Cat Lady Rant Part 1

In the not so distant past, I had a real fear of becoming a cat lady. If you knew me then, you know why I feared this and you probably feared for me as well. If you didn't know me then, well, the memories are too terrible to revisit. For the last 10+ years, I've been cat-less. Sure, we've talked about cats, even looked at them, but I could never commit. Until now. Spike loves kitties and the voles pushed me over the edge.

We determined that last Monday was the day we'd get a cat. The kids and I scoped out available cats on the Salt Lake County Animal Shelter website and headed to SLC. (We'd already checked out the Heber shelter. They offered a cat with one eye and another that wouldn't be touched. Also, fun fact, you have to walk past the gas chamber and incinerator to view the animals there.)


When we walked in the SLC shelter, I feared we were in the wrong place. It was a cross between a homeless shelter and a parole hearing. The place was horrible. I'm talking animal pee, barking dogs, crying babies, and really, I'm just going to say it, the lowest forms of human life. Not people who have had bad luck or people who haven't had opportunity for success or even people who have made bad choices. I'm talking about prison hair, gold teeth, tattoos on the face kind of people. There were signs all over indicating that you had to have proof of address to adopt an animal. The primary animal on the arms of most patrons was a pitbull. The place was packed with them. I'm not against pitbulls, but they do make me nervous. Especially given the caliber of people were the "masters" of them.

We got in a line to wait in another line. We listened to fights and watched a couple make out. Carter clung to my leg. Spike buried his head in my shoulder. I tried to remain strong. We finally found the cat room. We tapped on cages, imagined names, smiled and talked to the cats. After much deliberation on the part of the boys and I, we selected three cats we wanted to meet and stood in two more lines to get helped. We were GETTING A CAT!!!

And then it happened. The super mean worker mentioned that our first choice cat had been declawed. I told her we'd skip that cat because I didn't want a declawed cat. "What do you mean?" the super mean employee asked. Note: at this point I took a step forward, as I could feel the breath of the woman with a mullet, 5 inch long nails and blue eye shadow, standing behind me. Her boobs were literally touching my back. The worker paused to tell my shadow AKA-crazy woman, to please step back in line and quit touching me. I explained to the worker that because the cat would go in the back yard that I wanted it to have claws. The worker lost her mind. She in no uncertain terms informed me that it was strictly prohibited to allow cats to go outside. EVER. She went on to explain that people letting cat's paws touch grass are solely responsible for all homeless pets and it is completely irresponsible. She was getting madder by the minute. Where could this be heading?

I backtracked. I said that the cat would be inside 90% of the time (lie...I didn't want it in the house, only the garage). I praised the virtue of our fence and the large field behind the house. I got nowhere. Never mind that the cat would be loved and cared for. Never mind that it would come in the house occasionally and live in a warm garage. Hell, forget the fact that I am a member of society that has never had parole? Forget all of that. I WAS DENIED FOR CAT ADOPTION!! Not only was I denied, but she threw some paper at me and told me to look into a feral cat facility if that was how I was going to take care of the cat. Cats from her shelter only go to, "good homes." Are you kidding me?!!!!!!

The kids sobbed as I drug them, empty handed, out of the shelter. I thought only the worst possible swear words. OK, I said most of them. I told the kids that the shelter woman was horrible and mean and wanted us to be sad. I said a lot of bad things. Jeff arrived, (thinking he was going to meet our new cat) and got an earful of me saying even more bad things. Things were at an all time low. The cat lady was denied a cat. At that moment, I saw two thugs walk out with their new pit bulls.

To be continued......

Signs...

Sunscreen. Flip flops. Yard work. Dirty kids. The absence of coats, hats, and gloves. Running outside. Zoiee stretched out asleep on the lawn. Hot dogs on the grill. Birds in the field. Water running in the culverts. The threat of rain. Feeling like I've had a thousand pounds lifted off my shoulders when I breathe in the warm air. Ahhhh yes, SPRING IS HERE!!!

It's a good thing to, because this is what is happening inside the house

Yep, that is just what you think it is....Spike, in underwear only, jumping on his hippity hop ball on the mini trampoline.

