The Sock Incident


Having lived with Labrador Retrievers for many years, my family has no shortage of crazy dog stories. Honestly, the list of items ingested by our labs could fill a book.

Yes, we have lots of stories, however, none of them compare to “The Sock Incident”.

One day, when he was about 9 months old, Charlie (our current lab) seemed to be more mellow than usual, just sort of moping around. As the day went on, he looked worse and worse and that night when I put his dinner out and he didn’t touch it, I knew something was really wrong. Labs NEVER refuse food. Based on his track record I figured it was quite probable that he had eaten something he shouldn’t have. Our regular vet was closed for the day but I found a vet in the next town that was still open and headed over.

When I got there I explained to the receptionist and the vet tech that I wanted x-rays done because I was pretty sure that he ingested something that was causing his malaise. There was a scale in the lobby where we were standing and the vet tech wanted to get his weight in case they needed to put him under for surgery. “Here we go again,” I thought, mentally calculating the cost of this one in my head.

The vet tech took Charlie’s leash and tried to walk him toward the scale but Charlie refused to move. With a look of panic in his eyes, he just kept pulling back on the leash over and over. I was getting frustrated so I started to push him onto the scale and he bolted back with all his strength.

Suddenly he squats his legs and assumes the position of a dog who is about to do something you do NOT want him to do indoors.

Looking absolutely crazed now, he starts pushing and straining and pushing some more. The receptionist, the vet tech, and myself are all just standing there watching the scene unfold in what seemed like slow motion. And then it happened, like a cork popping off a bottle of champagne.

An object comes absolutely FLYING out of Charlie’s ass and shoots through the air like a torpedo.

And that object had apparently been plugging up a river of liquids and solids that were now being relentlessly unleashed and spewed all over the LOBBY of the vet’s office.

The three of us are all standing in a circle around Charlie, dead silent, mouths hanging open, staring at the wreckage before us and at the object that landed across the room, which we can now see is a large sock.

The vet tech breaks the stunned silence with, “I CANNOT believe that just happened.” The receptionist chimes in, “That is the craziest thing I have ever seen in my life.” I am looking at Charlie, who is now prancing around the lobby, tail wagging, like he’s just won the lottery.

The vet tech looks at me and says, “I hope you realize your dog just shit out a $2000 sock.”

I have no idea what to do, what to say. I am completely mortified by what my dog has just done in their office. The vet tech turns to me and says, “Well, do you want to go back and see the vet now so he can check him out?” I should’ve said ok. I should’ve done anything other than what I did.

I grabbed Charlie’s leash and started walking slowly backwards, toward the front door.

“Um, well, actually….I think we’re good now! I mean, clearly, that was the problem so…uh…I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

And Charlie and I bolted out the door in utter shame, leaving our trail of destruction behind us.

When I got home and maniacally pantomimed the entire episode to my husband he was incredulous. “You mean, you didn’t do ANYTHING? You just ran? You didn’t pay them anything or even OFFER to at least clean it up?”

No. Regretfully, I didn’t.

But I did give them a hell of a story to tell at their next office party, don’t you think?

I’m A Meme Makin’ Mom

I’ll be honest…I’ve had a bit of an issue understanding what a “meme” actually is.  Even after I looked it up.  According to, a meme is “a humorous image, video, piece of text, etc., that is copied (often with slight variations) and spread rapidly by Internet users.”  But every time I would refer to something as a meme, my kids would roll their eyes and say, “Mom!  That is NOT a meme.  Why can’t you GET this?”

Well, get THIS kiddos.  Not only do I now get what a meme is, I just learned how to MAKE them.  That’s right, me, sole keeper of thousands of your childhood photos, can turn any one of them into an overnight internet sensation at my whim.  Well, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration, but still…I can show them to my nine blog readers.

What prompted this new hobby, you ask?  I came across a photo of my nephew that I took years ago, one of my favorites. And it just looked so meme-like. Though my own kids were pretty cute (in my not-so-humble, mom-biased opinion), my nephew was just next-level cute.  Here’s what I made…


So I was at the computer with this photo, learning how to use Microsoft Paint to edit, caption it, etc.  And my 15 year old walks by and sees my computer screen.

Jack:  “What are you doing??”
Me:  “I’m making a meme.”
Jack:  “WHY?”
Me:  “Because it’s fun.  Maybe I’ll quit my job and become a famous meme maker.”
Jack:  “Oh my God, are you serious?  And I keep telling you, if you really want to be famous, you need to get off Facebook and get on Instagram.”
Me:  “That sounds complicated.  Leave me alone.”

He then takes a photo of my computer screen and furiously snapchats his sister in college.

Jack:  “Mom’s making memes!”
Hannah:  “What?!  Oh, God, no no no no!  You have to stop her.”
Jack:  “It’s too late.  She learned Paint.”

He then sends THIS to her and to his cousin (the baby in the photo).


