Oh my god. He'll be the death of us, I'm sure. (Or at least our financial ruin.) I know, I know...you look at this face and think, "How could that precious wittle puppy wuppy get on anyone's nerves?" Cha. Right off the bat, that spot on his nose is from him neurotically trying to get out of his crate. He's crated maybe once or twice a week. Seriously. (The ear bows are just for pretty. And my, isn't he pretty?)
Yesterday he got a hold of a nearly empty Desitin tube. He chewed on in just a little before I got it away from him, but I honestly didn't think too much of it. But later, when I gave him dinner and he proceeded to blow chunks all of the kitchen floor, my heart almost stopped. I told the husband what had happened and pondered if it was all related.
I wound up calling an emergency vet since it was after hours. I explained what had happened and they told me to keep an eye on him but to bring him in if there was any more vomiting. I had a tiny breakdown and went to work, texting the husband often to make sure he was still okay. He seemed just fine, and he seems okay this morning. He finished breakfast without incident and he's running around like crazy again, stealing the babies' stuffed animals and waiting for Boobers to drop his sippy cup so he can lick the few dribbles off the end.
This is all important because it was last night that I realized that I really, really, really like this dog. He is such a pain in the ass, but man, I'm attached. The thought of him not feeling well or something worse happening just about breaks my heart. He's a good boy, and chewed tubes of butt cream or not, I love him.
He's still humping the kids though.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Oscar did swimmingly yesterday, and I've never seen him light up the way he did when I went to pick him up last evening. They did send him home with a lampshade collar, but he's luckily left his, uh...droopy pouch alone.
But Big D saw the collar and exclaimed, "They gave you a lampshade for Oscar? Cool!" He asked what it was for. I glanced at the husband, who offered no help. I told him it was in case he wouldn't leave his incision alone on his tummy.
"But why does he have an incision?"
I cleared my throat and threw a look to the husband again. Big D just turned eight, and even though I've been pregnant twice around him, he's never asked about sex or babies or birth. So I've waited on telling him the gory details. I know I need to do it soon, and I will, but man. I was not in the mood last night.
"Oscar went to the vet today to be neutered." Yeah. I was hoping it would fly, too. No dice.
This time I kicked the husband. He sniffed and said, "Yep. We got him fixed today. He's all fixed!"
Big D actually accepted that answer, believe it or not. I could tell him that babies are conceived by nose rubbing and are birthed by sneezes, and he would completely buy it. I'm really dreading the time when we have to really hammer out the nitty-gritty aspects.
But how awesome would it be if that were true? Nose rubbing is so much more dignified, I think.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
It's Tuesday! I purposely wait for Tuesdays just to spew randomness everywhere. You can thank Keely for that.
I took Oscar to the vet today to be neutered. I'm really hoping this helps his humping problem. It's awkward to watch your friend's three-year-old and have to tell her that yeah, my dog humped your baby A LOT while you were gone. Sorry!
Since this whole morning was screwed by waking up late and then getting the dog to the vet's late, I didn't drop the babies off at my mom's today. So it looks like I'm turning to Dora and Blue for some baby-sitting back up.
I got lost on the way back from the vet clinic this morning. It's on a side of town that I'm completely unfamiliar with, and I got turned around, and wouldn't you know it? I'm not equipped with a fucking compass. I'm thinking about having one implanted into the back of my hand. I resisted calling the husband to help me out, even though there were a couple of panicky, near-tears moments. So there's that.
A guy walked into work yesterday and said he needed help. The three of us that were there looked at him attentively, and when he said he needed a topic to write a persuasive paper for school, I audibly snorted. I couldn't help it. I can barely keep up with my own homework, and I'm sure as hell not helping him.
Did you know sometimes I'm evil? Because now that I've typed that out, I look like a huge asshole. Huh.
There's no warm doggy body keeping my feet warm. No cold doggy nose poking me. No puppy eyes begging for a snack. I think I adore that damn dog.
Okay, I think I can wrap up the randomness here. I really wish every day was random Tuesday.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I may have taken a little hiatus there. Sorry about the lack of warning.
I've been...uh, busy? Yeah, we'll go with that. Also add in a touch of uninspired, PMSy, and real tired and that about sums it up. But I thought I'd come back to let you know:
Boobers is talking up a storm and will be TWO in a couple of months. Ow.
Big D got on Google Maps the other day to show me his whole entire bus route. Fascinating and it cracked me up.
Smella? Screamy. Girly. Has door-slamming down pat.
The husband has been obsessing over the new Dora. She's not nearly as hot as Barbie though.
I really, really, really hate my job. Before every shift, I dream some one calls to tell me not to come because the store burned down. No luck yet.
I can't wait until summer break. For a multitude of reasons.
So there's that. I think the hiatus is over, but no promises. After all, some day the store might really burn down. And think of all the free time I'll have!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
The dog snatched Boober's pop-tart and scarfed it. I dropped a tortilla chip and then he promptly scarfed that.
About ten minutes later, the dog barfed on the floor.
Boobers bopped Smella in the nose. She cried hysterically. (And no, she wasn't hurt that bad.)
The dog licked Smella. She cried hysterically.
Boobers snatched a fruit snack of Smella's (because she was PLAYING with them, not eating them). She cried hysterically.
Apparently my insurance only covers two well-baby visits during the child's second year of life. Because I had Boober's one-year check up six days after he turned one, he's had three check ups in his second year. Luckily, the insurance company will reprocess it. Fuckers.
Big D's school called me yesterday because he was running a fever. So my Tuesday, where I usually have no kids, was totally interrupted by an eight-year-old who didn't really seem all that sick to me.
Big D is home today so I can take him to the doctor because he says his ears are plugged up.
My house is a wreck and there are piles of laundry multiplying.
I still need to study more for anatomy. (And Keely, bone doohickies are supposed to be there. Like the deltoid tuberosity on the humerus. Except there are more doohickies than bones, I think.)
Smella just "accidentally dropped" a chicken nugget on the floor. Guess who snarfed it down. And then guess who cried hysterically.
I fucking give up.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Thank god for Keely and her excuse to be all willy-nilly. I think I can thank her for keeping this blog going.
1. I have a huge test in anatomy and physiology this Saturday over bones. And even though humans have 206 bones, that's not the problem. The problem are all the bone accoutrements like fossas and foramens and doohickies galore. Seriously. Bone doohickies.
2. Life with Oscar is going swimmingly, thanks for asking. He's eaten a few plastic dinosaurs here and there, but other than that, he's not too bad.
3. My mom has the babies today and has been keeping them for me the past several Tuesdays. It's so awesome I can barely stand it. And quiet. I can actually hear myself think.
4. I'm sure everyone's seen this already, but I'm slow on the uptake. So here. I giggled and then was a little perturbed.
5. What's it all about when you pull up to a red light and don't line up head-to-head with the car next to you? Like there's an unwritten rule that your windows can't line up so you can look at the driver next to you. And how awkward is it when someone breaks that unwritten rule? You start to feel a little panicky and weird. "OMG! Someone's RIGHT THERE. Do I look? No. Stare straight ahead. Wait. Are they looking at me? EEEEEEK. WhatdoIdo, whatdoIdooooo? Whew, light's green."
Or is that just me?