Hello My Bitches

I thought I'd stick my head in the door to show you I still have all my hair and let you know how things are going.

First of all, Stinky tells me I have a lot of loyal readers in the land of big bad TX. (The grand state where people will kick your ass for making fun of the freaky road systems and they are infinately proud that Texas could break up into 5 smaller states at any given time - why I don't friggin know, but I know that you are proud because every time I meet someone from Texas, they make sure they tell me all about it). May I eloquently say "What's up?" with a nod of my head and thank you for subjecting yourselves to this particular torture.

Secondly, I would like to say a heart felt appreciation to everyone who left a comment on my blog about the "Cat Punting Incident" as I have come to call it. Everytime I logged on to take a look-see around and check my comments...saw there was more comments....I sweetly told him he had more hate mail. I would like to thank you for you words - seriously - he has sworn to me that he will never lay his hands on my animals again - and Charles doesn't break his word. Your words with mine seem to have brought him around and both cats have come home and gotten cleared by the Vet. It took several days before Night-Night would be coaxed and cajoled back into the house, but I finally got him and he hasn't left yet. That's just fine by me. He's very soft and makes an excellent head warmer while I'm sleeping LOL.

Thirdly, Carmachu wanted to know the history on my cats....

All three of my cats are rescues. Back in Feb 2002, I went to pick up Lauren at daycare and a very small cat (not kitten) tried to slip into the building behind me to get out of the cold. I said something to one of the teachers about the little kitty outside and she replied that the cat now lived in the bushes outside the facility and had been there for several days...to her knowledge, she had not eaten. Lauren looked at me with her sweet little girl face and asked if we could keep her (she's an animal lover like her mother). I went home, got a card board cat carrier and went and got her. We named her Jezebel, started calling her Jazz, and she's been one of the best cats I've ever had. I think someone had her and turned her out because I never had to teach her to use the litter box, the scratching post and she has never ever jumped up on the counter or the table. She is full of manners and is almost prissy....she's also very skittish but I've never had a more gentle and sweet natured cat. She pats me very gently on my face with her paw when she wants me to pet her, and she has only scratched me once the entire time I have had her, and that was on accident when we were playing with her feathers. She was starving when we took her in. I could clearly see her ribs and the vet recommended I turn her into the shelter because of her condition. I didn't, and she sleeps at my feet every night.

A few months after we moved into this house, around Thanksgiving (this is about 2 years after we got Jazz), I kept hearing a kitten meowing over at our property line with our neighbors (not the neighbors I've told you about before) and figured they had either gotten a cat or had taken one in (as we had a colony of feral cats here). For 3 days, I kept hearing this kitten and finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I went outside and called and he trotted right up to me. I thought that Jazz was skinny, but this cat was half dead. I can honestly say, I had not, up to that point, seen a cat in worse condition than he was at that moment. We named him Tom (after begging Charles to let us keep him) and he and Jazz eventually learned to get along well. He likes to curl up in the crook of my arm or my knees when I sleep.

That very next year, again in the winter, Charles and Lauren and I were in the living room and I happend to look outside through the sliding glass door. I was shocked to see a cat looking in. He was laying down with his feet tucked underneath him and was looking directly at me. I said "Charles! Look at that! Have you ever seen a cat do that - a cat that you don't know?" "There might be something wrong with him. That's not normal." I was inclined to think he was right. Tom is very territorial - even after being neutered - and does't allow cats around the house. But it was cold, we had just had a bit of snow with a thick layer of ice on top and he looked kind of thin - at least insofar as I could tell with dim porch lighting. "I think he's cold and hungry."

Lauren finally perked up and wanted to know what we were talking about. I pointed out the cat on the back porch and she of course wanted to keep him. We both told her immediately that it was out of the question since we already had enough pets and couldn't afford any more vet bills...but I kept looking at that cat. It was late, and animal control wouldn't be able to come out our way until they cleared the roads, and that was going to take a while since we live so far out in the country - days.

"I'm going to check him out honey. At least give him a box to sleep in or something and give him something to eat."

"God NO!" We can't afford what we have now! Don't feed him or he'll keep coming back."

"I know we can't keep him honey, but I just feel so bad for him. I'll give him a look and something to eat, you know he's cold. When Monday rolls around, I'll take him to the shelter myself." (we have no kill shelters here)

Charles finally agreed and I bundled up and opened the sliding glass door to go check him out. He ran in the house and made himself as at home as much as we would let him. He REFUSED to be coaxed into a cat carrier to be taken to the vet and animal control never came. He had pretty bad frost bite on his paws (and his over all condition was terrible - I think he would have been dead with in a few days or less if we hadn't fed him - his general condition was aweful, just so hearbreakingly terrible) and he needed to be looked at...but I have never had a cat get ugly with me like he did when he saw that cat carrier. I called the vet, he remembered me from Jazz, Tom and my dog Spud and knows my neighbors S and J (which is how I got his name - S is a big animal lover)and he stopped by...free of charge. (Yes, I almost had a stroke) The vet offered to take him then, but Charles had made the fatal mistake of becoming attached to him and let me see it.

