Lassie and Penelope Pussycat

A relationship with a dog can be a lot like dating someone. 

You sit on the couch together.  Take walks together.  Swim together.  Play around together.  Give each other kisses.  Get excited to see each other.  Get annoyed with each other.  Eat each other's food.  And, ultimately, dote on each other.

Or so goes the relationship between Kennedy and Marley.

But as dating goes, there's always one relationship where the love cords get all tangled up and you find out there's issues in the relationship.  

And so goes Kennedy and Miya's courtship. 

While Kennedy and Marley's relationship is cliche enough to compare it to Timmy and Lassie, Kennedy and Miya's affection is not so picture perfect.  Their love affair is more of a Pepe Le Pew and the cat he thought was a skunk, Penelope Pussycat, reproduction.   Kennedy plays the lead role as Pepe and Miya is cast as the lead's love interest, Miss Penelope.

And true to script, Kennedy chases Miya from the time she finishes her breakfast to the time she goes to bed.  Always trying to fetch her up, squeeze in some love and whisper some sweet French in her ear, I'm sure. 

Accordingly, Miya has taken on characteristics of a cat being hunted.  She runs and hides and doesn't come out until Kennedy is safely tucked away in bed.  She's become so antisocial that we have to beg her to join us on the couch.  The couch that is home to a Dachshund imprint, validating that until recently her attendance on that couch had been impeccable.

But sometimes Penelope surrenders to Pepe and gives her what she's wanted all along...

A chance to be caught.  A hug.  And a sign that she's getting closer to loving that Pepe despite Pepe's inability to give gentle hugs.

15 facts for 15 months:

1.  Favorite foods are bananas, tater tots and pancakes
2.  Weighs 20.2 pounds
3.  Has 12 teeth
4.  Loves to wink (aka the double blink)
5.  Knows how to put on imaginary lipstick

 

6.  Goes to bed at 7:30 p.m. and wakes up at 7:30 a.m.
7.  Can point to her head, mouth, tongue, nose, hands, fingers, toes, bellybutton, hair, arms and legs
8.  Hates the feel of sand on her hands and feet
9.  Favorite animal is a bird (damn, aviaries are my least favorite thing at the zoo)
10.  Can climb on the couch and bed

11.  Puts on imaginary lotion
12.  Scribbles, brushes her hair and talks on the phone with her left hand
13.  Hates the gym daycare
14.  Waves and blows kisses to anyone who will pay attention

15.  Traded eating rocks for eating dog food

Pictures courtesy of Shannon. 
Random backyard photo shoot. 
Gorgeous outcome.

July 4, 2010

This Independence Day I was Farmer Michelle.  I took to my fields early, got my festive decorations planted, did some domestic crop-dusting, fed the party animals, got dirty and in the end had myself a harvest of happiness. 

My Fourth of July cup runneth over.  So much so that I deemed it my new favorite holiday.  Move over St. Patty's Day there's a new memory-maker in town and she promises lots and lots of laughter, tradition and fun with friends and family.  And there's no green vomit or leprechauns associated with it. 

While the little calves swam with all the bulls, us heifers happily stayed closer to pasture where all the wonderful grub and sangria were and grazed and gabbed.  I have to think we were the smart ones because we were still going strong come time for the fireworks while the bulls seemed a little waterlogged.

There's a sort of magical feeling you get when watching fireworks in your own backyard.  It's excitement and anticipation wrapped into its own emotional firecracker.  It makes your heart race and giddiness spew from what's left of your kid self.  There's an understanding that meets everyone's face as they watch in unison and start placing bets as to whether "this is it," the grand finale is here. 

 

For me, the magic continued to bubble deep in my soul even after the finale was over and had left our backyard resembling Hiroshima circa 1945.  I was happy.  I was loving life.  Off in the distance, The Boss serenaded us with "Born in the USA." And even better, Kennedy had not only stayed up and survived the spectacle of lights, but she actually enjoyed them. She clapped and swatted my hands away every time I tried to shield her ears from the loud pops.  She seemed to feel the magic too. 

Yes, my days of staying up late, drinking green beer and tipping my glass to the Irish are gone.  But they've been replaced with something more gratifying and fulfilling.  A day painted with red, white and blue hues.  A day that marks our freedom.  A day that's filled with kids and family and togetherness.  A day that's so American it feels unnatural not to grill hot dogs and hamburgers.  A day that I will forever look forward to.

I began the day a farmer, turned into a heifer mid-afternoon and went to bed a proud American.  Cheers!

Nebraska or Bust

M.I.A. We're definitely missing right now.  Missing the friends and family we just said goodbye to, that is.  And we most definitely were in action during our ten day trip.  The action started with a late night flight back to Nebraska with a tired, cranky one year old who decided to poop mid-flight. 

From there we grounded the action and set off to Nonnie and Papa Mo's house.  There, we spent five love-wrapped days breathing in the familiar smells of my parent's house.  We filled our day planner with things like swimming on the deck, trips to the petting zoo, fishing for dinosaurs, chasing golf balls during evening walks, outings to The Children's Museum, watching a mama bird protect her newly hatched babies as a squawking Kennedy chased her, and carting Kennedy around to all my favorite local spots.

