Newest Addition

Maybe it's that we missed bringing home a new baby every two years.

We're a little overdue for a new one to add to the fold.

(You can't count the chickens or fish here.)

So, it was destiny (right?) when Mark was leaving Cabella's and a girl was sitting there with an almost 9 week old black lab puppy.

And had a trunk over flowing with little lab puppies all wiggling and squirming for attention.

Mark was trying to be strong.

He told the girl that if she still had the runt at the end of the day to give him a call.

It must have been destiny that she still had the runt that night.

And the next day.

So, we decided that if the parents were good dogs we'd really consider it.

I think it was a done deal in Mark's head.

It was pretty close to a done deal in mine too.

Both parents were good looking, mild mannered labs.

We were smitten.

And so we brought home our newest baby.

Miss Olive U. Schreck.

But don't call her Olive in front of Carl, he doesn't like olives but he loves Miss Ollie.

Here she is sharing a bone with her sister Lucy (who now lives with Elsa's best friend Henry).

One trick with bringing home Ollie was that we had to give up our trip to Mark's parent's cabin in Mazama.  It was tough to weigh bringing home a puppy with a promise to play in the snow at Nonna and Grandpa's cabin.  So, we compromised by taking the kids to the Great Wolf Lodge for a night.

While I had Charlie and Elsa in the bathtub after their first day in the indoor water park I was a little worried about making the single tiny tube of kid wash last for all 4 kids.

Don't ask me why, for some silly reason Mark really didn't think we should request more...

I turned around and saw them happily squirting all the soap in the water.

My reflex reaction, "DON'T WASTE THAT SOAP!"

I stepped out of the bathroom to put it back on the counter away from the tub

and heard Little Miss Big Pants Elsa Jane, "Jeeze Louise, she's cranky!"

Huh.  Totally put in place by my three year old.

She was right.  Who cares about a silly little tube of soap?

It was vacation.

She offered a good reminder to lighten up.  Jeeze Louise.

I can still hear her little voice perfectly enunciating, "Jeeze Louise! She's craaannnnkkkyyy!"

And giggling.

I had to giggle too.

I love those little buggers, all of them- two footed and four footed ones.

I think we need to figure out a sign to post on the barn: "Welcome to Crazytown.  Population 8.1- 6 human, 2 canine, 1 fish" and likely leave room to add to it for the future chickens, cows and whatever else moves into our crazytown.  It might have to be in chalk.

Getting Older

I know from the day you're born 'til the day you die you're getting older.

With babies it's adorable.

With toddlers it's rapid.

With adolescents it's awkward.

For teenagers it's not fast enough.

For 20 somethings it's a little too fast.

For 30 something it's ridiculously fast and a little painful.

I've yet to experience the beyond 30s, but my guess is that you stop counting the years even more than you do in your 30s.

I took a big bite of humble pie yesterday.

A fellow mom at pre-school pick up asked me if I might have been one of her little sister's elementary school teachers.

OUCH!

I'm examining the dark circles around my eyes (Jewish heritage or lack of sleep- I'm not certain the cause and have no idea how to remedy it) the fine wrinkles all around my face, and the couple handfuls of grey hairs sprouting around my head.

I guess I could see how she might possibly think I was that old.

But it sure is painful.

I know, at some point you're no longer the youngest.

And to those youngest, I must look middle aged.

Blah.

Blah blah blah.

I feel like Toad in Frog and Toad.

But getting older is a little liberating.

A little over a week ago I celebrated a sweet friend's birthday by going to the Olympus Spa for some delicious Korean food (including this), hot rooms, pool soaks and the most luxurious treatment I've ever had... a body scrub.

It was absolutely delightful.

As a teenager and 20 something I wouldn't have hesitated to strip naked and strut around in front of other people.

Now in my (gasp) later 30s I'm getting back to ok with the idea of being naked in front of others.

No, I'm not as sleek and firm as I was before babies.  My belly still looks like a deflated ball after growing 4 wonderful little humans in it for a total of  36 months (or 40 however you count that).

My backside looks like a road map with all the stretch marks from over indulging for those same 36 months.

And I just might fit in with the National Geographic bare chested women (thank God for supportive brassieres).

But it's also a record of how far I've come as a person.

And now my skin is baby smooth.  I want to go quarterly so I can keep myself pet-ably soft forever.

I may not be the youngest, but I'm still relatively young and I'm going to enjoy each age that I'm allowed to zip through.

And I am going to splurge every now and then so that I can let a stranger scrub the dead skin off 99.99% of my body. 

Sounds crazy. 

Sounds weird. 

Sounds uncomfortable. 

But it was absolutely delightful.

I highly recommend it!

Now, who wants to join me next time?