Diary of a Mad Black Cat

A certain small, fuzzy member of our family has lost his friggin' mind.

And I'm not talking about Devin ( who still has all his faculties intact, as far as I can tell). I'm talking about the one with the poo-scrubber tongue (again, not Devin), the one that used to be my lil' guy.

I'm not one of those new-fangled cat whisperers or nuthin', but I think we might be dealing with some issues of jealousy here. The problems really started when we brought the baby home. Ming has been up to some bad kitty business since then. Eating anything that's not nailed down, for one thing. Possibly the most upsetting is continually waking us up throughout the night.
Here's a little equation for ya:

Very little sleep + painkillers - wisdom teeth + kitty eating the bed/lamp/my hair = 1 crabby- ass lady. I get very whiny in the middle of the night when something is eating my hair. Go figure.

He's earned a fresh new crop of horrible nicknames: Fart with Legs, Walking Turd, Anus McGillicuddy, Turd Ferguson, Black Tarry Stool (which is a listed side effect from my prenatal vitamins, oddly enough. "What is black tarry stool," you might ask. To that I'd say, "You'll know.")

I feel like a parent of a teenager; I just can't relate. I want to say to him, "Who are you anymore," and "I know you're on THE POT, AREN'T YOU?" I called the vet to make an appointment, make sure he doesn't have some sort of tapeworm or something. I mean, there must be something physically wrong with this beast!

When the receptionist asked the reason for the appointment, I simply said, "My cat has lost his damn mind. He's eating eggshells and licking the floor. He's eating my bedpost and when we lock him out of the room he eats the paint off the door."

"So it's a well visit then," she said.

Yeah, it's a well visit.

Puddin' & Vicodin

It's not such a bad way to live, now is it? Guess I should stop complaining.

When Laura was in Egypt's land,

let my Laura go.

Ow.

The Final Countdown

I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow, there's just no more avoiding it. I've been putting it off since I was 18, and that was a while ago.

I've successfully eluded the oral surgeon by a series of carefully planned moves. I go to get my checkup & cleaning. The doctor brings up "THE EXTRACTION" that needs to happen. I agree, of course, let's get those out! I go to a consultation for the oral surgeon and we discuss important matters- " Who will drive you home?" "Don't eat solids past 10:30pm." Then the next year I go to the dentist for my checkup, my cleaning. "Why haven't you had those teeth out?" he asks. I tell him the truth, "I don't want to," and "I've heard it's really unnecessary," etc. His next move is usually to tell me that he won't treat me anymore unless I get them out. "OK, sounds good, see you next year, " I say.

Then I switch dentists. It's a really good plan, because from start to finish it's about 2 years before the dentist discovers that I'm not going to get those teeth out. Again I find myself in this situation, except this time I had even more time with this dentist. We were trying to have a baby, and who would put a pregnant woman through that torture? Alas, this time I'll admit that I've grown a little attached to the lil scrapper. I mean, where else am I going to find a dentist that reminds me of Corky St. Clair from Waiting for Guffman?

As it also turns out, there aren't any more dentists in my neck of the woods that my insurance plan takes, so I'm having to bite the bullet, so to speak. That and the fact that my tooth really does bother me ( a little) and hopefully this will help.

Boo. I'm still debating fleeing the country. I bet the dentists in Mexico wouldn't make me get my teeth pulled! (I only have 3, by the way, because I'm highly evolved) . I will check in tomorrow, if God wills. If I don't make it through, AVENGE ME!!!!

The Lovely Bones

My God, why didn't someone tell me not to read this? I don't know why I do this to myself. I just got done reading The Unwanted by Kien Nguyen, which is an awesome but horribly sad book. Then I read 102 Minutes: The untold story of the fight to survive inside the twin towers ( and we all know how that turns out). Now I read this.

I've always been a rather sensitive person; stories on the news & in the paper would always get me down, especially if it had to do with children or horses. (I can't take it when they show clips from a horserace where the horses fell down & got trampled). Well the TV news is horrible in general, which is why I really don't watch it. I prefer to get my news online, where I can pick and choose what horrifying stories I will read. My sensitivity, however, seems to have increased since becoming a mother. I think of everything in relation to Tiny E. I've fairly convinced myself that she's never leaving my sight again.

Then I pick up The Lovely Bones, dear Lord, and my heart is breaking. I couldn't sleep last night. I do a lot of my reading before bed; I can't really fall asleep otherwise. Last night I got up and put the baby in our bed until she fell asleep again. Then I put her in the bassinette next to my bed. I would like to shove her back up into the womb to make absolutely certain she is safe, but alas, that technology is still years away. I'd like to stop reading, but now I can't. I have to know that the family has gotten some sort of closure (is that the right word? That's the word you use when a relationship has ended...doesn't seem like that's a strong enough word here...) to the whole situation. If you have read the book, I just got to the part where her dog gets to heaven. And I cried a river.

Don't get me wrong, it's an excellent book. That's probably why it's affecting me this way. I just need my next book to be a little more lighthearted. It doesn't have to be Erma Bombeck or anything, I just need a break. Anyone have any recommendations????

