25 things you didn’’t know about my cat

1.  His favorite toy is socks.  The littler the better.  Every morning when I wake up there are about 20 socks all over the house that I pick up and put away.

2.  Coincidentally (or not), he has 4 white paws.

3.  He’s always dressed for prom, as he is a tuxedo cat.

4.  He loves the smell of chlorine.  When we come back from the pool he rolls around on and licks all our towels and clothes.

5.  He loves to groom Kevin and spends a good chunk of each night licking Kevin’s head.

6.  We got Clyde when he was 4 years old.  His other family didn’t want him because he peed all over their house.

7.  Clyde sometimes pees all over our house.

8.  Clyde is afraid of all kids everywhere and spends 95% of his waking time under our bed, like this:

 

9.  When we first got Clyde, he ran straight into the room under our stairs and didn’t come out for 3 whole days.  That’s when we dubbed it the “Panic Room.”

10.  He weighs 13 pounds.  It’s all muscle.

11.  The vet doesn’t think that’s funny.

12.  Some people call him Cross-Eyed Clyde but I swear he’s not.

13.  I don’t think that’s funny.

14. He licks his butt a good deal more than I feel is appropriate…but I think you already knew that.

15.  Actually, there is one thing he likes about kids: he loves the sound of a crying baby, and he camps out by the crib when Rocco is really wailing.

16.  The first week we got Clyde we let him spend some time on our second story deck.  I *think* he got locked out there at night.  He jumped off the deck and we found him hiding under my car in the driveway, as there was no bed in the driveway.

17.  He can perform Lasik surgery using his own eyes.  (Or: Turns out some of the Chinese-produced cat food we’ve been feeding him has been recalled…)

 

#s 18 through 24 all involve various things Clyde has sat on/under/in.  I will show them pictorially.

 

25.  Something ain’t right about that cat.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Omelet-wrapped quesadillas stuffed with roasted potatoes and corn (wish me luck!)
Cheesy polenta

Pictures with funny captions

 
I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of Boobies…

 
They can take my arms but they can’t take my mouth away.  (They can’t take my mouth away, can they?)

 
Hey look, a camera!

 
Hey look, a camera!

 
Hey look, a camera!

 
What?  What’d I do?  Why you so far away?

 
Purrrrrrrrr.

People, he did not learn this kind of stuff from me.  Aunt Jnet, was it you?  Grammy?

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Dijon breaded salmon
Cheesy polenta
Brownie sundaes

Viewer discretion advised

 

I’ve been trying to get a picture of Rocco touching playing with his toes lately.  I don’t feel I’ve taken “the” picture yet (partly because of the giraffe, camel, and monkeys in my room that end up in half my pictures), but I do feel like my kid has a serious case of the cuties.  We should get that looked at. 

Caution: nudity follows.

 

 

 

 

BTW, that’s Kevin’s side of the bed he’s rubbing his junk all over.

WHAT’S COOKIN ‘2NITE:
Going out!

For goodness’ sakes!

At the store the other day Vincenzo was lingering a little too long in the candy aisle so I said, “Enough lollygagging; let’s get going.”  A lady who could have been my grandma said, “’Lollygagging,’ now there’s a word you don’t hear much these days!”  That’s right; I’m now sounding old even to old people.  My mommification is complete. 

If I slice my finger when I’m cooking, I say cheerfully, “Oh shoot.”  If someone cuts me off in traffic then it’s, “Well that was silly!”  I’ve even caught myself tut-tutting when we go to the basement and see that Kevin and his “band” forgot to clean up their 82 beer cans the night before.

My day is rife with oh my goshes and holy cows and CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG (but only if it really hurts).  It just makes me want to say, “Darn it anyway!  Isn’t there a gol-darn place a mom can go to say what’s really on her mind?

Aw what do you care.  You’re all just a bunch of ass-munches anyway.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Maybe eggplant parmesan.
Maybe not.

P.S. I found someone who’s okay with the high chair being in the house.

(He actually takes his meals in it now.)

Of creamed carrots and armpit farts

There is a high chair in my kitchen now.  It feels like finding your 7-year-old wearing heels and lipstick and smoking a cigarette.  How can Rocco be eating solids already?  How can he cheat on me like that?!  This is the very beginning of weaning my baby, and it’s a hard transition for me.  In a matter of weeks I will no longer be the only nourishment my baby needs. 

What’s worse about this whole “starting solids” thing is that I’m the one holding the spoon up to Rocco’s mouth and making goofy faces to get him to open up.  It’s not like he’s pushing me away; it’s like I’m pushing him away.  I’m telling Rocco with every spoonful I offer that he doesn’t need me as much as he used to.  Starting today and for every day after this he will eat just one baby spoonful of independence until one day he moves out or falls in love and then the weaning is truly complete.  (Alternately: we redo the basement and start charging him rent.)

When I rock Rocco to sleep now he has some real weight to him.  His whole self used to not even reach across my stomach, and now he’s too big to lie sideways on the rocking chair without bending his legs.  When I pick him up his body doesn’t melt into mine.  His head pushes away and swivels around to answer the question, “What else?”  There used to not be anything else.  Just me. 