Neither Tom nor Jazz are lap cats. Night-Night is, and that's what Charles likes.

It was so weird when the vet offered to take him, the cat just looked at me like he KNEW what was going on and was asking to stay. I looked at him and said half jokingly "Don't look at me! If you want to stay go talk to him" - pointing at Charles. He trotted up to Charles, jumped in his lap and preceeded to lay on the love. Lauren and I looked at each other and went "AAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" and Charles told us to stop because we weren't keeping the cat - the whole time rubbing him and loving on him and I could see he was melting like hot butter.

We spent two days picking out his name. He's the one that sleeps on my pillow.

GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We now have four adults, 4 children ages 8,6,4, and 17 months, 2 goldfish, 2 hermit crabs, 3 dogs and 4 cats in my house. Oh, correction, make that 2 cats (one is mine, one is Stinky and Redhead's). It seems that Charles treated our 2 Tom cats as furry little footballs last night. Punted them right off the back porch, and he kicked one so hard that one even landed on the grill (or actually slid down the lid). Then he showed true man wisdom by telling me about it.

I won't even go into the "conversation" that ensued. Let's just say that he won't be doing that again because he wants his testicles to stay attached to his body. I'm still mad...seething actually.

I know some of you may find this funny when you visualize the cats flying through the air with stunned expressions on their faces and then hearing the "THUNK" of one of them as he made contact with the grill. Rest assured, I don't find that shit in the least bit funny.

My poor kitties. I love my cats - treasure them even. I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. Me and cats are a package deal. If you don't like cats - then you can pack your shit and go 'cause I'm gonna have me a kitty...PERIOD. I let them sleep on my pillow and pet them in my sleep... SHUDDUP.

Both of the kitties that Charles scored a goal with just showed up at my house one night. The first tom cat (who we ingeniously named TOM - a beautiful tabby cat) came out briefly from underneath the house today and I was able to check him out. He didn't seem any worse for wear. I'm sure his ribs are a bit sore and I'll be taking him to the vet to be checked out as soon as I can coax him in the cat carrier. I was foiled in my attempt to do that today when Charles came out on the back porch and the cat saw him. Apparently, it was to much for Tom (flashback for him I guess...like a bad trip on acid...or so I hear), and he beat all four feet getting the hell out of dodge. Can you blame him? I shot Charles the stinky eye and shoved him, and I don't mean I shoved him in any playful sort of way either.

The other tom cat - black as pitch (we thought about naming him "Midnight", but that name has been done to death, "Turd" had also crossed my mind but I didn't want Lauren going to school telling her friends that she pets her Turd, so we named him Night, which very quickly changed to Night-Night)and looooves to eat. He came to the edge of the yard (about 20-30 yards away) and sat there looking at me and slunk away when I called him. I'm guessing he's the one that became intimately acquainted with my grill...what do you think?

In my house, there are a few things that are just sacred. ONE - my animals. TWO - Charles' Nascar races. THREE and FOUR - don't pertain to this conversation.

There will be a reckoning, you can bet your sweet ass on that. NO ONE TOUCHES MY ANIMALS. I have this funny feeling that all his Nascar races are going to be deleted from the DVR, ALL VHS tapes will be erased and his fucking #3 Dale Earnhardt throw cover is going to mysteriously disappear, along with his favorite Nascar mug, his sorry ass Nascar collectible bullshit that is collecting dust sitting on top of the mirror of my dresser,the fucking latch hook Nascar Checkered flag I've been doing for him, and just for fun, I will purge all traces of "Adult Entertainment" from this house just to piss him off. He will tune into his race next week to find that I have locked his sorry ass out of it and only I have the password. I'm also going to screw around with his Nascar bullshit that he keeps on line.

Oh yeah, I'm a pissed bitch. You just don't treat animals that way. He WILL learn.

Oh, and I'm sure you are wanting to know why he kicked the kitties....we finished cleaning out the den late last night and found that one or both of them (definately not the other one.."Jezebel" we call her "Jazz" - she's very skitish and won't go anywhere in the house except for my bedroom)had crawled into a couple of the boxes and used them for a litter box. We also found a couple of piles of kitty poo one on some folding chairs and one on his very expensive golf bag that he never uses. One of the boxes that was treated with such malice was family pictures...some of those are baby pictures of Lauren that had been blown up AND FRAMED and they can't be replaced. We had some of them professionally done. I'm hoping the frames afforded some protection, I'll be taking a look later in the week. I just can't bring myself to look right now.

