No, I'm not a beekeeper. I just play one on TV sometimes. I've said it before, I have a pretty cool job. I host a travel show for a small PBS station and we travel around Illinois meeting people and visiting places that are unique. One of my recent ventures was to a beekeeping farm in rural Central Illinois. For anyone that knows me, you know I'm terrified of bees. Well, I'm terrifed of all flying insects really. So, when I ventured out to this bee farm for my show, I never dreamed I'd be getting up close and personal with the bees.
I was doing okay filming them. The beekeeper told me where to stand and assured me I wouldn't get stung, so all was well. Then he said "I've got an extra suit, maybe you want to demonstrate some of this on camera?" Uh, I'm sure I looked blank, but after grinding about it for a minute I decided that you only live once and I'd give it a shot. I suited up in the white suit, made sure all of the velcro was as tight as possible and proceeded to the chosen hive. I was going to lift one of the combs out of the hive for my co-host to film...WITH MY BARE HANDS! I was like, "Aren't there gloves or something?" I was informed that no, there were not. Your hands need to be sensitive so you know how much pressure you're exerting everywhere and not crushing bees. Ugh, I shuttered just thinking about accidentally touching a bee. But, at any rate I went ahead and picked up the comb and even managed a smile for the camera. Later, I got brave enough to taste the honey right off the comb (AMAZING!). It turned out to be a really fun and educational day, despite my fears. I maybe even got over some of them...a little.
I'm also happy to announce that I didn't get stung! I've posted the video above so you can see what all the buzz is about (Ha-Ha)!
Monday, March 12, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
The Pee Through and the Poop-a-Roo
Ok, so I never dreamed I'd talk this much about bodily functions until I had a child, but I think you might all get a kick out of these. I know I did (well, I'm laughing now at least). So you've all heard the adage, "Let sleeping dogs lie." Well, I'm willing to bet you've thought the same thing about babies, right? Never wake a sleeping baby. That's one of my primary missions in life. I always do my best to not wake my 10-month-old son once he's gone to sleep. So, recently when he went to bed at his normal time, I went along with my normal routine. I watch a video monitor while he sleeps and I usually go in his room a few times before I got to bed to do a physical inspection (I look at him, listen to him breathe, feel his arms and head to make sure he's warm enough). On this particular night he had been running a fever, so I put my hand under his back to make sure he wasn't sweating (if he was, I had planned to take him out of his sleep sack for a while). Oh, he wasn't sweaty, he had peed! That has never happened! He was soaked, his bed was soaked, everything was wet. Now I had to break my cardinal rule. I picked up the sleeping baby and proceeded to get him out of all the wet jammies, sleep sack, diaper, etc. I laid him on the floor in his room because it was the fastest way. Right away I discovered the issue. His diaper was only closed on one side. We won't say whose fault that is...
Somewhere deep in my heart I thought, "maybe he'll stay asleep." Haha, wishful thinking! So he's screaming, I'm changing sheets, jammies, diapers all in a blur. We finally made enough noise to rouse my husband (I was trying to spare him the sleep loss). So, now we're all in on it, but we finally get everything dry and the baby back to sleep with a little rocking and the night proceeds as usual. Needless to say, I now stick my hand under the baby every night to make sure that hasn't happened! It was just such a weird thing!
On the whole other side of the bodily function spectrum is the toy at our house that we now affectionately refer to as the poop-a-roo. Everyone always thinks I'm joking when I say that every time my kid gets in the jumparoo, he has to potty. People always say, "oh surely not every time!" with a dismissive laugh. Well, I'm here to tell you, it's just about 99 percent of the time! My daycare even started laughing about it because he does it there in their jumparoo too. I guess it's just a natural "mover" so to speak, but everytime you put him down in there he jumps and screams and laughs and then just stops, and you know what's happening! I've washed the seat of that thing more times than any person probably ever should have to because you can imagine what doing your thing and then jumping up and down can cause...
Anyway, that's my tale of the pee through and poop-a-roo. One rare thing and one that happens all the time. Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Somewhere deep in my heart I thought, "maybe he'll stay asleep." Haha, wishful thinking! So he's screaming, I'm changing sheets, jammies, diapers all in a blur. We finally made enough noise to rouse my husband (I was trying to spare him the sleep loss). So, now we're all in on it, but we finally get everything dry and the baby back to sleep with a little rocking and the night proceeds as usual. Needless to say, I now stick my hand under the baby every night to make sure that hasn't happened! It was just such a weird thing!
