Hey everyone. Just wanted to let you know that Zoe is doing better now. For those of you who didn't know, Zoe was admitted to the hospital Tuesday afternoon to be treated for dehydration related to rotavirus. She had been throwing up and having diarrhea on and off for four days and it went downhill very quickly Tuesday. After about an hour of IV fluids she was looking better, but she was so dehydrated it took 12 hours for her to produce the littlest pee pee diaper.
We were released yesterday afternoon and although the diarrhea is still persistent she is MUCH better. a 110% improvement over the last week.
Thanks to everyone who called and sent prayers. We love you and we're so happy she's on the mend.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
In Memoriam - Jupiter "Foo Man" The Cat
This has to be one of the worst weekends in the history of our family. Saturday heralded in an upset tummy for me that turned into a raging stomach virus that had begging the good Lord for mercy.
Then, sadly, on Sunday we learned that our beloved Jupiter had been struck by a car and died. I am crying as I write this, because although mommies are not never, EVER supposed to have favorites but Jupiter was my special little boy.
Here is his story...
The first time I went to try on wedding dresses I went with my best friend Deena. In February David had rescued Gracie from our local Humane Society for me as a Valentine's day gift and I wanted to get her a companion. Ok, Ok, I know that David will call me on this one - I wanted a kitten because Gracie had decided that she was DAVID's cat and NOT mine and didn't particularly care for me very much.
So, on this glorious March day in which I was shopping for my wedding gown I had also decided to shop for a new kitten. I saw an ad in the paper from a woman who had kittens free to a good home and when I called she told me she wanted to be sure that her kittens went to multi cat households. When we got there, we saw why. The woman, who was the self named "Cat Lady" had about 20 adult cats, 15 kittens and God knows how many dogs. Her house was overrun and she had male strays coming in her pet doors to mate with her females and fight with her males. None of the cats had shots, were fed properly or had been spayed/neutered. The woman's arms were scratched from hand to shoulder. Deena and I were horrified. I wanted so badly to take ALL of them home.
The first cat to catch my eye was a gorgeous but extremely skittish harlequin tabby. She was so tiny but soooo beautiful and she looked JUST like my first cat Harley. I knew I'd be taking her home. My attention kept getting pulled to a cat that Deena had chosen though, a furry gray ball of crazy cute that just settled into the palm of her hand for a nap. He was adorable and the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
After much deliberation I decided to face David's wrath and take two home. We took the harlequin and the crazy gray ball of cute.
David was furious when I came home. I told him I'd take one back in the morning, knowing full well that one night watching those two crazy kittens play together would melt his heart like it had melted mine. It did, and we became parents to THREE disfunctional cats.
Later we would learn that Jupiter, having been severely malnourished at his prior home, would have health issues to contend with his whole life. Jupiter had a lower than normal IQ (think Forrest Gump), joint and tendon problems, suffered petite mal seizures and had malformations in his mouth and jaw that put him a higher risk for kidney disease. My God though he was hilarious!
He had it very clear in his mind that I was his mama...a cat nonetheless and loved nothing better than to "groom" me in the mornings when I wore my fuzzy bathrobe. Hell, I have years of stories I can tell you about this amazing animal, but it breaks my heart to think of them right now.
Jupiter...know that you were loved beyond reason and we were priveledged to have you in our lives. There will never be another cat like you. I know you're waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge and that one day we'll see you again...but for me it will be too long before I hold you in my arms again, and see that snaggle toothed grin, and hear that sweet little purr. I love you furbaby...you will never be forgotten.
Rest in Peace my sweet little Foo Man
3/01 -03/18/2007
Then, sadly, on Sunday we learned that our beloved Jupiter had been struck by a car and died. I am crying as I write this, because although mommies are not never, EVER supposed to have favorites but Jupiter was my special little boy.
Here is his story...
