Seek and Ye Shall Find Cat Butts

When My Mister and I were first dating in college, he, being the ever smitten new boyfriend, wanted to impress me with his newfound love and… smitten-ness….by buying me some jewelry. Specifically some earrings since, you know, a ring would be a little too forward and a necklace may seem like he wanted to choke me (right?), and he knew I wore earrings more often than any other jewelry. (WHO CAN HANDLE NAKED LOBES??) However, they couldn’t be just any ordinary earrings. Oh no. They had to be cat earrings because I love earrings, but I love love love cats. BUT. They couldn’t be any ordinary cat earrings, either. Oh no. They had to also be humorous cat earrings because we both like the funny. So, one earring is a cat head…and the other one is a cat butt. Because he knew, even then at the very beginning, that butts were the way to my heart.*

I loved those earrings. So SO much. I wore them constantly within the first week of receiving them. I made sure to pull my hair up so that people at the BSU could see and admire my butt. (Wait a second….)

And then, about one week after receiving them, someone at the BSU did NOT notice and admire them. Instead they pointed out that one of my ears had a cool cat head on it but the other one was (OHMYGOSH) naked. WHY OH WHY did my cat butt decide to skedaddle?? I lost one of my most favoritest earrings from my new boyfriend somewhere on campus sometime during the morning and I needed to find it before he saw me without them and thought I didn’t like his gift and that I hated him and wanted to spit on him and then he’d dump me and we’d never get married and have….married couple time….

It could be anywhere. I had so many classes scattered all over campus and the likelihood of ever finding that runaway cat was practically zero. HOWEVER, since I was at the BSU (Baptist Student Union) and since I truly and completely believed in the power of prayer, I asked everyone around me to pray with me that I’d be able to find my lost cat.

So we prayed. And I prayed. And I traced my steps around campus. And I prayed. And I was sad since my natural optimism was starting to be dampened as I walked and walked and walked around the huge campus and did not find a cat butt anywhere.

Despondent, I was almost back to the BSU when my friend Meegan, coming from the BSU, stopped me and asked why I was so sad. I told her my tail of woe (HA!) and she made the appropriate sad noises you make to someone who is obviously slightly deranged.

And then, the most miraculous thing EVER happened. It was THE moment in my life that solidified to me that God is real, that He hears our prayers, and that nothing is too big or too small for Him.

After patting my arm and saying, “There, there,” Meegan looked down at the sidewalk and said, “Is that it?”

!!!!!!!

There, looking back up at me, at just the spot we stopped to talk, was my beloved cat butt. No, it was not on my person and somehow was shaken loose when she pat my arm- I had already done the shakedown at the BSU to see if it was somewhere in my clothes- it was not. There is no other way for me to explain it- it was a miracle, pure and simple. 

AND I STILL HAVE THEM! (Though the posts are missing now. Methinks I have to fix them after today.)

After that day, I have never once been (overly) worried about losing something. My keys go missing (again)? No problem! Just pray because God knows where they are and will allow me to find them at the right moment. I truly do pray about all the various things I’ve lost/misplaced, which means I really don't do anything but pray all day long.

Except for last night.

Last night I couldn’t find yet another piece of jewelry that My Mister had gifted me. Except this time it was slightly more important than a cat butt….it was my wedding ring.

The only time I take it off is when I put lotion on- either on me or on the kids. So, last night after their bath, I had taken it off and put it in their top drawer while I helped it rub the lotion on its skin. I then forgot all about it and continued to work on my crochet (that may or may not be for a future yarn bombing.)

Instead of going to bed right away (like they ever do that), they sang to each other and asked for water, and laughed and carried on. Then Little Mister got out of bed and went to the toilet and subsequently yelled that he was all done. (He’s completely potty trained….just not “wiped” trained quite yet. You think you’re done with the poops once you’re done with the diapers and then, BAM! Skidmarks.)