On the whole other side of the bodily function spectrum is the toy at our house that we now affectionately refer to as the poop-a-roo. Everyone always thinks I'm joking when I say that every time my kid gets in the jumparoo, he has to potty. People always say, "oh surely not every time!" with a dismissive laugh. Well, I'm here to tell you, it's just about 99 percent of the time! My daycare even started laughing about it because he does it there in their jumparoo too. I guess it's just a natural "mover" so to speak, but everytime you put him down in there he jumps and screams and laughs and then just stops, and you know what's happening! I've washed the seat of that thing more times than any person probably ever should have to because you can imagine what doing your thing and then jumping up and down can cause...
Anyway, that's my tale of the pee through and poop-a-roo. One rare thing and one that happens all the time. Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Week of Misadventure
Sometimes life gets in the way...of blogging at least. So, I humbly register my apologies for not posting for a while, but I think this blog will explain why things have been a little hectic at my house lately. It mostly involves timing more than anything.
You know how life seems to be going along at a nice clip and you know it's too good to be true? Well, it usually is and it was a few weeks ago. I had a normal Tuesday and upon stopping into work on Wednesday I learned of a terrible loss a co-woker had experienced unexpectedly overnight. After recovering from the initial shock, I began to formulate how I could help and I decided to offer to take over much of her duties at work when I could. This entailed spending a lot of time trying to do both her job and mine (thankful that the time I couldn't help, a journalism professor here could). I was so glad I had the skillset to be able to help and it really just meant staying a little longer at work here and there. Well, this works all fine and good because my wonderful husband was available each night to pick up our son from daycare and take him home (which is usually my duty).
A few days of this and it's going well until lunch one day when my husband says, "I hate to even say this out loud, but I have to go out of town for a few days." Wow. Now my support drops out! Of course work would come calling now because that's how it usually goes right? Neither of us are overly busy for a long time, then all of the sudden, BAM! We talk it out and decide that I can get some help filling in the later times at work for the next few days so I can go back to picking up my son and it all works out great, crises are averted and all of that good stuff. Eventually, life pretty much gets back to the new normal. Now, I'm officially back to doing my own work, which is nice in a lot of ways but I was glad that I could help out when needed.
I have to be honest. I admire single parents or those that are alone for long periods of time. Raising our son is very much a partnership and I find myself a little bamboozled from time-to-time when I'm alone. It's the simple things like leaving the baby with my husband when I have to go to the bathroom, or when I want to take a shower or when I answer the phone, switch the laundry, etc. Oh, believe me, I've found ways around some of that by adapating as I'm sure all parents faced with this do. Some are normal, some are funny. My personal favorite is the day I took my son to the bathroom with me. It's a little strange, yes, but I just held him on my lap. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do! He's about to the stage now where you can't leave him alone because he's somewhat mobile and even a 2-minute trip to the bathroom could turn ugly and leaving him in his crib is just a stressful trip to the bathroom because he cries most of the time unless he's already peaceful and happy, so you do what you gotta do! I'm sure some of you out there can relate! You can't tell me you haven't spread a blanket out on the floor of your bathroom and made funny faces in the mirror while you put on your makeup in the morning to keep the little person in your life happy!? Well, that's at least another one of my little tricks. I try to do everything else after he's gone to bed for the evening.
So, anyway, the stress of doing two jobs in one, grad school, my single parenting moment and everything else has pretty much evened out now, but it was definitely one crazy week worthy of the misadventures. Oh, and as for my son...I think he came out of it okay too.
You know how life seems to be going along at a nice clip and you know it's too good to be true? Well, it usually is and it was a few weeks ago. I had a normal Tuesday and upon stopping into work on Wednesday I learned of a terrible loss a co-woker had experienced unexpectedly overnight. After recovering from the initial shock, I began to formulate how I could help and I decided to offer to take over much of her duties at work when I could. This entailed spending a lot of time trying to do both her job and mine (thankful that the time I couldn't help, a journalism professor here could). I was so glad I had the skillset to be able to help and it really just meant staying a little longer at work here and there. Well, this works all fine and good because my wonderful husband was available each night to pick up our son from daycare and take him home (which is usually my duty).