The first time I went to try on wedding dresses I went with my best friend Deena. In February David had rescued Gracie from our local Humane Society for me as a Valentine's day gift and I wanted to get her a companion. Ok, Ok, I know that David will call me on this one - I wanted a kitten because Gracie had decided that she was DAVID's cat and NOT mine and didn't particularly care for me very much.
So, on this glorious March day in which I was shopping for my wedding gown I had also decided to shop for a new kitten. I saw an ad in the paper from a woman who had kittens free to a good home and when I called she told me she wanted to be sure that her kittens went to multi cat households. When we got there, we saw why. The woman, who was the self named "Cat Lady" had about 20 adult cats, 15 kittens and God knows how many dogs. Her house was overrun and she had male strays coming in her pet doors to mate with her females and fight with her males. None of the cats had shots, were fed properly or had been spayed/neutered. The woman's arms were scratched from hand to shoulder. Deena and I were horrified. I wanted so badly to take ALL of them home.
The first cat to catch my eye was a gorgeous but extremely skittish harlequin tabby. She was so tiny but soooo beautiful and she looked JUST like my first cat Harley. I knew I'd be taking her home. My attention kept getting pulled to a cat that Deena had chosen though, a furry gray ball of crazy cute that just settled into the palm of her hand for a nap. He was adorable and the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
After much deliberation I decided to face David's wrath and take two home. We took the harlequin and the crazy gray ball of cute.
David was furious when I came home. I told him I'd take one back in the morning, knowing full well that one night watching those two crazy kittens play together would melt his heart like it had melted mine. It did, and we became parents to THREE disfunctional cats.
Later we would learn that Jupiter, having been severely malnourished at his prior home, would have health issues to contend with his whole life. Jupiter had a lower than normal IQ (think Forrest Gump), joint and tendon problems, suffered petite mal seizures and had malformations in his mouth and jaw that put him a higher risk for kidney disease. My God though he was hilarious!
He had it very clear in his mind that I was his mama...a cat nonetheless and loved nothing better than to "groom" me in the mornings when I wore my fuzzy bathrobe. Hell, I have years of stories I can tell you about this amazing animal, but it breaks my heart to think of them right now.
Jupiter...know that you were loved beyond reason and we were priveledged to have you in our lives. There will never be another cat like you. I know you're waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge and that one day we'll see you again...but for me it will be too long before I hold you in my arms again, and see that snaggle toothed grin, and hear that sweet little purr. I love you furbaby...you will never be forgotten.
Rest in Peace my sweet little Foo Man
3/01 -03/18/2007
Zoe this past year
Just a few of Happy Baby Daddy's favorite pictures from Monkey start to Monkey now. Now keep in mind, I love the pretty pictures, but Dad likes the character shots the most!
And like the good lady said, we're missing you very much Jupiter-poopiter. Gracie and Gemeni took turns waiting for you at the window last night. I'm never sure who reads this, but for our family this is a very big loss. We're also the kind of people to throw a party for you, which we will do. There will be no more cat nip when its over, no beer undrunk. You were a hilarious cat, and your name will become household.
"Did you seriously just drink the dishwater and pour your beer down the sink?! What a Jupiter!" You literally pooped on me once you rotten bastard! You really made us happier, and not many human people can claim that in life. We really miss you, we really love you.
And like the good lady said, we're missing you very much Jupiter-poopiter. Gracie and Gemeni took turns waiting for you at the window last night. I'm never sure who reads this, but for our family this is a very big loss. We're also the kind of people to throw a party for you, which we will do. There will be no more cat nip when its over, no beer undrunk. You were a hilarious cat, and your name will become household.
"Did you seriously just drink the dishwater and pour your beer down the sink?! What a Jupiter!" You literally pooped on me once you rotten bastard! You really made us happier, and not many human people can claim that in life. We really miss you, we really love you.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Whipped
Something happens when you become a dad. Maybe it doesn't happen to everyone, maybe it's just me. But with the amount of Walmart receipts showing both "I Love Daddy" picture frames and hollow point .45 handgun ammunition, I can't be the only one.