I got a wipe from their drawer and noticed my ring sitting on the wipe box, so I grabbed it before My Mister came and saw it. (He was on his way to change SweetPea who wasn’t about to let her brother have all the fun and left quite a load in her diaper. *shudder*)

Once both their butts were clean and they were finally in bed, we sat back down in front of the telly and I continued to crochet. Then I jumped on the kids’ trampoline. And did some stretches. And then took a shower and was putting on lotion when I realized that I didn’t have to take off my ring because OHMYGOSH IT’S MISSING!

I couldn’t remember where I last saw it. I had to retrace my steps- I clearly remember taking it from the wipe box, but I couldn’t remember what happened after that.

And I started to panic. I looked at the various tables where we have lotion bottles to see if I took it off absentmindedly (stranger things have happened). Nope. 

I, ever so quietly, went back to the kids' room and rifled through their drawer to see if it was still in there. Nope. 

I looked EVERYWHERE. It was nowhere to be found.

I woke up My Mister and told him that I couldn’t find my ring and so he got up and also started looking everywhere. He also went to the kids’ bedroom and (not so quietly) rifled through their drawer to see if it was there and I missed it. Nope.

It was the first time in forever that I was really and truly worried about losing something and I couldn’t find it. I wracked my brains trying to think of where it could be and was growing more and more frustrated.

So, we prayed. And looked some more. He and I both went into the kids’ bedroom with a flashlight and looked through their drawer once again and looked behind the drawer and under their beds. NOTHING.

So, we agreed to go to sleep, pray some more, and look again in the morning.

So, this morning, I prayed with the kids at breakfast and then I called My Mister at work and asked him to keep praying as I went back and rummaged through their room, once again.

I prayed, "Dear Lord, please help me to find my ring RIGHT NOW!" as I rifled through their drawer, yet again.

And then. Even though I KNOW I moved everything and looked under everywhere the previous 3 times I looked through that drawer, I moved a tube of cream and, lo and behold, there was my ring. PRAISE THE LORD!

Just to show that God also has a sense of humor: The cream? A tube of Butt Paste.

So why, you may ask, was I worried so much about my ring? It had to be in the house somewhere, right? And that is a whole lot smaller place to look than a college campus, right? I mean. It’s not like we’re moving or anything.



Welllll………. 

Eeeeeeeeeep!

*After reminding him of this story, he said he vaguely remembered it happening. And when I showed him the earrings, he said he, “Absolutely had no memory of those earrings, at all.” Wow. It’s only one of the biggest and most profound moments in my walk of faith and he totally doesn’t remember trying to impress me with them. Fine. He gets to wipe Little Mister's butt next time.

Out of Practice

There are a few things that one should never do if one is to be accepted out in various social circles. A few rules that civilized people always follow because they are normal, well functioning members of society. For instance, one should never make rude, crude, or socially unacceptable bodily sounds in public. (But all bets are off if you’re home…or at least in my home.) It’s best to not discuss religion or politics to avoid potential awkwardness or violent beat downs. And, you should never, ever ask a woman if she is pregnant, unless of course, you are almost pretty sure that she is.

These are all rules I’ve lived by (well, mostly…no promises on that first one) because I’ve striven to appear as a normal, well functioning member of society for a good long while now. However, due to various difficulties with pregnancies, moves, and lack-of-sleep induced insanity, I’ve become a little bit rusty on this whole “behaving in public” thing. Particularly when it comes to the words that fly out of my mouth while completely bypassing my brain.

Case in point: I finally ventured out of my hovel for a social event today for the first time in about 3 months. It was actually for a crochet and knit group and I was excited to meet new people as well as hopefully see a few familiar faces. My Mister stayed home with Little Mister and I happily brought my little SweetPea with me to assist me with getting back in the game, socially. There is never a lack of conversation when you have a cute little baby adorned with various crochet items, ya know?

Anywho, when I arrived, the one person I did know ended up leaving as I was arriving, so I was thrown into the midst of quite a few women I had never met before (or at least, if I had met them, it was many, many moons ago because I haven’t left my cave house in about 10 years). Now, even in the best of times, when I have had plenty of practice being social and interacting with other adults, being around a bunch of people I don’t know gives me butterflies and I go into, “I hope they like me!” mode. This time, being around a bunch of people I didn’t know made me into a human puppy as my mind raced, “OOOOOH! People! There’s a person! A new friend? Will she like me? What yarn is she using? OOOOOH! She has kids! Can I smell her yarn? Will you be my friend? LOOK AT MY YARN!”

