Fort (aka Fudgie) attempting to eat a jalapeno cheddar hot dog. You cannot leave any food out around this cat. He used to be a dumpster diver. He likes everything.
Kittymomma anniversary
October 18, 2009 at 11:08 pm (Cats, Uncategorized)
October 6 marked my seventh anniversary as a kittymomma. (As for the reason it has taken me two weeks to finish this post, well, that’s another story.) I can’t believe it has been seven years since I brought my little Siamese kitten home. I remember feeling terrified to hold her the first time. I had never held an animal of any kind. However, by the time she lay stretched out on my lap later that evening as I watched 7th Heaven with a cute little kitty smile on her face, my terror was long gone. I remember thinking, “This is going to be pretty cool.”
And it definitely has been. On this blog, she has been known as Cookies and Cream (or CC), but her real name is Belle. I named her after the heroine in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I had been working on finding a name for her for two weeks and couldn’t come up with anything that seemed to fit her. However, I saw a commercial for the initial DVD release of the movie and it suddenly occurred to me that Belle might work. I looked at her, tried it out, and that was it. Unfortunately, since it had taken me so long to name her, she still thinks her name is “Baby.” Oh, well. They’re both “B” sounds, right?
Regardless of her name, she has been a good friend to me for seven years. She is the sweetest, best-behaved cat ever. She is responsible for awakening a love for animals that I never knew I possessed. She is also responsible for at least six other cats being adopted in to my family. (Two of which are my two boys.)
I was a 23-year-old grad student when I brought her home and now I’m a thirty-year-old wife and mom to three cats and a baby boy. Belle came to me during the most difficult period of my entire life and I give her a lot of credit for bringing me out of it and helping me to get where I am today. Thanks so much, little Belle-cat. I love you.
Three clumsiest things I’ve done this week (so far!)
September 22, 2009 at 11:52 pm (Babies, Breastfeeding, Cats, Food, Life, Motherhood)
1. Tried to eat some Smart Ones fettucine alfredo too fast (in order to finish before the baby’s next feeding) and flipped the fork out of my hand, hitting CC in the leg.
2. Knocked over a bottle of breast milk and spilled it all over the floor and a tote bag.
3. Stepped on Earl Grey’s paw.
What will happen next? More specifically, what will happen to Fudgie? He’s the only cat I haven’t managed to inadvertently injure this week. (Actually, they’re fine, thank goodness.)
Bless you
September 3, 2009 at 4:04 am (Animals, Cats, Food, Relationships)
I found out today that my husband actually had some doubt as to whether I would eat food with cat snot on it. He seemed to think I might, if I was hungry enough. Just to set the record straight, I have never been THAT hungry. Now I wonder what kind of man I married, since he was apparently willing to marry someone he thought could maybe, possibly, eat cat snot.
Maybe Uncle Ben was stubborn, too
July 20, 2009 at 6:18 pm (Animals, Babies, Cats, Death, Family, Life, Music, Pregnancy, Relationships)
He is still refusing to come out. Maybe today will be lucky. It is the anniversary of my Uncle Ben’s birthday. He was a musician who lived in Austin. He loved cats and Garfield and could play almost every instrument. It seemed like it anyway. He died almost twenty years ago of a brain aneurysm, so I didn’t get to know him very well, but I thought he was cool. He taught me how to blow bubbles with bubble gum and gave us McDonald’s gift certificates for Christmas. I feel connected to him whenever I play the piano, although I can’t play rock ‘n’ roll on it like he could. I’m better at classical. Thanks to him, my brother and I discovered Nermal (the cutest cat in the world) and garnered hours of entertainment from that and marveling how cute his cat was all hunched up behind the curtain on the windowsill. It’s actually amazing how alike we are. I wish I’d gotten to know him better, but I’m glad for the time we got. Thanks, Uncle Ben. Hope you’re still rocking out up in heaven.
Top 10 Most Annoying Things Said to Expectant Parents
July 11, 2009 at 4:53 am (Babies, Cats, Etiquette, Life, Pregnancy, Relationships, Sleep)
In no particular order:
1. It will change your life forever. (If they are too stupid to know this, they shouldn’t be having a baby.)
2. Sleep when the baby sleeps. (Every baby book says this. You need to think up better material if this is your best advice.)
