So, it's pretty cold outside. And I'm really quite over it. Of course, the weather man is talking snow, but I must admit that it wouldn't hurt my feelings one bit if it never snowed here ever again. At least not until my kids are old enough to just go out there and roll around and play in it while I sit inside all warm and toasty. Anyway...
Buddy Love has officially become one spoiled rotten creature. Even though he has more hair on his body than I imagine a woolly mammoth did back in its heyday, we feel like it's too cold for the poor thing outside. You know, the same dog we found on the interstate in the dead of winter, alone, dirty, and much slimmer than he is now. So here we are almost a year later, and Buddy Love has gained close to ten pounds, perfected the art of killing of small animals, learned that the swimming pool is like the endless water bowl every dog dreams of, and has wiggled his way into our hearts so much that we have an electric heater next to his dog crate in the garage to keep him warm at night while he sleeps. I still can't believe we have a dog. And it's even more unbelievable that we treat him like he's a baby. But he kinda is a baby... my little baby.
I do heart ole' Buddy Love something terrible. If he didn't have those big brown eyes, I can't say that he'd have worked his way into my heart as quickly as he did. Oh, but he did.
The kids are back at school, and I must say I am quite relieved to have a bit of quiet now in the house. Yesterday, I spent the bulk of the day in the deepest pits of hell (aka: David's Room). During the last two months or so, I noticed that David quit bringing home his daily homework folder. Sometimes he'd bring home worksheets or whatever that he needed to complete, but I never saw the folder. I talked to him about his responsibility to bring home papers from school, but I didn't give it much thought as to why he was struggling so to keep up with things. Until yesterday, while cleaning up his room, I located the green plastic folder designated for homework assignments amidst all the other CRAP in his room. Hmmmmm.... might explain why he hasn't brought it home. Because it already was home, and he had absolutely no idea of its whereabouts. Between that and the fact that his brand new PSP was lying on the floor with no cover or care in the world as well as one of its $40 games, Mama was slightly aggravated with his lack of respect for his possessions and responsibility for the condition of his room.
I unleashed on him when he got home. I began the conversation with these words: "You are not going to like me very much for the next few weeks, my friend."
I showed him how I had organized things and explained that he would be putting things back where they belong - especially these overpriced gaming systems that other kids would cut off their arm to own - or that I would be glad to remove them from his life. David wasn't very happy when he heard this, but I am hoping it's the little kick in the rump he needs to motivate him to take better care of what he has. I am hoping. A Mama can dream, right?
We'll see how that works. And if you'll excuse me, I've got to go make sure that the heat is turned up high enough for the dog in the garage.