I like dogs. I love our new puppy, Bella. She’s adorable and very sweet.

I don’t mind dogs being in public places. I would love to be able to take Bella anywhere we would like. I like for my kids to interact with animals, especially since it will become more important for them to be advocates for animals as they grow up.

NPR had show on when I was driving to Target recently that really incensed me (that was for you, Gramma…I won’t use pissed off anymore:) ). I didn’t catch the beginning, but I believe it was a woman who was fighting against dogs being allowed in all public places (seemed like a silly thing to work for, but whatever). The parts that really bothered me were all of the people calling in. Every single one of them were for dog rights (me too, of course), but they kept comparing dogs to small children–in a very offensive way. They referred to children as being more dirty and less well behaved than their own dogs. They were so derogatory, it made me want to turn back around and not take my children to the store. Why should I have to endure other people hating on me for having my children with me? I *have* to take them with me to the store. It isn’t illegal to leave your dog at home alone. Every one of those callers were children once themselves. They themselves were the “dirty, ill-behaved, germ-ridden babies wiping their hands all over the grocery conveyer” at one point too. Arggh.

I try to make sure that my children are clean and well-behaved. Sometimes they win, though–and that’s just life, so suck it up and quit whining about having to put up with kids being in public. Seriously, people! I am always very appreciative of nice people that I run into in public. Even the ones who don’t say anything, but I know they are smiling to themselves at the sight of me with all of my little ones. Thanks to all of you who have said nice things to me about my kids. However, no matter how many nice things are said to me, the one rude stranger ruins it all and leaves me running home fighting back tears because I can never seem to produce a rude enough retort to prove to said stranger that I actually do have an intelligence and that they are, in fact, an idiot themselves (themself? pfft).

Oh, and quit whining about breastfeeding in public. Babies eat. That’s life. Go fight something important, like child soldiers or AIDS.

Happy Monday, y’all.

IKEA seems to have this affect on me. It’s like Hysteria by Muse is running through my head the whole four hours we’re in the store. I mean, really, is it possible to go in and buy one item and rush out? I don’t think so.

This was the first time since IKEA opened here (in May) that they had room in the Smaland/kid play place for our two oldest. Last time there was room, but they could only stay 15 minutes. Please. AND, the IKEA Nazi was in charge of admitting kids. She refused to let Seth in because he was too short (she says). She made him take off his shoes to be measured (admittance is based on height). I swear he was millimeters under the required height. When I challenged her she told me that she was operating under international rules. Like the UN had made special guidelines for the stupid playland at IKEA or something. Whatever. Anyhoo, this time was much better. They both stayed for an hour and LOVED it.

We were there to get a small table for a computer for the kids. I was going to have a nice birthday party for Seth and Joseph, but decided that they would enjoy their own computer station more (less work for me too, yo). But we couldn’t resist stopping to look at the bathroom sink we want:

Its depth is super small, which would be perfect for our postage stamp sized bathroom. Our house was built in 1905, so the bathroom was carved out of one of the original rooms years later when indoor plumbing became more common.

I call this one “Particle Board Surfing.”

And this one “Because We’re White Trash.”

I was feeding Juliet. For ten minutes. She’s a quick nurser, ten minutes isn’t very long. But when you’re stuck on the couch for that long and your 2yo is dumping out the ENTIRE box of Cheerios it seems like an eternity.

Cheerios EVERYWHERE. I had to take off my socks because they had acquired a new crunchity layer.

I know the above picture is fuzzy and grainy, but you really would be missing out if you couldn’t see the floor.

On a much lighter and happier note, I finished Seth’s hoodie yesterday. He looks super silly in this picture, but it is a good shot of the funny pockets on the front. Every other picture he has his hands in them.

In typical me style, I sewed the hood on backwards last night. I made the mistake of letting him try it on like that. He got used to the car (which is a Ford Anglia, btw) being on the front. We almost had an OCD breakdown this morning when he woke up to it being fixed. Somehow I won the Seth clothing lottery, however, and he likes it. I’m still trying to talk him into wearing pants since it is cold, and not his stupid “O and a 5 shorts.” He has three pair and that’s all he has worn all summer (Sundays? HUGE fight every week). Sigh. I don’t know what I’m going to do….make him wear knee-high socks? Thermal underwear?