Gettysburg Family Jumps the Shark.

Remember before realty television, when there were sitcoms? Well, I've hatched a plan. I've been refining it for a few days. Mom and Dad are coming to collect their dog in a few weeks. I've kind of decided I like this dog. Rich has referred to her a couple of times as a "good dog". Do you know how hard it is to match my husband with a dog? I trust this dog with my children. But my parents are coming to take her back.



Our local SPCA has this dog waiting to be adopted. Her name is Sadie. Even rhymes with Cady, right? In the grand tradition of sitcoms, I'm planning on swapping dogs! I know, I know. Crazy.



They're both black lab like dogs. Floppy ears and intelligent eyes. Why don't I just adopt Sadie you ask? Because I don't know if she's a good match for my husband. I don't know if I can trust her with my kids. Hear me out now. Mom and Dad love dogs. Whatever dog they end up with will be spoiled. And if she's skittish with kids, we'll keep the kids away at Christmas.

In order to swap dogs, I need to stash Cady someplace. I've found her a safe house across the street with our neighbors. She even gets along with their little dog, Romeo. [Although all the kids in the neighborhood just call him RoRo.]

I suppose I could just ask Mom if she wanted to swap pets. She considered swapping cats with my sister Katrina last year. So, you know, she might consider it. But what about all the hijinks that would ensue with this sort of plan? Comic gold I tell ya.

If you live in the Gettysburg area and are interested in adopting Sadie, please visit the Adams County SPCA. While I really want her, I don't know if it's going to happen and she certainly seems like a dog who deserves a home.

And join us next week on Gettysburg Family when celebrity guest star Ted McGinley will make a special appearance!

I'm sorry, did I miss the part where Hell froze over?

A few days ago, Shea said, "You know Mom, school isn't that bad. I mean, it's not great, but it isn't too bad either." While I almost fell over, I chalked it up to the delirium of the stomach virus and moved on.

A couple days ago, Rich said, "I was thinking. We should move Cady's cage away from the doors. It's cold over there. She's been a good dog lately. She's probably just sleeping on the couch at night because it's so cold." Pardon me? Rich making an excuse for the dog? Perhaps he's still recovering, as well.

Yesterday, Rich said, "I was thinking. Maybe we could get a dog. I really like having the bark in the middle of the night thing and the kids really enjoy her." I fell over dead. Falling over dead doesn't get me out of laundry or dishes today, but I fell over dead nonetheless.

Did I mention Saturday morning?

She's a tiger all right. Saturday morning was a battle with a little tiger. Greeley had been extra cranky and feisty for a few days. (Hindsight, as always, proves it was probably due to the impending stomach virus. At least, that's what I tell myself to feel better.) Saturday morning was when Greeley's recent discovery of her own identity butted up against my and Rich's insistence that she follow her parents' instructions.

Greeley and I were at the dining room table when I told her no to something. I can't even remember what it was. Isn't that always the way? She responded with a gracious toddler fit, screaming and throwing everything in front of her on the table onto the floor. "Greeley, no. We don't throw things on the floor. Pick it up." "No!" "Greeley, pick up the erasers and the pencil or you are going to time out." "No!" Off to time-out she went. Screaming "No!" the whole time.

Rich wakes up to this. This was about the point where time started to slow down for me. Rich claims the whole scene only took about half an hour. It felt easily like an hour, if not longer. She refused to pick up the erasers and pencils. We gave her opportunity after opportunity to do so. She kept refusing. At one point, she picked up the erasers. But the pencil? That was a sticking point for her. She absolutely refused. Back to time out, again and again. It kept occurring to me that this entire battle was over a stinking pencil. I know, as parents, we are supposed to pick our battles. However, Greeley picked this one.

At one point, Shea came slinking up the stairs quietly. He was ever so nonchalant as he began to pick up every pencil he could find on the floor. "Shea, are you picking up all the pencils?" "Yes. I just wanted Greeley to stop crying." Ever so sweet, but overruled by tyrannical Mom and Dad.

At another point, the crying coming from timeout was no longer a toddler's cries. She sounded like a helpless infant, crying out for me. No words, just cries. I had to go outside. I came back in and looked at Rich, doing the crossword puzzle at the table. "Really? It really doesn't bother you? You can listen to her cry like that and not want to go to her?" "Yes, because it's more important that she learns to listen to us."

In the end, Greeley picked up the pencil. I know we broke her fierce little spirit just a little. But it was necessary.

As a favor to you, no photos from this weekend.

Alternative Title: Too much information.

It all started so nicely. Friday evening was our family movie night. There were snacks and the fifth Harry Potter movie. Even if the girls and I fell asleep during the movie, it was still good.

Saturday morning started out so well. I finished the book I was reading and could finally start Breaking Dawn, the last in the Twilight series. Ah, bliss. But, wait. What's Shea saying down there in the family room? "Greeley's puking!" And that's where the weekend went downhill.

Greeley continued to get sick for the next twenty-four hours. Anything that went in shortly came back out. Do you know what nursing babies want to do when they don't feel well?

