The 10 Commandments of Cats and Kids

Since becoming a parent to Mr. F and the cat, I've learned that I've been going about life all wrong. Here are a few things my cat and toddler have taught me...

1. It is never safe to go to the bathroom, for any reason, without supervision. For this reason, whether my trip to the bathroom is to brush my teeth, pee or have a bath, I have at least one set of eyes on me. This is especially true if you're a through-the-night-bathroom-trip-taker. You should carry your toddler and allow the cat to sit on your lap while you try to unravel some TP in a sleep-induced fog. Don't drop the kid on the way back to bed. They don't like that.  

2. One must never sleep alone. In fact, you should always have another living creature on top of you. The leg of a toddler or a cat bum in your face is a good thing. Make sure you don't try to casually move child and cat from your bed to toddler bed. They don't like that.

3. Behind the couch, under the bed and inside the radiator is the only place to keep valuable or important items including, but not limited to, credit cards, jewelry and favourite toys. You should remove these items every 3 minutes, as that is the frequency of their disappearance. Don't even think about trying to take a trip to the bathroom, either. Your only job is to remove these things from their "lost" places.

4. You should always stand directly in front of the door someone is about to open so that they hit you and know that you are there, waiting for them. This is especially true if someone was really living on the edge and went to the bathroom alone. Shame on them.

5. The fridge and cupboard doors should always be left open. Always. If you trip over them, that's your own damn fault.

6. Dust bunnies have feelings too. What were you thinking vacuuming them up and disposing of them? Gosh. And, HOW DARE YOU throw out any broken toys, crayons or old food. Seriously. Have you no heart?

7. 3am is the prime time to ask questions, chase your tail and demand pizza.

8. Water is more fun when it is spilled across counter tops, floors and furniture. Extra points are awarded to whomever successfully breaks the glass in the process to spill said water.

9. Trips to the potty should be announced as loudly as possible, at all times. Keep record of these trips - strangers need to know about your um, comings and goings.

10. Popsicles, nachos, ice cream and chocolate are all suitable for breakfast. If you do not get one or all of these things for breakfast, throw a temper tantrum and be snotty for the rest of the day. Make sure you get the cat on board with this - if your meltdown doesn't drive your big person crazy, the cat will make sure it trips her.

Disposed

Pro tip: Never wash a disposable diaper or pull-up.

Groan.

Bless Red's heart, he often does the laundry for all of us and this weekend is no exception. Since he just got back from another week at training camp, he had a bag-full and though I had done a mid-week load, I had a handful of F's things and a few of my own to throw in the load also. Like the awesome guy he is, Red made the trek downstairs and through the hall to the laundry room in the basement and threw the clothes that I'd given him into the laundry basket.

It wasn't until he came back from switching everything from washer to dryer that I realized what a dumbass I am.

"Do you think there was something in F's pockets?" he asked me, holding out his hand full of white weirdness. "There's this weird gel stuff all over our clothes."

DING. I knew. I knew right away. IDIOT.

I googled what to do while Red went to clean out the wash. Not knowing what the culprit was, he threw the entire wash load into the dryer - hidden diaper and all. Down the stairs I ran to stop the dryer and remove the diaper which, might I add, took forever to find.

We shook out the clothes, took out GOBS of goo, and wiped down both the washer and the dryer. Might I add that we have a shared laundry room? Efffffffffffffff.

Just in case you ever have a slip of the mind and forget to make sure that there's no pull-ups or diapers hidden amongst the clothes, here are a few tips for dealing with the disaster.

1. Use swear words. Seriously. The same way muttering a profanity helps reduce the amount of pain you feel when you stub your toe (I'm not kidding. Read about it here and swear away), it also helps you curb stress and generally makes you feel better. So, drop an F-bomb or thirty and get your rear in gear. You've got work to do, sister.

2. Shake it off. You may choose to have a dance party to further reduce stress. Do it up, just make sure you grab some of those gel pellet-covered clothes and shake the bejeezus out of them. Shake, shake, shake. Shake out the frustration of your own stupidity! You go girl! The more you get off the clothes, the happier you'll be. Sweep that shit up and discard it all. Marvel at how one little pull-up/disposable diaper can hold so much hateful gel-pellet goo.

