The Blankie Dilemma

Three of my daughters love their blankies. Interestingly, they are the same three who suck their thumbs. They need their blankies at bed time. They need their blankies when they're tired. They need their blankies when they are sad. One blankie, though, is on the verge of disintegrating. 
You think I'm joking? Tortilla has started this bad habit of chewing on her blankie. Not just nibbling a little corner but putting a huge chunk in her mouth and gnawing on it. 
Initially, we all treated it as a joke. "Ewwww... get this wet blankie off me!" No one wanted to be near Tortilla's blankie. Unfortunately, this bad habit is destroying her blankie. It's full of holes and it's becoming frayed. 
Yesterday, I pointed out to Tortilla how terrible her blankie looks. I gave it a hot, hot "bath," trimmed it the best I could and gave her strict instructions not to chew it. It was hard for her. She really wanted the blankie in her mouth. It's a cotton blanket, so I'm not sure I can mend it too much. Hubby suggested sewing a border on it, but because of the material I think a border will pull in the wash and ruin it more. For now, the frayed edges have been trimmed, but it's still a "holey" mess. Let's hope she values the blankie enough to give up the chewing habit or I'm afraid this blankie will soon be a goner.

My Love/Hate Relationship With Hootie

When Hubby and I moved in together, I suddenly went from never owning a pet in my life to sharing a space with two cats. Elwood took to me immediately. From the minute he saw me, he wanted to get to know me, sit on my lap, eat my food. Hootie, however, was a different story.
Hubby's parents found Hootie when Hubby was in high school. They were driving at night and their headlights illuminated something in the road. Hubby's dad thought it was an owl (hence the name they gave him). He got out of the car and found a wounded cat, most likely hit by a car. Hubby's parents took him home and eventually to a vet. Considering the amount of money it took to fix him up (including a pin in his leg), Hootie became a member of his family.
Hootie stuck to Hubby like glue. He considered Hubby to be his and his alone. So when I came into the picture, I was nothing but a threat.
In the beginning, Hootie refused to acknowledge me. He didn't want me to pet him. He didn't want to sit near me. If I sat near Hubby, Hootie would wedge his way in between us. I have a rocking chair that was either my great aunt's or my great grandmother's. The back has caning and had a tiny, tiny hole. Hootie hated me so much that he chewed through that hole and ruined the caning, which I still need to fix. Hubby's parents were stunned when I told them that story. This was not the gentle, caring cat they knew.
Eventually, Hootie figured out I wasn't going anywhere. Slowly, we forged a bond. I learned to love him. He learned to tolerate me. In the time that I knew him, I don't remember him every voluntarily sitting on my lap, but he did allow me to pet him and he always came around when I had something tasty to eat.
Hootie was a smart cat. He never once bit anyone or lashed out at anyone. He knew right away not to mess around with our girls when they came home from the hospital. As the girls grew, he tolerated their rough pettings and hugs. He let us dress him in goofy outfits. If he were a person, he would be mortified by the picture I used for this post, but it shows how tolerant he was. He pretended like he was above chasing a laser, but every now and then he would join the younger cats in the fun. He was the "top cat" in our house. He let the "young whippersnappers" have their fun, but if they got out of line, Hootie was right there to put them in their place. The other cats weren't scared of him, but they definitely followed his lead. Back in the day, he was better than having a watchdog. If I heard a noise, all I had to do was look at Hootie to see if I should be concerned. If he went about his business, all was well. If he had his ears pointed and a bushy tail, I knew something was wrong.
It's hard to say exactly how old Hootie was. Our estimate is 22 to 24 years old. (FYI, if Hootie was 24 that apparently equates to 104 in human years!) A few months ago, his age started to show. He began losing weight. He walked like an "old man." During one visit to the vet, she recommended some work on his teeth for a whopping $600+. Hubby and I had a long discussion. It was a hard decision for Hubby to make, having had such a long relationship with Hootie, but we decided not to sink that kind of money into a cat if it meant only prolonging his life by months, rather than years. (How many cats do you know that have made it to their 20's? Our vet couldn't think of many).
A few weeks ago, it became obvious that Hootie wasn't doing well. He started snubbing the special food we bought to fatten him up. He preferred a "liquid diet" consisting of cat milk, pea juice and the like. Still, he was fighting to live. He could get up and down the steps to our bedroom, to the cat box. He would come to the kitchen and plop down in front of me, demanding to be fed. As long as he fought, we were willing to do what we could to help. 
Overnight it all changed. On Monday, Hubby woke up and Hootie could barely walk. He tried to eat, but just slumped his head over the bowl. This is not the same cat who just the day before had readily come around for food. As much as we thought he would simply go to sleep and leave us peacefully, it was time for us to take action and say good bye.
As I got the girls ready for school, they asked why Hootie was walking funny and barely walking at all. Then one of them asked a loaded question "Is Hootie going to die?" As much as I did not want to send my daughters to school on such a sad note, I sat them down and told them Hootie was very sick and was going to be leaving us that day. The tears flowed freely. I promised them they would be able to come home from school and say good bye... as long as they promised me they would go to school and not be sad.
The good byes were hard. Last week it was easy to make light of goldfish Rocky's passing. He had been with us for 2 1/2 days. There was no time to bond. Hootie had been in my life for nearly 11 years... and about twice that long for Hubby. He was an integral part of our family and he is dearly missed.