A few days of this and it's going well until lunch one day when my husband says, "I hate to even say this out loud, but I have to go out of town for a few days." Wow. Now my support drops out! Of course work would come calling now because that's how it usually goes right? Neither of us are overly busy for a long time, then all of the sudden, BAM! We talk it out and decide that I can get some help filling in the later times at work for the next few days so I can go back to picking up my son and it all works out great, crises are averted and all of that good stuff. Eventually, life pretty much gets back to the new normal. Now, I'm officially back to doing my own work, which is nice in a lot of ways but I was glad that I could help out when needed.
I have to be honest. I admire single parents or those that are alone for long periods of time. Raising our son is very much a partnership and I find myself a little bamboozled from time-to-time when I'm alone. It's the simple things like leaving the baby with my husband when I have to go to the bathroom, or when I want to take a shower or when I answer the phone, switch the laundry, etc. Oh, believe me, I've found ways around some of that by adapating as I'm sure all parents faced with this do. Some are normal, some are funny. My personal favorite is the day I took my son to the bathroom with me. It's a little strange, yes, but I just held him on my lap. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do! He's about to the stage now where you can't leave him alone because he's somewhat mobile and even a 2-minute trip to the bathroom could turn ugly and leaving him in his crib is just a stressful trip to the bathroom because he cries most of the time unless he's already peaceful and happy, so you do what you gotta do! I'm sure some of you out there can relate! You can't tell me you haven't spread a blanket out on the floor of your bathroom and made funny faces in the mirror while you put on your makeup in the morning to keep the little person in your life happy!? Well, that's at least another one of my little tricks. I try to do everything else after he's gone to bed for the evening.
So, anyway, the stress of doing two jobs in one, grad school, my single parenting moment and everything else has pretty much evened out now, but it was definitely one crazy week worthy of the misadventures. Oh, and as for my son...I think he came out of it okay too.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Oh Deer!
So, I'm not generally too much of a "soft touch," well, at least I didn't used to be. I think being a parent has changed that...or something. Anyway, just about everything makes me feel and overthink things now like I never used to. I give you this back story so I can get to the front story. It's all about a deer.
I'm driving to a meeting for a service group that I'm a part of down our area 4-lane highway when I see a police car in front of me turn on his passing lights and then red-n-blues some distance down the road from me. As I approach him, he's in the left lane stopped with his spotlight on shining into the median. I'm slowing down to respect him as I always do police and other emergency personnel (and maybe to rubberneck a little too) when I look over and see a deer. The poor thing is laying down, crouched kind of on all fours, just off the side of the road looking at the policeman in horror, but it can't move. I'm assuming it's been clipped by a car. So, wishing I could wash my eyes and brain and not remember seeing that, I drive on to my meeting.
Great, now I'm all teary thinking about what he might have to do to the deer. What's the protocol on something like this? Will animal control come get it and put it out of its misery? Will the cop shoot it? I pretty much figure the policeman will just shoot the poor thing. Now I'm all upset, but I manage to keep it together and get to the meeting after turning up the music a little and vowing to think about other things. Now, after the meeting, all the way home, I'm thinking about it again. As I approach the spot where the deer had been I'm looking into the dark to see if it's still there and wondering what did happen to it. I don't see it. So, I'm going with this: the deer wasn't hurt, she was just tired, took a little roadside nap and the officer just came along and sent her on her way. Ok? Ok. We're going with that and I'd thank you to let me live in my happy little place on this one! I guess this is more of a misadventure for the deer than for me, but still, I felt like I wanted to share this story for some reason.
I think the point I'm making here is mommy-guilt is real. Life experiences have made me soft. Everything that can even hint at pulling out emotions does now. And to the extreme! Hallmark commercials, thinking about other peoples' situations even when I don't know them, and on and on and on and on. Realizing how short life is and how important every moment is definitely is something I have come to respect more than I used to. Whether it's age or becoming a new parent, I both love and hate it. So thank you, you poor little deer for reminding me again that life is short and even if it's the little things, we shouldn't take them for granted.
