An Open Letter to Dog Owners

OK, we're changing gears for a quick second.  There's something that I'd like to say to some of the dog owners in my neighborhood, but I'm much too chicken.  I understand that your dog is your baby and that you love it like a member of the family.  However, your dog is loud.  I love my children very much, yet I don't leave them tied up to a post in the front yard for hours on end, as they scream (bark) incessantly to be released.

Here's a quick tip:  if your dog is barking and barking and barking, he probably wants to come inside or be untied.  I'm not a dog owner and I know that.  If you're not smart enough to realize that, perhaps you shouldn't have a pet.

As I sat on my couch early this morning, enjoying the cool morning breeze, I had to listen to a loud, barking dog for about 15 minutes constant.  The dog was not on my street, it was faint enough to know that it was at least a block away.  I cannot image how loud it would have been to a direct next-door neighbor.  I'm certain the owner knew it was barking.  From the sound, it was a very large dog. 

The day my 4-year-old niece died, I pulled my daughter out of school and we came home.  (I worked at her middle school that year).  We sat on the porch and reminisced about the happy moments we had with her during her short life.  The rottweiler across the street stood got loose and ran over to where we were sitting.  Thankfully, the owner noticed and came to get him.  We were crying, but she didn't seem to notice.  She tied him up, where he sat and barked at us over and over and over.  On that beautiful May afternoon, we had to move inside because of her dog.

On a September day, a day which I consider the worst day of my life, that same dog nearly caused me to do something rash.  Due to circumstances I will not share on this blog, I was a distraught human being who was collapsed on floor in my hallway, sobbing.  That dog barked and barked and barked.  It had to have lasted at least 45 minutes.  I was in such a fragile state, I nearly lost my mind.   

Same dog, another time- the barking had been going on for several hours.  The neighbor beside me couldn't take any more and he called the police.  I watched in a cowardly fashion through my upstairs blinds.  The officer walked up to the house, past the barking dog, and had a short conversation with the owner.  She moved him inside afterward.  Following that incident, there was a huge ordeal on Facebook.  She blew up with tons of profanity and great offense.  She was furious that she had been reported for a barking dog.  Her defense was that dogs bark....that's what they do.  She and her husband were both irate and got all their Facebook friends stirred up as well.  I didn't understand how, as a neighbor, we are expected to endure the constant barking, but she can't be expected to have the decency to keep her dog quiet.  The poor animal had a chain that was probably 6-10 feet long and had worn a dirt circle in the yard in his limited walking space. 

I'm not an animal lover, and I won't pretend to be, but my understanding of pet ownership is for companionship.  If you want to include your pet as part of the family, that is fine.  What I don't understand is why you would allow that loved family member to endure obvious misery as it is chained up outside (disturbing the entire neighborhood in the process) as you sit inside watching television, ignoring its needs. 

So here's my plea for today:  if you notice your dogs outside barking, please bring them in or find out what their needs are.  I understand that dogs bark; they're supposed to.  When the barking doesn't let up, something is wrong, and that need should be met.

Thank you for your time.  Rant over. 

Stressin'

I'm exhausted.  It's all I talk about.  It consumes every conversation and nearly every thought.

People are sending me texts about disturbing things that are happening in both the police and demonstrative communities.  I'm sure they think they're doing me a great service, but I'm shielding myself from news outlets for a reason. 

Apparently, Amazon has allowed the sale of anti-police shirts that condone hate.  I will not repeat the slogan on my blog because I don't want to give credit to this horrible atrocity.  Basically, it lumps all officers into one group and labels them murderers.  I just don't understand.  I thought that was the purpose of the entire movement- to stop prejudice, stereotypes, and labeling.  How can someone condemn one kind of hate and condone another?  Fortunately, the listing that sold the shirts has been removed, but similar shirts are sold elsewhere. 

