We Were Going To Go To Vegas

but decided to give all of our money to our mechanic instead.

A few weeks ago my Check Engine light came on. I wasn't too worried, it had happened before with another car. They said it was a computer thing and it didn't cost much to fix. So I waited a while before taking my car into the shop.

But then I realized the other car was new and had been under warranty. This car is older and not under warranty. Hmm, would that make a difference?

The answer was yes. Apparently, some parts of my engine (you know the thing that makes the car go) had broken (or melted or something). That didn't sound too good. And the parts were kind of expensive. Yikes.

And my car needed new tires. I was going to wait but I figured as long as it was there I might as well get them replaced. And apparently that costs money too. Double yikes.

(Now I should point out that our mechanic is honest. My family has been going to this shop for years. In fact some of the guys from the shop were at my wedding. So they take very good care of us.)

While my car was in the shop overnight, my husband was backing out of the driveway and broke the right side mirror on his car. I'm going to get this out there, my husband sucks at backing out of the driveway. We have tire marks well beyond the edges of the driveway. In fact he has driven over the neighbor's downspout on more than one occasion. Its just not good. I know this, he knows this. Although I'm pretty sure the neighbor thinks its me.

So he was pulling out of the driveway, checking his mirrors to make sure he wasn't on the neighbor's lawn, when he hit one of those mirrors on the gate. The gate that has been next to our driveway for all of the 11 years we've lived at the house. The gate that is not directly adjacent to the driveway but a few feet off of it. That gate.

So now we got to pick up my car from the shop, pay the ridiculous bill and drop his car off. Lucky for him, he didn't damage the mirror or the car that much so we weren't looking at body work. But still, it wasn't cheap.

So instead of taking a vacation, we fixed our cars. That just stinks.

No, Seriously, I Was Just Walking

A while back I wrote a guest post for IMommy in which I stated to the world that I was not a funny person, however I do possess a rare gift for physical comedy. Unfortunately for me the physical aspect of physical comedy involves me walking in to something and injuring myself. Its less Jim Carrey and more Chevy Chase playing Gerald Ford tripping down the stairs of an airplane (or maybe just Gerald Ford falling). And yes I am sure that there are many of you saying What? Who?

I am a clumsy person. Its not my fault, its genetic. I'm not casting blame but the person who I inherited it from knows who they are, and thank you so much.

I have good balance so I rarely fall on my arse (although I have in the past and it is hilarious). My clumsiness, unfortunately, involves something much more basic - the inabilty to walk with out injuring myself.

I'm sure you are saying to yourself "Renee, how can you injure yourself walking if you don't fall down?" Trust me its easy. Walking often involves passing stationary objects like tables, chairs, desks and doors. Most people can avoid those objects while they are walking. Not me. These seemingly inanimate objects magically spring to life when I walk by jumping out at the last second causing me to run into them.

I cannot tell you how many times I have had bruises on my shin (thank you, coffee table), hips (thanks tables, desks and door knobs) and arms (shelves, cabinets thanks so much). I have even managed to break bones while walking. Not once but twice. Yes, I've broken two toes while walking.

The first time I tripped over a raised portion of the sidewalk while wearing flip flops. My big toe slammed right into the offending piece of concrete causing it to jam and the joint attaching the toe to the foot to fracture. I figured I broke it but it hurt so bad for so long that I actually went to the doctor and had x-rays. All I got was confirmation that it was broken and the there's nothing we can do for you speech. I'm sure the doctor was thinking "Congratulations, you're an idiot!"

The second time was yesterday and was just as embarrassing. I had taken Bunny to an open gym. I spent the better part of an hour and a half making sure that she didn't injure herself. And the second we decided to leave, I injured myself. Brilliant!

We were heading toward the exit and I was walking past the balance beam. Apparently I didn't realize how close I was to the beam and how far out the beam foot sticks out because I walked right into it. Again, brilliant! I hit it hard with the tops of my toes.

I knew right away it was broken. I started seeing stars and kind of screamed. Lucky for me I didn't let loose with a stream of obscenities because Bunny was right next to me saying "What's wrong momma?" "Nothing sweetie, momma broke her toe. Like an idiot."

I managed to put my shoe on without passing out from the pain and drive us home. I thank my stars that it was the left foot or I don't think I could have driven the car. It hurt that bad. When we got home and I removed my shoes and socks I was treated to a wonderful site, a swollen purplish toe. The purple almost exactly matched the reminants of my last pedicure so I at least was color coordinated.

So now begins the long and slow recovery process where I have to watch that I don't stub my toe again. Which as you can see is pretty difficult for me not to do.