I'm driving to a meeting for a service group that I'm a part of down our area 4-lane highway when I see a police car in front of me turn on his passing lights and then red-n-blues some distance down the road from me. As I approach him, he's in the left lane stopped with his spotlight on shining into the median. I'm slowing down to respect him as I always do police and other emergency personnel (and maybe to rubberneck a little too) when I look over and see a deer. The poor thing is laying down, crouched kind of on all fours, just off the side of the road looking at the policeman in horror, but it can't move. I'm assuming it's been clipped by a car. So, wishing I could wash my eyes and brain and not remember seeing that, I drive on to my meeting.
Great, now I'm all teary thinking about what he might have to do to the deer. What's the protocol on something like this? Will animal control come get it and put it out of its misery? Will the cop shoot it? I pretty much figure the policeman will just shoot the poor thing. Now I'm all upset, but I manage to keep it together and get to the meeting after turning up the music a little and vowing to think about other things. Now, after the meeting, all the way home, I'm thinking about it again. As I approach the spot where the deer had been I'm looking into the dark to see if it's still there and wondering what did happen to it. I don't see it. So, I'm going with this: the deer wasn't hurt, she was just tired, took a little roadside nap and the officer just came along and sent her on her way. Ok? Ok. We're going with that and I'd thank you to let me live in my happy little place on this one! I guess this is more of a misadventure for the deer than for me, but still, I felt like I wanted to share this story for some reason.
I think the point I'm making here is mommy-guilt is real. Life experiences have made me soft. Everything that can even hint at pulling out emotions does now. And to the extreme! Hallmark commercials, thinking about other peoples' situations even when I don't know them, and on and on and on and on. Realizing how short life is and how important every moment is definitely is something I have come to respect more than I used to. Whether it's age or becoming a new parent, I both love and hate it. So thank you, you poor little deer for reminding me again that life is short and even if it's the little things, we shouldn't take them for granted.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Ongoing Ear-y Misadventures
Happy New Yaer! Wow, my apologies for not posting in a terribly long time (especially in the blogosphere!). We've been busy at our house. Most of what's going on is what the subject of this blog is about. Ears. My poor son, Tyler, has had nothing but trouble with his for the last 4 months of his life and we've crossed over from understanding and consoling to downright anger and "get something done now" type of feelings. It started with an ear infection, which of course we didn't know about until it was bad. Ear infections in babies have a way of being stealthy until they're pretty full blown. I'd say this first one was when he was about 3-4 months old. We went to the doctor, got the medicine, healed it up, all was well. Then they started happening frequently, as in one would come up a week after the antibiotic course from the last one. So, we continued to see the doctor (about every 2 weeks) and kept getting antibiotics. I know I speak for a lot of parents when I say that all you want when they feel that way is to make them better. The poor guy tosses his head around and wakes anywhere from 5 to 15 times a night because of it. So after several months of this, we are referred to an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist (ENT). We have our appointment with her and she suggests saline rinses to his sinuses and Prevacid to stop any reflux (also known as spitting up) that we can.
While I appreciate that she didn't rush right into surgery, I have to admit I was a little disappointed that she didn't go ahead and suggest tubes for his ears. We were just wanting SOME sort of relief. She said she thought the spit-up was splashing and sitting in his ears causing the constant infections. Try it for six weeks and come back (January 20th). Oh, ok. Would you like to come home and deal with this with me for 6 weeks, because I'm pretty sure you have NO idea!
Well, here we were 2 weeks before Christmas and he gets ANOTHER one. This time, his ear drum bursts. To say I am mad is a vast understatement. I get that she can't predict that, but now I'm ready to talk tubes. I hold myself together for the pediatrician who more than senses my frustration. She gives him more antibiotics and puts him on a semi-permanent preventative dose. She says "that should be enough evidence (for tubes)." Okay, that'll do for now, but I am NOT waiting until the 20th. Luckily, we got rescheduled for this Friday, January 6th. In the meantime, my poor little kid is still tossing his head around on occassion but is generally the happiest baby you could ever know. He's been quite the trooper. But I'll tell you one thing, I will not be discussing anything other than tubes this Friday. As far as I'm concerned, the ear-y misadventures must stop.
