Can dogs pee their pants?

Because I think mine just did.

Sparky the dog is terrified of stairs.  He can handle the three front steps but that is his limit.  The eleven inside steps ARE NOT HAPPENING.  I tried bribing him with food and he made it up two steps and then ran down.  From there he started yapping and squawking and just pretty much losing his shit.  We were all laughing at him until he went and sat down and peed while sitting.  He was so afraid he actually peed while sitting.  He peed his little doggy pants.  I finally got him half up the stairs and this is what he did:

He froze SOLID.  He would not budge.  He wouldn't even move his head enough to grab the treat.  He just froze like an ice cube.  I felt bad but I couldn't help laughing so so so hard at him. 

Silly little puppy peed his pants and then got stuck on the stairs.  Yes, I helped him down finally.  I love my puppy.

Dear Dog

Why is it you are smart enough to bring your water dish to me when it's empty but you aren't smart enough to ask to go outside to poop?  I don't understand.  We stood out there for 30 minutes last night while I kept saying, "go potty, go potty," and then you walked in and shit on my floor.  But then 10 minutes later you came walking over with your empty water dish. Please explain, why you couldn't just go bark at the door and ask to go out.  Or even better why you couldn't just take a shit while we were outside for 30 minutes. 

Also please tell me why shoes taste so good to you?  They are shoes.  They aren't cat shit flavor (your favorite flavor) so what is so enticing about shoes?

In this same category is Codi's pajama pants.  Why do you only want to rip his jammie pants off him and eat them, but not Brandons?  Do Codis pants taste different because they are a smaller size?  What gives?

And finally please explain to me how you are able to swallow an entire cat shit whole?  Are you a snake?  Does your jaw just unlock and open up because that is pretty damn impressive.



The women who wants you to stop shitting on her floor and refrain from eating cat shit and then licking her.

The trouble with mental illness

Is that you never know who you will wake up being.  I not only have bi-polar, and OCD (the severity depends on my medication level), but I also have a borderline personality disorder. I wake up every day wondering who I am today.  Am I the happy fun loving do gooder mom?  Am I the depressed I don't want to go outside hate the world you wife? Am I the crazy, ditsy lets do something stupid girl? (Last time I saw her was here)

The other problem though is that you never truly know what is the truth.  I spend 15 days feeling up.  The world is good. I'm convinced my medication is working.  I am running.  Eating good.  Doing everything right.  Working hard.  Obsessively cleaning my house.  I am HAPPY. 

Then two days later it crashes down and I'm fucked.  I can' concentrate on work. I'm overwhelmed at home.  I can't eat right.  I want to cry all the time.  I want to lock myself in my girl room and just be alone. 

I spend 98% of my life wondering if the medication ever worked or if I was just in an up period.  Is the medication not working or am I just PMSing this week.  I came home tonight overwhelmed.  Everything was hard.  The kids were crying, then laughing, then being total assholes and then the dog joined in and it was pure chaos in my house and my husband wasn't here and I couldn't have a glass of wine because I won't drink if I am alone with my children and I couldn't really walk outside for alone time because those little people and the four legged little person would follow me and the next thing I know I would be shooting those little fuckers with the hose and throwing apples at them.

My husband finally came home.  I walked outside to take the dog potty and sat down on the porch and I turned to see my husband sitting behind me.  Whispering in my ear, "I love you so much."  Then later grabbing my hand on the couch, looking at me, laughing and saying, "damn your in a mood huh," following by squeezing my hand and just being there with me.  But yes.  I'm in a mood.  I'm in, "the zone."  The danger zone.  The place where I don't know what is reality and what is all in my head.  It is scary to be here.  It is like the matrix, I don't know what my own reality is, I just fake it hoping no one catches on.  Obviously they will catch on because I'm talking about it now.

I want to believe the medicine is working this time.  I know it always works better if you think it will.  I'm working a little side job catering and I can't tell you how helpful it is.  To get out of the ordinary be around people, smile, get them loaded on wine, get tips for having a nice smile, and just plain having fun with food.  I love it.  I ran my first 5k.  At first I was disappointed in myself because my husband ran a half marathon and I only ran a puney little 5k.  Then I realized that on my RunKeeper program my goal was to run a real 5k AND I DID IT.  I completed a goal.  I set my mind to something, I wanted it, I followed through and I completed it.  Guess what, I'm doing it again Sunday!

I'm injured like a motherfucker and the only thing that heals a shin splint is rest.  But I can't actually rest much because I start getting looks like, "your a lame ass loser for not running every other day."  But then I go to the doctor or pharmacist and get a lecture about HOW MUCH I NEED TO REST AND KNOCK THIS OVER ACHIEVER SHIT OFF. 

I'm finding it hard to concentrate at work.  I've been taking a lot of time off.  My brain isn't functioning well there.  It's overwhelming.  Little shit bothers me.  Why can't other people in the office show up at 8am.  Why do I have two kids and a dog and I can show up pretty close to on time but the other girl who lives with one person can't get there one time?  Why can't she make a phone call to find out the price of an envelope?  Why can't she call the credit card company to figure something out?  WHY WHY WHY CAN'T SHE JUST TAKE SOME HEAT OFF ME AND DO HER JOB?  Why will she never change the toilet paper at work EVER?  I find myself so bothered by her I can't do my own work because I just want to go throw a stapler at her head.  I'm swamped in medical bills.  I try to pay all of my regular bills on time.  I do my best not to do frivolous shit and this girl comes in complaining about her bills and ten seconds later talks about the concert ticket she bought.  Talks about the large amount of fast food she bought, talks about ANYTHING BUT WHAT SHE SHOULD BE SPENDING MONEY ON.  Complains her paycheck is too low.  Which fine.  Spend your money how you want.  But when I put shit on your desk to do, easy shit, DO IT!  Don't fucking whine about it, do it IT'S HOURS.  IT'S A JOB.  IT'S WORK.  Quit giving this shit to me. 

When you see me in my office with a blank look on my face and my head in my hands COME IN AND ASK ME WHAT YOU CAN DO.  Stop complaining.  Stop whining, Jesus just shut the fuck up and do your job.

It is clear I. AM. IN. A. MOOD. I need to get out of the mood.  I need to get out and run.  I need my leg to stop feeling like  a crippling pain.  I need to just figure this out, get out of it.  Find myself and hope that one day I will wake up and not have to question which version of myself I am today.

That's the trouble with mental illness.  You just never know.  Ever. 

Little Fucking Smart Asses

Things my kids said in the last few minutes:

Me: Brandon what part of go shut the back door didn't you get?

Brandon: The word shut…that's the word I didn't get.

Last week I asked what part of don't do that didn't you get and he replied with two answers, the first being, "don't" and then, simply "th."  He smart assly told me he didn't understand the "TH" in that and therefore didn't have to listen to me.

A moment ago Codi drove his bike into the girl in my office.  She said that wasn't nice.  He replied:



She asked what for and he said, "for telling my brother no."

These two are never on the same page about anything, but apparently if someone picks on one of them then they can be a team.  Otherwise it's usually just seeing which one of them can kick the shit out of the other one first.

I have also been told that Brandon doesn't have to listen to me, because my mom is the boss not him.  Because all moms are the boss.  So by his logic, my grandma has the final word over everything because she is my moms mom and therefore she is the final boss.  It pisses me off the most because my mom goes along with it.  NOT OKAY.

I asked Codi to do something and Brandon responded and Codi said, "IS YOUR NAME CODI? NO THEN DON'T TALK."


They are such smart asses.