Little hands and fingers are so precious. I love how chubby and dimpled they look. They can get into a lot of trouble, though. You can usually find handprints on the walls and follow the trail to your little one. The anger usually subsides a little for me when I take their little hands and wash them. Those things are just too darn sweet for me. Last Friday, there were a lot of little fingers running around my house. All sorts of sizes, but all little compared to mine. Those fingers were very busy that day. They played Nintendo, held hands, played with all sorts of games and toys, played outside, ate lunch, and.......fed the dog. I thought I would introduce our dog to the kids so that she wouldn't have to be in the garage all day. In 100 degrees heat outside, the garage is like an oven. I should have left her there. The kids just loved her and she got along with them just fine. She especially enjoyed the little fingers feeding her bits of food. I didn't notice this was happening until it was too late. Leigh had her fill. A little while later, I did put her in the garage. I should have kept her in there. You see, it was a mistake to let Leigh mingle among the little fingers of diaretic proportions. The next morning at about 5am, I slowly open my eyes to smell the stench. It is a smell I have gagged at before many times and knew exactly what happened. Blessedly, my husband was right next to me and was available to clean up the mess. Most of it was on my bathroom rug, but it had trailed onto the carpet in our room. Of course, Leigh was hiding in the bathtub downstairs and since I knew it hadn't been her fault I wasn't too angry. Arming myself with deoderizers of all kinds, we got things cleaned up and went back to bed. It wasn't over yet, people. Again, this morning at 5am, I woke up to the stench and Leigh climbing into our bathtub. This time, she didn't bother with niceties. All of it was on the carpet in our bedroom. Again, my husband was given clean-up duties and I went downstairs until I passed out on the couch. This is a lesson for me that however innocent and sweet those little fingers can be it is best to keep them away from dogs with digestive problems.
They instructed me to make sure I have a full bladder on arriving for my ultrasound. Ha. I almost laughed in their faces. Pregnant me plus a full bladder equals a disaster. On my son's birthday back in March, I had to drive all the kids home afterward. I had drunk a lot of water and couldn't believe I had forgotten what happens to me when I drink too much water with no bathroom nearby when I'm pregnant. I counted the minutes till I got home all the while breaking the law and speeding trying to keep in mind not to drive too recklessly screaming at the poky people in front of me. It brought to mind the very first time I experienced a full bladder as a pregnant woman. It was my first baby and my husband was in the Air Force. So, when we had an ultrasound we went to the Academy in Colorado Springs. They told me to drink an astronomical amount of water before I came. I did so and then we started out for the half hour drive to the hospital. By the time we were on the
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