While I appreciate that she didn't rush right into surgery, I have to admit I was a little disappointed that she didn't go ahead and suggest tubes for his ears. We were just wanting SOME sort of relief. She said she thought the spit-up was splashing and sitting in his ears causing the constant infections. Try it for six weeks and come back (January 20th). Oh, ok. Would you like to come home and deal with this with me for 6 weeks, because I'm pretty sure you have NO idea!
Well, here we were 2 weeks before Christmas and he gets ANOTHER one. This time, his ear drum bursts. To say I am mad is a vast understatement. I get that she can't predict that, but now I'm ready to talk tubes. I hold myself together for the pediatrician who more than senses my frustration. She gives him more antibiotics and puts him on a semi-permanent preventative dose. She says "that should be enough evidence (for tubes)." Okay, that'll do for now, but I am NOT waiting until the 20th. Luckily, we got rescheduled for this Friday, January 6th. In the meantime, my poor little kid is still tossing his head around on occassion but is generally the happiest baby you could ever know. He's been quite the trooper. But I'll tell you one thing, I will not be discussing anything other than tubes this Friday. As far as I'm concerned, the ear-y misadventures must stop.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The Misadventure That Always Seems to Happen
My family and I recently went on vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida. We've (by "we" I mean anywhere from 11-13 members of our family) been going there for Thanksgiving since I was a little kid and it's part of the year that I always look forward to. This year, everything was different...mostly in good ways! It was Tyler's first trip to the beach (which he wasn't too sure of), first time in the pool (which he LOVED), our first trip with my new cousin Jack (his sister Mya has been a few times previously), and of course golf, warm weather, and spending copious amounts of time with family. The bad: my cousin moved to California this year and got a new job so he was unable to come and my Grandma wasn't able to come this year either. We missed them a lot. We had a good time as usual, but I started to notice a trend that I would definitely consider a continuing misadventure.
The problem: my son poops EVERY TIME we get out to dinner. It seems like no sooner than we sit down, he needs his pants changed! I find this far more funny than annoying. Seriously, I'm laughing. Right now. As I type this. He was a very good sport and traveler for the 12 hour ride down and the 12 hour ride back and a good sport about being drug all over to unfamiliar places, but the kid has bad timing. If we stopped at a gas station and changed his diaper, he'd poop 15 miles down the road and we'd have to stop again. If we stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch, as soon as we got our food, he pooped. I'm not real big on letting him sit in it, so of course he has to be changed right away. Needless to say, I (and many mommies out there), get a lot of cold meals.
From this "problem" comes some very interesting observations. I can tell you with confidence that newly built McDonald's have the nicest baby changing stations. I can also tell you that most gas stations have one (when I decided not to change him in the car). The best, though, are family restrooms! What a wonderful creation! I love that I can go into this unisex bathroom (which ALWAYS has changing stations), take my mom or husband with me to hold the bag or help or whatever, and I don't have to wait for the handicap stall to come available, I don't have to try and hurry up so I'm not taking up the changing station time, etc. It's really a great thing. I used my first one at a nice rest stop somewhere in Florida and my second one at the mall in Panama City Beach (where of course he had pooped during our lunch at Five Guys).
Here's one for you though. It was a first. We were out to Thanksgiving dinner at a very nice place with a traditional dinner buffet. We sit down and before I even get my plate....oops! Time to change the baby's pants. So my mom, bless her heart, goes to the bathroom with me. The handicap stall is taken by a mother and her young son, so we wait, knowing there's a changing station in there. They of course take forever, because that's how it goes when you're in a hurry to get back to family and a warm meal. They finally come out and we step inside. No changing table. Seriously?! No changing station? I guess I was remiss in assuming everyone had one of these. We all know what assuming does...
So anyway, now we need a creative solution. I guess our only option in the counter between the sinks. So we reluctantly put out the changing pad (which we scrubbed clean later, ugh) and proceeded to change him, the whole time in awe that there was no changing station. Well, now I guess we know. Not EVERYONE has one of these. It's the little things you start to learn (and get annoyed by) being a new parent that you never even once stopped to consider before. I think I was even somtimes annoyed by the changing stations in the bathrooms. Never again will I take one for granted!
But, alas, the trend continued and my son proceeded to potty each and every time we went to dinner. What can you do but laugh? And write a blog about the misadventure this crazy trend created.