I really am excited though.  I’m excited to meet this easy-going, toy-loving, giggling narcoleptic that is our son and to see what form his sense of humor takes under mine and Kevin’s careful tutelage (although Vincenzo will likely have a stronger influence).  I get so excited with every milestone Rocco reaches that it eases the pain of knowing that he’s a little farther away from the warm, helpless, red-faced newborn who took his first breaths on my own chest and who knew like I did that only one person’s love was all that mattered then and forever.  “Forever,” I realize, doesn’t last.  Rocco will eventually learn that too much love can smother a person and that sometimes even though you are loved with every piece of a person’s heart there will be days you feel lonely.

But I was talking about being excited.  I am.  I am!!!  I am excited to see our walls and photo albums fill up with the funny and the sweet.  I’m excited for the first time he says “mama” and he means me, but he also means the deepest kind of comfort that exists on this planet.  I’m excited for his first steps and all the steps after those that will take him any direction he looks.  I’m excited for the first time he hugs me back and the first time he makes his brother laugh on purpose.  I’m excited to see if he chooses cheetah print or zebra for his first cape.  I’m excited for his first armpit fart. 

Once I had a baby who didn’t grow, whose fingers are frozen in time as impossibly tiny miracles resting on my finger, whose only milestone we can record was the act of being born.  His name was Angelo.  And while he was a beautiful, beautiful gift, he was a gift we would like to receive just once.

I want to hang on to today more than ever.  I spend my life reminiscing about the past and terrified of the future but for this sweet, short time when I have my own baby to hold.  For this sweet short time I get to live in today.  “The reason they call today ‘the present’ is because it is a gift.”*

So BRING IT, strained peas with creamed carrots.  BRING it.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Pear and Tillamook cheese soup
Homemade bread
Beans and bacon in cider vinaigrette

*Embarrassingly, it’s a quote from “Kung Fu Panda.”

Sweet dreams are made of these (foods)

QUICKIE:  Me, after serving Vincenzo a grilled cheese sandwich: “Mmm, something smells delicious around here!”  Vincenzo: “It’s probably my pants.”
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You know that whole “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” thing?  I’m living the parenthood version of it: “Don’t hate me because my parents live 20 minutes away and are incredibly awesome grandparents.”  Not only is my mom around, but also a handful of sisters and another of neighbors and another of friends who call up and ask periodically if I would like a break today (thanks Kristen!).  If I’m feeling sick or harried or lonely, I need only wave a white hankie out of the nursery window and someone shows up, usually riding a white mare and hanging from a flying umbrella. 

My mom agreed to watch Vincenzo overnight once every month, and this was the first month.  Our 24 hours as parents-of-one was, in a word, delicious.  We started out at the Cheesecake Factory for appetizers and tuxedo cheesecake and over dinner I planned out a week’s worth of meals from roasted chicken with butternut squash to eggplant parmesan to a sweet onion, apple, and cheddar tart.  We bought a Williams-Sonoma cookbook and planned even more meals: fried macaroni and cheese, penne with vodka sauce, and beef sukiyaki with noodles

Back home we caught up on TV over Godiva Chocolate Liqueur and Starbucks Creme Liqueur.  When we woke up on Saturday (at 9:00!!!) (as in four hours after 5AM!) we headed to an acclaimed breakfast place in Seattle where it was Huevos Rancheros for him and Creme Brulee French Toast for her.  I think at some point during breakfast I actually proposed to my french toast.

A couple hours later I headed over to Grammy’s to pick up Vincenzo.  And if he was eating m&m’s and candy hearts for lunch, I didn’t see it.  She could feed Vincenzo sticks of butter straight from the fridge and I wouldn’t say anything because I’m hooked on these weekend dates after just one hit.  (Besides, after everything I ate this weekend, who am I to judge?)

And if Grammy accidentally yelled, “No, Rocco, DOWN!” to Rasta the dog (and if she yelled it twice), I didn’t hear it.  We’ll rename our son Rasta and the dog can be Rocco if that’s what it takes.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Roasted chicken with butternut squash
Tomato and roasted red pepper soup
Chocolate peanut butter cookies

This apple fell VERY far from the tree.

QUICKIE: Vincenzo at dinner: “When I’m done with preschool for the year, does that mean I’ll be retired?”
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Dictionary.com tells me that a ditz is a scatterbrained or eccentric person.

I would like to submit this picture to the dictionary entry.

Anyone who pairs ankle boots with underwear and a hockey jersey definitely falls into the category of “scatterbrained” or “eccentric.” 

It’s true; my son is a ditz.  (Brunettes and redheads, read that as: dumb blond).  (Blondies, read that as…wait a  minute, do you know how to read?)*

Case in point #1:
Vincenzo went to a birthday party this weekend and an adult was helping the kids wash their hands.  She was overheard saying to my son, “You mean don’t know what your own name is?”

Case in point #2:
The next day we visited Vincenzo’s potential preschool class for next year.  The teacher had him stand up and tell the class his name.  Fortunately, he did so beautifully.  Then she asked him what his baby brother’s name was and he said, “Oh, his name is Vincenzo too.” 

