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thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Category: pets

Dear Anti-Vaxxers: Please Just Shut Up Already.

This morning while scrolling through my Facebook feed, I saw a post by a Vet Tech friend of mine reminding us of the areas where Lyme Disease is prevalent, and to vaccinate our pets if we are in at risk areas.

Wait.  There’s a vaccine for Lyme disease?

And my dogs can have it, but my humans can’t?

So I looked into it.  And there used to be a vaccine against Lyme, developed in the early 2000’s amongst growing concerns that Lyme disease was becoming a very real and very scary public health concern.

The vaccine was kind of a cool one.  In really simple terms, it didn’t actually make the humans immune to Lyme disease.  It evoked a type of immune response that actually prevented the tick from being able to transmit the disease.  Basically, some antibodies would be swirling around in your blood, and when the tick bites you and starts to ingest your blood, these antibodies would bind to the infectious part of the bacteria in the ticks gut, making it unable to cross the dermis ( a skin layer) and infect the human.  It would usually take 2 or 3 doses to be most effective- and it was effective… about 80% on average.

That’s the Coles Notes version.  If you want to read more about it, here is the Oxford Journal of Medicine article. 

So what happened to the vaccine?  Well according to the above article and several others that I read, some people decided that the vaccine was causing a (Gasp!) side effect called autoimmune arthritis.   So the vaccine developers did some double blind studies and found that it actually wasn’t the case, the vaccine was safe and effective.

And then guess what happened?

The fucking Anti-Vaxxers got a hold of the story and started going to the media and suddenly the internet was flooded with stories of “vaccine victims” and all the horrors that this life saving vaccine was doing to the world.  Class action lawsuits were filed, the vaccine become more expensive to manufacture and defend than was worth it for the companies, and it was withdrawn.

And as usual, the allegations were based in sensationalism and pseudo-science and unproved hypothesis.  No matter what science disproved the theories or supported the safety and efficacy of the vaccine, hysteria won out again.

And now, I can protect my fucking dog from this horrible vector borne disease, but I can’t protect my children.

So, good morning, Anti-Vaxxers, and fuck you very much on this fine Tuesday morning.

Here’s the thing:  For a group that constantly screams ” MY CHOICE”  “YOU CAN”T MAKE ME PUT THINGS IN MY BODY”  you have taken my choice away from me. Why are you the only ones who get a choice?  WHO asked you to save people from things they don’t actually need saving from?

You know what I don’t what to put in my body?

Lyme Disease.  That’s what.

But I guess me and the kids will have to just take our chances this summer, because once again, you fucking know better.  Better than all the people who have spent their lives studying infectious disease. Better than all the doctors who want to prevent a potentially life altering disease that is difficult to detect early enough to treat and often difficult to treat.  A disease that can be effectively prevented with a decent vaccine.

And don’t tell me how it’s no big deal. How natural immunity is a thing.  We’re talking about a bacterial infection.  The kind that requires antibiotics to get better….if you catch it early enough.  For someone like me who has severe, life threatening allergies to a long list of antibiotics, that doesn’t make me feel very positive about how well I’d fare if I got Lyme disease.

So really, if you want to go ahead and continue not to protect yourself against a long list of preventable diseases, fine.  Go ahead and get sick.  Go ahead and risk disability.  Hell, go ahead and die, if that’s what having a choice means to you.

But stop taking away the choices of everyone else around you. Stay away from public places so you don’t accidentally pass on the measles to a baby too young to be vaccinated.  Don’t take the vaccines. Fine. It’s your body. But please just shut up long enough to allow the rest of us to make our own decisions concerning our bodies.  Whether or not I am vaccinated doesn’t affect you, so why fuck it up for me?

Stop getting in the way for those of us who believe in science and medicine and would otherwise have wanted to have the option of protecting ourselves and our children from things like Lyme disease.  Your choice has once again affected MY ability to choose what’s right for my family.

This is such bullshit.

At least my dog will still be ok though.  Thanks for letting the dogs live.

 

 

Will Becoming A Vegetarian Make Me Less Of An Asshole?

312px-Peta_Comic_Book

commons.wikimedia.org

I came across a couple of articles this morning that simultaneously made me feel sick to my stomach and got my blood boiling.

One of them was about two assholes in Sri Lanka who decided to torture some eagles to death.  You know, by literally skinning them alive and hacking off their legs.