As I stated before, I have removed all news media from my world, so forgive me that I have no concrete facts or actual data regarding the recent events in Atlanta.  From what I hear, the victim was running away from the officer and was shot in the back.  For that reason, the officer was criticized and charged.  I cannot judge or defend his actions, due to my lack of information, however, I will offer one thought to ponder.  Cops have had very specific training, and they have milliseconds, combined with a great rush of adrenaline, to implement that training.  When someone points a weapon directly at a cop, his initial reaction is to fire.  If that taser would have struck the officer and left him incapacitated, the shooter could have easily helped himself to the officer's firearm.  The officer did not have minutes to consider the current state of affairs, nor was he able to question his initial reaction to determine if it was the best course of action.  His response was immediate, and his first line of defense (his taser) was missing.  Hubby said his training officer taught him that, when confronted with a life-threatening situation, it's better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.  Although, never in the past have officers been fired on the spot and charged with murder.  Up to this point, a leave of absence has been standard while investigations were taking place.

The closest my husband has ever come to shooting someone is when he was faced with a disgruntled man who was not in his right mind.  The man reached into his waistband, pulled out something dark, and aimed it at my husband.  Hubby said he felt his finger twitch and he nearly fired.  As it turned out, the object was a cell phone.  The other man almost got shot for making a really stupid choice.  If my husband had hesitated for a fraction of a second too long, and if it had actually been a gun, I would now be a widow.  Too many decisions have to be made too quickly.

As I stated in an earlier post, I do not defend the actions of Derek Chauvin in any way.  I'm so angry that my husband is being lumped into the same boat as this terrible excuse for a police officer and a human being.  Consider the worst possible version of a worker in your own profession, whether that person is a rapist, pedophile, child abuser, or murderer.  Now imagine how terrible it would be if you had to endure the wrath of that individual's crimes.  That's what our good officers are facing every day.  I can't imagine how anything shy of countless years can undo the damage that is being done right now.  May God have mercy on our society. 

Late for a Very Important Date

I have a situation that I would like a little advice about.

There's another mom at school whom I've become friends with due to the similarity of our children's ages.  We both have a 9th grader, a 7th grader, and a 4th grader.  I have a 5 year old and she has two more younger children.  We often joke about how crazy we both are for having so many kids and I tease her more for having five children.  She's a good Christian mom and I like & trust her husband too.  I've allowed Big Sis to attend functions at their house, which is not something I do with very many school friends.

At some point this year, we discussed that we should consider car pooling since we both have 3 kids who are in 3 different schools.  We live about a half mile from each other, so it wouldn't be too inconvenient for either of us.  Time passed; nothing happened.  She brought it up again before Christmas, so we decided to give it a try.  It was around the same time I found out I was going to start babysitting a little Autistic boy in our church.  I was supposed to have him on Wednesdays and Thursdays so pick up on those days would be very difficult anyhow.  We agreed that I would do Monday and Tuesday, she would do Wednesday and Thursday, and we would alternate Fridays.

So far, it's gone fairly well.  She's always followed through when it's her assigned day and is flexible to any change in schedule I have to make.  There's one problem, however.  Her daughter is in NO hurry to get to the car.  My son passes her on his way out the door every day while she stands and talks to her friends at her locker.  He reaches the car and then we have to wait an extra five to ten minutes on her to arrive.  When we do see her coming, she's walking as slow as molasses, looking around like she's out for a Sunday stroll.  I thought that she would try to hurry a bit when she realized we waited on her every day.  I was wrong.  I also thought that maybe her mom would realize that my son makes it to the car so much faster and would question her daughter's lateness.  Nope.

Last week, Hubby was doing pick up for me and finally called me.  "Are we picking up this girl?" he asked.  I confirmed that yes, he was supposed to pick her up.  My two boys and her brother were both already in the car.  I told Hubby I'd text her mom and make sure she didn't go home from school sick.  "Is 'Morgan' at school today?" I texted, "Because she's still not out."  A couple minutes later, Hubby replied that he finally saw her coming (walking like a Senior Citizen).  "Never mind," I replied to her mom, "Here she comes."  I didn't feel bad about it because she needed to know we were getting irritated but I didn't want to say anything.

The next day, Son #1 was walking out of the building and he passed her.  She was at a friend's locker, chatting, but she stopped him and asked which mom was picking up.  He said it was our turn.  She arrived at the car several minutes later and said to Hubby, "Sorry it takes me so long to get to the car...I have a lot of places I have to stop."  So obviously her mom said something to her.  Yet, she's lying about having obligations to fulfill.  The places she needs to stop are to see friends.  I find that very annoying.  School traffic is insane and we would like to get out of there as soon as possible.

