Wednesday, April 22, 2009

One Of Life's Ironies

One of life's ironies, as Wolf like's to point out is that I have to take somewhere in the neighbourhood of 30 pills a day. No, that's not a typo folks, that actually is 3-0, as in thirty. The irony being, I choke on chewable vitamins. Watching me down pills is something of a family entertainment. I've caught Wolf on the phone, taking bets, on if I choke, and to what degree. I hope he at least makes enough money to buy me flowers out of it.


Just had a choke session. Quite the dramatic one, with coffee spewing from mouth AND nose, progeny a 'running to ensure that I will live to make supper. I choked out a request for a towel, and Tazzie returned with one moments later, proudly announcing, "Here, Mommmy!" and just as I was about to wipe my face with it, I hear Diva shriek, "Don't use that! I cleaned up Princess' pee with it off the bathroom floor this morning!"

At least she warned me BEFORE I used the towel. Its those special moments that prove a child's love, folks. I've no doubt that by the time she's 14, she'll wait til AFTER I used it, then tell me while she snickered. Course, if Princess is still peeing on the floor in four years, we've got other issues...Maybe we'll have a puppy piddling on the floor by then?
But I digress.

Just an interesting note to close on...I now know what its like to have coffee scented snot. Interesting.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

With A Hint Of Spring, A Young Woman's Fancy Turns To...

Yes, I consider myself to still be a 'young woman', so you can stifle the giggling right now, thanks very much.

I said, STIFLE!

I have puppy lust.

There, I said it. I've confessed. I know some women go through pangs of 'baby lust', but not I. Wolf usually knocks me up before I usually realize I want to be pregnant. Ok, not so much with Tazzie, but definately with Princess.

Anyways, I find myself deep in the throes of puppy lust.

How deep, you ask?

Well, deep enough that I would forgo my deeply held and long cherished dream of getting a Douge De Bordeaux, my all time favourite breed that I've promised myself would be my publishing gift (when I finally get a novel published, I'm buying one with the advance...assuming the advance is big enough, lmao!) and get another pug.

Now there's some serious puppy lust happening, folks.

We have had two pugs. Our first, beloved but none too bright and well...rather untrained (our fault...fell into the 'its a small dog' mind set and didn't bother with training *blush*) scooted out of the house on Hallowe'en a couple of years ago. The Mom with the trick or treaters PUNTED him like a foot ball, and he ran off, yelping. Diva took off after him...only to witness him being killed when he was run over by a speeding car.

Utter heartbreak, as only an eight year old can know.

Last year, we tried a pug again. Winston. He was 18 mths old when we got him, from a 'breeder' I kinda sorta knew. Biiiiiiiiiiiig mistake. Huge. He was nervous as all holy heck, high strung, couldn't be trusted around the bad a fit as could ever be. We ended up rehoming him with a sweet sixteen year old whose mom used to breed dogs, who would pamper the heck out of him, and most importantly, had no small children, and wouldn't for years to come.

A few weeks after, we got Jack the Cat, whose about the size of a pug, if not bigger. Great cat, as far as cats go. Lets the kids maul him, until they go too far, and then he gives them a nip or a bit of a swat to keep them in line.

But he's still a cat.

And I'm a dog person. And like his Momma, Tazzie is also a dog person, since he's been heard lamenting lately, "Can we trade Jack in fow a dog? Pwease?"

Kid after my own heart.

Reality of it is, now just isn't the time for a puppy. Wolf's just gotten back to work, so we're starting to bail out our financial boat. His 2nd pay will be going to an accountant to file taxes (yes, late, bad bad bad!) finish catching up on bills if we're not all caught up by then, and kitting out the family for summer gear.

But...the van's paid off in July.

I'm just sayin....

The Suspicion of The Danglers

This is something I've heard more and more. "Would you let a teenage BOY mind your children? You would?!" *gasp* *choke* *wheeze*

I've had a brother and sister team mind my kidlets...if one wasn't available, the other would mind them. Occasionally, for a day time job, both would come, since 2 kids under 3 can be a handful for anyone.

Why should having a PENIS render someone automatically suspect? There seems to be a growing trend across North America these days...Suspicion of The Danglers.

There have been situations when I was working that Diva would invite a friend over, and the question would come, "Is your Mom home?" and the answer, "No, my Dad is." and the child wouldn't be allowed. Meanwhile, my husband has far more patience and tolerance for opk (other people's kids) than I do, on any given day. He's the one making them popcorn for their movie while I'm fleeing for the sanctuary of my bedroom to escape the shrill giggling of little girls.

OK, not quite that extreme, but you get the picture. He's more the Mr. Rogers type when it comes to a host of other kids, and I'm more the Miss. Hannigan type. Adore my own, adore a FEW other kids (friends of mine, here in my city, hers are freaking adorable!)

And he's judged unsafe...because he has dangly bits. Parents would leave their little heathens with ME, assuming I'm perfectly safe, on the basis that I have a uterus. Meanwhile, I could be (and probably am) contemplating how quickly I could duct tape their child's big mouth shut.

Trust me, out of the two of us, Wolf's the safer bet if you're looking to leave your kid with someone. *HE* won't actually duct tape anyone.

I probably won't either, but that's cause of the whole one armed thing, not for lack of desire or trying.