(Biggest dinosaur ever to be caught in Buffalo County without using a worm)

 

By the time we left my parent's house, the cobwebs that had accumulated on old hometown memories were cleared away and next to them the new memories climbed in and vowed to stay forever.

Lucky for me, more heart-felt memories were still ahead. And I'm talking the kind of memories you're still talking about months/years later.

We packed our suitcases and headed to Omaha.  Once there, we camped out at Grandpa Hokenstad's for the remainder of our stay.  By then, Kennedy had acclimated to all the new places, somewhat familiar faces and the bloody humidity that made you itchy and damp all at the same time.  She melted hearts, handed out love in forms of winking smiles and made you want to hug her and never let her go.

At one point she did get a little homesick and had to make a few calls to check on Miya and Marley.

But, really, our trip back was about tradition.

Every year the College World Series sees our faces and reminds us why we keep coming back.  As we reminisce with old friends under tailgating tents and sip our cold beer, Brandon's dad makes our mouths water with things like turkey tenderloins and homemade triple chocolate cheesecake.  We people watch, make new friends with nearby neighbors and take in the ambiance only the CWS can offer.

And you can always judge a good day at the ballpark by what time it is when you get home. 

Or maybe it's the candids you took minutes before you called it a night that prove it was a good day at another College World Series.

There's nothing like friends and family to make your heart content and overflowing with love.  Thanks to all that made just that possible.

Happy Father's Day

Mistakes in mommyhood.

Life in the fast lane started with trying to vacuum while Kennedy stood on the floor and stacked cups on our chaise lounge.  As I pushed the hungry beast around the floor and prayed it was eating all the dog hair that had accumulated, something caught my peripheral.  With my attention now directed towards Kennedy, I saw what I had missed while I had been concentrating on fur balls.  In front of me stood a little girl now on top of a chaise lounge trying to stack her cups. 

Over the roar of the beast, I started to shout.  "Be Care -" was as far as I got.  Sure enough, Humpty Dumpty had a big fall.   I dropped the beast mid-push and ran.  When I got to her, her head was inside an empty magazine holder and her body lay like a chalk outline at a crime scene. 

No blood, no broken bones, no more vacuuming.

Tears, yes.  Shaken up, yes.  Still climbing and standing on top of the chaise lounge, yes. 

Mistake in mommyhood, absolutely.


At that point, I felt enough time had been spent in the fast lane, so we switched gears and headed for the slow lane.

With an uneventful day, besides the Humpty Dumpty episode of course, behind us, I thought it would be fun to put the day to rest with a bubble bath.  Not for me but for my little Humpty. 

Usually, a girl likes her bubble bath to be quite sudsy as to ensure there are enough bubbles to cover her arms and belly and still have enough left over for a beard and possibly a hat.  And being the overdoer that I can be, the suds were about eight inches thick. 

Quite pleased with the bath I'd just drawn, I took a naked Kennedy and attempted to place her in her bubble fortress.  But somewhere between her feet leaving the ground and her butt hitting her fortress, the girl freaked.  She clung to me as if I were placing her in a boiling pot full of clowns and mall Santas.  Despite many attempts to persuade her that bubble baths are fun and a luxury, she wasn't having it.  So I placed my naked girl on the rug and together we watched her fortress go down the drain.

Bubble baths, nope.

Peeing on the rug while watching bubbles disappear, yep.

Mistake in mommyhood, absolutely.

And with that, I'm putting it in park for the day.

Wish I could take credit for this beauty of a pic.  Thanks, Shannon!

Sisterhood of the Memorial weekend

When Kennedy and Wynnie first met, their friendship was a mere seed waiting to be planted.  The second time they met the seed had turned into a bud.  And by the third time the two crossed paths, the friendship was in full bloom.

 From the moment we were picked up, to the time we were dropped off at the airport, the two united like long lost sisters.

The unveiling of the sisterhood began with the girls mimicking each other and was followed by laughing, touching, screaming and hugging.  However, it wasn't until we had to explain to them what it means to "share" that we could officially call them sisters.







The weekend was spent linking their little souls with a train ride through the mountains, eating each other's food, jumping on beds, taking a bath together, romping around in the backyard, taste testing Binkies and experiencing new places like Monkey Business.





And when you're the younger sister, you idolize everything about your older sister.  Taking note of the way she drinks out of a straw and adding that to your list of things you must do.  Watching her intently as she gets on her Dora The Explorer mobile and effortlessly cruises around the kitchen, wondering if your equilibrium and feet can scoot around in perfect harmony too. 

Step by step you watch that older sister of yours.  And with every step she takes comes an understanding.  An understanding of walking.  Up until then, you thought little sisters were only required to walk about five steps and then crawl the rest of the way.  And to you that was perfectly acceptable until your big sis taught you otherwise.

Had Kennedy been born in my day, her and Wynnie would be pen pals.  Instead, they'll most likely be Skype pals.  However, the future holds many promising meet-ups for these two. 

Distance is a number.  Sisterhood is a love-crazed mathematician bent on making the numbers work. 

Thanks for the perfect weekend, Adrian, Holly and Wynnie.  Love you guys!