House of urine

One of my THREE cats pissed on the leather chair and carpet last night. Apparently he needed to go that very second and minutes before i had shut the door to his litterbox so the kid wouldn't plummet down the basement stairs. That was the 3rd bodily function of the day that I had to clean up. First, the expected dirty diaper. Followed by the unexpected cat vomit in two places in my living room. And finally, the cat pee. Maddie's diaper in the mornings smells like my hamster cage used to when I was a kid. I wouldn't clean it for days on end and the urine would just accumulate in the corners of the cage and would reek. Cat pee is a whole other smell. And I swear I did a good job of cleaning it off the chair and out of the carpet but I am still convinced the whole house smells like piss and that it will never go away. Ever. I will try and sell my house in 3 years and all the buyers will say that they cannot live in a house of urine. My friends will stop calling and coming over. The mailman will find a reason to always deliver the mail two houses down. Eventually I will just give in to the urine and will have all the toilets removed, the litter boxes thrown out and stop buying diapers. And maybe I will hit the pet stores to stock up on hamsters.

Peanut turns 1

Dear Maddie,

You celebrated your 1st birthday this past weekend. I know all parents say it goes by so fast and I won't lie, it really does. But that doesn't mean there weren't some very, very slow moments as well. One I remember vividly. The night when you woke up to breastfeed and would not go back to sleep no matter what. Your daddy was sleeping upstairs to avoid being disturbed. I finally reached a point where I lost my mind and ran into the living room and turned on the overhead lights and started screaming his name. I feel badly about that now because I think he almost pooped himself in fear of what was happening. At the time I just felt PISSED. And at the end of my rope. Luckily, no one was harmed and he did an excellent job of tending to you. He also gently suggested next time I might try waking him up earlier to help out and using less frightening methods.

I am in awe of how much you have grown over the past year. Some things really snuck up on me. For the first time you waved at someone on Sunday. Open and close hand. I can't actually be sure it is a wave and not the quack motion I make when imitating a duck. Let's go with the wave theory. You are crawling all over the place and pull up on everything and everyone. You also have a knack for kicking your dad in the balls. A lot. And like the juvenile 8 year old I am mentally, I giggle every time. You can spot the smallest piece of dirt, poop, fuzz, dust ever seen by human eyes and will pop it into your mouth. I have been laid back about this but do wonder if it will have any serious health reprecussions in the future. Possibly a hair ball when you are 6?

Your great grandmother told me to use a spoon when feeding you at your party. Most likely the potatoes called for a spoon. But as soon as she opened her mouth I just wanted to start feeding you everything under the sun that you definitely need a spoon for. Ice cream, pudding, soup, anything just to spite her. I realize it wasn't very mature of me but she did mutter something about "raising a dog". You have a wonderful extended family.

Your daddy and I love you very much. So much we are going to Mexico for 6 days and leaving you. We will miss you but you are in great hands with Aunt Lori and your grandparents. Please be kind to them.

Love, mama

Will work for krispy cremes

To start off with, there is an enormous amount of pressure to either be amusing, touching or at the very least offensive when writing a blog. I am not sure I can deliver any of these things. What I can do is tell you that the inventor of the donut, specifically the Krispy Creme donut is a god among gods. I can feel my teeth rotting out of my head as I type but it is all worth it.

I was able to get this little piece of heaven this morning while waiting for my dermatologist to fit me into his schedule. You can't help but look around the waiting room and wonder what secret weirdness people are hiding under their clothes. Scales? A mole the size of Nebraska? A burning need to Botox out a few forehead wrinkles? I, sadly, didn't see anything very exciting but did enjoy getting hit on by my doctor. He is mildly attractive so I was not repulsed but his lines might need some work. As he examined my arm and my rash (nothing catchy thank you) and I mentioned how unattractive it was he smoothly said "nothing can look bad on you" or something smarmy like that. I wonder if he really thought through what that means. If I came in with sores oozing goo would he still find my arm so delectable? I might try and catch something festering so I can head back and see.