To be honest, I'm pissed about it myself, but that doesn't excuse his behavior as far as I'm concerned.

Maybe I wouldn't be so pissed if he had taken the cats and showed them what they had done and put them outside or whatever, but he just went into the bedroom, snatched the cats off the bed where they were sleeping, and watched to see how far they could fly.

Famous Quotes

Being a wife and mother (as so many of us are)

I have heard myself say interesting things:

Lauren, pick the wedgie out of your butt for goodness sakes. If you're so hungry that your butt is eating your underwear, grab an apple.

Connor, Honey, Sweetie, Baby, could you save the whole peeing all over a parent thing for Daddy?

No Lauren, a poncho, a sweater and a pair of shorts with sandals doesn't match.

(Talking to my brother when Lauren is a month old) It's hard to believe that one day, this beautiful person is going to call me a bitch.

No honey, that's not a poop stain on my underwear.

What was that sweetie? Oh, it's because Mommy is a republican. Can you say RE-PUB-LI-CAN?

Charles (using last name)if you slap me on the ass and tell me "good game" one more time....we're going to have a problem.

Who knew my mom was so smart?

I would LOVE to take a nap.

Gitchie, Gitchie, GOO!

WOW! I've never heard anyone fart quite like that. (talking to Connor)

Um, Charles? Is this supposed to happen to baby boys? REALLY? Well uh...which way do I point it so it doesn't break off?

Go.....son......just..... AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (to prevent swearing in front of the kids)

I hate it when the dog humps the stuffed animals.

No, it's not a special occassion. Put that away.

I know you've got a couple. Come clean.

Hey PETA ! BITE ME!

I love animals.

I'm especially fond - no - LOVE cats. There's not to much out there that's better to me than a cat sleeping on my pillow with me. I don't even mind when they wake me up when they're purring because I pet them in my sleep. (Yes, I pet them in my sleep - get over it)

I also love a good joke. Enter my mother.

Mommy Dearest (she looks nothing like Joan Crawford btw) likes to torture me with cat jokes from time to time. Things like when she sees a dead cat on the road. "Oh look! A bent kitty!" Thanks for calling my attention to that ma. 'Preciate it.

She came for a visit a few years back and brought me a gift. (ROCK ON! I love it when I get free shit) Did she bring me a shirt? A new set of knives? No, her smart ass bought me a bumper sticker. It cost her 99 cents. (I hope that didn't break the bank)

Despite my sarcasm, I LOVE that bumper sticker. I'm not a bumper sticker kind of person. Especially when they are neon mustard yellow with great big black lettering, but I LOVE THIS BUMPER STICKER.

It says: Lost Your Cat? Try Lookin Under My Tires.

She pulled it out from behind her back, I got a real good laugh out of it and immediately went and stuck it on my car. She was expecting me to say something like "Oh poor kitty" and feel bad for all those bent kitties out there and throw it away. Nope, sorry 'bout that, I love it.

At the time, I was working not to far from Washington DC. Guess who has an office in DC? PETA. These people get upset over almost everything. Some with good reason. But it seems that it wasn't just the PETA people who took offense.

I have had people STOP in the middle of Interstate 95, with traffic moving at 65 MPH, just so they could scream "Fuck you cat killer!" while flipping me the bird and giving me the radioactive version of the stinky eye while I passed them. I had a couple of people leave notes on my car. My particular favorite was one that said "Why you got to be so mad? Just cause you ain't getting no pussy don't mean you should go around killing cats." (I wish I could have met who ever left that note to compliment him/her that they really took advantage of the ed-u-macation system) I was also car pooling with a couple other girls at the time (can you say HOV lanes?) and one of them was so offended she demanded I take it off my car. (It's still there if you were wondering)

I have also had people pass me in traffic while giving me the thumbs up. If there was a traffic jam, I've had people flash their lights at me and honk their horn. I'd look in the rear view and they'd point to my bumper and give me the thumbs up. One guy was sitting beside me in one traffic jam and motioned for me to roll down my window. "I love your bumper sticker DUDE!"

My most favorite reaction I've gotten out of it? I was filling up the ol' gas tank and an older gentleman (late 50's or so) pulled in behind me. He took one look and and started laughing so hard he started crying. I mean he was snorting and snottin' all over the place. "I take it you don't like cats?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Where did you get that?"

