Max and Me

I just recently finished reading a book about an owner and his dog. You might be familiar with it...Marley and Me. First off I must say that the author and his wife look nothing like Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston. Secondly, as I read I was reminded of a relationship I have with someone close to me. You are all probably guessing Blue, my golden retriever, and I would have to say no. Blue is better behaved, although he still does jump up on people. It reminded me of my three year old son, Max. TO A TEE.

Max and Marley - the comparison and then some.

1. Eating food out of the garbage or wherever he can find it.

I just could not figure out why the floor was getting so dirty in the dining room, especially when Cassie started eating finger foods. Reason: our dog was in Canada and we are here in Japan. Then suddenly the food started disappearing from her tray left on the table, remnants in her high chair, and bits on the floor. That's right, instead of requesting a snack, Max went on reconnaisance for any food left laying around. He will eat food left over on the table that I have not had a chance to clear, food on the floor, food from the fridge (I found him knawing on a carrot unpeeled in the playroom one night before dinner.. he doesn't even eat carrots), you name it, he will eat it. Petrified or not.

2. Chewing on things.

OK, so Max does not destroy the items he chews on, but the list is extensive and thank heavens does not include shoes....but does include all outdoor handrails, grocery store checkout ledges, doctors office desks, LEAVES, sticks (not yet this season....), toys, jacket (OK to be fair, he only licks this), shirt sleeve (when under duress), and as of last week he attempted to chew on a member of his preschool class.

3. Not allowing a screen to stop him.

As Max is a biped and has opposable thumbs he does not need to go bursting out the screens...instead he simply opens the door and moves them. Yes, Max is still escaping - but now it's because they are focusing on weather at school and he is eager to do some meterological readings. And like Marley, he doesn't close the door/screen behind himself so we freeze to death until I realize he has left the door open...AGAIN.

4. Big friendly welcomes.

I think Max is really sick of females, as whenever presented with any male...any male at all really (especially child as we don't have a lot of male adults just milling around here), Max makes a beeline for them...(tail wagging) does a number of introductory "hi theres" before he latches himself around their middle and hugs them for all he's worth...let's remember, he doesn't even KNOW most of these people....

5. Destruction

Max has destroyed more toys than I can count...all well loved but just loved too hard. He overvaccummed the vaccuum...he over flung the snake...he just manages to break things. Moment lately, I noticed he had coloured on the wall (hard not to notice when all your walls are white) and I asked him "MAX!!! What is THIS!!" pointing at a red crayoned spot. Max stood back and surveyed his handiwork and pronounced, "I think it's a cloud, Mom."

6. Trying to get into bed

Max is a master bed sneaker, he outsneaks Indy by far. He manages to get into my bed without me knowing it, sometimes right beside me - against me. Often times leaving a smudge of poop...because yes, that's right, he woke up having to use the bathroom and went on his merry way afterwards.

7. No accidents

Potty training Max was comparable to breaking in a stallion. I basically had to strap on the reins and hold on tight. Max wanted to pee in his diaper - and hated the idea of peeing on the floor, but hated the idea of doing what I wanted - peeing in the potty - more, until the first time he peed on the floor. He HATED it. But he still did not want to give in. It was the most painful two weeks of my life. BUT I can count the amount of accidents he has had on my right hand. Now he prefers to strike back by failing to let me know when he has number twoed and runs around pantsless.

No mistaking it. Both Max and Marley are their own kind of creatures.

Mold (or is it mould??)

I had a conversation yesterday with someone that thought the damage of her new bar was a sign that she shouldn't have bought it in the first place. I on the other hand thought it could be a sign that she needed a DIFFERENT bar or simply fight hard to get the bar for a much cheaper price. From the look she gave me I do believe I interpret things a little differently, or that her God is not so much the God I ascribe "meant to be acts".

This leads me to wonder what the spontanieous mold outbreak of mouldy objects in my house could mean. Mouldy paintbrushes at the kids' easel, mouldy (and incredibly smelly) headband in my gymbag, mouldy yoghurt container in the diaper bag...and moudly income tax document that was in the envelope next to the moudly (and leaky) yogurt container. AND mouldy lunchbag that my daughter left on the counter with a leaking container of mandarin orange leftovers....
So I figure this could mean a number of things...

A. I need to clean out my diaper bag vs. writing on my blog
B. My housecleaning skills are falling to an all new low.
C. Japan is a very mouldy place.
D. Life right now is getting a little stinky, smelly, and generally not a lot of fun to be in.

It really could be a metaphor for all the things that I'm struggling with....bills, finding income tax items my husband has tasked me with, running is going okay but such an incredible struggle to fit in and schedule...and change my routine after two months in and loving it and now hating the new schedule...I mean who does their long runs on Tuesday??? (only I, needing child care like a poor South American needs a gold nugget), OBVIOUSLY keeping the kitchen and food items clean (who wants to cook dinner and THEN spend time cleaning the kitchen...especially with a baby hanging off your hip - I am suddenly transported back to the 50s. Bottom line, I am mouldy. I am hardly accomplishing anything and obviously sitting too long in one spot so fungus can get me.