So. There was this lovely lady there who was about to leave as I was arriving. She had a child around Little Mister’s age so I thought, “YAY! New friend!” When she stood up to leave, I noticed that she seemed to be expecting another baby, as well, so I thought, “YAY! Another baby SweetPea’s age! This new lady and I are going to be BFFs! When can we get together? I hope she likes me! LOOK AT HER YARN!!”

I was getting back into the Social-Interaction saddle again as I tested the waters with my first question, “How old is your child?” When she affirmed my suspicion that he was around Little Mister’s age, I gained confidence with my abilities to socialize, and, since I figured we were going to have two kids around the same age, I asked, “And I assume you have another one on the way?”

I have the hugest smile on my face since I know I’m about to make a life-long friend and we will happily crochet together while discussing potty training our toddlers and breastfeeding our newborns and how we’ll always be BFFs FOREVER. I’m looking at all the other women around us thinking, “Tough cookies, ladies. You had your chance! I’m now taken!”

So imagine the absolute mortification I felt when my new BFF replied, “No. I just haven’t lost the weight yet.”

That sound you hear? Like the air flowing out of a balloon as it flies across the room? Yeah- that’s me as all the air was sucked out of me and I was left an empty shell who wanted to curl up and die. If I felt that way, I can just imagine how that lady felt being called out, not only by me, but also in front of all those other ladies.

There are so many ways to deal with this situation. You could say, “I’m sorry!” and then curl up and die. You could cause a diversion and pinch your baby really hard so she’ll start crying and everyone’s attention would then be on this new sound and wouldn’t notice you curling up and dying. You could say, “Oh look over there!” and then run away and curl up and die.

Any of these options are preferable to what I did.

You see, when she said, “No. I just haven’t lost the weight yet,” she said it with, what I interpreted to be, a smirk. So I thought she was replying the way you would if someone noticed you chopped off 14 inches of your hair and asked, “Did you get a hair cut?” and you said, “No- it’s just playing hide and seek! Haha! Kidding! Yes, I cut my hair you silly!”

So, instead of graciously getting myself out of this social faux pas, I did what any other socially retarded person would do. I asked, "Are you kidding?"

ARE YOU KIDDING???? Really???? It’s like I wasn’t happy just having my foot resting comfortably in my mouth. I had to shove it all the way down my gullet so that my pancreas could get in on the toe munching action.

Thinking before speaking has never been one of my strong suits, but this was bad even for me! I feel terrible!! Not only am I super embarrassed that I showed all these women what a socially inept turd head I am, but I also totally embarrassed that lady and, if she’s anything like me, I probably made her cry and I feel beyond terrible about that.

You guys. I just. I mean. UUUUGHHHHH!!!!

I don’t know if I should continue going out to other social events in hopes that “practice makes perfect” and I’ll gain some much needed social awareness, or if I should just lock myself in my house for another 10 years and only emerge if there is a huge piece of duct tape securely fastened over my mouth.

For now, I think I’m just going to go over there- under that rock in the distance- and then just curl up and die. Right after I point out that man’s bald spot while farting in church.

*Note: NEVER EVER EVER EVER ask a woman if she’s pregnant! EVER!!!!!

May Day! Mayday!

I was sooo looking forward to the first week of May. My Mister had a business trip back to the States, so it was a prime opportunity for us all to go back so the fam could meet little SweetPea. I would be able to go to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival with Lyteyz and Regina. We would then go to the southwest to celebrate Mother’s Day with our mothers and then have them babysit so we could celebrate our anniversary, as well. All in all, a perfect plan for a perfect trip.

Alas. Life is not perfect. We’re still waiting for little SweetPea’s passport which means My Mister is back in the States all by himself, visiting our friends, enjoying a full night’s sleep (well, when he gets over the jetlag), in a bed all by himself and, most importantly, drinking free refills. All while completely squandering the prime wool buying opportunity I would have totally taken advantage of at MDSW.

