boy's shoes.  The shoes he refuses to wear socks with in the summer time........

They are funky, funky boy shoes.  Yuck.  And Rocky loves them.  So now they smell like funky boy and cat spit.