3. Anything prefaced with “It was good enough in my day…” (Moms get VERY huffy about the changes in child-rearing since they raised their own children. They seem to take them as a personal insult.)
4. “You’re going to get the drugs, right?” (Followed by a polite “Oh” when you tell them you are, in fact, crazy enough to want to try natural childbirth.)
5. Retelling a friend’s horrific birth story to a first-time mother. (Why did the checker at HEB, a complete stranger by the way, think I wanted to know about her friend’s emergency C-section?)
6. “You’re not a Mommy yet!” (In response to the “Mommy and Me” shirt I wore at my baby shower. My uncle should try saying that to me after he lugs a baby around inside him for six months.)
7. “Say good-bye to a good night’s sleep.” (Oh, REALLY? Babies don’t sleep much? They wake up at night?? Why did no one tell me this???)
8. “Are you going to lock her up till she’s 30?” (Sexist humor never gets old.)
9. “I wonder if you’ll still be as crazy about your cats after the baby comes.” (Oh, yes, that’s an excellent trait for a parent. Ceasing to care about living creatures who depend on you after you get a new, more demanding one.)
10. “I know this isn’t what you registered for, but this worked so much better for me.” (Why don’t you just come right out and say that you think my carefully researched parenting decisions are stupid?)
Revolution!
July 3, 2009 at 5:26 am (Animals, Cats, Medicine)
Why do the cats still try to run away when we give them their monthly dose of Revolution? They know it doesn’t hurt and that we’re going to track them down and give it to them one way or the other. I guess I wouldn’t like having a stinky medication on my back until it dried, but the alternative is much worse. Too bad they don’t seem to understand when I tell them that.
They’re already conspiring against me…
June 27, 2009 at 3:55 am (Animals, Babies, Cats, Life, Pregnancy, Sleep)
My unborn son and my cats, I mean. Last night was not entirely pleasant. We had a doctor’s appointment at 7:30 a.m. today. My husband and I are NOT morning people, but we didn’t have a choice. We have to go every week now and it was the only slot available. Besides 7 a.m., that is. My husband doesn’t even get up for work that early.
Anyway, we got to bed late (I don’t even know when. We’re night owls, which is why we’re not morning people.) and I was sleeping poorly, partly because I’m nine months pregnant and partly because I knew I had to get up. I tossed and turned a bit, which woke my husband up as well, since it now takes at least three distinct motions for me to turn over in bed, all of which shake the bed. Plus, I have to rearrange my body pillows everytime I move, not to mention groan and say “Ow” everytime the baby’s feet poke me in the ribs or he presses on my bladder or I feel a round ligament pull because of the extremely full bladder I have the superhuman ability to ignore and still not wet myself, even at nine months pregnant.
My sweet husband was so incredibly kind during this whole ordeal, saying wonderful things like, “I’m sorry, honey” and “Are you ok?” instead of getting mad at me for disturbing his sleep. I sometimes suspect he knows how to say those things while still sleeping, but it is still very sweet. I’d rather I didn’t wake him up anyway. Finally, at 5:22 a.m., I woke up in extreme pain from a bladder in imminent danger of exploding and had to give up and go to the bathroom. I don’t know where all of that liquid came from, since I had exactly two sips of water before going to bed, but I have learned that, while pregnant, you cannot consume ANY liquids within several hours of going to bed, even if you relieve yourself multiple times before retiring. Also, I think the body rebels against the triple-digit temps in Texas by storing every single bit of liquid you take in until it feels safe to let them go at an ungodly hour of the morning.
Since I have the aforementioned superhuman ability to ignore nature’s call without disastrous consequences, my cats are not accustomed to seeing me get up at night. Usually, I do not get up until I absolutely have to in the morning, either because I have to work or because it is almost noon, but not quite, so I can still say I got up in the morning. When I get up, they get Fancy Feast. (Well, in the case of CC, she gets Whisker Lickin’s Chicken and Cheese treats, because she doesn’t like Fancy Feast.) It doesn’t matter what time it is. If I get up, it’s Fancy Feast time. That’s another reason I have been resisting my bladder. However, at 5:22 a.m., I resist the cats. I got back in bed, extremely careful not to kick Fudgie, who always sleeps on my side of the foot of the bed. However, he and Earl Grey must have been irate at being misled about getting their Fancy Feast for they proceeded to run loudly, claws scrambling on hardwood floor, Fudgie meowing plaintively periodically, all over the house for the next hour, while I somewhat unsuccessfully tried to go back to sleep before my alarm went off. They finally stopped, only for me to hear Fudgie attempting to open a loose cabinet door a few minutes later. And failing. Over and over again. “Bang, bang, bang. MEOW!! Bang, bang, bang. MEOW!!” Then, he tried jumping on top of the TV set (Thank goodness we haven’t bought a flat-screen yet.), which is plastic and creaks. And meowed until my wonderful hubby chased him away. He finally gave up after that or I managed to tune him out.
