Month: February 2010 (page 1 of 3)

I Might Be A Little Bit Emotional. (I Can Say It. You Can’t, Though.)

You know you’re a real grown-up when you’re so draggin-ass tired you fall asleep on the couch and there’s no one to carry you up to bed. In fact, you not only have to take yourself upstairs, but also two smalls humans, a cat and your heating pad. And the stuff that keeps you up at night are things like that jerk who reprimanded your daughter right in front of you when HELLLOOOO! I’m her mom. I WILL TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD. If you have a problem with her behavior, the appropriate thing is to TAKE IT UP WITH ME.

Consequently, it seems like the people who think it’s okay to reprimand other people’s children right in front of them tend to be clueless about their own. Go ahead and chastise my daughter for picking her nose while yours is eating her own boogers. Yeah, you’re better than me. Perhaps it’s because it happens to them – people jump in to parent their children – and that’s where they began to think it was okay to be a-holes. I have news: IT IS NOT.

My loathing for people like this is equal to the depth of my love for The Joker by The Steve Miller Band.

The same goes for unreliable people who act like I’m the unreliable one. Please do not judge me for your shortcomings.

Oh, and beat-around-the-bushers. Spit it out for the love of cookies. If you don’t have the cajones to say what you want to say, swallow it. I don’t have time to decode your mystery message.

Now I feel compelled to show you the videos I’ve made for our playgroup over the past three years. But I can’t because I haven’t asked permission. So I just watched them and cried because I love them so much. Also because the lady waxed my eyebrows a little too much today and I look perpetually surprised.

I’m going to go eat a doughnut and some sweet gherkin pickles.

Picasso Is Home

We picked her up Monday night. And we’ve been doing a lot of this.

Picasso and Dave

And this.

Picasso at home

(Please ignore my bedhead. Showering isn’t a priority when you get your should-be-dead cat back.)

And it’s doing some good, I think, because she’s now drinking on her own and eating with help. This morning, she rolled on her back to let Dave rub her tummy. Later, she played with Lucy and explored the house a bit, despite her coordination and balance issues.

She’s timid and tired, but she’s still Picasso. I am so grateful.

A Picasso Update

Picasso didn’t come home today, so I went to see her. She’s in a critical care hospital, which meant I had to wait more than an hour to see her for about five minutes. But it was worth it.

Picasso in the hospital

I think she looks pretty good, all things considered.

She has a broken jaw, which is what she needs surgery to fix. Her vitals are stable and she is now breathing on her own, but she’s still very swollen. And though her x-rays show that her skull, spine, neck – pretty much everything except her jaw – are in tact, she’s having some trouble coorindating her movements due to pressure on her nerves from the swelling. The vet needs to see her controlled movement return before he’ll perform the surgery.

She moved plenty when she saw me, though! As soon as she heard my voice, her head popped up and she scrambled to her feet and flopped toward me. She pushed her head against my hand, like she always does when she wants me to pet her MORE! and HARDER! And she purred and purred and purred.

She’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take a little longer than we thought.

Blessed

Today, my kitty Picasso was hit by a car.

Picadoodle

And I’ve never felt so lucky.

Me and my kitty

I’m lucky because Dave got up extra early this morning and rewrote the plans we’d made the night before and went to town to get us breakfast. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have found her on the road on the way back home.

My family

I’m lucky to have held enough sick, injured and dying animals – I mean, if I hadn’t dealt with Max losing his tail, I may not have been able to pick her bloody body up off the road without hesitation or fear so we could get right to the business of saving her life.

Content Kitty

I’m lucky because my parents were there to assure me that dad had the kids and mom was taking the cat to the vet so I could go teach Kindermusik.

Lucy and Picasso

I’m lucky because by the time I got the estimate for her surgery, I had enough money sitting in my account to cover the bill when I didn’t yesterday.

Little Picasso

I’m lucky because tomorrow my kitty will come home. Alive.

Picasso Kitten

The Nap Warden

Nap Warden

you can wake the kid
if you can get past the cat
defender of sleep

Is This Thing On?

Every year since 2007, I’ve held a haiku contest I call The Haiku Buckaroo in August and February.

It’s February. So, I have a question.

The poll will be open until this Friday the 19th.

If Cupid Shoots Your Computer, It Just Screws It Up.

I tried my very best to give my girls more love than candy for Valentine’s Day, but it didn’t stop them from overindulging. Grandma gave them each a four-pack of ring pops. I gave them each a marshmallow lollipop. And that was the extent of the candy.

But here they are at 7 a.m.

My girls on Valentine's Day

Julia is double fisting ring pops and Lucy is showing off her unwound marshmallow rope that she carried and nibbled until it fused her hands together, along with an assortment of hair, lint and dirt, perhaps even a fly.

Julia called it the best day ever, which she recanted at 9:36 p.m. when she was made to GO TO BED FOR THE LOVE OF CANDY! By 10:01 p.m., it was renamed the worst day ever, which wasn’t far from the truth for me.

My blog was spammed early this morning, which isn’t a HUGE deal. I mean, it’s annoying and stupid and a waste of time. But no one has died from it. Yet. It happens now and then – some worthless jacknut with no moral values replaces my header with junk links. It’s happened often enough that I know how to fix it, but infrequently enough that I have to stir up my thinker to remember how to do it. And while I was poking around, trying to remember where that thing was I needed to click, I restored my database and lost everything I’d posted here since January 15th. INCLUDING YOUR COMMENTS. Your lovely, beautiful, and fabulous comments.

At least I still have those in my e-mail.

I called my web host for help restoring my posts, but they said what I did couldn’t be undone which I didn’t really believe so I sobbed and cried and begged until I was put on hold while the man went to “see what we can do.” Basically, what they could do was advise me to back my stuff up more often and have a great day.

Thankfully, God and some people invented Bloglines who had my posts sitting in a cache and I was able to repost them. This took a LONG, LONG TIME, however. And when I was done, I was rewarded with two break-up e-mails from subscribers who didn’t want to hear from me anymore. Apparently 33 republished posts was the limit on how much of me they can take in their inbox. Sorry, dudes. Of couse, you don’t know I’m sorry because you don’t want to read what I write anymore. I still love you, though. You’ll just never know it.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone that’s left. Back up your files.

No One Loves Yue Like Your Sister

Valentine for her sister

homemade with much love
my favorite Valentine
wasn’t even mine

Valentine For Tomorrow’s Kindermusik Class

Valentine Cupcakes

cupcakes are perfect.
highly customizable.
simple. delicious.

Slow Down My Beating Heart

My Dear Diet Coke,
Your absence makes me sleepy.
I miss you so much.

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