H.C.J.

Today I shopped at the Hot Chick Jewel. You may or may not know that different grocery stores have vastly different personalities. At least that's the case around here. Most people around here shop either at the Jewel or Dominicks. Each store, however, is not created equal.

We tend to shop more at Jewel; it seems a little cheaper. Our choices for Jewels are either the 1. Ghetto Jewel, 2. Hot Chick Jewel, or 3. New Jewel. The new Jewel is the farthest away, since we live closer to Ashland instead of Western. The Ghetto Jewel is the closest. It's earned its name from the totally annoying parking lot, the fact that it's always crowded, & that they are always out of the things you need. Yesterday, for example, they didn't even have size 2 Pampers. Oh, and you can't take your cart out to your car, which makes carrying your groceries & your baby nearly impossible.

Then there's the Hot Chick Jewel. It got its name from when Dev lived with Jake & Johnny... I think it had something to do with the Lincoln Park chicks that shop there. Anyhow, it's exactly 7 minutes past Ghetto Jewel and boy is it worth it. The produce department is vast, and they also have a lovely international food section. Today I was wowed by the fact that one of the produce workers actually took the time to help me find a product that was located in a different section! Crazy!

I did have a run in with a lady on her cell earpiece. I stepped out of the way to look through my coupons, making sure I was not in anyone's way. Well this lady decided she needed to get around me, and needed to cut right through where I was standing. Did I ever tell you how much I hate cell phones?

Oh, another rant about the Ghetto Jewel. I really love it when the cashier examines your purchase and makes comments on it. "Rich and Meaty? That's laaaaame." Shut up and ring me up! I would use those self-checkout lanes except for "Improper item in bagging area." Over and over again.

I really hate grocery shopping.

Cute Town- Population: 1

Taking a cue from Ed's blog, I wanted to reflect a lil bit about my own daughter's birthday. It also happens to fall on this day. Okay, so she hasn't made 5 yet, but 4 months old is a pretty big deal around here too.

She's changing pretty rapidly from day to day. When you consider that everything Tiny E can do she has learned in the last 4 months. (I was a little surprised she didn't emerge from the womb with mad guitar-playin' skills. I suppose that'll come...)

So far she has learned:

1. To open her eyes ( very helpful)
2. Who Mommy & Daddy are (or at least who the tall people are that feed her)
3. To stay far, far away from the cat when he's hungry (good advice for all)
4. How to hold up her head
5. How to hold her bottle (Yes, she is advanced)
6. To push up on her arms and scoot 1-2 inches (which is faster than Dad moves in the morning)
7. To smile & Laugh! (It's like crack to us...)
8. To say "Hi" (OK, that may have been accidental)
9. How to hold toys and shake them. (Future maraca player???)
10. How to roll 3/4 of the way over
11. How to be the world's cutest baby model (Thanks so super-star photographers Jill & Ross for the beautiful baby pics)
12. How to cultivate the fattest, cutest baby muffin feet on the planet

This parenting thing...boy it's something. Devin said that 53 more of these 4 month periods and she'll be in college. That's something to think about. I wonder if it all goes this fast. I also wonder if I'll ever sleep soundly again.

Since the weather's been nice we've been doing a lot of strollin' down to the park. Hangin' out with the teenage mothers & whatnot. Boy, I can't imagine doing this when I was 16, that's for sure. Would have cut into my budget for Claire's boutique for one thing. I wonder if I could have supported a baby on my salary from Brown's Chicken. I seem to recall that I made $2.75 when I started there. Can that even be right? That's barely enough to keep a girl in matching florescent earrings & socks, let alone all the Aqua Net...

Holy cow! Holy cow! Holy Cow!

Okay you may have heard, so this may be redundant. Devin & I celebrated our 4 year anniversary at Wrigley Field last week. It was a great day and we had great seats, right behind the Reds bullpen. Close enough to taunt Merker (not to be confused with Merkner, who is married to Johnny).
And I caught a foul ball! No really, I did! And it wasn't one of those scramble on the ground and come up with the ball either. It was a line drive, straight to me. It came so fast, I didn't have time to think. In retrospect, if I didn't have my mitt on, I probably would have put my hand up to protect myself anyhow. This would probably have hurt. A lot.

OK, to be fair, once it hit my mitt, it dropped (I'm no D.Lee). I guess I was just surprised I actually caught it. I mean, after years of bringing my mitt to the game, who would have thought? Right to me. I'm sure I looked like quite an ass afterward, wiggling and cheering myself.

(OK, coincidence.... I'm listening to the "Genre: Country" section on my ipod right now, and "When You're Hot, You're Hot" just came on. I feel like I can conquer the world!!! (by the way, I snagged the song from my mom for D... he had a thing...oh nevermind)
I don't know why this is such a defining moment in my life, maybe because I have nothing else going on....who knows. I rank my life thusly: 1. Birth of my daughter 2. My wedding to my beloved 3. catching the foul ball.

What else could be sweeter? I'm a lucky, lucky lady.