I also realized this weekend that the only parts of the house that are not covered in carpet upstairs are the bathroom and kitchen floors. At one point we all took turns hanging with Greeley on her towel on the kitchen floor. Rich and Atlee played Barbies with her. Shea explained he was clearly not going to play Barbies with Greeley.

Sunday afternoon, she seemed to perk up. Some applesauce and bread and Gatorade for dinner and it all stayed down. Yeah! We put Shea and Atlee to bed and Rich, Greeley and I settled in to watch the latest Indiana Jones movie. Greeley and I fell asleep. I can tell you the beginnings of all sorts of movies, but strangely not the end so much.

Rich wakes me up to go upstairs to bed. I bring Greeley into the girls room to go to bed. Atlee's sitting in a ball at the foot of her bed. And what is that smell? I know I need to change the rabbit cage, but really. And Atlee says, and you knew she would, "I'm sorry Mom, but I got sick in my bed."

I changed all of her sheets and got her the bucket. I settle in to nurse Greeley. Atlee gets sick all over again. Then, a magical moment happened. One of those moments that reminds you of just how wonderful your husband is. Rich came into the room and held Atlee's hair while she got sick. He stripped her bed, again. He covered her bed in towels and got her a sippy cup of water to rinse her mouth with. He took care of the bucket. He reassured her the whole time. Who knew you could have a magical moment while a child was vomiting? She's gotten much better about her aim. She's still getting sick upstairs, poor thing.

So, nope. No photos of this fabulous weekend. I had been planning on sharing pictures with my North Country friends of all the spring like things we've noticed going on around here. The trees are beginning to bud, the iris and daffodil bulbs are coming up, and the geese are flying north again. But all of that? It's under piles of snow right now. And the snow is still coming down.

If you made it this far, and you do want to see some great photos, I'll send you over to my brother John's website, Patio Boat. He has vacation pictures from a recent trip to Northern California. He even has a picture of the General Store where I purchased my wedding dress. And the garden we all got married in in Berkeley.

I'm going to stop rambling now.

**Edited to add that we've lost Rich now. It's only a matter of time before Shea and I succumb. I'm going to hang the quarantine flag out front now.

I've Got Nothing.

This pretty much sums up what we've been up to lately. I don't even have any great stories of mass destruction to report.

At Atlee's birthday party last Saturday, we received all sorts of compliments on how well behaved Cady was. I know, I was shocked too. Then I realized she couldn't move much because she was trying to digest all of the half hot dogs and half hamburgers a crowd of five year olds generates.

There weren't any ponies involved.

We celebrated Atlee's fifth birthday this weekend. She won't actually be five until tomorrow, but sometimes we can't wait for a good party.

When she's 35 and in therapy, I fully expect her counselor to ask her for more details about the cake from her fifth birthday. "There was an S on it you say." "And the homemade heart shaped cake was broken? Interesting, very interesting."

It might even make it onto Cakewrecks if I'm not careful. Atlee repeatedly assured me that she loved it. In the end, that's the only part that really matters.

[It's not an S, it's a 5.]

She was fiercely excited about a birthday party.

Rich too.

Friends and family and food and cake and balloons and presents. Could you hope for more on your birthday? I think not. Thank you again to everyone for helping to make it a wonderful day for Atlee.

In other news, Greeley seems to have gotten confused by the whole birthday party thing and thinks she turned two.


Most of our conversations seem to go "No!" "Mine!" "Stop!" "Milk!" "Nurse!".

Two is such a pleasant age, isn't it?

Low Cost Gettysburg Family Entertainment

Yesterday was a big medical day around here. We had two separate doctor's appointments scheduled for Thursday. First up was Corwin the cat. He was off to get neutered.

[Did you know that if you Google Gettysburg and neuter, I'm number one?! I'm not sure if it's much of a legacy, but whatever.]

I was a little worried right before the appointment, because I couldn't find the cat. I walked all around the neighborhood calling, "Here kitty kitty!" and thinking I probably sounded a lot like a crazy cat lady. Corwin finally showed up and was promptly caged and delivered to the vet. I'm guessing it'll be the last time he comes when he's called.

The second appointment was a well visit for all three kids. Greeley was due for some shots and Atlee also needed a round for kindergarten this fall. Shea was along for the ride because we kind of figured something had to be wrong with him as a consequence of his diet. Rich, um, on occasion parents by terror. One of his latest campaigns has been telling Shea he is probably going to have to go to the emergency room some evening and receive all sorts of shots and IVs of vitamins. This appointment with the doctor was supposed to reveal all of his anemia and scurvy and whatnot.

In a surprising turnaround, the doctor said Shea was perfectly healthy and we probably shouldn't make such an issue of the food thing. He was the only one who left the office without being jabbed by multiple needles. Even worse, Shea's old enough to have heard the entire conversation and spent the evening telling Rich, "You were wrong Dad. The doctor said I'm fine."

As promised, a low cost Gettysburg family friendly form of entertainment.