The Trouble With Cats

You're probably thinking "Great another post about her stupid peeing cat." But no, this is actually not about cat pee at all. If you would like to read about cat pee, check the archives. I'm sure there's one or two posts about it.

A while back I mentioned our other cat Detroit who is kind of evil because she likes to bite. She is half-Siamese and I believe its a Siamese thing, rather than an evil thing. But she bites if you approach her wrong, get anywhere near her face or just generally annoy her in any way.

When we adoped Bunny I was worried about how Detroit would react to Bunny. Would she try to attack her to establish dominance? Would she bite my sweet baby?

My fears were unfounded for the first two years. Detroit was terrified of Bunny. She didn't quite know what to make of this creature that had invaded her home. At first Bunny would crawl after her so Detroit would run away. This became standard operating procedure, Detroit saw Bunny coming toward her, Detroit would run away.

As Bunny got older, we warned her not to pet Miss Troit as she called her. She could pet Tabasco all she wanted but not Miss Troit. So she didn't. You could tell Bunny was curious but she listened and avoided her.

Until last week. Last week there was an "incident". Apparently Detroit had wandered into the living room and was laying on the back of the love seat. Bunny was playing with dinosaurs on the love seat too. I was in the kitchen making dinner and Bubs was sitting on the other couch talking on the phone. No one noticed Detroit at first.

But then Bunny saw her and decided to pet her. She lifted her little hand directly towards Detroit's head in clear violation of the established petting rules. Detroit did not like that one bit. So in an attemtp to protect herself from the "creature" she bit her on the hand.

Lucky for Bunny she had only one little mark (not like the fang marks I got last time). But that was enough for her. Now Bunny is terrified (or at least dramatically scared) of Detroit.

When she sees her, Bunny will scream "No Miss Troit" at the top of her lungs. Or she will let loose with one of those high pitched screams that only toddlers can make. This usually does the trick and the cat high tails it out of there. But if she does not move and dares to remain in the same room, Bunny will stand there whining for us to carry her past Detroit.

Clearly this cannot happen. We cannot have a child so scared of a cat that she will avoid entire rooms because the cat is there. So we hold her hand and march past the cat in an effort to show her that Detroit will not jump out and bite her again. Bunny has now gotten to the point that she can walk on the other side of the room from the cat. But she will not take her eyes off of her just to make sure nothing will happen.

We try and reassure her that Detroit will not attack. That in fact, Detroit wants absolutely nothing to do with her. That she only wishes to go back to their previous relationship of complete and utter indiference.

It may take a while but I hope we get there. I can't take any more trouble with cats.

The Gift That Just Keeps on Giving

Warning this post contains references to bodily functions, both mine and those of a certain feline whose exploits have been referenced here before. If you would rather not read about them, I understand. Please come back tomorrow when I will regale you with stories about the cutest, smartest toddler ever. I promise.

I suffer from IBS. Most of the time I don't have any issues. However, the condition tends to be aggrivated by hormones so there is one day every month on which it hits.

Let me tell you this is a lovely day to be me. The cramps, the moodiness, the cramps, the "issues", the cramps. So fun. Today is one of those days. So if you see me in person today I am likely to bite your head off. I apologize.

When I awoke to cries of "Mommy I have to go potty" I knew that today was the day. I could feel the cramps kicking in full force. I was not happy. I wanted to stay tucked into my warm bed with the covers over my head and wait until the bad stuff had passed. But you can't ignore the cries so I got out of bed. Luckily it was a false alarm (thanks in part to an earlier call at 4:30). I asked if she wanted to come in my bed and she said she'd rather stay in hers.

Great, I have a few more minutes in bed to curl in the fetal position and try to rock away the pain. As I was reaching for the bottle of Advil, I hear "what you doin' momma? Can I have some?" Um, no this huge bottle is just for mommy and when you get older you'll understand why.

So no rest for me. I got up and stumbled downstairs where I handed off Bunny to Bubs. I told him I needed to take care of a few things and he should occupy her. As I headed in to the bathroom, I heard her singing the Wonder Pets theme song and knew she wouldn't bother me. Privacy, glorious privacy.

Or so I thought. The door was soon opened by Tabasco. At first I thought he just wanted some attention and for me to turn the water in the sink on. As I reached down to pet him I saw that he was in the midst of a butt waggle. For those of you who don't know, the butt waggle is the tell tale sign that a cat is about to spray. And Sir Pees-a-Lot had aimed the spray directly at me on my throne. (Now I love this cat unconditionally despite the peeing and the puking but if you pee on me then we have a problem.)

What happened next was like a movie where the hero sees someone about to shoot and it goes all slo-motion. He screams "Noooooo" and jumps in front of the gun to take the bullet for the victim.