The other is about how 15 cougars in Alberta got “unintentionally” killed in noose wire traps that had been laid out to kill wolves instead.

What the actual ever living fuck is wrong with people?

At least the psychos in Sri Lanka were arrested.  Because seriously, if someone is gonna do that for shits and giggles to an animal, it’s only a matter of time before they move on to bigger and better things.  Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll move on to whatever dickhead decided that trapping any animal in this way was a good idea.

Apparently, it is perfectly legal for trappers to set traps like this.   Bait the wolves with a dead carcass and then basically booby trap it with these fucking snares.  And then let whatever animal who happens to come along suffer and excruciating death.

Look.  I’m not a spokesperson for PETA.  I’m no longer a vegetarian, and I am ashamed to admit that I have a pair of moccasins with rabbit fur on them.  I support hunters and feel that hunters play a VERY large role in conservation efforts for species and more importantly habitats.  I think it is reasonable for someone to hunt with a bow or gun and use what they kill for food or other practical uses.

But this shit?

It’s cruel.  It’s not even a fair fight.  It’s cowardly and disgusting.

And by the way, so sorry you accidentally killed 15 cougars instead of wolves.  Sorry you missed out on your “target species”.

So here’s the paradox I face:

When I think about the things that go on on farms, on kill floors, and even in the fucking bush, I try to just not think about it.  I move on to the next news article and tell myself it’s because it makes me so sad to hear about that stuff.  But really, I don’t want to hear about it because I like eating steak.  I like eating chicken and ribs and all of the delicious things, and if I don’t think about how they were once living beings, I can justify my omnivore status.

But I don’t know what’s harder.  Giving that up or justifying myself.  Does feeling outraged at articles like the ones I read this morning and still eating a hamburger make me a hypocrite?  Does wearing my moccassins, even though they  are authentically made by an aboriginal maker, make me an asshole?  Are my feelings and beliefs in paradox with my actions?

Probably.  Most likely.  How do I look at my own furry companions and then feel like it’s ok to barbarically kill their wild cousins?  And yet wolves and cougars and eagles kill and eat other living beings, it’s the way of the food chain.  UGH.

So what to do?  Do I switch back to a vegetarian lifestyle, even though everyone else in the house still eats meat?  And then I have to prepare it despite what I believe?

Adulting is hard.  Tell me what to do, Bitches.

 

 

Change Is Hard But Peace Is Nice

338_1r4Seasons___2010_01_26_at_17_31_13

covabertrand.com

Today is one of those extremely rare mornings where I snuck out of bed and managed to not wake up anybody else.  Except the dog. The fucking dog always wakes up and falls down the stairs or something just to ruin the peace.

Anyway, it’s rare that I get a moment to myself these days.  Toddlers and preschoolers are exhausting and needy in a way I didn’t think could out-need a baby.  But in some ways they are.  And although we actually sleep through the night nowadays, the level of energy required to keep a toddler and a preschooler entertained and alive exceeds the current amount of caffeine in my diet.

The landscape is changing here.  I just filled out the one million forms it takes to register your child for kindergarten.  Adding in the daily logistics of getting Destroyer to and from school is going to complicate things a bit.

Buddy is talking in full sentences and although he still sees me as his number one girl, I can feel him turning into a person and I can watch my baby slip away from me.  I am trying to prepare myself to sell/give away the baby stuff we no longer need.  I can’t decide which is harder, going into the storage area and hauling it out, or the emotional issue of parting ways with that era of our lives.

I am trying so hard to accept the good with the bad.  Is there a little more freedom happening?  Yes and no.  I mean, on the plus side, we can hang out with other couples that have kids and all the children just hang out and leave us alone.  So there’s that.

But soon enough I will no longer have complete autonomy over what our days look like.  I will have to live by the school schedule like everybody else.

Anyway.  It’s just so quiet this morning, and I keep thinking, is this what the house will sound like in a couple more years, when the kids are gone all day?

What will I do?  How am I going to adjust my work hours to still be able to parent effectively? How will we fit in all the things and still just get to do cool stuff as a family?

I get this sense that time is about to fast forward, and I need something, anything to put the brakes on.    I wish I cold just hold these moments in a pause and not ever let them go.  Even the ones where everyone is acting like an asshole and it’s chaos and I almost cry from the sheer stupidity of our life.  Especially those ones.

