Puppy Big Mess

Jasper, being a dog, is capable of doing some really gross things. This isn’t a dig against dogs – people do some pretty gross things, too. However, I had to deal with some particular foulness last weekend, and thought I’d share. Aren’t you lucky?

Last Sunday Hilary went off with her parents and Brynna for two days in Burlington for some obstetrics training her residency class was doing. Jasper and I were looking forward to at least two nights of being bachelors. I spend Sunday evening planning, purchasing for, and starting construction on some shelving for my workshop area in the basement.

Monday, as I was coming home from work, I was looking forward to another evening spent building stuff, without distractions or other conflicts. That ended about two seconds after I walked through the door, and caught the unmistakable odor that Jasper had had an accident. Our house is nearly all tile and hardwood-floored, save for an area rug in the living room, carpeting that remains in the guest room, and the foam tiles that line Brynna's floor. Guess where Jasper most enjoys making a mess? If it is vomiting, it'll be the area rug in the living room, bypassing the adjacent tiled kitchen and hardwood dining room. If it is the other end, it is almost certain to be Brynna's room. There must be something about those foam tiles that he really likes (or dislikes, who can say?).

So, fearing the worst, I went up to Brynna's room, and must have let out a tremendous Wilhelm scream when I saw what had happened. In multiple places, in multiple streaks and splatters, all but two tiles' worth of the floor was covered to some extend in excrement.

Let us just say that the next three hours were not pleasant. It involved the tub, and lots of scrubbing, and lots of bleach, which my hands a week later still smell of. It resulted in this fine pile of tiles set up to dry. I did pat myself on the back a little for my cleverness in the arrangement.


So, Monday evening was shot. Twice in the night, when I heard Jasper padding about with some rapidity, I let him out into the yard. I had the presence of mind Tuesday morning to close the doors to all the bedrooms before I left for work. Unfortunately, when I walked through the door Tuesday evening, my nose told me that his troubles (and my troubles) were not over yet. He had made another substantial mess, but at least this time it was along the second floor corridor. The hardwood floor was a lot easier to clean up. And just in time, too, because Hilary and the crew pulled in not long after I finished.

I heard Jasper wandering around with a quick step around 3 wednesday morning, and so went downstairs to let him out - just in case. Well, it didn't seem to work, because when I woke up at 5 he had managed yet another mess in the hallway I had scrubbed not twelve hours earlier. Poor puppy, poor me!

We did have a phone consult with the vet that morning, and some labs done to check for parasites, etc. It all came back clear, leaving us to guess what might have happened to him. Thankfully, Wednesday morning's mess appears to have been the parting shot, and we've been in the clear since then. We still keep him shut out of our rooms during the day, though.

[the title of this post comes to us courtesy of B. She got freaked out a few weeks back when she witnessed Jasper vomiting in the driveway. To this day, when I bring her home from daycare, she will invariably comment, with some trepidation, on “puppy big mess.” We scrupulously avoided explaining Jasper’s recent difficulties to her, particularly the part about him shitting all over her floor, or we’d never hear the end of it]

Late Night Brynna

B's schedule has shifted a bit toward the night owl over the last month, as I have been working a lot of afternoon and nighttime shifts in the Emergency Department, and a later bedtime means that she sleeps in with me in the morning and then we have a couple of hours together before I take her off to daycare. But she is still in bed most nights loooong before I get home from work.

Last night, I got home around 11:30 and went up to get ready for bed, creeping into Brynna's room first to check on her. She was stirring as I opened the door, and then she sat up once she saw me.

"Mama room!" she whispered through her pacifier.

"You want to come to Mama's room?"

"Yah," she answered, standing up and extending her arms to me.

"Oh, sweetie, I have to wash my face and brush my teeth and change my clothes first. Can you wait while I do that?"

"Yah."

"OK, well, then you sit down and wait, and I'll go do those things and come back."

She plopped down in her crib and picked up Puppy, her Jasper-look-alike puppet companion.

I headed off to the bathroom, sure that by the time I returned, she would be fast asleep again in her crib, but hoping that she might somehow stay awake, since it really is nice to see her twice a day rather than just once.

But when I came back into her room ten minutes later, she was sitting there with Puppy, waiting for me.

"You want to come to Mama's room now?"

"Yah. Milch!"