The problem: my son poops EVERY TIME we get out to dinner. It seems like no sooner than we sit down, he needs his pants changed! I find this far more funny than annoying. Seriously, I'm laughing. Right now. As I type this. He was a very good sport and traveler for the 12 hour ride down and the 12 hour ride back and a good sport about being drug all over to unfamiliar places, but the kid has bad timing. If we stopped at a gas station and changed his diaper, he'd poop 15 miles down the road and we'd have to stop again. If we stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch, as soon as we got our food, he pooped. I'm not real big on letting him sit in it, so of course he has to be changed right away. Needless to say, I (and many mommies out there), get a lot of cold meals.
From this "problem" comes some very interesting observations. I can tell you with confidence that newly built McDonald's have the nicest baby changing stations. I can also tell you that most gas stations have one (when I decided not to change him in the car). The best, though, are family restrooms! What a wonderful creation! I love that I can go into this unisex bathroom (which ALWAYS has changing stations), take my mom or husband with me to hold the bag or help or whatever, and I don't have to wait for the handicap stall to come available, I don't have to try and hurry up so I'm not taking up the changing station time, etc. It's really a great thing. I used my first one at a nice rest stop somewhere in Florida and my second one at the mall in Panama City Beach (where of course he had pooped during our lunch at Five Guys).
Here's one for you though. It was a first. We were out to Thanksgiving dinner at a very nice place with a traditional dinner buffet. We sit down and before I even get my plate....oops! Time to change the baby's pants. So my mom, bless her heart, goes to the bathroom with me. The handicap stall is taken by a mother and her young son, so we wait, knowing there's a changing station in there. They of course take forever, because that's how it goes when you're in a hurry to get back to family and a warm meal. They finally come out and we step inside. No changing table. Seriously?! No changing station? I guess I was remiss in assuming everyone had one of these. We all know what assuming does...
So anyway, now we need a creative solution. I guess our only option in the counter between the sinks. So we reluctantly put out the changing pad (which we scrubbed clean later, ugh) and proceeded to change him, the whole time in awe that there was no changing station. Well, now I guess we know. Not EVERYONE has one of these. It's the little things you start to learn (and get annoyed by) being a new parent that you never even once stopped to consider before. I think I was even somtimes annoyed by the changing stations in the bathrooms. Never again will I take one for granted!
But, alas, the trend continued and my son proceeded to potty each and every time we went to dinner. What can you do but laugh? And write a blog about the misadventure this crazy trend created.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Misadventures of the Borrowers
Have you ever heard of the borrowers? You know, the little people that live under the stairs and only "borrow" things from you that they need for their homes, survival, etc.? I think there was a movie made about them some time ago...but anyway, I have two of them living in my house. They come in the form of white, fluffy, Bichon dogs named Teddy and Tobey (moreso Tobey than Teddy). They borrow anything they can get ahold of, but rarely destroy what it is they take. Most recently it's been socks, dryer sheets, burp rags, and...pacifiers.
We generally keep a good eye on most of this stuff, but don't worry too much since they rarely tear anything up. We purchased a special grabber to get things out from under our king-size bed, so we just retrieve them every now and then when we think about it. Well, as of late, we've had to keep a special eye on the pacifiers. It started 6 months ago of course when we brought our son home from the hospital. He received these special organge jelly pacifiers from the hospital that we had yet to find anywhere else (we later learned our local hospital gift shop had them). So, we had two or three of these and made sure to take good care of them. One day we left one sitting on the couch and left the room to change the baby's diaper. When I came back, it was gone. I didn't think much of it, but figured I had probably left it elsewhere. A day or so later, I looked under our bed and saw what looked like clear plastic pieces. I couldn't figure out what they were, so I just chalked it up to something the dogs had gotten like a hanger, or piece of something else.
This same scenario happened again. I was now down two orange pacifiers and this was disconcerting because we only had one left. This time I managed to find one, the nipple chewed off and it was all clear. It clicked. The clear pieces from weeks earlier were also from a pacifier. So, apparently orange pacis turn clear when mercilessly chewed, in case you were curious. These were the only things the dogs were seeming to destroy. After some loud scolding and some subsequent training sessions (setting a paci on the floor and when they approached it, telling them "no!") for several days, we figured we had solved the problem. We also vowed to be more dilligent about where we left pacifiers.