A real wise-ass, that son of mine.  Check out this one of you, my little darling…


And to my picky eater youngest….


Anyway, you get the point.  In fact, you may want to just unfollow me right now, because I could get really annoying, really fast, just memeing you all to death.

I mean, these ARE memes, right?  I’m pretty sure they are.  Yeah, they totally are.  I definitely know what a meme is now…I think.  Kids?  A little bit of help here?  Anyone?


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My Kids Said “Mom” 159 Times In 6 Hours And I Nearly Lost It…Until I Made A List

Let me start by saying that I love my children. More than anything in this world. More than the nirvana of shopping alone at Target, more than Ben & Jerry’s Truffle Kerfuffle, even more than Maggie Smith on Downton Abbey.

BUT. If I hear the word “Mom” just one more time today, I am going to lose my shit.

In fact, I just googled “how many questions do kids ask in a day” because I know I’m not alone here. Are you ready for this? According to a UK study, moms field nearly 300 questions a day from their offspring, making them the most quizzed people around, above even teachers, doctors, and nurses.

Fun fact:  Girls aged 4 are the most curious, averaging a question every 1 minute, 56 seconds of their waking day.

No wonder emails go unanswered, laundry piles up, library books expire before they are read, we scramble at the last minute for that birthday gift (please don’t ever leave me, Amazon Prime). We are constantly interrupted during any given task.


As an experiment, I decided to make a list of all the times I heard the word “Mom” followed by a question or comment, for the rest of the day. I grabbed a small notebook like Harriet the Spy and lasted six hours before my hand cramped from all the writing. And in those six hours, I was beckoned ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY NINE times. While I won’t torture you with reading all 159 questions/comments posed to me, here’s a small sampling below:

9 year old daughter

“Mom, come look at this picture of Miley Cyrus.” (Please let it be the Hannah Montana version of her)

“Mom, guess how many butt cheeks are in our house?” (Um..does the dog count?)

“Mom, who are you?” (Like, in an existential way?)

“Mom, this kid at school said that one middle finger equals 20 bad words.  How is that possible?” (Oh, it’s possible)

“Mom, I just found a HUMONGOUS house in California and it only costs $14 million dollars.” (Ok, I’ll get right on that purchase, sweetie)

“Mom, can I put a ghost detector app on your phone?” (I’d kind of rather not know when there’s a ghost near me sooo….no)

“Mom, I have a super duper secret.” (There should be no secrets from your mother.  Ever.)

“Mom, do you want to play catch with me?”  (Can’t, because I need a free hand to write down the 29 questions you will ask me while playing)

“Mom, can I have a timer?”

“Mom, I can run down the hall and back 10 times in 37 seconds.  Do you want to try?” (I’m good, thanks.)

“Mom, do I have to get the flu shot tomorrow?  Because I’d like another few days to rest in peace before they poke a hole in my arm.”

“Mom, I got hurt.”  (x3)
“Mom, what are we doing today?”
“Mom, can I invite a friend over?”
“Mom, what’s for dinner?”
“Mom, can I have candy?”
“Mom, do you think my Halloween costume will be good?”
“Mom, can you tell the dog to move so I don’t hurt him?”
“Mom, is today October 15th?”
“Mom, what’s a compass?”
“Mom (watching me type), why are you doing that?”

15 year old son

“Mom, can you tell Ava to leave?  I’m trying to watch a show.”
“Mom, have you seen my phone?” (x3)
“Mom, I can’t find my phone.”
“Mom, can I borrow your phone?”
“Mom, she’s bothering me again.”

“Mom, what are you writing?”
“An article.”
“On what?”
“How many questions I’m asked in a day.”
“Why, is it a lot?”
“Seriously?  I’m adding that one.”

18 year old daughter (away at college)




Mind you, I did this experiment on a Sunday and my husband was home the whole time. He is a great, very involved, hands-on dad. But do you know how many questions I heard them ask him during that time? ONE. When I said no to playing catch with my daughter she asked him to play and he immediately said yes, probably because he wasn’t exhausted from 158 prior questions.

When I sat down to write this, I only had to glance at the kids’ lists to realize something significant. The older they get, the less questions they ask. The less they share. The less they actually talk. They have their friends, they have their smarter-than-a-mom phones.  I mean, my older kids would never ask me what the population of China is, they would simply google it.  To my little one, I’m still the go-to, the one with all the answers.  And I guess that’s a pretty great thing to be.

It’s hard to face the fact that, though my older kids still need me, it’s just not in the same way my younger child does. And someday all too soon my 9 year old will be my 18 year old and one morning I’ll wake up and there won’t be anyone left to pepper me with questions all day long. And the thought of that makes me sad.

Sad enough to try harder not to lose my shit when I hear the word “Mom” one too many times in an hour. Because, at the end of the day, let’s face it, kids and their questions are frustrating, maddening, and hilarious. Feel free to comment with some of your kids’ best questions.  Today I’ve heard more than 159. I think I can handle a few more.

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