Dreams and Satellite Dish Update

I remember my dreams from last night only because they were super weird. First off I'm at my grandparents house but it's not really their house. How original.

They had an awesome place near a lake and my grandpa was alive, (as he still is as I write this post) and still drinking a case of beer a day (he's 84) and being a huge pain in the butt. Grandma was chilling out but there was some freaky guy there and he kept trying to lure my girls out into the front yard, which was pretty much a forest and it was dark and foggy. I remember telling them to hide in some secret type niche in one of the back rooms, it was a cedar room with a ton of lights. I don't know if he was some sort of male nurse for my grandpa or the gardener or what but it was getting on my nerves that he kept trying to talk to the girls and no one was telling me who he was or why he was there.

When he tried to run off with the girls again I tried calling the police but the phone wouldn't work. Figures. Eventually I drag all these geezers out to the car and I hunt him down. I kick his *ss and get the girls back.

Then we are at our house but it's not really our house, again. The place is thrashed and an old friend from like 13 yrs ago calls and wants to come over. Ironically I have just started emailing her when I found her from classmates Everyone is being a spazz as I try to clean and people are coming over left and right. The place is quickly a zoo and I have no idea who anything of them are. Sounds a lot like my real life. I don't remember the rest but it got crazier. I'm sure I'll get a bunch of emails from dream interperators about this. Yes, I know, I'm a snarky beast who has control issues and a neat for orderliness. Thanks.

It was SO cold this morning. Did I ever mention that I willingly moved here. There was frost everywhere and for some stupid reason I left the windows open and Richard is trying to scrape all the frost off until he realized it was on the INSIDE of the window. I could have said something, but it was fun to watch.

Oh and I have to say the satelite guy came over this morning just as I was mopping the floor. This is another reason why I put off housework. I'm not fond of having to do it again. He informed me he's adjusted the dish a bit and that since it's not on the roof there will be times our signal will be crappy, especially when it's windy. Oh, well then. We're in southeast Wisconsin. We shouldn't have to worry about wind or weather.

Maybe he could have told me that back when he came out here and left me with no internet. Punk.

We'll see how it goes. In the mean time when I had no connection or TV I actually went to the library. Cause you know, I gots to keep reading & learning stuffs. I came home with the following books:

• I am no one you know, by Joyce Carol Oates. It's ok so far, skipping around from character to character though
• Ungrateful Daughters- The Steward Princesses Who Stole Their Father's Crown, by Maureen Waller
• How the Irish Saved Civilization, by Thomas Cahill
• Iron Council by China Mieville
• The Diary of Anne Frank

I'm going to pretend I'm scholastic.

I'm off to make chocolate chip cookies with walnuts that are non-caloric.

I keep telling myself it's true.

The Madness

Mystery odors, transgender cats..oh the madness.

I woke up too early this morning as usual. Then lil' J started sniffling, no big deal. He's been sick, it's the morning, kids do that. I quickly notice there's a rather large crimson stain on my new white 300 ct sateen sheets from Sam's. Hmm. It know it's not coming from me. I haven't stabbed anyone. Yet. I haven't been stabbed. Then I see it's from lil' J. He's dripping blood from his nose. This is his first bloody nose ever and life would be too simple if it were anywhere other than my crisp, new white sheets.

He wasn't picking his nose this time, as he was asleep. Not that sleep could probably prevent a preschooler from nose picking. Ok, I'm over it. Moving on..

So, I sat with him and did all the right things one is supposed to when their child is bleeding from the head. Or at least I think I did. It couldn't have come at a worse time as either. I have to get The Husband off to the bus if I want to have the car and I'm not about to be stuck in the house again all day. If the kid is not hemmoraging from the brain he is going to school. One thing I should mention is he is totally nekkid. The Preschooler. Not The Husband.

Indeed. Not only is he still sleeping in our bed (I know what you're thinking and yes I know we are the ones who chose attachment parenting-which I still stand by) but he has informed us that he likes to sleep, 'mando'. Now I never know what I'm going to wake up to.

We do the mad dash run around and get everyone dressed in time for R to catch the bus by 6:30a. After the nose bleed was under control and some clothes were slapped on I then had to wake up my fourteen year old who is his usual grumpy-butt-self in the morning.

What, it's time to get up ALREADY?
It feels like I just went to bed. (Probably because did. Just went to bed...
It's time to go already?
But I don't have a lunch.
What about my hair?
But I need to eat breakfast.

After throwing The Husband out of the car at a rolling stop at 6AM, far too early to be dealing with nekkid preschoolers who are bleeding from the head, I rush back to the house to make the boys boys some eggs for breakfast because that's what good moms do. They send their kids off to school with something other than poptarts in their stomaches. Neither of the boys at their breakfast. Little punks. I barely got them off to school in time. Thank God, I don't have to get the girls to school. Sometimes I think I should be fired from this job called motherhood.