So I took her to our room and she had some milk and we both fell asleep. She ended up back in her crib a few hours later after she started kicking Alex. (Note to those of you contemplating children in the future: that double bed that is sized just fine for two...it is not big enough for three!) But then she came back to bed with me around 6:45 and slept snuggled in next to me until 8:30.

When she woke up, she started saying "Mama ummy! Ummy!" Dazed from sleep, I started trying to figure out what she was going on about.

"You're hungry?"

"Ummy, Mama, ummy!" she insisted, gesturing emphatically at the mattress.

I finally figured out that she was saying "Mama tummy," and she wanted me to roll over so that she could rub my back. Perhaps she has a future as a massage therapist.

Today was our last nice mellow morning together. Starting next week, I go back onto the inpatient adult medicine service for a month, though as a senior, supervising resident this time. My schedule regularizes to 7 AM to 6 or 6:30 PM most days...so at least I'll be home for bedtime.

Black Fly Tri

I competed in another area triathlon today - the Black Fly Tri. This was no small feat, considering that Hilary and I have managed to put in all of about 5 training sessions in the 4 weeks since King Pine. Sadly, Hilary herself could not make it. By cruel quirks of scheduling, she was tied to the ED overnight Saturday. However, she was able to pull herself away (after suturing a man's arm for three hours after its unfortunate encounter with a plate glass window) to take over the Brynna watch at 5:30 this morning. That gave me just enough time to drive up north to the Waterville Valley ski community in time to compete.

The course has some interesting idiosyncrasies. For one, the water venue is tiny: a dammed up pond measuring maybe 100 x 200 meters. Fitting a 1/4-mile swim course into this is tricky, and requires more or less making a full circuit of the perimeter. However, because it lacks a large area for waves of swimmers to start from, and because the swim course is the water equivalent of single-track, the Black Fly is an individual start. That means that the whole field lines up by bib number and gets sent off, one at a time, at 5-10 second intervals.

I hadn't done an individual start race before. The immediate consequence is that the pack gets stretched way out, and there is no good way of knowing where you are in terms of others' net time. There is no opportunity, as with group starts, to mark the person in front of you and pass them with the knowledge that you've moved up in the standings (moving up from a 10th place finish to 9th!). You aren't really racing against people - just against the clock. On the course, passing is still passing - it gives you a sense that you are moving faster than at least some people, but it still doesn't mean much.

Having a relatively high bib number, I got to stand in line for nearly a half hour, while the other 9/10 of the field started, before crossing the timing pad and tiptoeing into the rocky culvert that was the swim start. Ah well, the wait gave me enough time to down a bottle of water - I was feeling a little dry at the start. It is also good because although I thought I'd left myself enough time when I left the house, I was scrambling during the national anthem to finish putting my stuff together in transition.

On the other hand, standing around in a wetsuit, even stripped to the waist, in the increasing sun of a summer's day is no fun. I was a little ambivalent about the wetsuit - an email from the race director earlier this week indicated the water temperature was 72 - a full 20 degrees warmer than this event last year!. But 72 is warm enough that I could reasonably swim without the wetsuit, thus saving some time in transition. But the wetsuit ensured that I wouldn't experience the first shock of the water, and a good wetsuit will make you more buoyant in the water, and generally faster.

So I opted to wear the suit. As I have already mentioned, the water course was tight, and as I'm a reasonably swift swimmer, I passed a lot of people. But it was difficult with the close confines. Plus, because the course wasn't just a straight shot, it required a lot more interruption to my stroke to sight my way to the next buoy. I had a pretty good swim, more or less my usual speed. Not bad for four weeks of slacking!

Onto the bike! In my haste to get my transition area put together this morning, I managed to not fill my water bottle for the bike leg. Thankfully, I don't think this cost me, but it did make me nervous. This bike course is a bit long for a sprint distance - 15 miles. It was chosen largely because there aren't any good long loops from the Waterville ski area, and the best turn around spot for an out-and-back was 7.5 miles away. This course is definitely not flat: more or less all downhill on the out, uphill on the back. So while I was feeling great cruising at 26 mph going out, I struggled to manage 14 on the way back, for an average of just 17.7 mph. Once again, owing largely to my late start, I ended up passing a whole lot of folks.