If anyone wonders why I write down all of the ridiculous things that go on here, its so I never forget them.  And so I never forget how I felt in these moments.  So I can relive the happy, the sad, the frustration and the all the ways my heart learned new tricks.

And for now, I am going to enjoy the quiet, and hope that it’s a sign that nothing asshole is going to happen today.

I’m Glad I Just Payed That Fine To Keep You From Dying Of Boredom, City Of Winnipeg Animal Services Guy

47459_427025021422_1051735_n

Yesterday afternoon, as I was tackling the never ending task  of laundry, the doorbell rang. I was  little bit irritated, because I have one of those signs that basically says ” I don’t want your shit so fuck off”  (in a nice way), and people always seem to think it doesn’t apply to them.

Well it certainly applied to this asshole.

It turned out to be someone from Animal Services.  I opened the door, completely confused.  My dogs were well behaved, both sleeping on the couch. They hadn’t bitten anyone.  I didn’t let them outside to bark and annoy my neighbours and they were both up to date on all their vaccinations and they were registered.

Or so I thought.

Somewhere along the way, between one job or one kid, between trying to remember to feed all the living beings in this house and get everyone to swimming lessons or gymnastics or whatever, I had fucked up and missed the renewal on one of my dog’s licenses.

Shit.  So, I said to guy “Honestly, I had no idea but I’m happy to take care of it right now.”

No dice. He had to write me a ticket.  A 231 $ ticket.

Jesus. Fucking.Christ.  Considering a dog license is about 30$ a year, that’s a pretty big fine for a shitty mistake that isn’t really affecting anyone’s life.  My dogs have never been lost, they aren’t putting anyones life in danger.  The City wouldn’t even know they existed if I hadn’t registered them in the first place.  Also, my other dog is clearly licensed to it’s pretty obvious that I didn’t miss it on purpose.

Anyway, that’s not the stupid part.

Fair enough.  I broke the rules.  In trying to manage all the things in my life as a working mom, the dog’s license was pretty low on the priority list and I have to suck it up and pay the fine.

That’s not even the part I’m that mad about.

The guy comes back with my ticket and explains the process to me.  I ask a couple of questions, including  “I don’t understand, have my dogs been disturbing someone?  How did you end up here on a Sunday afternoon?”

And this is what the douchebag said to me:

Well, you know, we’re City Workers and right now we’re experiencing a lull in activity.  We can’t just sit around the office together with nothing to do.  We’d go crazy! So we pulled up all the addresses with an expired license and starting driving around to find you.”

This is seriously almost his EXACT WORDS.  I was flabergasted.  I couldn’t even respond because I couldn’t believe this asshole actually said this to me.

  1.  He’s in a middle class/working class neighbourhood, where 230$ is likely way more than an entire day of pay.  Where people with young children are stretched so thin financially and physically trying to stay ahead that it could make a significant impact on their quality of life for that month.
  2. I am a self employed teacher/musician who has to take her job seriously or I wouldn’t have enough students to pay my bills.  I have had to work while I was sick, my kids were sick and still so a good enough job to earn the money my families pay me.
  3. Besides that, I keep a part time bartending job  because I can always work more to cover extra bills or save up for something nice without increasing our debt load. Which means I sometimes work 7 days a week.
  4. My husband works a rotating shift in a technically and physically demanding job that leaves him so exhausted sometimes that he hardly ever knows what day of the week it is.  He has chronic pain and numbness in one of his hands.  Oh, and the work is dangerous as well.  One wrong switch and BOOM.

So, I’m super sorry that you’re cushy, well paying job with good government benefits is SO TRYING because you have nothing to do.  I’m sorry that you came to my home to write me ticket to ward off your BOREDOM.  I’m sorry that you had SO LITTLE respect for me as a working parent that you would have the balls to say this to me.

I’m sorry that our roads aren’t properly plowed, that the police never have enough staff to come and help sort out domestic disputes.  I’m sorry that every time the psycho that used to live next door  got drunk and threatening you didn’t have enough resources to come and deal with it because your resources were tied up in a department where the staff is underworked, overpaid, and disrespectful.

I’m sorry that this city hides behind the words “safety” when it cracks down on fines of any kind, when obviously, in many cases it is simply just a way to make money.  I’m sorry that my property taxes go to pay for this guy’s salary.