So when you become a dad, you become a wussy. There I said it. It's not that you beg to see pictures of other people's kids, but when you do you say, "Awww, he/she/it's adorable!" ...... And you mean it. I feel wierd in a grocery store. I see some kid doing something cute in the toy isle and I get all gooey. "What a cute little kid! How adorable!" Or worse yet: "What a sweetie!" Ack. I gag at my own Hallmark-i-ness.
Now I'm not crying over any Oscar Meyer Wiener commercials or anything (that just looks wrong when written down-- whatever the context), but I do identify more strongly with dads on television and such. Of course it's simple psychology 101, but that doesn't mean I expected it. I never knew I'd utter: "I love that little cheerleader outfit!" and mean it. I never knew I'd get caught humming "Ring around the Rosie" at work. And mostly, I never knew fatherhood could be this rewarding.
So when you become a dad, you become a wussy. There I said it. It's not that you beg to see pictures of other people's kids, but when you do you say, "Awww, he/she/it's adorable!" ...... And you mean it. I feel wierd in a grocery store. I see some kid doing something cute in the toy isle and I get all gooey. "What a cute little kid! How adorable!" Or worse yet: "What a sweetie!" Ack. I gag at my own Hallmark-i-ness.
Now I'm not crying over any Oscar Meyer Wiener commercials or anything (that just looks wrong when written down-- whatever the context), but I do identify more strongly with dads on television and such. Of course it's simple psychology 101, but that doesn't mean I expected it. I never knew I'd utter: "I love that little cheerleader outfit!" and mean it. I never knew I'd get caught humming "Ring around the Rosie" at work. And mostly, I never knew fatherhood could be this rewarding.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Creative Independence
Happy Baby Monkey is a pretty independent little girl. She likes to do things herself, and I'm sure thanks to mom, practices a new skill with a single mindedness that's slightly unnerving. I mean seriously, how many times can a person walk up and down a step? She has tried a myriad of stepping scenerios, "What if my foot was here? Or here? Or what if I turned this way, would I still make the step?" and has found a handful of places around the house to practice. It's pretty cool, don't get me wrong. But with this studious independence comes a price.
Zoe's worst time comes around midnight - 3 am. Parents can wax intellectual for hours about the differences between a 'hungry' cry versus a 'sleepy' cry. The cry Zoe comes up with is more of a 'Boot to the Face' cry. It's a wail, sure, but there's some banshee mixed in...and a seasoning of maniac. Starts out with that breaking glass quality, then descends down into a gravely growling "ahhhhhrrrrrAAAgggggccccckkk!" Hell of a way to wake up.
Course, that's just the bark. Usually Zoe is so sweet, even in the wee hours of the morning. She smiles and chats you up a bit, just to make sure the niceities are observed. She sips a little water for context and giggles when you put her back to bed. What a freakin angel. Seriously, we're so lucky. Some kids NEVER do that.
But then there's the 'end times' version. She kicks and bows her back like posessed. Swings her hands in front of your face (we're REALLY working towards breaking that nasty habit) and knocks anything out of your hands that you're trying to use to soothe her. "Do you want your passy?" Whack! Right out of your hand. She want's to sit down, screams to sit down. You sit. She freaks out. YOU JUST SAT DOWN!!! HOW DARE YOU! She want's to be put down on the floor. Then promptly rolls around the floor like a worm on fire, braying like an agitated howler donkey.