3. The dryer is your friend. My Google-search told me to throw my clothes in the dryer and let it work its magic. Apparently the gel just dries up and falls off. Don't be surprised if you require a good lint brush after the clothes come out though. The good news: Your clothes are not ruined.

4. Clean out your washing machine. The washing machines in our laundry room are front loading, so it was easier on the back than reaching over but harder to actually clean because it was stuck all over. Use your hands to scoop as much out as possible, then an old cloth to get the remnants. Wipe down well to remove all trace of the gel pellets.

5. Caffeinate. It's necessary. Just accept it.

Hopefully you'll catch the goo/gel-pellets before throwing it in the dryer. I had to wash the dryer out too. Sigh.

Happy Saturday!

Unstuck

I have a really bad habit of getting stuck in my own head.

All manner of little things can do it to me. I worry about this and that, one stressor feeds another and the next thing I know I'm on the verge of tearing my hair out and crying into a glass of something alcoholic. This last month has certainly taken it's toll on me. Tomorrow, for example, will be one month since the day I found all of my belongings missing from my old apartment. The property rental company finally settled last week, and while it was only half of what it should have been, I just couldn't do it anymore. I was too tired.

I've left the dishes to pile up in the kitchen, laundry overflowing in the baskets, clothes strewn across my closet and eaten more than one bag of popcorn for lunch. I was tired, and most of it was my own damn fault.

Yesterday, I woke up sour. It may have been the fact that it was day two of a hangover (it would seem I'm not 19 any more), and it could have had something to do with the fact that my neighbours choose 4:48AM as the perfect time to blast really loud, really bad music. Must be nice to not have to get up and do anything in the morning. I texted my friend and expressed my displeasure at the whole thing. The texts ranged from "Are you going to go to class?" to "Today might be the day I finally lose my shit," but I managed to put on pants (real ones, with a button), and I went to class.

I went grocery shopping with one friend and ranted about how tired and frustrated I was. Another friend came over for movies and dinner and she and I ranted about how frustrated we both were. Then we put on hilarious music and danced. We went for hot chocolates, and I came home to a hot bath and I sat in front of my laptop for the better part of two hours, too wrapped up in my own head to write anything.

It was past my bedtime before I finally got out of my head, and it took a Skype call and a 5-minute laughing fit to do it. As it turned out, I went to bed two hours later than I should have and woke up positively exhausted with bad hair and a smile on my face. I needed a good laugh it would appear.

And I've already watched the 19-second video evidence I have of the hilarity twice.

Refueled

It's amazing to me how the simple things can have such great impacts in our lives.

It's everything from the extra five minutes of sleep to a secret shared with a friend. It's a hug, a kiss, or even a text that warms your heart when you're feeling terrible. These tiny gestures, simple moments can refuel us in a heartbeat when we're running completely on empty.

This past month has been unbelievable. If I put it all on paper, I find it hard to comprehend that it could have happened: apartment was left unlocked, found a new apartment, gave notice at old apartment, had old apartment stripped of all my belongings. It's not the kind of shit that happens in my life. I'm supposed to read it in the newspaper and feel sorry for the person who lost it all, not be picking up the pieces myself. I've also uprooted my life, said goodbye to my dreams, and am yo-yoing in and out of my son's life until I get my life back on track. It's been exhilarating and exhausting, infurating and uplifting all at the same time.

Earlier this week, I was completely wiped out. Empty. Zonked. It's no surprise: I can count on one hand the number of days I've laid low in the past three weeks. It's been running out for coffee, grabbing drinks, hanging out on my couch, meeting up for a walk, Wii golf competitions and everything in between. I've bounced from distraction to distraction, driven myself until I completely ran out of fuel. I woke up Tuesday morning feeling miserable: I just had nothing left. I didn't even feel like myself, so I stayed home and I laid on the couch all day. At 7:00, I went for a tea with my best friend and I enjoyed some downtime with her, when in fact... I should have enjoyed some downtime alone. The kind where you just stay in your pyjamas with unwashed hair and relax. On Wednesday, I decided to leave my comfort zone altogether. It was fun and mindblowing, and I found myself in bed by 9:00pm - an hour earlier than my usual!

