humane house

Yesterday I took my kids to see our local shelter‘s new “Humane House”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s an interactive learning space that lets you do everything from view real x-rays of animals that have been at the shelter, scan the microchip on a stuffed dog, and try to identify scents at the Sniff Zone.

 

 

 

You can play dress-up (vet, animal control officer, etc.), and learn all kinds of tips.

For example, (posted above a cute, real mailbox, incidentally): The mailcarrier rattles your mailbox delivering mail, your dog barks, the carrier leaves.  Your dog thinks his barking made the “stranger” go away so the behavior is reinforced.  If the carrier is up for meeting your dog, you can break this daily behavior.)

They even had a 50’s era refurbished fridge that had all kinds of tips inside (like what kinds of foods different companion animals like or can make them sick).

Interesting!

Our shelter (called the Center for Compassion) never ceases to amaze me.  There is no chainlink in sight, and the place has no smell.  It has lots of light and even a “dog park” (indoors, with fake grass that can be hosed down and retractable roof).

It’s really beautiful.  We go about once/quarter just to look around.  My daughter even wants to have her next birthday party there.  Pretty amazing place…

(More on the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA’s Humane House here.)

therapy

When we bought our new refrigerator it came with a lot of trepidation.

The one we wanted, and subsequently bought, would show EVERY fingerprint.  This was very distressing to my OCD tendencies.  I had to think long and hard.

Ultimately, we bought it and I have surrendered to sticky fingerprints, yielding to it like therapy that’s “good for me”.

The best friend of my dear friend, and by association my friend, is Paige.  Paige told me something a few years ago that I think about, at least weekly, if not daily.  She said that though it still REALLY bothers her to have dirty dishes in her sink, it’s not going to make her miss any fun.

I really try to take this to heart.  I think my fridge is a testament to that.  I might not like it, but I’m getting better about letting it go…

Thank you, Paige.  You’re a genius as far as I’m concerned.

unsolicited

Today while carrying my one-year-old (after dropping off my dogs in a scramble of leashes, panting and a baby squealing with delight), I was approached my an elderly man on the street.  Seeing my happy and animated baby, he said:

“It’s great to see you taking care of that baby.”

Hmmm.  Odd.

Then followed it up with “most mothers don’t seem to care any more.”

Okay.
Not cool.

If I hadn’t been in such a hurry, I would have recited him a soliloquy about how having help with child care doesn’t make you love your child any less. Or that many mothers need to work to support their families.  Or want to work, for that matter.

This guy had a lot of nerve making assumptions about me, my kid or mothers in general.

What he also didn’t know was that we were on our way to Quinn’s day care.

Something for which I carry no guilt or regret.

best in show

My 5 and 1/2 year-old daughter competed in her first horse show yesterday.  It was all her idea – she said she wanted to be proud of herself.  Who am I to argue?

So I spoke with her trainer (was she ready?), and I got her the gear (we had better be able to amortize this stuff as hand-me-downs…), including a vintage stock pin that made her feel super special.  She looked adorable, and wasn’t the least bit nervous.

She was amazing!  Her confidence boosted.  She had the best time… and got a terrific score to boot!

I suspect this is the first of many.  Be still my beating heart…

a foreigner in our midst

Living with a talkative one-year-old is much like living with a foreign, sometimes belligerent, relative.  You can understand some of what they are referring to, but frequently you have no idea what they are talking about.

My youngest daughter is definitely in this category, as you can see here.

motherhood celebrated

So for Mother’s Day this year, my dear bestie Lindsey and I got out of Dodge.  We left our children in our husbands’ capable hands and gathered in San Francisco for a weekend of Girl Time, with complete support of our families.

Some might think it odd that we would choose this weekend (we were home by noon on Mother’s Day, just to be clear), but for us it was very apropos.

Linds and I became friends because of motherhood.

Though we had met and been friendly beforehand, it was our first pregnancies that bonded us 5 and 1/2 years ago.  From the moment we heard each other’s news, we spoke candidly about everything from food cravings (or aversions) to childbirth fears.  Nothing was off the table, and it has been that way ever since.  We are devoted friends and love each other fiercely.

So our weekend away was marked with cocktails, conversation, sleeping in, and dwelling in each other’s good company, something we never seem to get enough of.

Though the time flew and we were sad to part, returning to our respective families was joyous, our souls replenished by what only the best of friends can provide.

kryptonite

A friend’s rabbit had babies.  How… I ask you, HOW, am I to resist this??:

sticky celebration

Our sugar intake was pretty high today, my husband’s birthday.

Red velvet cupcakes in the afternoon.  Yum.

Chocolate cake BEFORE dinner, with no utensils.  Hilarious, fun, sugar fueled free-for-all.  A fantasy really.

Before:

After:

The only downside was the cleanup.  Of the children.  Wow…