As I mentioned earlier this week, for our anniversary Fiddledaddy and I are giving each other new flooring for our family/dining room combo. This is Phase I of the new flooring project. We’ve configured 3 phases, so as to be able to save up for phases 2 and 3, and so that our house will not be subject to as much upheaval.
Which is working like a charm.
Because this is what greets you as you walk into my house.
You add 3 kids and one dog roughly the size of a horse to the mix, and well, I fear the herd is about to the thinned.
Day 1 of Phase 1 consisted of pulling up the old nasty carpet and scraping up the cheap linoleum. This is the parting shot of the once light green carpeting and 10 cents a square foot linoleum. And yes, the dog crate is roughly the size of my barcalounger. I’ve tried to disguise it by throwing a sheet over it. It’s hardly noticeable, no?
We universally decided that I should take the children out of the house for the day, while boarding the dog at doggie day care. It was a good plan. Fiddledaddy took Mater to the kennel, which sounded like a much better deal than I was getting. This place is like Disney World for dogs.
Mater showed his appreciation by peeing on their lobby floor. I think he got his point across as we was not happy about the prospect of being abandoned so soon after finding his forever family. There may or may not have also been a little nipping incident as one worker attempted to wrangle him.
But we did get a report later in the day that Mater was having a grand time running and frolicking with other dogs his age and size.
I on the other hand was residing in what I can only describe as what hell is like.
The girls had swim class in the morning, so I was able to check Jensen into child care at the gym. But then we all 4 had roughly 3 or so hours to kill by running errands and such. Waiting for all the dust to settle back at the ranch.
Jensen was in rare form for most of the morning. And I really felt that we were all holding it all together until we hit the thrift store (the daughters’ idea, because they come from healthy thrift store stock). Jensen? Not so much. When he and I had a slight disagreement about taking home a Mario pajama top (sans the pants) that was a good two sizes too small and nearly see through from all the Worn Out, he had a meltdown that I didn’t think possible for a small 6 year old boy.
And what luck! This small neighborhood thrift store was PACKED TO THE GILLS with elderly patrons. All of which upon turning their hearing aids down, focussed their disapproving and judgement bespectacled eyes on ME.
I began praying fervently for Jesus to step things up and just COME BACK NOW.
I took Jensen’s hand and began escorting him out of the store. I hollered to the girls that we needed to get to the car, but because of ALL THE SCREAMING, they thought I said for them just to meet me in the car when they were through looking. And to be sure to take their time and browse at leisure.
I realized this when I made it to the van with the death grip on my boy child, and looked behind me to see that the girls were not there.
I strapped him in and pulled around to the front of the store, and hopped out to holler in the door for the girls to come out. Jensen’s wailing could still be heard behind me. No girls. Just more disapproving stares.
Somebody just kill me.
I went back to the van, turned it off, collected Jensen (still screaming) and then had to march back into the store to fish the other two out. Oh, that was one of those humbling moments that you hope to avoid for the entirety of your life.
One really fun side benefit to Jensen’s skin issues is that when he’s upset, he will scratch himself until he hits an aorta. Which results in me trying to drive while reaching back to hold his hands still.
The boy lost all sorts of media privileges and I made him sign a contract which basically states that he will be financially responsible for my lengthy stay in the sanitarium when he reaches working age. In the end, he was truly remorseful. But I’m still holding him to the contract.
I’m checking to see if the kennel will also take small boys tomorrow as the flooring actually gets installed.
But I can’t promise that said little boy won’t pee in the lobby. Or that he won’t bite.
On the bright side. YEAH, I’M GETTING NEW FLOORING.
I’ll be moving out for Phases 2 and 3. Alone.