Alright, you might be wondering what this has to do with Apple Cider Vinegar? Well, it has absolutely nothing to do with it of course. I digress.

When I came downstairs this morning I about gagged and it's not the smell of cat pee this time. It smelled like nasty and it seemed to be coming from everywhere, but mostly in the kitchen. All day it was a mystery. What is that revolting smell and where is it coming from? Am I really that bad of a housewife? Every time I opened the fridge, the rank wasd so strong I'd wretch, but I couldn't see anything amiss. After a few hours of cursing and, "Why me God, why me again?" I decided to perform an autopsy on the fridge being as though the stench was most rancid there. I'd make a good detective, eh?

Perhaps this is a conspiracy theory to get me to clean more. Let me digress again. I now realize how much money I waste on food not used. Good-bye mangoes. Asta la vista spinach. How long does grapefruit keep anyways?

Then I spot it. My nemesis is way in the back of the fridge, sitting straight up. I don't know how I could have missed it. Ironic yes, coming from the same woman who doesn't notice that her female cat is lugging around testicles as big as a baseball. Stop mocking me.

Some child, apparently not one of mine as you all know, thought they'd try some. My only consolation is that they saw apple cider and took a big gulp. I know I have a wretched sense of humor. Your point?

The child, again, not one of mine, didn't put the cap on all the way so when the fridge froze it exploded and leaked everywhere.

Ick. I can't handle the smell of vinegar at all anymore. It's just nasty. Why does my life have to be so crazy sometimes? If it's not transgender cats, it's funky odors. And I have learned that it is quite possible for there to be things that smell has hideously disgusting as cat pee.

I so feel like an amateur today. I can't seem to get my kid out of my bed or keep any clothes on him, I am apparently unable to tell the difference between a male and a female cat, and my house smells like a cesspool.

I am going to go lie down. I'm almost scared to go up to my room though as I never know what I might find. Seriously.

Transgender Cats

This blog is about to be called The Diary of a Mad, Sleep Deprived Woman. I've been yelling a wee bit this week. I hate when I yell. I think my mom is starting to avoid me and I've scared the cats.

That's right, the cats. I mustn't forget the cats. Let's talk about the cats. Yes, that would be plural as in THREE of them. One Siamese mix (which the vet insists is really a snowshoe breed) who thinks he's not a cat but an imperial ruler of the house and fights the kids for their granny smith apples and goldfish crackers.

He stalks me while I'm on the computer and sits on top of my monitor chasing the cursor with his paws so I can't see. I'm brushing paws away from side to side until I'm about ready to either leave the computer or toss him across the room. He'd make a good windshield wiper. He insists on sleeping in our sinks and drinking from the faucets. He's too good for a bowl naturally.

Then we have the "sisters". They are litter mates. They are supposed to be tabbies. I always wanted a tabby cat. We have a nice orange fluffy one, but the white one isn't so tabby. He came home too because lil' J fancied 'her'. She tolerates his harrassing hugs and never bites him back. The problem then? Besides the fact that they eat from the trash and are always under my feet? I think they might be out to get me.

Snowball is an adorable little kitty, but he's trying to sabatoge any chance I have of having a clean house. As a kitten, he decided that the front door was a great place to pee. And pee it did, day after day. Aww, the cute little kitty doesn't know where to find the box. So we help it out and eventually it gets it, right? Wrong. Now it's peeing in the laundry room corner. All over my christmas wrap, boxes, whatever. What the heck? It's a shame that it might go on a field trip since it doesn't mind being snuggled, nuzzled, carried, layed on, and practically french kissed by all the kids. Before you email me about what a wretched woman I am, I already know. Save your time. Plus, I would never really abandon an animal that I have taken responsibility for. Unless of course they were possessed by satan. Which I haven't ruled out as of yet.

That aside, want to know how stupid we apparantly are? The other day J asks us why Snowball has balls!? He did indeed use that word when speaking to his mother. We're raising a real gentlemen.

Me: Huh? What are you talking about goober? (a nickname started by his charming uncle) They are 'sisters', the cat doesn't have balls. You know I'm busy cooking peanut butter and jellies for dinner, why do you jest with me so?

So he begins to laugh, and carry on about how we have some freak girl cat with a sac almost as big as a prize winning hog. Alright, so I admit, I do the bootie check, and in the words of my LiL' J, I exclaim, "OH MY GOODNITS".

She is a he, and we apparently were too inept or busy to even notice. The guy said they were are all girls, we looked briefly, it all looked fine. It's not like we inspected their crotches with a magnifying class.

My biology teacher said that was a faux pa.

But do you think one time in seven months that we'd notice otherwise? Yeah, I'm smacking myself up side the head right about now. At least this explains the obnoxious peeing. He is going to start spraying soon. Lucky me. The smell of cat pee is horrid. There is nothing like it. Eww. Calling the vet tomorrow. Sweet revenge, and hopefully a better smelling house.

Now, to declaw or not to declaw?