In unrelated news...voles. I went golfing with Jeff yesterday at Soldier Hollow. Apparently, they have had a severe infestation. There were dead vole bodies all over the course! AWESOME. Jeff golfed, I hunted for bodies. A great time was had by all.

Voles--post not for the weak of heart or stomach

I wanted to title this post a swear word. Pick any one you can think of, it will fit the situation. Horrible little voles made my yard their personal playground under the snow this winter. They have destroyed the lawn that took hours of hard labor and thousands of dollars to install last summer. I have been trying to be reasonable about the situation. We live by a field. I love that field, so I'm trying to be calm. That calmness is over now. The creatures presented me with a gross out, want to throw up dilemma today. I kicked one of their piles of dead grass and guess what flew out? Little pink babies. I thought they were dead. I called my dad. He informed me they were alive. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!! What to do? I don't want them out there, but somehow killing a baby, even if it is a destructive, horrible swear word creature baby, seems more than I can do. I'm leaving them for Jeff.

P.S. I tried to make a learning situation of this awful mess and took Carter out to show him the babies. I pulled the dead grass back with a shovel and told him they were the babies of the voles that had ruined our lawn...our beautiful lawn. He said, "cool..mom, maybe you should stab them with the shovel."

P.S.S. I swear he doesn't have emotional disorders. He is just very much a problem solver. Some day his wife will endure his endless logic.

Day 48 of My Captivity ( I actually counted)

If you haven't seen us much this winter, be glad. If you have seen us, condolences. We are the plague. Honestly, the plague. The fall was good to us. We stayed out of busy public places, we washed our hands, we waited in line for vaccinations, we used bottles of hand sanitizer. We were hermits. I declared victory on disease. Call me mother of the year, my kids were staying healthy. God laughed at me.

I went on a girl's weekend in January. I felt so refreshed. I came home to the beginning stages of captivity. Carter had a cough, maybe a little fever. Generally not on the top of his game. He was sick for a week. Carter perked up and Spike got sick. Jeff got sick. I got sick. Ashley got sick. Gil got sick. My how we spread our love. Spike's little cough quickly turned to pneumonia. I waited too long to take him to the doctor. Three weeks of breathing treatments, antibiotics, steroids, supplemental oxygen, and three doctor's visits later he was better. We met our insurance deductible. We decided we were safe to leave the house.

Mom and Dad had a tragic fight with the weather that resulted in a missed cruise, so they took each of the boys for a couple days for "vacation." I swear I thought Carter was healthy when I sent him to Bear Lake last week. Again, I was wrong. When we picked him up last weekend, he was lethargic. He had a cough, a stomach ache, a little fever. He felt better by Tuesday, but Mom started to feel sick. Spike was getting sick and his breathing was a little off. At my mom's urging, I called the doctor Friday afternoon at 3:30 to ask what to watch for in case the pneumonia was coming back. I was told to bring him in immediately. Great news, it isn't pneumonia, he has H1N1. No worries though, it can easily turn to pneumonia again.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!! I asked the doctor three times if she was sure. Apparently she is. I told her it wasn't possible, because Carter had been sick and he'd been immunized. She told me that is why he only had mild symptoms. We have to stay home. We get to go to the doctor again tomorrow and, sadly, I'm just excited to leave the house. Spike is back on breathing treatments. How I hate "dinosaur breathing".(It has this name because the mask is the shape of a purple dinosaur). I'm sleeping in Carter's super bed to be by Spike. The super bed sucks. Mom and I missed my cousin's baby shower. I sulked. I've acted super grumpy. I've worn only sweats. I've eaten chips and candy and diet coke exclusively. I'm still not sure that he has H1N1. He isn't super sick. The fever is mostly gone, the wheezing has started. We are still captive and contagious.

P.S....the insurance plan year ended 1/31/10. So we get to meet the deductible again. Fortunately, it looks like with a job change and an insurance change, we'll meet the deductible for Spike 3 times this year. Awesome.