I couldn't move. Really, I couldn't move because I wasn't finished. I screamed "Nooooo" and did the heroic thing. I stuck my hand down there in an attempt to block it. I pushed his butt down and redirected the spray to the tile floor instead of my leg. Crisis averted.

When he was finished there was a rather large puddle of pee right next to the toilet just waiting for me to go all Anti-Icky Poo on it. All before 7:30 a.m.

Don't Tempt Fate

Say you are having a conversation with your friend where you say you are surprised your daughter has not been sick at all this year, save for an occasional runny nose, what would happen?

What would happen if you write a blog post about a problem your daughter had sleeping one night?

Well you would spend Friday night cleaning puke off of your daughter, her bed, her floor, a teddy bear, her bedding and pjs. Not once but twice.

So lesson learned, you don't tempt fate.

Big Girl Words

If you are the parent of a toddler, you have on more than one occasion asked said toddler to "use your words" instead of screaming incoherently. The reason being you can help them if you know what the heck is going on.

If the tantrum is because they can't find a favorite toy, great. Why don't we both look for it together.

If they are hungry, that is easily remedied.

If they are tired, you can move them towards a nap or bed (hopefully).

If they want to do something they are not supposed to do, well hopefully you can distract them with something else.

But the key is having them verbalize their emotions to let you know what is wrong.

Lets look at how we at the But Why Mommy household have put this theory into action. Bunny is an incredibly verbal child and we have encouraged her to verbalize her emotions.

Exhibit A:

"Frustrated. Momma, where baby lizard?"
"I don't know baby, let's look."
"Frustrated, momma."
"He's not here. He's not over there." Now momma is getting frustrated.
"Frustrated, momma. Where baby lizard?"
"Let's retrace our steps. We got up, got the lizards out. You played with them. Momma vacuumed . . ." Has sickening realization, runs to vacuum, pulls out bottom half of small rubber lizard. Oh no.
"FRUSTRATED!" Real tears streaming down her face. "Fix him momma. Fix him."
"Momma can't fix him, baby."
"FRUSTRATED!"
"Would you like to watch Dora?"
"Yes." Tears subsiding, no longer frustrated.

So the theory doesn't work quite as well in practice. But at least we all know how we are feeling.

An Open Letter

Anymommy has been writing letters lately and she has inspired me to write one of my own.

Dear Makers of Anti-Icky Poo:

I have sung your praises to the heavens. Scads of people now know your product thanks to my little blog. I was wondering if I could get a little love in return.

You see my boy cat won't stop peeing in my house. In fact last night he peed right under my computer table while I was sitting there. Luckily my feet were not under the table nor will the ever be again.

So we are running low on your wonderous product. Please, oh please won't you see it in your hearts to give a girl a free sample or twelve. I promise to drop Anti-Icky Poo in my blog at least once a week. Given the rate that Sir Pees-A-Lot is going, it won't be a problem.

Thanks,
Renee

Test Run

So we've been working up to potty training Bunny. I'm not quite sure she's ready but I've been giving it the hard sell. We've been talking about the potty and she's even picked out a pair of big girl undies. We are getting there and I hope to start within the next month or so.

Part of the training process is just going cold turkey from the diapers. Well of course that leads to lots of accidents. Accidents means lots and lots of cleaning which of course is my favorite thing to do. I've gotten some good advice from bloggers like any mommy (I may have to steal her messter map). But nothing can prepare you for the real thing, except cleaning cat pee out of your carpet and couch.

It went down like this. We had just gotten home from my parents house. Bubs and Bunny were sitting on the couch taking off her shoes when Tabasco started to spray the very couch they were sitting on. Cat pee was everywhere, the couch, the carpet but luckily not on them. Tabasco has done this before when we first brought Bunny home and we thought we had dealt with it. But apparently not.

So I sent them off to bed, cracked a beer and commenced cat pee clean up. I got out every cleanser I could find. I rubbed, I scrubbed and I sprayed the sh*t out of the couch and carpet. I had bought this product called Urine Gone which is supposed to remove all smell and stain from pet and human "accidents". I followed the directions to the letter and hoped that it worked. Because the last thing I need in this here CrapShack is to have an unusable couch. We've already been displaced from the basement, we need the living room.

I went downstairs this morning and found . . . a chemical smell. Well chemicals are better than pee so that's good. So then I sprayed the heck out of the "affected area" with Febreeze and it smells better.

Cross your fingers with me that this clean up works and the vet can help us with Tabasco's issues. Because I don't need to be cleaning up after both Bunny and Tabasco or else I might lose my ever-lovin mind (or what's left of it.)