[I didn’t want him to look bad so I just smiled and acted like I was the cleverest mom EVER for naming both my sons “Vincenzo.”]

Case in point #3:

Vincenzo was kicking his bedroom door but (for once) not angrily.  We asked what he was doing and he said, “Trying to get into my room.  The door won’t open.”  Kevin went over and calmly turned the doorknob and opened it for him.  Vincenzo looked at the doorknob and said, “Oh!  I didn’t know that thing turned!”

 

Well the good news is I have officially stopped worrying about Vincenzo not being able to write his name yet.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Maple syrup-infused ketchup loaf
Pickle relish with plain mayo dipping sauce
Dijon mustard medallions with sour cream with a touch of walnut oil
Hershey’s syrup shots

 

*Totally uncool.  I know.

Life’s full of tough choices, ain’t it?

Last week I was one of those people who “did it all.”  I cooked, I cleaned, I signed up for classes, I signed the kids up for classes, I helped friends and family with their to-do’s, I worked out two times.  And I came to this realization: people who “do it all” have unhappy families.

So this week I am trying to choose between activities/projects rather than do them all.  Here are some of those things I have had to chose between lately:

1. Going to the bathroom or picking Vincenzo up on time from preschool

2.  Intervening in Vincenzo’s temper tantrum after he took his clothes off and rammed his naked body into all the kitchen cupboards or pretending like I didn’t see it (so that I wouldn’t have to clean it)

3.  Flossing or not because having that extra 60 seconds of sleep sounded really, really good

4.  Plucking my right eyebrow or my left eyebrow, as there wasn’t time for both

5.  Investigating the noise I heard from the Panic Room (I’m always convinced we’re going to leave a door unlocked one day and someone will move in there and we won’t know it until we move out one day) or tossing a Hershey Kiss in there and telling Vincenzo it had his name on it

6.  Washing the full load of poop out of Vincenzo’s favorite pair of underwear or throwing them away and hoping for the best

7.  Reclaiming Vincenzo’s balloon from a 2-year-old whose Dad stood aside saying, “Ooh, good luck with that—he loves balloons” or letting the 2-year-old keep it and dealing myself with a screaming 4-year-old for the rest of the night

8.  Modeling good eating habits by sitting down at the table and eating lunch with Vincenzo or wolfing down a couple Luna Bars so I could write a blog post during lunch

9.  Scrapbooking or paying a conjugal visit to my husband*

10.  Holding Rocco or…or…nothing.  Him I just held.

I guess not all of life’s choices are tough.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
This question is REALLY STARTING TO BUG ME lately! [I hope that sounded like George Costanza when you read it]

*

*

Another reason to visit Japan—or not

A good friend just became a Great Friend when she forwarded me this e-mail about a current fashion trend in Japan.

“These are not see-through skirts; they are skirts with prints on them to make it look like panties are visible.”

It’s totally believable, coming from a country that sells schoolgirls’ dirty panties in vending machines, but before you run out and buy such a skirt, I should tell you that Snopes says these see-through skirts don’t exist.  The above pictures are just digitally-altered. 

Snopes also wants everyone to know that Santa Claus is really your parents. 

Snopes is such a buzzkill.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Potato rosti

NEXT!

I have all these little snippets waiting in line to be turned into full-blown blog posts, but the touchy-looking desk clerk is making me uncomfortable so I think I’ll just cut my losses and write them down, short and non-thematic as they are.

1.  We live on a PLANET we call EARTH.  We have a STAR we call SUN.  We have a MOON we call…MOON.  Seriously, like couldn’t we have come up with something better?  It’s like getting a dog and saying, “Let’s name it…DOG.”

2.  GIRL visited this week.  Her defining moment was when she asked, “Do you know how long it is until my next birthday?” then whispered excitedly, “It’s only three years away!”

3.  On the tail of his weekend as a cheetah-leopard, Vincenzo was remembering the little green men who hid gold all over our house last St. Patrick’s Day.  He asked, “But Mom, are they really called leopardchauns?”

4.  This is a comment I made on someone else’s blog; I’ve spent four years trying to put it into words.  Every day I am so blown away at the power and grace and love of the mother-child connection.  Then I think of all the billions of people in the world and the trillions of people in the world’s past and I wonder how something that is so commonplace and widespread can be so unbelievably profound.

5.  I started to write a reflection on the past 10 years around New Year’s but never finished.  Here’s how far I got:

1.  Fall in love and get married.  I considered myself unmarriable (I still kind of do).
2.  Get my master’s degree.  It just kind of fell in my lap
2.  Have a baby boy just two years into married life.  It makes me think of our wedding a shotgun wedding. 
3.  Hold my second baby boy’s lifeless body in my arms and know what it feels like to love and hurt at the same time
4.  Hold another baby boy a year later and realize I had never before known what hope meant
5.  Write a novel and half of a second one
7.  Pluck hair off my chin…and upper lip…and neck…

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Zeek’s pizza.  I’m beginning to feel like a farse.