In my opinion, we have two options.  We can either let it go and do nothing.  OR- we can tell her mom that we're going to quit the carpool and pick up only our kids from now on.  Either option is inconvenient for us.  But I've already said one thing to her mom and I don't feel like I can bring it up again.  I feel like this girl is being very rude and inconsiderate of our time.  What would you do?

Chewed Up & Spit Out

Last night, I got the biggest bawling out since my mom found out I was in a car that was playing "Mailbox Baseball" when I was 15.  And this altercation wasn't by my mom.

I was passing by a woman at church who asked if she could talk to me.  It sounded casual, so I thought she was going to ask about photography, shoes, or something else totally random.  Wrong.  She was on a mission to bring me down.

She started off by saying, "You're lucky I didn't find you when I first found out about this because I wouldn't have been able to exercise self-control..." This was immediately after a Bible study on self-control.  I thought she was teasing so I causally chuckled.  Wrong again.

I'll spare you the details, but she was all riled up over a photo of her that was printed in our church pictorial calendar.  I'm the unofficial photographer of the church so I spend the entire year snapping photos of things that happen at church functions.  At the end of the year, I submit all those photos to the church secretary who chooses enough to fill twelve pages and creates photo collages for the calendar.  Most people approach me, complaining that their photo wasn't in the calendar again.

This woman continued by saying she specifically told me to delete any photos taken of her when she saw me snapping them one day.  This was last winter and I do not remember the conversation.  Sure, that's my bad.  I apologized for my error, told her I didn't remember that conversation, and was ready to end the conversation.  Boy, was I on a streak of wrongness.  She was not done.

She went on and on, for what seemed like an eternity, telling me how wrong I was for what I did.  She said things like, "How could you do that to me?" and "I couldn't believe you did that after I specifically told you not to."  She even went on to say that the photo was hideous.  At that point, she crossed the line when she criticized my work.

I was still trying to be breezy and say things like, "You looked beautiful in that picture!"  She is a very pretty woman.  That didn't work.  She told me she never allows her picture to be taken.  I said the words "I'm sorry" way more times than I can count.  How many times does a person have to apologize?  I admitted my wrong, which cannot be changed.  It's over, it's time to let it go.  She still wasn't ready to let it go.

She reamed me out for well over five minutes, which is a long time to just stand there and take it.  And that's what I did.  I stood there, I let her humiliate me, and I profusely apologized.  I was mortified.  I was embarrassed.  I fought back tears.  It was horrible.  

When I was recounting the story to my mother, who is a friend of hers, she asked how I finally got out of the conversation.  I honestly could not remember how I was able to get away.  I do remember getting to the exit as quickly as possible before the tears came.

The most interesting thing about the conversation was when she said, "I have a bit of a fetish about getting my picture taken."  All I said was, "Yeah, it sounds like you do."  It's more than a fetish.  It's a mental illness.

That's one day I don't care to ever relive.  I have never been treated that badly my entire adult life.  Unfortunately, I will never feel comfortable around this person ever again.  She's friends with my brother and parents.  She doesn't have a lot of other friends and she just lost the chance of being mine again.  

What should a person do in a situation like that?  I handled it as best as I could, since I was completely and utterly blindsided.  Now, I just keep replaying the conversation over and over, wondering what I should have done differently.  I determined that I'm very thankful for my mental health.  Not everyone has the luxury of being mentally sound.  

A Shopping Trip Gone Sour

I think I could make a living writing strongly worded letters.  It's something I'm really good at.  I can portray so much aggression and irritation after a To Whom it May Concern and a colon.  I try to write my letter while at the height of my frustration so that I can remember each detail and make sure that every speck of my anger comes spewing out.

Over the weekend, we made a day trip to Ikea.  We don't have one locally and have to drive a couple hours to get to one.  With so many little kids around the house, I don't like to pay a lot for new furniture.  They're going to end up banging it up or coloring on it, so I might as well get something replaceable.  That's where Ikea comes in handy.  Every couple of years, we make a trip to the next state to pick up a big item or two and several little household things that cost a few bucks.  This trip, it was a computer desk we were after.  We need something bigger that can seat two people.

The store was packed and there were people everywhere.  We finally located what we wanted, asked a few questions, and wrote down the necessary information.  From previous trips, we've learned that you write down the aisle and bin numbers on your little card and pick up the items from the self-serve warehouse.

