Our new oven was delivered today! You might remember reading about how our oven died a slow, painful death about two weeks ago, alerting us to its fatal illness by refusing to cook anything all the way through. What you didn’t hear about (unless you read me freaking out on Facebook) was the same-day sputtering of our air conditioner. We thought Wes had fixed it during VBS week, but that was merely a Band-Aid on a wound that needed stitches. So, on the same day two weeks ago, we ordered a new oven and had to have an electrician come out. Oh, and we bought a lawn mower the day before because our old one kicked the bucket. It’s just money, right? We were actually very fortunate because our AC problem could be fixed fairly easily without replacing the whole unit. Woo-hoo! What’s a few hundred dollars when you were imagining a few thousand? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

But anyway, like I said, the new oven was delivered and installed today. And it works! This came as a great surprise to me, as I’ve become accustomed to things just not working the way they should what with everything breaking all around us. Even now, I’m holding my breath, wondering what might break next. (The vacuum cleaner suffered injury yesterday, but fortunately, Wes brought it back to working order with a hammer and several harsh words. So, I’m not counting that!) I’m not being pessimistic… just realistic about the ages of some of our major appliances.

Charlie is also on the list of the broken. Last Saturday, I went to get him out of his crate, and he hobbled out, whining something awful. He spent the entire weekend limping and carrying on, and he reminded me so much of BC and how she moved before she stopped walking altogether, which concerned me. After merely touching Charlie’s shoulder one night and inciting the worst howling we’ve ever heard, Wes went online into the very scary world wide web of German Shepherd owners. (Insert a “duh, duh, DUH!” here.) People are certifiably crazy about their GSDs, but the upside of this is that they seem to know their GSD ailments. After only a short time reading, Wes was able to call Charlie’s condition what it is — panosteitis. To put it in its most simple terms, some large breed male dogs grow so quickly that their bones become inflamed, prompting “growing pains.” It’s common for especially large GSD males to have bouts of pano starting at about five months of age, which is how old Charlie will be on Saturday. There’s no cure except for limited activity (ha!) and no exercise (ha!), neither of which is really possible when your pano-stricken puppy spends even his most painful days hopping around like a giant rabbit. We’ve done our best to keep him down, and after a week of very short walks, he’s finally running his normal distance, which means he rests a whole lot better. Still hobbling when he walks, but doing so with a bit of a smile on his face. (Or at least a less pathetic glazed over expression.)

Of course, the problem now is that I’m addicted to GSD websites. They just suck you in with cutesy puppy pictures and heart-rending rescue stories! I was most especially affected by a forum where an owner posted a picture of their GSD/puppy with her preschooler, then posted a picture of the same GSD (now full grown) with the same child (now sixteen years old). Got me all choked up, seeing that graying muzzle, nuzzled up right next to that girl, the same look of adoration in both of their eyes in both pictures. Thirteen years together, a girl and her dog! Sniff, sniff! One day, that might be Charlie and Emmy. (If he can survive his growing pains, that is. And if he can survive a three year old Emma!)

Speaking of a three year old Emma (which she will be so very, very soon!), she did some breaking of her own recently — RULE breaking. I let the girls have free reign in the playroom, with the understanding (or so I thought) that they won’t get out any of the art supplies without my help and supervision. (You see where this is going, right?) I was getting lunch ready in the kitchen, when a very proud Emmy marched in, covered in red ink and yelling, “Look what I did, Mommy!” She was caught, very literally, red-handed. Perhaps the funniest thing about this (and it was only funny after it was all cleaned up) was Ana, who had red hand prints EVERYWHERE on her. Her face, her shirt, her arms, her little rear end — Emma must have touched her twenty times. I have no idea why super-clean Ana allowed this, but she did. We had another talk about art supplies, and I spent their naptime reorganizing everything so that it won’t be a temptation. The playroom looks so much better now, so I should probably thank Emma for the mess… or not.

And that’s about it for now. Just waiting for naptime to be over…