Bottoms up! Please!!

Why do cats stick their butts in your face when you do not want to look at them and walk around with their tails in the air showing off their business, but act outraged if you actually try to look at them? (Before anyone asks, you are supposed to periodically glance at your cat’s rear to check for signs of infection or illness.) To be fair, I guess my cats aren’t actually trying to stick their butts in my face. It’s just an unfortunate side effect at times when I am lying on the floor petting them.

I thought I noticed a lump on Belle’s posterior the other day. I think it’s nothing, but I wanted to do a comparison by checking the boys’ butts before I rushed her off to the vet. (Such is my glamorous life. Bottoms have become a big part of it. No pun intended.) I just couldn’t remember if her butt always looked like that. Of course, now that I need to get a look, no one is obliging. (They don’t like it very much if you actually try to hold their tail up and look. I knew that, but I was desperate.) So, I guess she will be off to the vet when Fort goes in for his annual in the next couple of weeks. I can’t be too careful, since she is technically a senior cat now. Think good thoughts! I am a little worried about my sweet Belle-cat.

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Happiness, TX

Tonight is the third anniversary of the day I moved in with my husband. Which means I have now lived in North Austin a year longer than I lived in South Austin. I have officially lost most of my weird points. I hang my head in shame. Luckily, I have a baby and rarely get out of the house, so it really doesn’t matter where I live at this point.

I would rather live in North Austin with Chris, Max, Belle, Angus, and Fort than in the very heart of the 78704 alone. I would move to Frame Switch if that’s what I had to do to be with them. Happy anniversary, baby, and Happy New Year to all!

Baby’s first meow

I heard feline voices coming through the baby monitor twice today. Twice. Two of my three cats were trapped in the nursery (at separate times) while Max was napping today. And the kid slept through the meowing. Fort thanked me for letting him out by biting and swiping at my leg. Belle just ran for her life. I can understand not seeing Belle, who is tiny, and tends to blend in (Plus, she likes to climb in to the drawer underneath the crib.), but how do you miss a seventeen pound black cat in your child’s room?

Today’s Mommy Guilt

It’s mostly Kittymomma guilt today. I feel guilty for saying, “Damn you, Fort!” when he jumped in the crib as I was trying to put Max down for a nap. Not to mention the fact that I damned him last night when he was chasing Belle around the bathroom while I was trying to get ready for bed at 12:30.

I also feel guilty for saying, “Jesus, Max, that hurt!” when he pulled my hair whilst screaming, just as I tripped over the ottoman while attempting to put him in his carrier.

Yes, Mommy can be a potty mouth. But my dad was a potty mouth and I turned out ok. Except that I’m a potty mouth.

Actual quote from this morning

“Fort, get your butt out of Mommy’s coffee. FORT. BUTT. OUT. OF. THE. COFFEE!!!”

(I actually meant to say “butt AWAY from the coffee,” but in this case, Mommy brain speak made the line funnier.)

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