The First Body Piercing

Well, I did it. Actually, I should say Roo did it. She is now the proud wearer of pierced earrings. If you'll recall, I'm desperate. The other three suck their thumbs and I've stooped to bribery (which is not something I'm against). I told them if they stop sucking their thumbs, they can get their ears pierced. Since Roo never sucked her thumb, she asked every day if it was time to get her ears pierced.
Sunday was the day. I called the closest chain-store that pierces ears (if you think about it, you'll figure out what store I went to). I made sure the store had two certified piercers working so both ears could be pierced at the same time. Then Hubby, Roo and I made the trek over. I made the other girls go to grandma's because I really wanted to play up the whole "specialness" of this event. 
Roo smiled the whole way there, but didn't say much. She refused to talk to the two employees at the store. (For the record, this store employs "young" workers, but they were kind and professional through the entire experience). 
The piercing "guns" aren't the staple gun sized contraptions I remember being pierced with. They were small and didn't make a "popping" sound. They counted to three... I didn't even realize it was over! Roo didn't flinch and didn't shed a tear. (It helped that I popped a lollipop in her mouth as soon as it was over). 
She's very proud of herself and has been very careful with her earrings. She doesn't let anyone touch them unless we're cleaning them and she helps me mark off the calendar each day so we know how often to clean them.

For those who have asked why I'm concerned about the thumb sucking: I've never believed sucking thumbs causes crooked teeth. However, according to our dentist it can change the shape of one's palette. It elongates the roof of the mouth and causes "crowding of the teeth." We already know all four girls will need braces (yes, even non-thumb sucking Roo), but we're trying to avoid the palette cracking contraption Hubby had to wear. It goes in the roof of your mouth and you have to turn a "key" every day to separate your palette. I'm dizzy just thinking about it.
As for the others? They're trying, they really are. The problem with their thumb sucking is that it's a "comfort" thing. They ONLY do it when they're tired. However, I noticed Sue Sue no longer sucks her thumb in her sleep... could she be the next to get pierced? And for the record, any piercings beyond their ears will have to be paid for out of their own pockets!
 