Guess who was sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed when I woke up at 7 a.m., hating my life? Oh, yes, Fudgie, who had kept me awake for having the audacity to get out of bed and not feed him. Did he and Earl Grey get Fancy Feast before we rushed out of the door for our appointment? But, of course.
However, kick-ass pregnant female that I am, I actually managed to enjoy the morning with my equally kick-ass husband. (Although we get pretty stupid without sleep. I’m a little worried about our kid. And the people in our immediate vicinity for the next few months. Oh, well. We had fun.) I even, after a short nap (Cut short by little feet in my ribs, that is.), managed to run three errands in the unforgiving triple-digit heat. I rock, as does my life. And my noisy, demanding, adorable cats.
wussy pregnant lady
June 10, 2009 at 4:52 am (Babies, Cats, Relationships)
I think the last trimester is making me extra-squeamish. Every time I look at my husband’s injured toe, I get butterflies in my stomach. Maybe because I am remembering how scared I was when he dropped the sheet of glass on his foot. Blood and stitches don’t usually bother me, so I don’t understand it otherwise.
Not only that, but I wigged out when Fudgie tried to eat a lizard earlier. He got the poor thing’s tail off and it (the tail) kept wiggling and bouncing around. Totally grossed me out, even though I’ve seen that happen before. Poor, poor lizard.
Bedroom misadventures
April 21, 2008 at 5:56 am (Cats, Uncategorized)
My cool husband and I had a very interesting evening last night. We actually did end up screaming in bed at one point, but alas, not for the reason we (or any readers out for vicarious thrills 😉 ) might have wanted.
Last night at about 2 a.m., we were indulging in our nightly ritual. I was reading and putting on hand lotion and my husband was watching television and rubbing my back. (Yet another reason he’s so cool.) I was reading Glamour magazine and you know what the articles are like in there. I was reading one about, well, how to scream in bed quicker, longer, etc. You get the idea. Naturally, being two healthy, young people this article was quite interesting to us and I had not managed to get to the end of it before we were making out.
We seem to be going through a clumsy phase, because I somehow managed to poke my husband in the eye with my glasses. (Yes, we had been so eager to get to each other that I didn’t take them off.) He made a face that was just so damn funny that I am still fighting the urge to laugh as I write about it. It was like an exaggerated wink mixed with a grimace of pain. I laughed until my stomach hurt. I think it was better than a hundred crunches, that’s how much I laughed. I managed to calm down and we started kissing again, but I burst out laughing again a few minutes later. It was like trying not to laugh in a Catholic church. You’re doomed, whether you look at your little brother or not. (More about that in another post.)
I manage to sober up (which is very difficult to do while still staying in an amorous mood) and I leaned towards him to kiss him again. Unfortunately, he leaned again as well bringing my knee into unfortunate alignment with his groin. I did not connect, because my husband realized what was going on and reeled back in pain when my knee had barely grazed the area in question. Seriously. He is very protective of the goods.
Undaunted, we leaned over to kiss again (Being very careful of our knee-groin alignment this time.) when suddenly, a huge, black blur came out of nowhere, flew over our heads, and landed on top of us prompting a loud “AHHHHH!” out of both of us as we flew apart yet again. The blur promptly retreated to the sound of furiously pounding kitty paws. We are not sure, but it seems CC attempted to join us on the bed and picked a very unfortunate time and location on which to attempt to mount said bed.
After we checked on CC, Fudgie, and Earl Grey (Yep. All were traumatized.), we returned to our boudoir, laughing our heads off. That seemed to be the only exercise we were destined to get that evening.
Whether it was or not, dear Reader, I am not at liberty to say.
Kittymomma's Adventures 