Then, we were browsing through the kids furniture.  Hubby spied a bright pink and red toddler bed and declared that Baby Girl needed to have it.  Big Sis was awestruck by it's girly-ness and wholeheartedly agreed.  I didn't care for it but spotted a white, iron bed next to it that looked so precious.  Poor Baby Girl is still in a crib with the sides down.  She gets in and out as she pleases but I haven't had the time to decide what route we were going to take with her Big Girl room.  Hubby confirmed that we had the money available and I decided to get it.  However, there was no tag on the item with warehouse information.  I sought the help of an employee who explained that the bed would need to be picked up from the satellite store across the street.  I was fine with that and he wrote me up a ticket.  We also picked out a frumpy little mattress to go along with it.

The shopping trip was over; the desk and the bed were both piled into the trunk of the minivan.  All was well and we drove home.  Hubby wanted to get the bed up right away so we turned our home into a mini workshop.  We took down the crib and started putting together the new bed.  Of course, we had a few problems as the instructions include only smiling and frowning people with no words.  But it finally came together. 

The last step showed a faceless man putting slats onto the frame of the bed.  "Where are these?" Hubby asked.  Panicked and becoming nauseated, I looked around the room and in the box.  No slats.  I read and reread the instructions.  No words, no notes, no information whatsoever.  Getting irritated, I looked up the style of bed on the internet.  It said that this style of bed requires the use of a certain type of wood slats, which are included in the price but packaged separately.  Oh, great!  That's no good to me now! 

Quickly, I picked up the phone and called customer service.  It was nearly closing time and the Baby's bedtime.  The man on the phone informed me that the slats are necessary but not included.  I was instructed to return to my local store and pick them up.  I explained that I don't have a local store.  We live a few hours from the closest store and that was not an option.  "Oh," the man said.  "Well, I can transfer you to home shopping to purchase the bed slats."

"Let me ask you, sir," I said, "how is a person supposed to know that these particular bed slats are needed when there is nothing on the box that says so and no one at the store informed of this."

"It's on the tag, ma'am."

"Hmmm...." I continued, sarcasm rising in my voice, "there was no tag anywhere on the bed.  There was a sign hanging from the ceiling with the price.  There was no other information.  I had to seek help from an employee who ordered the bed from the warehouse.  He did not mention this information.  Again, I ask you, how is a person supposed to know?" 

"I'm sorry to hear that." he said.  "You can order the slats for $9.99."

"On your website, it said the slats were included in the price but packaged separately."

"Yes, that's just for internet orders," he said.

"Fine."  I was getting more irritated by the moment and just wanted this to be over.  "I will just buy them."  He transferred me to home shopping and I explained my story to the fella there.

"Oh, I see you need the XXX bed slats.  Those aren't available from home shopping!" he said with a lovely spring in his voice.  My blood was boiling at this point.  I won't replay the entire conversation but it went much the same way as with the last guy.  He finally explained to me that I can order twin-sized bed slats, which will work, but will only allow the bed to be used in one size.  I won't be able to adjust it like I'm supposed to be able to.  I sighed and said that will have to work.  He then told me it will take 7 to 10 business days.  "Is that OK?"

"Well, I guess it will have to be, won't it?  I don't have any other option.  I've already gotten rid of my daughter's bed so I don't know where she's going to sleep for 7 to 10 business days."

"OK, ma'am.  Those slats are $19.99." 

"$19.99?  So they went from being included, to $9.99, to $19.99 plus shipping?  Forget it!"  I hung up.  I was frustrated with myself for not asking to talk to someone much more important than him.  But it was bedtime for Baby Girl and I needed to start finding a sleeping solution for her.

I always cry when I'm ticked off.  I cried.  I decided to put her in bed with Big Sis and retreat to a hot bath with a candle and a book.  Co-sleeping did not go well.  Baby Girl got up numerous times, walked around, played with toys, wrestled with her sister, and was basically a menace.  About this time, I began thinking Why in the world did I want her out of a crib anyway??  In the morning, Big Sis said, "She got up in the middle of the night and was looking out the window and stuff!"  A serious change was needed.

I wrote my letter to Ikea.  I thought it was a pretty good one.  Anyone who would take the time to read it would certainly feel my frustration and would want to somehow make the situation right.  I got a form letter in response.  Guess what it said? 