The 14 Day Guarantee

This year for Christmas Santa brought my girls an aquarium. Actually, while they were excited at the prospect of being fish owners, the gift was really for Mommy and Daddy. We have always entertained the idea of owning fish and would some day like to have a large tank of tropical fish. We decided it's best to start small. So we now have an aquarium fit for a few princesses. It's pink. It has pink rocks. Did I mention we bought a pink castle for the fish to swim in and out of?
Last week Hubby got the aquarium ready. Then on Sunday we ventured to the pet store to buy two goldfish. Did you know goldfish aren't always gold in color? I didn't know that either until Sunday.
Anyway, our aquarium can accommodate two to three goldfish. I bring up this point because the pet store employee emphasized this fact, even though the tanks at the store had 30 or more fish crammed in them and aren't much bigger than our tank.
The pet store employee was clearly exasperated with us. We didn't want him putting just any fish in a bag and sending us home. No, for our 13 cents a fish we wanted the ones we picked out. First into the bag was Mo. He's gold in color and has a black stripe down his back, sort of like a mohawk, hence the name. Next came Rocky. He was black in color, very pretty. He was a slippery sucker and kept dodging the net. Apparently the worker gave up because when we were in the car we noticed Rocky was suddenly silver. Oh well. He was ours and that's all that mattered.
When we made it through the first night with no dead fish, Hubby and patted ourselves on the back. We're good fish owners! Unfortunately, when the girls and I went to feed the fish this morning, poor Rocky had passed. Believe it or not, he found his way into the castle and used that as his final resting place.
The girls and I were slightly disappointed, but not overly upset. It had only been 2 1/2 days. Yesterday Hubby pointed out that Rocky never used his left fin. We're guessing he was injured and dying before we ever brought him home. My explanation to the girls was that Rocky knew he only had a few days left and really wanted to get out of that crammed fish tank at the store. I like to think he enjoyed a few days of having room to move in the princess tank.

As for the title of my post? Well, the store has a 14 day guarantee on fish, so tomorrow Hubby will be heading there to bring home Dorothy.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel

I've never had really long hair. Growing up, my mom made me get a "pixie cut" every summer, although to me it was called a "boy haircut." I vowed never to do that to my daughters. Then I had girls with tangled messes for hair.
I'm willing to do simple hair styles... ponytails, braids, barrettes. I'm not able to do more elaborate 'dos (think French braids). My daughters don't seem to mind. I don't make them get a pixie cut, but they do end up with a bob a few times a year. Usually I'll let their hair grow out in the summer and then cut it right before school starts. This might seem backwards to some... they should have short hair for summer, right? But I would rather get all the chlorinated, sun damaged hair cut off.
At the beginning of this school year, only Roo and Cakes had hair long enough to justify a $10 haircut. I won't pay $10 for a trim. I do all bang trims myself. Soon, Tortilla needed a cut, but since she wanted to be Sleeping Beauty for Halloween, I let her keep her unruly locks until November. Days after Halloween she happily went to a chin-length bob.
This has never been a problem, until now. The other day I mentioned to Sue Sue that it's about time for her to get a haircut. Her response: I want long hair. Right now her hair is about shoulder length. If it gets cut, it's going chin length. She wants to keep it the way it is. I don't mind, except her hair is always in her face. So I made a deal with her, she has to wear some type of 'do (headband, ponytail, whatever we decide each morning) and keep it in. If she starts pulling out the accessories mid-morning, as she is known to do, then she has to have her haircut. So far our deal is working. It means a few extra minutes are added to the morning routine, but as long as she's keeping up her end of the bargain, I'll stick with it.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

I've frequently posted about my three thumb suckers. Roo has never sucked her thumb, the other three think their thumbs are made of chocolate. Or crack. Take your pick because they are addicted. I've tried chats about how we're "big girls now." I've talked to them about what this will do to their teeth. I've threatened to cover their hands with socks at night. That was the dentist's suggestion. It sounded good, but then I thought about how uncomfortable I would feel with my hands covered all night, so I don't know if I'm willing to go that route. Nothing has worked.
The other night, out of sheer frustration, I came up with something that might actually work. Roo is going to get her ears pierced this week. That's my new rule: if you don't suck your thumb, you get to have pierced ears. She is really talking it up and her sisters are jealous! They're trying to stop sucking their thumbs because they want earrings. I think the real motivator will be when Roo comes home this week sporting her earrings. I had always planned to wait until they were a little older, but if it means no more thumb sucking, then bring on the piercing gun!

The Winners Are...

That's right, I said winners. There was miscommunication about how the Purex giveaway was going to work, soooooo Purex has agreed to give THREE Buried in Laundry readers a coupon for a free bottle of Purex Complete Crystal Softeners. Those three winners, as determined by Random.org are:

Doodle741

Jill

CTMom

You have 48 hours to provide me with your mailing address or a new winner will be chosen. I'll get the coupons out to you as soon as I receive them from Purex.

Thanks to everyone who entered!