Crazy Cat Killer

Everyone who knows me knows I have never been what you would call a "cat person". I prefer dogs, but I really am not an animal lover at all. (Usually when I say that, people judge me as being a heartless, Godless being who needs to be destroyed). It is not that I want to inflict harm on any animal, I just prefer that someone else be responsible for them. Now, having said that, the desire to inflict harm on an animal has never been an issue.....until today.

Our neighbors have a cat who was a stray and has now become a neighborhood pet of sorts. Carter and Pat love this cat. They have named him Garfield. They play with him and feed him. I don't kick him. Because of Carter and Pat's affinity for this one feline, we now have another ugly, stupid, and downright vicious cat who has started crawling around our house. ( I imagine at night that he shows his true colors as some type of demonic creature sent from the underworld.)

Now, before I go into this story, you must remember that the baby is now four weeks old and I am fully sleep deprived. That is part of my defense. Anyway, I have been working on cleaning the house all week and because today is trash day, I got all of the trash together yesterday and took it out. When I walked out the back door, carrying the baby in one arm and two bags of trash in the other, what did I find? Crazy demonic cat coming away from the trash can and trash strewn all over the yard!!!!!

I don't really know how to explain what happened next. It was as if something snapped and I became Loraina Bobbit or something. I stopped, dropped the trash, walked back into the house and laid the baby down and walked, no really more like ran, back outside. I wanted to throw something at that stupid cat but there was nothing I dared throw out of fear that Pat would kill me if I broke our new gas grill or his plants growing on the back deck. So, I resorted to the only thing I could find. I took off one of my shoes and began chasing this cat through the back yard toward the woods.

I didn't realize how hard it is to run, post-partum in one show down a slight hill chasing a demonic cat. However, just as I felt I had him cornered into the woods, he turned on me! I instantly felt fear that this cat was going to overcome me and eat out my eyeballs or something so I screamed and began running back up the hill toward the house, carrying my one shoe. Just as I reached the deck, I turned and looked and there sat Garfield....on the steps....licking his tiny little paw as if he were watching a show at the theater or something. I started yelling "Garfield move, move now!" He just sat there, indignant, as if he owned those steps. There I was, stuck between two cats, praying for my life when I remembered, "My shoe!" I rared back and threw the cat at Garfield to get him to move from the steps so I could get in the house. He took off, clearing my entrance to safety. I opened the door and ran inside, locking both cats outside. Today, I feel like a total survivor. :)

Sick Humor

Anyone who has ever tried to soothe a newborn to sleep will appreciate the humor  ( I say humor after the fact and in a most sarcastic tone) of my experience today.

First of all let me say that I have decided there is some type of button or switch in my rear end that connects to the baby's brain so that as soon as my butt hits the chair, couch, bed, etc. that he is stimulated to wake up and cry. It is inevitable and has become a running joke in our household that if it is time for the baby to wake for any reason, all I have to do is sit down. Anyway, I digress...

So, after the chaos that starts my day (Carter's deciding to start this morning with a primal scream at the top of lungs which led to the baby's crying is fodder for another post), I begin the routine of fixing the bottle, changing the baby's diaper, feeding, burping, etc. But, it has also become a running joke that I have bad baby karma right now. We have several hurdles with this beautiful boy that makes it a long, sometimes tedious process to feed him and get him to sleep. Recently I have noticed in my routine that we have now added hiccups, repeated poop sessions, and clothing changes. It's getting old.

This morning was no different. I fixed the bottle, changed his diaper, sit down and begin feeding and he started pooping. I got up and changed his diaper again. I walked out of his room and what did he do? Yep....pooped again, then smiled. Ahhh yes, just what I hoped for.

After his third changing, I sat back down and finished feeding him. As I finished burping him (for the fourth time) he got the hiccups which led to his immediate throwing up which led to changing him again. We are now looking into buying stock in Pampers and Johnson & Johnson. At this point he was so sleepy he was screaming so I began walking and singing songs to him. I rocked him, walked outside, gave him gas drops, etc for the next 90 minutes!!!! Finally, I got him into a deep sleep. I carried him in and laid him so carefully into his crib if he'd been a bomb he wouldn't have exploded.

I was so proud of my accomplishment I began to prematurely celebrate with a tiny little dance of joy. However, in my stupid, short-sighted celebration (dumb a$$), I accidentally kicked the end of his bed. Swear. If I hadn't been afraid of how badly it would've hurt, I would have punched myself in the face. So, I picked him up, carried him into the living room and sat down to start over again. Of course, if it wasn't for all of that I wouldn't have gotten my blog post done for the day, so maybe it worked out in my favor after all. Right.

New Baby, New Beginnings

I was in the shower earlier and I wondered at what point, if ever, my body would go back to normal. Baby Max is now 24 days old and I am still wearing my maternity pants because my c-section incision still has stitches and I still look like I'm about 5 months pregnant because the muscles which have now all been cut on both ends of my uterus taunt me with their inability to lift me out of a chair, much less accomplish a set of crunches (one of the many things about having a baby no one really cares to share....funny).

So, then I started to wonder, at what point in life did a size 2 become the norm? Why do I feel insanely guilty because 24 freaking days after having my abdomen cut open and an actual human being removed, I am not back down to a "normal" size? It is ridiculous.

In response to all of this foolish thought, I wondered if other moms out there have struggled after the birth of a child, not just with body issues, but with the guilt of going back to work, how to juggle multiple children without making one feel slighted, cooking dinner vs. takeout, etc. I am going to get back into blogging and I am going to be brutally honest with my own journey through these changes. I am also going to use this medium to post recipes, craft ideas, household tips, kid stuff, all the things we moms want to talk about and sometimes we just don't.

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