I’m sorry that there is litter and dog shit all over the place in this city that no one picks up.  I’m sorry the city can’t afford to properly keep the boulevards cut and tidy or to clean up the graffiti everywhere.  I’m sorry that instead we chose to pay a bunch of spoiled city union workers to do nothing.

I’m sorry that the words this guy said perpetuated every opinion about lazy government workers and a system that bleeds the people who actually work hard for their money.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell this guy to fuck off right there.

Rant done.

 

I’m Not Crazy, The Third One Was An Accident

The pseudo wiener dog.  Winner of the "It Doesn't Sleep In My Bed Anymore"  Award.

The pseudo wiener dog. Winner of the “It Doesn’t Sleep In My Bed Anymore” Award.

People always look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them I have two toddlers and three dogs.  Don’t worry, I tell them.  The third dog was an accident.  And they were here first.

So clearly I am not insane or a glutton for punishment or weird for having that many things to look after. Right.

The truth is, having three dogs is a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes when you have small children.  Especially as they get older and require more trips to the bathroom, more trips to the vet and have begun to lose patience with tiny people tugging at their fur all day.  There is always someone under foot and the second both children are finally satisfied with their lives for a moment ,one of the dogs wants something too.

No wonder my feet hurt all the time.

Despite our little house feeling crowded all the time at times, I have to admit that I could never imagine our lives without our mismatched pack of dogs.  I also think that if you have children, a dog is an essential member of the family.

Just don’t get three.  Because then you need a bigger house, a bigger truck and a revolving head.

Here are my reasons every parent should get a dog for their children:

1. You NEVER, EVER, have to worry about the food the toddlers throw on the floor.  It doesn’t even hit the floor.  3 sets of snap jaws lying in wait for one tiny morsel of mashed potatoes and the floor under our table is the cleanest part of my entire house.  I would eat off the floor here, if I thought the dogs would move out of the way.

2. The children have someone new to irritate and climb on for part of the day.  Note:  You must train your dog not to eat children before you take advantage of this.  Or get a dog that is not big enough to eat your children.

3.  The only way I could get my Destroyer to stop sleeping in my bed was to give her the choice of all three mutts to sleep in her very own pink bed with.  Train your dog to sleep in your toddlers bed well before you make this transition….trust me.  Thank God for wiener dogs.

4. I feel okay about leaving my toddlers alone in the backyard for 30 seconds if I have to run in the house for a diaper or a bottle or whatever.  Because three dogs is a lot of dog to get through if you want to steal my children.  Having a big dog in the mix helps my confidence here.  Seriously.  Get a dog.  make it your child’s best friend.  Tell it to take care of your baby, and it will.

5. All joking aside, I read an article once ( can’t remember where) about how children that grow up in houses with animals have less allergies and more robust immune systems because they are exposed to all the shit the animals track in from an early age.  I believe this.  I gave up on sterilizing bottles when I looked over to see my baby chewing on the dogs foot. So much for germs.

6.  I also personally think that having an animal to care for teaches children to be kind and gentle.  They learn to take care of someone other than themselves.

7. Companionship.  Same reason we got dogs for ourselves.  I don’t care if her best friend is a pseudo wiener dog.  Probably the safer choice anyway with all the crazy fuckers out there.

8.  So you know how kids hate to have their nails trimmed?  If you’ve ever had to perform this task on a pug, you will understand how dealing with the children’s nails isn’t even a little bit of a thing. I’ve never even made one of the human children bleed yet and I’m not covered in any hair at the end.

9.  Have a dog because sometimes, it’s nice to not have anyone scream at you or cry all day.  Sometimes, it’s nice to just sit and cuddle.  Sometimes, it’s nice when your friends don’t talk.

10.  Did you know that a dog’s saliva has a type of antiseptic in it?  So if you’re ever lost in the woods with your child and your dog, and the child gets a cut or scrape and you’re out of peroxide, let the dog lick the wound to prevent infection.

Sorry about that last one.  I felt like the list needed t be a “top ten” and I ran out of legitimate reasons.

Anyway.  Get a dog.  Not three, but one is cool.

Third

ash4kh.deviantart.com

ash4kh.deviantart.com

So we’re having that third baby discussion.  Ok, argument.

Ok.  Actually, it’s more like every night I pour a glass of wine after the current offspring are put to bed, and casually bring up how wonderful having a third baby would be.  And Husband rolls his eyes at me and says no.

Sometimes I think we’re making progress.  As in, I’m getting closer to getting my own way.