In order to speed up my second transition time, I attempted a trick that many of the more experienced triathletes do. With a few hundred yards to go, you unstrap your bike shoes, which are clipped to your pedals, and pull your feet out, pedaling the rest of the way on top of your shoes. The time you lose during this maneuver by not pedaling full out is more than made up for by the fact that you are in motion when the shoes come off, rather than standing still in transition taking them off. Many experienced triathletes do the opposite maneuver, too: starting the bike leg barefoot, with the shoes already clipped into the pedals, and strapping yourself in once you have some momentum.

Probably I should have practiced it a bit more. When I lifted my foot off my right shoe, it flopped back, got caught on the pavement, and popped right off the pedal! I didn't want to stop to retrieve it, so I kept going the last 50 yards, hoping I could find it after the race. When I pulled my left foot off while dismounting, the same thing happened! This time I was already stopped, so I did pick up the shoe and keep going. In the meantime, a race volunteer was kind enough to catch up to me and toss me the lost shoe. This crazy dismount maneuver probably did save me some time, maybe 30 seconds, but it could well have been a disaster.

The run goes along various streets through this ski condo community. I can't really say much about it. I do not really enjoy running - I find it a lot more grueling than swimming or biking, especially when you're already an hour into a race. Nevertheless, I seem to be getting more comfortable with it. I did not have the leaden- and jelly-legged feeling today that I usually feel when coming off the bike. I still managed to pass some people on the course, and ultimately managed a 7:30-pace across the 3.5-mile course. I'd call that a decent day for me.

And, once again, I had the support of some familiar faces from Capital Multisport. It was a small crew for the sprint today - a larger crowd competed in the international distance yesterday during heavy rain. There was also a bicycle time trial event on Friday evening. Do all three - as 100 competitors this weekend did - and you get to compete for the Lord of the Flies trophy. Considering my respectable-but-far-from-the-rankings finish today, I'd say I'm a long way off from that kind of punishment.

Five Years!

Smartest decision of my life. (Marrying Alex, I mean...not just the dip part. Though dancing with him is pretty terrific too.)

Boom OK

We spent the 4th weekend in Lake Placid. The parents of a college friend of ours own a place up there, just a few miles outside of the town proper. We haven't seen this friend, and his wife, for a couple of years. My recollection is a bit shaky, but it may well be that the last time we saw them was at our wedding some five years ago. Some of our other college friends came up from Boston with their ~1 y.o. son, who made a very fine playmate for the B.

A few highlights of the weekend:

Between Friday night and Saturday afternoon, Brynna ate four bananas.

On Saturday Hilary took a little side trip to see our good friend Sara down in Saratoga Springs. The rest of us in Lake Placid took a late hike up a minor bump called Mt Jo, then took a dip in the large pond at its base. It was not a particularly long hike, but there were plenty of steep sections. Plus, it was hot. Not quite as hot as it has been this week, but still pretty hot. Jasper was quite happy to be out and about, though, and just loved coming down off the trail and jumping into the water.

On Sunday, while Brynna had her nap, Hilary and I got out for a decent bike ride. It's only a few weeks from the Lake Placid Ironman, so there were a lot of folks out on the road on bike and on foot. Hilary and I still can't quite see ourselves training up for a full Ironman distance (2.4 mi swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mi run, anywhere from 10 to 20 hours). For one, we'd have to really put in the training time: 2-3 hours a day, at least, which is patently absurd in our current lifestyle. Still, it was pretty neat to see so many fellow triathletes out and about.

While we were out, Brynna was avoiding having her nap. After a little while she started crying, and one of our friends went to see her. Jasper was diligently sitting in front of the pack-n-play, and Brynna was standing right up. They brought her out into the living room for a bit, and she (rather humorously) scanned the room from face to face. Mama? No. Dada? No. Mama? No… After determining that we were nowhere around, she crept back against the wall and started looking sad. Fearing an explosion of anguish, our friends asked if she wanted to go back to bed. Brynna said, glumly and on the verge of tears, "yeees," and proceeded to sleep for the next three hours without a peep.