A little while later when we had apparently gotten comfortable with our new rule and forgotten all about it, friends of ours were over. As they were leaving, my friend asks me, "Have you seen Carter's paci?" We look everywhere. It's nowhere to be found. It dawns on me. I bet it's under the bed. BINGO! It was too late. It had been the latest casualty of the Teddy/Tobey destruction factory. After my apologies and more dog scolding, we vowed again to keep an eye on the pacis. Several months actually passed with no lost pacis, but the orange ones had gone by the wayside. Luckily, we were able to track down some soft green ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that he was comfortable with.
Speaking of comfortable, there we were again, forgetting about our rule. We lost a few more, we scolded, we cleaned up pieces with the grabber. Again, we did really well for the next few months, until our most recent casualty. We left a paci on the couch and it was gone in an instant. It's like my dogs are stealthy ninjas. You hear and see nothing and all the sudden the pacis are gone with no evidence. We began to be concerned that Tobey would get sick from all the plastic he was eating. Luckily, after one big exodous of doggy puke on the floor this morning (sorry to be graphic), we were able to count all of the pieces of the latest paci, so at least the dog will be okay. Our pride, however, probably won't!
So the total stands: Teddy/Tobey: 6 Pleasants/Biermans: 0.
Moral of this misadventure, keep an eye on the pacifiers. Because losing them sucks....(sorry for the bad pun).
We generally keep a good eye on most of this stuff, but don't worry too much since they rarely tear anything up. We purchased a special grabber to get things out from under our king-size bed, so we just retrieve them every now and then when we think about it. Well, as of late, we've had to keep a special eye on the pacifiers. It started 6 months ago of course when we brought our son home from the hospital. He received these special organge jelly pacifiers from the hospital that we had yet to find anywhere else (we later learned our local hospital gift shop had them). So, we had two or three of these and made sure to take good care of them. One day we left one sitting on the couch and left the room to change the baby's diaper. When I came back, it was gone. I didn't think much of it, but figured I had probably left it elsewhere. A day or so later, I looked under our bed and saw what looked like clear plastic pieces. I couldn't figure out what they were, so I just chalked it up to something the dogs had gotten like a hanger, or piece of something else.
This same scenario happened again. I was now down two orange pacifiers and this was disconcerting because we only had one left. This time I managed to find one, the nipple chewed off and it was all clear. It clicked. The clear pieces from weeks earlier were also from a pacifier. So, apparently orange pacis turn clear when mercilessly chewed, in case you were curious. These were the only things the dogs were seeming to destroy. After some loud scolding and some subsequent training sessions (setting a paci on the floor and when they approached it, telling them "no!") for several days, we figured we had solved the problem. We also vowed to be more dilligent about where we left pacifiers.
A little while later when we had apparently gotten comfortable with our new rule and forgotten all about it, friends of ours were over. As they were leaving, my friend asks me, "Have you seen Carter's paci?" We look everywhere. It's nowhere to be found. It dawns on me. I bet it's under the bed. BINGO! It was too late. It had been the latest casualty of the Teddy/Tobey destruction factory. After my apologies and more dog scolding, we vowed again to keep an eye on the pacis. Several months actually passed with no lost pacis, but the orange ones had gone by the wayside. Luckily, we were able to track down some soft green ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that he was comfortable with.
Speaking of comfortable, there we were again, forgetting about our rule. We lost a few more, we scolded, we cleaned up pieces with the grabber. Again, we did really well for the next few months, until our most recent casualty. We left a paci on the couch and it was gone in an instant. It's like my dogs are stealthy ninjas. You hear and see nothing and all the sudden the pacis are gone with no evidence. We began to be concerned that Tobey would get sick from all the plastic he was eating. Luckily, after one big exodous of doggy puke on the floor this morning (sorry to be graphic), we were able to count all of the pieces of the latest paci, so at least the dog will be okay. Our pride, however, probably won't!
So the total stands: Teddy/Tobey: 6 Pleasants/Biermans: 0.
Moral of this misadventure, keep an eye on the pacifiers. Because losing them sucks....(sorry for the bad pun).
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