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It was definitely DAD’s day in this house. Dumb Ass Dog, that is.

My weimaraner’s name is Woody. That is not a pseudonym. He really is Woody. After today, I don’t care if he’s embarrassed by this story.
Last week he taught himself a new trick. No, this doesn’t prove that he’s not a Dumb Ass Dog. The trick is locking himself in the hall bathroom. We don’t know why he’s doing it, and more importantly, we don’t know how. Seemingly, he is able to open the door from the outside, let himself in, and close it behind him. On Thursday he tore up the door frame and dented the door knob trying to get out. He was so distraught that he took a moment to chew the roll of toilet paper off the holder, too.

I should tell you that he’s not a destructive dog. Except for a few stuffed animals (ok, A LOT of stuffed animals), he hasn’t destroyed anything until now. And the next ten or twelve times he got himself stuck in the bathroom since Thursday, he didn’t chew anything. He barked to be let out and we obliged (and then ridiculed).

Today I had to drive to Richmond to pick up the ShortKids from What’sHisName. TallGirl spent the day hanging out with a friend, so there was about a 6 hour window when we weren’t home. Before I left I made sure the doors upstairs were closed. I double checked, swear I did. But when we walked through the door tonight we were greeted with the now familiar yelp for help from the upstairs hall bath.

During his imprisonment this time, he destroyed both doors – frames, knobs, and all. He chewed everything on the sink, another roll of toilet paper and I’m pretty sure there were some nasty things out of the trash can in the debris field, too.

The mess was cleaned and off I went to buy new toothbrushes for the kids. When I returned, I sent ShirtlessRoland a text message.

“Walking them now. Then bed. My mood soured and I think sniffing your pillow will help,“ I blithely thumb-typed.

Three minutes later (and god, I wish I’d seen his face), he replied with, “My puke weevil?”

This greatly confused me. “Your what?” I asked. I have dated some very strange boys in my life, but didn’t have ShirtlessRoland pegged as one of them. His response confused me on so many levels. While waiting for him to respond, I scrolled back in our text messages looking for a hint to what he was talking about. That’s when I realized I had just become the first time victim of the AutoCorrect Monster.

While what I typed was the message above, what my phone thought made more sense was, “My mood soured and I think sniffing your puke weevil help.”

My mood is just fine now.


I’ve cringed as I’ve watched a rampant meme gallop across the status updates of my mom-squad Facebook friends the last couple of weeks. It’s a Promise To My Children that sounds more like a controlling and paranoid manifesto. It concludes, as memes do, with an imperative that I re-post if I love my children.

I love my children more than life itself and so this is my promise to them.

I am your mother and I am your best friend. There is nothing that you can confide in me that will make me love you any less. I’ve changed your diapers and I’ve seen your underwear before putting it in the washer, and I’ve loved you anyway. You need not be embarrassed to share your hopes, your goals, your failures, or your knuckle-headed, hormone induced woopsies. As hard as you may find it to believe, I’ve been your age. And as much as you’re going to hate to hear this, kids haven’t changed that much. When you confide in me, I’m probably going to have some very valuable advice for you, but when I don’t, you’ll still have someone holding your hand who loves you unconditionally.
But I respect you, too. I know that you’re your own person and are not obligated to share everything with any one person, including the woman who grew you those two legs that give you the freedom to go and do as you please. You are entitled to live your life and to have your privacy. I will never snoop just so I can know who you kissed last week. When my mommy instinct kicks and tells me there is a reason to worry, I will ask you first. It’s in your best interest to be honest, because at that point all bets are off and I will find out what is going on. I will never stand by and let you harm yourself or others, but there are some mistakes I will let you make because experience is the best teacher.
When you love and respect yourself, you will surround yourself with other people who will love and respect you the way that I do. And when I see you treat others with love and respect I will know that you are a responsible human. However, until you pay your own bills I’ll not consider you a responsible adult.