As for me? I’m still Down Under all by my lonesome with a toddler and a newborn and, as of this posting, am still alive to tell the tale. And so are my kids. Woohoo! Go me!

I know he knows, but just so that I can declare it publically for the whole world to see, and just in case he’s even thinking about staying just a minute longer, I MISS MY MISTER! He is a phenomenal husband and daddy and I truly feel it in my bones when he’s gone because he helps with so much around the house and with taking care of the kids and me, especially in those early days postpartum. With him gone, I have to handle by myself all of the feedings and bath times, temper tantrums (our first real tantrum happened last week- terrible twos has come early!), and midnight diaper blowouts. I have to make all the big decisions by myself, as well. Decisions like, do I really need to change the baby’s diaper if it’s just a shart? (Answer: Depends on where it falls on the Shartyness Scale. Anything over “Enough to Butter a Bread” and you should probably change it.)

Well, after My Mister left on Friday, I decided that I was not going to just let the TV babysit my kids while I wept in the corner curled up in the fetal position. I mean, after spending Saturday and Sunday like that, of course. They don’t count since it’s the weekend and I remember reading in some parenting book that all parents get the weekend off and you can wait until the Shartyness Scale reaches, “Stop Deluding Yourself- It’s Poop” before you have to change the diaper.

So on Sunday, I made a plan for the week. I was going to attack the week like a Professional Mom would. Like my mom would.

Side note: I have two under two. So did my mom- I was 14 months younger than my older brother. I have no idea how my mom did the things she did and I often wonder how it can be that I am related to her. As I’m verbalizing how overwhelmed I’m feeling and voicing my insecurities and wondering to myself, “How did my mom do it??” My Mister asks me, “Well, your mom did a good job. How did she do it?”

Dude. It does not matter that I was thinking the same thing. If a husband does not want an epic, hormonal, postpartum meltdown that will be sung about by minstrels sitting around the fire as a way to instill fear and terror into their audience, he should never compare his wife to her mother. Besides. Having two under two is probably the reason my mom went crazy. (Haha! Kidding! Kinda…)

So my plan for the week started with ordering groceries for in-store pickup which I would retrieve Monday morning after dropping off the recyclables (Cash for Cans! Yay!) and picking up the cat food at the vet’s, followed by mailing a package to my cousin whose daughter is 10 days younger than SweetPea. This is actually really cool since I am 11 days older than my cousin. I’m not sure what the odds are of that happening but it must be a good omen that everything would go perfectly since the planets were aligned and I was sending her two cute crocheted dresses which means bonus points for the day.

ANYwho… I have to order the groceries by 11pm the previous night to pick up at 9am the next morning. Sunday night rolled around and I was still in the fetal position in the corner, so I did not order the groceries.

My plan was not off to a great start.

No worries. Monday morning rolls around and, if I order by 11am, I can pick them up by 3pm, so we would have actual food in our house and Little Mister wouldn’t have to go around picking up random blobs off the floor and scarfing them down like he hadn’t eaten in a week. (For reals- he kept saying, “MMMMMM! Good!” and refused to give me what was in his mouth. I really hope it was the popcorn we had the previous day and not cat litter or something worse- like a bug.)

I decided to treat Monday as if I was going to battle work so I pried my crusty pajamas off my body and threw them in the fire wash and actually got dressed in actual clothes and even put on makeup as a way of saying, “I am making over $10 for my recyclables so I’m going to look like I earned that money!” After getting all dolled up and then reassuring my frightened Little Mister that I was indeed his mom, I logged in and started my grocery order. I then had to choose the time I wanted to pick up our food. This is when I realized things were a little off today. There was no option to pick up groceries today- only tomorrow (Tuesday) morning.

Huh.

No worries- I still had other errands to run and Lord knows there were still plenty of blobs on the floor for Little Mister to eat, so it’s all good. (See? This is why I don’t vacuum all that often. Now you know.)

On the way to the recycle center, My Mister skyped me. As we were talking, I told him that I remember seeing something about a parade later on that morning. This is when I realized that there must be something really special about today. Good thing I curled my eyelashes.