It was a simple text message that refueled me this week. It spiralled into a marathon Skype call that kept me up past midnight and still managed to be energizing. It was laughing, open and shockingly refreshing. I woke up this morning on five hours of sleep, and in spite of being hungry and tired, I felt like a million bucks. I spent almost three hours talking to someone who gets it. Someone who could pull me out of my shell and get me out of my own head. Someone who could laugh both with me and at me.

It really is the little things in life.

Sunday Funday?

There are a handful of things I really love in the world: my family, my dog and good coffee are at the top of this list. I have been excited to share this post for the past four hours - yep, four hours. I just wanted to go back to sleep first. I haven't had excitement like this on a Sunday morning since I was in university.

Daisy is a one-year-old Beagle. She's got big floppy ears, double dew claws and freckles on her legs and belly. I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her, and so I handed over a good chunk of change to the breeder, wrapped her up in my arms and took her home to be our family pet. Finley absolutely adores her, and she him. All-in-all, she's a super dog. She only has one flaw: She is afraid of everything.

Neither one looks particularly bright, but Daisy is the one eyeing the camera. She was probably afraid.

I've mentioned before that she thinks her shadow - we can now add reflection to this one - is an entirely different entity, she's terrified of her own bark (and has only barked  twice in her life), and today I learned, she is going to be totally useless if something should go bump in the night. Some protector - this is where that dog shaming site comes into play, isn't it?

My brother, aka Uncle D, is one of my favourite people in the world. He is funny, clumbsy and even though he makes a lot of stupid decisions and statements, he has the biggest heart ever. Really. He works in road construction, and so every morning I wake up and grumble at the fact I have to listen to my dad wake him up - yay, staying with my parents until school starts. This morning, however, I couldn't stop laughing.

The noisemaker, himself.

 

Before F was even a thought, I "rescued" a kitten. It was sick, and the veterinary office didn't even want me to bring it in incase it was contagious, and then quoted me a ridiculous amount of money to save it. I'm stubborn (and I was not paying that kind of money), so I bought baby formula and fed that to the kitten. That kitten now weighs some 20 pounds and is the most annoying animal ever. Rodney - affectionately named after the Premier of Nova Scotia at the time - is not the brightest creature to ever grace the planet. He is obsessed with food. OBSESSED. He's also a real liability, it seems.

At 5:34AM, I was peacefully asleep in bed. Daisy was sleeping at the foot of the bed, probably snoring because that's what she does. All of a sudden, the loudest bing-bang-boom I've ever heard at 5:34AM crashed through the house and woke me up. I sat up with a shot, only to be mowed over by Daisy in her effort to hide under the blankets. Really, Daisy?

All manner of emergencies went through my head in the next 10 seconds: earthquake, plane crash, meteor hit the house, Godzilla, Zombies. Then I heard my Dad call down the hallway, "D, are you OK?"

I got up then, admittedly relieved that there were no Zombies waiting to feed on my little brain, flicked on the hallway light and saw the bathroom door half closed. I tried to open it but couldn't, and when I forced it a little, I heard a groan.

"Did he faint? Did he fall asleep standing up and peeing? Is he OK? Are his pants up?"

Mom got up then too, F stayed asleep. We all stood worrying in the hallway. The other two dogs (yes, we have a zoo in our home) came to check it all out. Daisy was still hiding. Dad and I forced the door open and there was D - pants up, thank goodness - laying on the floor holding his head.

"I tripped over the cat."

 

Being a Medical First Responder, I took a look at his noggin and sure enough, he had an egg coming out. Good sign - "better out than in" is applicable to the human body in many ways. Aside from a pounding headache, he was OK. So I started to laugh.

 

And laugh.

 

And laugh.

 

And then I knew, I had to share it. It was just too good! 19-year-old trips over 20-lb feline, hits head, wakes whole house and scares the beejezus out of the dog.

 

Daisy, as it were, had to go outside to pee after the fright she got. I laid in bed laughing for quite some time. Dad cursed the cat. D took some advil - and no damn wonder, he's not a big guy but when he falls he makes one monumental crash.

 

Dad told me when I was making my coffee this morning, four hours post-chaos, that D's hardhat was hurting him because of the egg on his head. I suggested that D start wearing the hardhat when he gets up in the morning from now on.

 

Happy Sunday!