Fries With Mayo

Every once in a while, I come across funny memories from my old journals.  Throwback Thursday seems like a good excuse to post those old memories here.  This one comes from when my son was 5 1/2. Dear Child : Mommy, why don't you like brownies that much? Me : I don't know. I just don't. Dear Child : But,  why ? I just need to know: why? Me : It's just a matter of taste. Why don't you like sardines? Dear Child : Because the inside is meat. Me : You like salami. Salami is meat. Dear Child : I just don't like ham. Me : Huh? Dear Child : I don't like ham and the inside of sardines is made of ham. Me : Um... Sardines are made of sardines and ham is made of pigs. Sardines are fish. Dear Child : Well, I just don't like the taste of the insides of the sardine, and the looks of the outside, and the gross water of it, okay? Me : Okay. That makes sense. Dear child : So why don't you like brownies? Me : They're too sugary tasting. Dear child : Okay. The mora...

Sometimes, you leap out of bed in the morning, everything goes your way, and the sun is shining.  You feel an overwhelming sense of optimism and practically make everyone around you throw up a little in their mouths because you're so flipping happy. I know you will be saddened to know this was not one of those days.  In fact, it was like every living being in this house decided to gang up against me with body fluids and then laughed as I tried contain the deluge. DS and I were playing with elastics and carabiners... much more fun than all them fancy toys... when from the depths of the litter box came a strange and sinister sound.   I leapt  to my feet, all sorts of 40-year-old, ninja-like grace about me, and dashed to the bathroom to see what was going on. Usually, I leave a baby gate across the bathroom door, for reasons obvious only to someone who has a dog and or a toddler.  Of course, I'd forgotten to gate the door... Also of course, my dear dog had m...

If you have been following this blog for a while, you may wonder why there was a huge long pause and then suddenly I came back and there was a toddler in my stories.  As most of you know, I was, in my other life, previously a single dog lady with a side-helping of cats. All of a sudden, fate threw me a curveball and life changed in every way. Now, I am also (I still have aforementioned dog and cats) a single adoptive mother of a splendid baby boy, who is actually now a toddler.  It was a private adoption and I will spare the lad's privacy by not telling you the circumstances surrounding it, but suffice it to say it was a huge life change.  The lad, whom, for the time being, I referred to as "Meatloaf" due to his gargantuan size (he was 22 lbs. at less than 6 months), was born in December 2013 and came home from the hospital with me. People's reactions varied to the news, but mostly, everyone sweetly said things like, "Holy (expletive), M!  You (expletive) ...

One of the good things about being a pet owner before being a parent is that you get the opportunity to sometimes practice with parenting tools, such a cabinet locks, ahead of time.  Now, you might make a guess that the dog would get into the trash or something, or maybe into the pantry cupboard, and this is why I would need the cabinet locks, but you would be wrong. Luckily for me, Bad Cat is about as bright as a sack of rocks... or maybe a sack of broken light bulbs, because we know  how bright those are.  Unfortunately, Good Cat is blessed with above average cat intelligence and can open all cabinet doors using strange combinations of head banging and paw flipping.  This in itself would not be a problem if a) he didn't open the linen closet and b) Bad Cat didn't love to pee on linens. So anyway, cabinet locks.  Yay. Good Cat, as I've previously mentioned, has a splendid and hearty appetite, especially after he has indulged in a good hit of catnip. ...

They say the truth comes from the mouth of babes.  This may be true, except that sometimes, lies also come out of the mouths of babes, and then everyone's so busy believing trite platitudes about the truth that they assume the lies are truths and awkward awkwardness ensues. This came to play the other day (and several times since) when I went to the wonderful world that is Walmart.  Dear Sweet Son was in the cart, charming people with his winning smile as usual, trying to grab energy shots (which we know toddlers need quite much) off the shelves of the checkout line. As we got the the cashier, DSS decided to woo two middle-aged female employees with his great charms.  They succumbed instantly and began cooing over him in broken English (and I say this with love, as someone who spoke broken English for quite some time), patting his bare feet (bare due to the bizarre toddler need to instantly remove all footwear), and patting his adorable buzzcut.  He smiled his sm...

Conversations with my toddler (B's side approximated by translation)... B: I would like some tea, Mummy dearest. M: No you don't. You don't like tea. B: I want tea. M: Are you sure? B: I'm sure. Brew me some, please. M (brews some tea, adds honey, turns it into a cooler temp, puts in sippy cup, presents to B) B (with a dismissive wave): No, no. I don't like tea. ...............(elapsed time).............. B: Banana, please, darling mother. M: You'd like a banana! Let me get you one! Would you like it peeled or to eat it like a monkey? B: Monkey-style, dearest mum. That sounds like the most fun! M: Here you go! B (takes one bite): Here, Mummy. Here's a banana I got for you! M: I don't want a banana right now. That one's yours. B (peels down the banana till the top of it flops over and lands in a pile of cat hair): Oopsies. Your banana fell, Mumsy. M (picking up the hairy banana chunk): OK. We're j...

In case you don't remember because I hardly ever write here, I have one Good Cat and one Bad Cat.  You may remember Bad Cat from this episode .  You can rest easy knowing that I accidentally switched back to the brand of deodorant he prefers, and I am once again peeling him daily from his attachment to my armpits. I digress. This is actually a very short post. I have learned over time to psychically predict when Bad Cat is about to pee because he starts to yowl several minutes ahead of time.  Lest you decide my cat has a urinary tract infection and start getting all judgy, I will preemptively tell you that you are wrong so that you don't embarrass yourself later.  He's fine.  My hordes of friends all know about my cat's weird habits.  In fact, when we're in the restaurant and one of my friends has to pee, she will meow loudly in my ear so I exit the booth and let her pass.  Or, alternatively, she will meyowl softly in my ear, which is almost not ...