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.

My House Is Slowly Killing Me

Seriously. If you read about my untimely demise you can be assured that the underlying cause will be the stupid Crap Shack I am living in.

In the past 24 hours the upstairs toilet has broken, I've seen a mouse and the boy cat peed in the office.

So now we need to call a plumber. Luckily our neighbor across the street is a plumber, hopefully he can comeover today and fix it. Our house has two full bathrooms, unforunately the upstairs one is currently down to a sink. That is just not right.

And, yes more cat pee. But at least he is not peeing on the furniture anymore. He has decided to pee on the wood floor which is much easier to clean. So I guess I have that going for me.

And finally, a mouse. Yikes! Luckily he was in the dark scary basement. Now we have to search out all the holes in the foundation and plug them with steel wool so no more little guys get in. Then we find all the holes in the house and plug them too. Traps, check.

But I would like to send a little message to the boy cat if he's reading: If you're going to pee in the house, you better start catching any mice that show up. Its the least you can do.

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

Things Overheard in my House and Other Randomness

Bubs: At the Zoo we rode the train and the carousel, Bunny rode the ponies, we petted the sting rays and we fed the giraffes.

Me: No wonder she loves you more than me. You are like a weekend dad, "I'll buy you things. Please love me."

Bubs: Yeah. You are the disciplinarian and I'm like the drunk uncle, the drunkle.

--------

Bunny: That car is on the sidewalk. I'm so mad.

Me: Why don't you tell it that you are mad? You'll feel better.

Bunny: I'm mad at you car. You no park on sidewalk. We walk on sidewalk.

Me: Do you feel better?

Bunny: Yes.

Other bits of randomness:

Anti Icky Poo really works. It even cleans the smell of decaying vegetables, skunk spray and dead bodies. Not that you'd need to get rid of the smell of a dead body, but in case you do.

Anti Icky Poo is really fun to say.

And if you were wondering Sir Pees-A-Lot has struck again. In the bookcase this time.