When You're Three

Some blue-eyed, blond-haired crazy sweet boy turned 3 in this house last week. You, guessed it! It's the O'Bear!

We had fun celebrating the birthday boy with a fun swim party, cake, presents, friends and family. We then got to celebrate our favorite dads the next day. It made for a very celebratory weekend.

So...being three...did you know that this comes with the ability for all sorts of new adventures?

What kind, you ask.

Well, when the sky brings rain and your yard has dirt, and the three-year-old of the house asks to play in the mud, surprisingly, the mom says yes.

I know, I was kinda shocked too. But, hey, it's just laundry and bath time. And the smiles and the laughs were well worth it!

And, without further ado, O'Bear and Mommy present, "Mudding--An Ode to Being Three."

Feeling it out with Chuck...

 Hey, this is pretty sweet. Cold and squishy!

 Stomp!!

 Stomp! Splash! Stomp!

 It's so squishy!! 

Hehehe!!!!! Mmmuuuudddd!!!!

The event concluded with a ceremonial hose-off followed by a warm bath. The three-year-old went back for an encore before we left to get dinner. The encore was sadly met with motherly opposition for the performer, and a strong reprimand was given. It seems old-fart adults need to be mentally prepared for these events.

We Survived the Vet

I received the post card in the mail. I put it on the fridge. And I stared at it for a week or two off and on -- The Vet.

Don't get my wrong, the people at the vet we go to are always very gracious. It's just well, it's kinda like when you have a baby.You are charged with this life you have to take care of basically 24/7 and they can't really tell you a blasted thing. It's a lot of guessing. Eventually your kid starts to tell you stuff, but after 5 years with this guy, I'm still left in the dark on most things.

We have had numerous ups and downs with Ryker dog...thankfully more ups than downs and I would never want to not have my pupster around. That said, this dog drives me bonkers a lot. The one thing that was gnawing at me about this visit was his teeth.

Ryker...or his alter ego, NoNoBadDog, chipped both his top canines pretty darn bad. So bad that the one on the left is broken off just about right at the gum line. I cried when I saw this. I felt I let me dog down. Why does he feel the need to freak out so badly when we leave that he can be so destructive?

My fear was that our vet, Dr. Clawson (ha! I know), would say we'd have to pull his teeth. Not only would this be expensive. Joy. It would be so sad. I'd have this beautiful, fluffy dog with no teeth.

But I sucked it up. Called the vet. Hauled me and all three boys (baby counts at this stage, I feel) to the vet, and we waited.

Ryker passed with flying colors on the health scene. I asked about his teeth. He did a little poking and after examining, he said that though yes, pretty bad, he was fine and showed no signs of pain.

Thank you Lord!

I know, it's silly to be grateful to God about your dog's teeth. But it was my worry. I didn't want him to suffer. Knowing he's ok makes me a happy puppy mom, and so thankful we can take our silly concerns to our Father and he helps us through.

I have my fuzzbutt curled up with me as I type this. And I just gotta say, I love my crazy, stupid, snaggle-toothed dog.