The only thing you can do, and this is very daoistic, is nothing. If you try and do ANYTHING for her, she starts spitting nails. So it's sort of wierd: I have this shrieking mini-person in my lap, surrounded by all the accoutrement of parenting. Pacifiers, sippy cups, teddy bears, blocks, blankets, blankies (there's a difference- I know I know, it's marketing but whattya gonna do?) etc. etc. And I can't touch a single one. All I can do is position them in a way that she'll find them on her own. And even then, if she sees me moving anything ... she hates that thing. 'Mr. Duckie..... you're dead to me"
The real solution to this kind of behavior is just let her freak out. When she realizes it doesn't get a rise out of us, won't drive us to serve her every need and desire, she'll stop. Or at least find a different way to blow our mind. Which is what we do, we let her throw her little fit, and when she's done we comfort her and that's that.
But it's a little surreal to watch her systematically decline every attempt at soothing: knocking a pacifier out of my lap because she saw me put it there. Just to have her get up, walk over, and pick up the very same pacifier. Oh and then there's the look, "I don't need you hairy daddy man. I have my own freakin hands!"
Well that's right Happy Baby Monkey. You are a strong, independent 1 year old girl with opposable thumbs and an attitude. You pee on the floor for fun and chase cats for fitness. You are super bad. And I'll be here in a few minutes, when you want to curl up in a warm blanket and nuzzle your drooly face in my neck. I'll be here in thirty years, I'll be here in fifty. These arms are just useless tools, without you to hold them in.
Zoe's worst time comes around midnight - 3 am. Parents can wax intellectual for hours about the differences between a 'hungry' cry versus a 'sleepy' cry. The cry Zoe comes up with is more of a 'Boot to the Face' cry. It's a wail, sure, but there's some banshee mixed in...and a seasoning of maniac. Starts out with that breaking glass quality, then descends down into a gravely growling "ahhhhhrrrrrAAAgggggccccckkk!" Hell of a way to wake up.
Course, that's just the bark. Usually Zoe is so sweet, even in the wee hours of the morning. She smiles and chats you up a bit, just to make sure the niceities are observed. She sips a little water for context and giggles when you put her back to bed. What a freakin angel. Seriously, we're so lucky. Some kids NEVER do that.
But then there's the 'end times' version. She kicks and bows her back like posessed. Swings her hands in front of your face (we're REALLY working towards breaking that nasty habit) and knocks anything out of your hands that you're trying to use to soothe her. "Do you want your passy?" Whack! Right out of your hand. She want's to sit down, screams to sit down. You sit. She freaks out. YOU JUST SAT DOWN!!! HOW DARE YOU! She want's to be put down on the floor. Then promptly rolls around the floor like a worm on fire, braying like an agitated howler donkey.
The only thing you can do, and this is very daoistic, is nothing. If you try and do ANYTHING for her, she starts spitting nails. So it's sort of wierd: I have this shrieking mini-person in my lap, surrounded by all the accoutrement of parenting. Pacifiers, sippy cups, teddy bears, blocks, blankets, blankies (there's a difference- I know I know, it's marketing but whattya gonna do?) etc. etc. And I can't touch a single one. All I can do is position them in a way that she'll find them on her own. And even then, if she sees me moving anything ... she hates that thing. 'Mr. Duckie..... you're dead to me"
The real solution to this kind of behavior is just let her freak out. When she realizes it doesn't get a rise out of us, won't drive us to serve her every need and desire, she'll stop. Or at least find a different way to blow our mind. Which is what we do, we let her throw her little fit, and when she's done we comfort her and that's that.
But it's a little surreal to watch her systematically decline every attempt at soothing: knocking a pacifier out of my lap because she saw me put it there. Just to have her get up, walk over, and pick up the very same pacifier. Oh and then there's the look, "I don't need you hairy daddy man. I have my own freakin hands!"
Well that's right Happy Baby Monkey. You are a strong, independent 1 year old girl with opposable thumbs and an attitude. You pee on the floor for fun and chase cats for fitness. You are super bad. And I'll be here in a few minutes, when you want to curl up in a warm blanket and nuzzle your drooly face in my neck. I'll be here in thirty years, I'll be here in fifty. These arms are just useless tools, without you to hold them in.
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