We recommend you contacting IKEA XXX to place a home shopping order for the slatted bed base by calling XXX or email at XXX @ikea.com. We are open everyday from 10am-5pm.

Gee, thanks guys!  If I could have done that, I wouldn't have needed to write my letter, now would have I?  They didn't even read my letter!  Anyone speak Swedish?  I think I'm calling Mr. Ikea himself at some point today!

Last night, Baby Girl slept in "The Hole."  The bed frame is still set up in the middle of her room.  I made a little area for her to sleep on the floor inside of The Hole, which she adequately named herself.  She cried during the night, lost her pillow, and pulled the ole' "Mama, I NEED you!" 

Needless to say, Hubby told me he's never taking me to Ikea again.  I feel bad using the name of the store in this rant but they have done nothing to resolve the problem.  I'm stuck with a useless bed and a girl who has nowhere to sleep.  Period.

Happy Monday to you.

Vent Again

I felt it was time again for another Vent post.  How this works- let out all your frustrations right here on She Says!  The good news is that you can do it anonymously.  Even I don't know who says what.  Before you submit your Vent, click down on the comment menu and select Anonymous.  Hopefully you'll feel better afterward!  The only rule is to keep your language clean.  Thanks!

I'll start-
Sometimes I get so irritated saying the same things over and over to my kids.  I promise, I have asked them to put their dishes in the dishwasher no less than 65 times.  In the past month, they are averaging 1% (if I'm being generous) of successfully putting their dishes into the dishwasher when they're finished eating.  It's not hard.  They are 12, 10, and 7.  They can definitely handle it.  Actually, the 2-year old puts her dirty dishes in the dishwasher more often than her older siblings do!  It's plain ridiculous!

Also, I have discovered their lack of teeth brushing this summer.  During the school year, they are on a schedule where teeth brushing is part of the routine.  Since school let out, I think I've had to tell them almost every time to brush their teeth.  They will not do it without being told.  Imagine, middle schoolers not brushing their teeth?  Again, plain ridiculous!  I wonder how long they would actually go if I didn't say anything?  I make the boys get up out of bed all the time to brush their teeth.  You think they'd eventually catch on.  Hubby made Son #2 get out of the car Sunday morning because he didn't brush his teeth before church.  Everyone had to wait while he went back in to finish the chore.  And it's so obvious when they don't.  #2 especially has a serious halitosis problem.  When he doesn't brush, everyone on the block knows.  How long is a mother expected to tell her tweens to brush their teeth!  Again, their baby sister does it all the time without being told!  I'm sick of it!

Ahhh, thanks!  No, my problem isn't solved but I feel better getting to pawn some of it off on you!  Now it's your turn.  Let me have it!!!

Vent

I must admit, this post idea was actually my husband's.  He suggested having a regular feature called VENT where people could anonymously vent their frustrations.  I was impressed that he was actually taking an interest in my blog and said I'd give it a shot.  Everyone needs to let off a little steam from time to time.  And to do it without anyone knowing who you are - what could be better?

So here's how it goes:  leave a comment venting the worst frustrations in your life right now.  (Please watch your language.  "*#&!" is permitted.)  Before you submit, click on that drop down menu and select Anonymous.  That way, you can say anything and everything you want. 

I'll go first...
I feel really frustrated about Hubby's job.  The poor guy leaves the house around 5:30 every morning.  They've added more work to his schedule and he's not getting home until 7:00-8:00 every night.  That's one ridiculously long day!  As soon as he gets home, we eat dinner.  After that, he's pretty much ready for bed.  I feel guilty keeping him up to converse about life.  And he's not getting to be a very good dad right now, which kills him.  I told him he needs to refuse the extra work and get home at a descent hour.  Then he told me how much money he'd be losing out on if he did that.  So, to have any kind of a life, he needs to be at home with his family.  But what kind of a life is that when there are no finances to enjoy it?  I feel like I'm prioritizing money over family and it's really frustrating.  I try to tell myself that this is only temporary and we need to bank the extra cash while we can.  He's not going to be able to keep this kind of schedule when the kids are back in school or he might just miss them completely.

Whew!  Thanks for allowing me my vent of the day.  Now go ahead and add yours!