Love and Insecurity

So blog posts stress me out. I often think of posting, but what should I say and how should I say it? I worry about what people will think about me based on my posts. If I write about something awesome that happened then I feel like I'm bragging. If I complain about something yucky that happened, well, then I'm feeling sorry for myself. You see, my basic insecurities are causing problems. Today though, I guess I just don't care. I've been feeling sorry for myself for a solid two weeks and it is time to have a little happiness. This post is about me and some of the things I really love.

Diet Coke- It has been a faithful friend through the best and the worst of the last 12 years. I will not forsake it. My preferred form is in the following order: #1 fountain, #2 can, and bottle if necessary. If Diet Pepsi is my choice, I'll have water.

Snooze I love those 20 minutes between when I wake up and when I get out of bed.

The rainbows the little crystal in my window makes in the afternoons. It reminds me of Jeff's grandma's kitchen.

Mile 9 of a half marathon. It is the time when the nerves are over and I feel strong. I know I can finish and I'm proud of my body.

Trashy bee-bob music. Pretty much if it should be played in a club somewhere, I love it. Jeff refers to my ipod as, "A trip to hell". This is what I get for marrying a musician ;)

A clean house. This happens rarely and lasts only minutes, but those minutes are awesome.

Phone calls/visits. I love when friends call or stop in. It completely lifts every part of my soul.

Little boy smell. Yes, it is sweaty and gross and I love it more than about anything.

Reality TV.Teen Mom, Housewives of Anywhere, Hoarders, Intervention... I love them all.

Iphone. I was so mad when Jeff bought it. What waste of money! I would now sell my blood to earn money to keep that stupid phone.

Gas Range. How did I live without this? Oh yeah, I swore a lot more when I cooked.

Lilacs. Bushes will be planted this spring.

When Jeff walks in the door. The kids run screaming "daddy, daddy, daddy". At that moment, the clouds of the day lift and everything is just a little bit better.

My sister. She understands me. More importantly, she tells me when I'm being ridiculous...and I know she is right.

Treat Runs. I love loading the kids in the car and heading out for a treat. Spike gets "sluss" aka slush and Carter and Jeff share a chocolate cookie dough shake. I rock the diet fresh lime. Thank you Dairy Keen.

Nap Time. I love that hour (or two) in the afternoon when I just snuggle and play with Carter while Spike sleeps. I'll miss it when he's in school.

Sunny winter days. I love the blue sky, white mountain days of Utah. The world seems so fresh and new.

That's it for now.

Visions of the Future

Here is an actual conversation Carter and I had tonight as he was falling asleep:

Me: "Carter, even when you're a big daddy with little kids, I'll still love to give you hugs and kiss your head."

Carter : "Uh Mom, I won't be having little kids because I won't be married."

Me: "Why is that?"

Carter: "Because I want to stay with you" (awwwww...isn't that cute?)

Me: "Okay, that's fine."

Carter: "Mom, do you think they'll have different phones when I'm all grown up?"

Me: "Yes"

Carter: "hmmm...more new phones from the network Verizon Wireless"

and then he fell soundly asleep.

Please save me from the vision of a 35 year old Carter in my basement spending every penny on technological gadgets. Please.

Sick Days

Here is something else I'm thankful for...NOT THROWING UP! I was sick yesterday and it totally sucked. Why don't mom's get sick days? Honestly. I needed a sick day WAY more yesterday than I ever did when I worked. As I look around the house I see two giant 7-up spills on the floor (cleaned up by Carter...I'll leave the rest to your imagination), every one of my purses dumped out, as well as every toy or piece of clothing the kids have used or worn in the last 48 hours. In addition, I'd started decorating for Christmas before the bug hit, so the Christmas bins are filling up every inch of floor not covered by toys and clothing and mail. (Why do we get so much crappy mail?!! I am so sick of magazines, ads, and general pieces of paper that I have to deal with!) That said, Carter was dream yesterday. He helped Spike while I bossed orders from the couch or the bathroom. He tried his very best to clean up messes. He didn't whine, cry or fight. He was awesome. And that, my friends, is why when I crawled back to bed at 9:00 last night, Carter was still up playing Lego Star Wars with Jeff and I didn't even care.