He told me, “Oh yeah- it’s a holiday today.”

I was thinking of all the important holidays where there could be a parade in May and didn’t think they celebrated Memorial Day but could it really be Memorial Day already? I mean, I know I have been in a hormonal daze lately, but could I really have misplaced an entire month? That would explain how SweetPea got so huge so quickly…. (For reals- both my babies went from newborn to Baby Huey in no time flat. I think my boobies have butter on tap instead of breast milk.)

Then My Mister said “Mayday!” I thought he was asking for help in some silly World War Two way in order to make me laugh, but no, he said it was the holiday May Day. (??)

Since we don’t celebrate that holiday in the States (do we?), I truly have no idea what it’s about but it dawned on me that it was probably the reason why I couldn’t pick up my groceries that day.

Then the wheels slowly turned in my head and the pieces started to fit together when I realized that, if it was a special enough holiday to have a parade, and special enough to prevent me from picking up my groceries, then it most likely meant that it was special enough for EVERYTHING to be closed.

Yep. The recycle center. The post office. Even the vet. All closed.

What the crap, Australia. I got out of my pajamas and was even wearing deodorant and you pull this lame-o trick on me??

Well, I thought that it wasn’t a total bust since I had the double stroller in the back of the car so we could at least go to the parade.

But, no.

I had 4 bags of recyclables sitting on top of my stroller and the parade started in 15 minutes. Not enough time for me to go home, unload all the stupid recyclables and then head back out to the stupid parade on this stupid, made up holiday. And I didn’t even get my hard-earned $10, either.

So, I went home. Unloaded the kids. Plopped them in front of the TV, and went back to my corner to curl back up into the fetal position and wash my mascara off with my tears.

See? This is why I should never get out of my pajamas. Now you know.

Free As a Caged Bird

OhMyLanta, y'all. It's a miracle! I actually got both kiddiewinks down for a nap AT THE SAME TIME.  You have no idea how rare this is. It's almost as rare as a blog post from me. I KNOW, RIGHT??

Of course this means that I actually have some very coveted time all to myself. I could use it to nap, because heaven knows how much I love to sleep, but I decided to instead use this very rare free time and spend it on myself. What to do...what to do?? Paint my nails? Bush my teeth? Use the bathroom by myself??

Seriously- it was so cute when my cat was a kitten and she would stick her tiny little paw under the bathroom door when it was closed and gently mewl letting me know she was all alone out in the big mean world. It's not so cute when it's the hand of your toddler who is crying, "MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY! DOOR CLOSED! MOOOOMMMY!" I mean, I rarely close the door since I want him to see us use "the potty" so he will learn how it's done (he's actually doing well with the whole potty thing- when he farts, or he hears a fart, he'll scream, "POOP!!" and grab his butt. That's m'boy!), but sometimes mommy just needs a few minutes all to herself or she is going to go all the way to CrazyTown this time and there is no turning back. Like the old adage says, the good thing about having kids is that you'll never be alone....the bad thing about having kids is that YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE.

Anywho, I decided to use this rare time instead to give a little update since I've not really been responding to texts, emails, FB messages, or phone calls and I think some of my loved ones are wondering if I'm still alive. Yes, I'm alive and doing relatively well. However, I don't have much time to respond to people who are either not under the age of two, or who require a diaper change or a breastfeed (or both at the same time- although I needed Big Mister's help for that, but it worked! Yes, seriously.)

******************************

HA! So, as I was typing that, Sweet Pea decided that I've had far too much free time (20 minutes) and I needed to attend to her right away. Considering she had spit up all over her hair and clothes, and subsequently my bed, I figured she was right. And then I noticed a yellow spot on her pajamas. It's pretty bad when you are not sure if it's a fresh yellow stain or if it's from the last time she wore them. And then you hope that you had washed them since the last time she wore them.

Anywho, my free time is now up. I'm still tired, my nails are still unpolished, I still need to use the bathroom, and I'm poorly groomed, so please don't knock on my door because I'm not going to answer. I don't care if you know that I'm home. CrazyTown is not for the faint of heart....or those with a working sense of smell.

Peace out, yo.