Of course I had to break it to him "Oh I love cats, I have 2(at the time). My mother bought it for me as a practical joke and stuck it on my car without my permission. I think people who laugh at it are assholes." I almost gave the guy a heartattack.

Yeah, I told him I was just jokin' and I loved it too.

Little Baby Dude

Dear Little Baby Dude,

Tomorrow you will be ten months old. You are growing into a little man that looks, acts, and we can only guess, that you think like dad too.

I do have a few questions for you at this juncture of our lives as you will be 1 year old very shortly and I want to make sure we are good to go when we hit that longed-for land mark.

1) Why don't you sleep all night? I understand it is your job as a baby to make sure that mom and dad are kept on their toes, but do you have to do this at 2, 3 and 5:30 am? I would like a copy of the rule book you are following as I am sure it states in there somewhere that you have to sleep all night by the time you are 4 months old. If you have been cheating, rest assured I will not retaliate. I will grin and kiss your fuzzy little head and rock you to sleep, soothed with the knowledge that my son is devious, like me. I will however, stick my tongue out when you aren't looking because a) it's not very nice of you not to sleep all night, b) I have to do it for my sanity (where ever that may be)

2) Why do you scream when I'm standing 5 feet away from you? You can see me. I'm right there. There's no need to be upset. Just because my old gray shorts are tatty, my T-shirt is a size to small and I haven't shaved my legs is a week is no reason to cry until your face looks like an overgrown and over ripe cranberry. Now, if you are crying because of those things, we really need to talk about how it's okay to look scary at home in front of the people you love most,but how you must look great to those who will never see you again. (I have violated a sacred woman's rule in telling you this, but since you are a baby, you'll soon forget it and I will not be excommunicated from the Sacred Order of Driving Men Crazy by Making them wait to Long Order)

3) Why do you wait to pee until I've taken the diaper off? You know what is getting ready to happen when I put you on your back with the wipes and a fresh diaper beside me. Can't you just go then? It's not like you make it easy for me to change your diaper so it will be quick and easy and somehow be caught off guard while trying to relieve yourself to keep your new diaper fresh as long as possible. You seem to have mastered the perfect way to squirm, wiggle, kick and flail to avoid me unsnapping your garments. Is this just a way to get back at me because I have threatened to tape you to the floor with duct tape?

4) Why do you drool? I know your swallowing mechanism isn't broken. I had it checked at the pediatrician's office and he said it was just fine. Do you like that just wet feeling all down your chin and on your chest? Can you say mold? Ew.

5) How exactly to you maneuver the bib so it looks like a cape? Granted, you have finally gotten to the point where you can do a lot of different things with those little baby hands, but you've been doing the cape thing for months and months. It's one of the many reasons we call you Super Baby.

6) Why do you have to pull hair? Your sister and I and literally being snatched bald headed by your little hands. Are you jealous because you hardly have any at all? If that's the case, I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do for you. I refuse to get you a wig. If you like, I can have the cat sit on your head for a few hours each evening.

7) Why do you chase the cats? You never catch them. Sometimes they meow, hiss and run when they see you coming. Is this some sort of secret code that entices you? Please let me know as soon as possible so I can have their little voice boxes removed if necessary. This does not bode well for the women in your life. It concerns me that you like it when women (the cats) hiss, run and ignore you.

8) How is it possible for you to fart like your dad? You are only 10 months old, he is 31 and an accomplished gas man. Did you some how receive training from him in the womb while I was sleeping? Please stop doing this as I am becoming more and more confused on who to blame.

9) How is it possible for you to push out more than you take in? I'm no science major, but I know you can't possiblely have that much poop. We don't feed you enough to justify it. If you were a 300 lb baby, we still could not feed you enough to justify all that poop. Please rectify this quickly as the local land fill has our pictures on it's 1 most wanted list.

10) Do you have to smack me in the head? I don't mean with just your hands, even though that is bad enough. But you do it with any sort of implement there. Some times you will crawl across the room just so you can get something to ding me in the head with. Now, I would like to say that it's cute because you are a baby, but I'm sorry, no such luck. It just plain hurts. Then to make matters worse, you laugh at me while I'm rubbing my head where you so cleverly dinged me just moments ago. Your sister has learned the "Duck and Dodge" dance, something she should not had to have learned until she had children of her own, but you have forced her into early maturity. Shame, Shame, Shame.

I realize that some of these questions amuse you, especially the diaper one, but if you refuse to answer, I know a little baby who will have his diaper changed every hour and will have to eat carrots and peas for the rest of his life. No, I'm not worried about my sanity - you don't seem to be, so why should it matter.

Love,
Mommy