Sunday night was, of course, the 4th of July fireworks. Hilary and I had some misgivings about bringing Brynna. She could either love it or run away screaming in abject terror. Brynna has seen fireworks before, such as last year's 4th on Long Island Sound. But those fireworks were far off, and the booms quite muted. This time we were on a little slope on the water's edge, and the booms were going off about 200 feet over out heads. The first three minutes of the show seemed to confirm our worst fears. Maybe she objected to the weird techno music they were playing as accompaniment (what, no Sousa?). But, through the careful encouragement of Hilary and our friend's mother, Brynna managed to take a more positive view of things. After another few minutes, she was lying back on Mama, enraptured. B thoroughly enjoyed herself by the end, clapping enthusiastically with everyone else. Here's Brynna's take on it.

Boom! Air!
Raaad, ye-whoa, booo, geeen!
Lay down Mama.
Hode Dada hayaaand.
Boom OK!
[claps]

Monday, alas, we needed to make the rather long trek back to Concord.

Hazing

Tonight was the first night for our new babysitter.

In an attempt to simultaneously train for our upcoming triathlons and enjoy some nice Together Time, we hired a college student to come over and watch Brynna a couple nights a week so we can go to the gym.

Eventually, we're planning to have her come a few minutes before B goes to bed, and just hold the fort while B snoozes away. But tonight we asked her to come a bit earlier so she and B could get to know each other.

Brynna certainly does love playing to an audience, and chatted to E at great length. E came upstairs with us for bedtime, and after B carefully selected three books to read and plunked herself down in my lap, we asked her which book E could read.

B looked again at her options—Goodnight Moon, Doggies by Sandra Boynton (A Counting and Barking Book), and Fox in Socks—and pointed straight to Fox in Socks. Is it possible for a not-yet-two-year-old to engage in a hazing ritual?


For those of you not familiar, Fox in Socks is a 50-page tome of Dr. Seuss tongue-twisters. It has taken me months to learn how to read it properly. (I like the tweetle beetles best, for all of you Seuss connoisseurs out there.) Tonight was poor E's first exposure to Fox in Socks, but she dove in gamely, and in fact triumphed. Brynna chuckled along, giggling particularly hard when E got tripped up.

Once we finally got B to bed, Alex and I headed off for the YMCA, only to arrive as they were turning off the lights—they are on their summer schedule now, and my carefully constructed plan of late night swimming and weightlifting is now most decidedly off. Arrgh! So, we walked back home and took Jasper out for a run instead.

B woke up once while we were away and apparently dropped right off again with some back-stroking and a little reassurance. Anyone who can read Fox in Socks is apparently in the Brynna-approved club.

So, I think E is going to work out fine. Though we did provide hazard pay for the Fox In Socks-induced numb tongue.

Burwies!

Or "berries," as some of us call them.

I didn't have to be at work until 10 this morning, so Brynna and I went to pick strawberries together.

She was very excited to discover that one of her favorite foods was available in such large quantities, right there on the ground, ripe for the picking!



Brynna walked very carefully to avoid stepping on the fruit, and she helpfully held the baskets as I dropped berries into them. It was very much like Blueberries For Sal, however, in that I was dropping the berries into the buckets and she was taking them straight out to eat!

We didn't see any bears, though.

Milestone

Good grief. I passed a milestone in home ownership last weekend, and I'm not too proud of it.

Hi, my name is Alex, and I own a weed whacker.

You see, I don't put much stock in keeping a neat lawn. It is not that I don't appreciate the sight and feel of a nice, lush, trimmed patch of green turf. But, really, I am not prepared to put in the necessary time, effort, money, and crazy materials to make it happen. It's about all I can do to break out the reel mower every now and then. Actually, it doesappear to be more than I can do - because the grass in the front and back yards got a bit tall and went to seed. Once it gets that tall, the reel doesn't cut it so much as just roll it down. The patches of lawn on either side of the front walk, about 10' x 10', also happen to be elevated, so lifting any mower up onto it is a bit of a pain.

So I let it go, and go, until my wife of great patience finally told me that the neighbors were getting afraid, and I needed to do something about it. So, alright, I went out to get a weed whacker. Despising lawn tools that suck down gasoline, I ended up with a nice cordless model. It seems to have enough power to knock down the tall grass. I also used it to clear the spaces between the planter boxes and fence in the back.

Now that we've finally had a bit of rain, I just might need to do a bit more work soon.

Can't I just dump a whole bag of prairie seed on it already and call it done?