In all honesty, it’s not really a conversation any more.  Because one of the parties is pretending to listen while the other one whines and begs pleads her case incessantly.

And by the way, he’s not wrong.  ( No telling him I said that because I don’t want him to think he’s winning).  Education is expensive.  We don’t have enough time.  Life is already complicated.  I haven’t slept in 4 years.  Our house is too small.  We can occasionally taste some freedom and feel ok about getting a babysitter and going out for dinner.

Yeah.  I get all of those things.  But every round, pregnant belly I see makes my heart sink.  I feel sad.  I feel jealous.  I look at my two toddlers and miss strapping them to my chest while walking around a park.  I’m sad to never experience a first smile or first step or get to know another little personality that I made in my own belly.

I’m sad because with each child it was like falling in love for the first time.  When you couldn’t wait to see them again, and couldn’t bear to be apart even for a little while.  When every little detail about how they reacted to something or wrinkled their nose or laughed at you delights the shit out of you.  Don’t get me wrong, they still delight me.  I just want to do it one more time from the beginning.

And yeah.  I’m super lucky.  Our kids are beautiful and healthy.  We have good support from family and friends.  We have a little army surrounding our little humans.

But I keep thinking  “What’s a few more years of sacrifice to bring one more sibling into the mix?”  It’ll all be worth it when they’re older and the house is full of laughter and fun and holidays will be total chaos and joy.  Just one more.  And then I’ll feel like everybody that’s supposed to be here is here.

And it’s not like I don’t have days or moments where everything sucks.  I’ve yelled.  I’ve cried.  Child rearing is not for the faint of fucking heart.  I know it’s hard.  But I also know it’s worth it.

So here’s the deal.  Husband has promised a few things to get me to shut up.  ( Fair enough.  I’m extremely persistent and somewhat aggravating):

1.  If I stop asking about babies, he said I can pick out any dog I want.

2.  The dog I pick out cannot be a Saint Bernard, a Great Dane or a goat.

3. If we win the lottery, and it’s enough for me not to have to work, then I can have as many babies as I want.

4. # 3 is turning me into a gambling addict.  I bought hospital lottery tickets, regular lottery tickets, and every goddamn scratch ticket out there.  The best I’ve done so far is 20 bucks, and I don’t think that counts.

I feel like since I’m giving up the idea of a whole other person, I should use this opportunity to negotiate for something really good.

What do you think, Bitches?  Should I ask for a weekend away every year, to any place I want?  A motorcycle?  A monthly massage?

They say that raising a child costs about 250 K these days.  I’m taking suggestions for something of equal value.  Thoughts?

 

I Would Make A Terrible Goat Herder

en.wikipedia.org

en.wikipedia.org

I’m a traditionalist, Bitches.  Meaning that certain traditions are very important in my life.  And we have a tradition over here that includes drinking wine of some sorts while eating delicious food and gabbing about all the nonsense in the world.

Yep.  That’s Sunday nights at our house with Bestie.  And her presence has become quite important as I search my cloudy sangria induced brain fog for things to tell you about on monday mornings.

Today, I want to tell you why Bestie is sometimes a terrible person.  Cause she can’t be the bestest all the time.  That wouldn’t be fair.  The conversation went something like this:

While watching Game of Thrones, a scene came on that featured a goat herder.

Bestie (B):  “I want to be a goat herder.”

Cookie (C):  ‘OMG!  Me too.  I love goats.”

B: “You know, goat herders have to eat goats.”

C: ” No?  Can’t they just milk them and make cheese?”

B:  “No. You have to eat them.”

C:  “I couldn’t.  Goats are my friends.”

B: “Dude, you need some new friends.”

C:  “Clearly.  Ones that don’t eat my other friends.”

Just then, a dragon flies over the goats, roasts them with his dragon fire and carries one off to eat.  I sit there horrified, because I sorta liked the dragons too up to this point.

B: ” See?  Dragons know what’s up for a goat.”

C: “You can’t eat goats.  It’s like eating a duck.  NOT ALLOWED.”

B: ” You’re just fucking lucky I haven’t eaten your dogs yet.  I’ve got a tasty curry recipe they’d be delicious in.”

I just sat there.  Horrified.  Because you can’t eat animals that can be your friend.

And then I remembered that Bestie once ate Donkey, and said it was delicious. And a donkey is pretty much almost a horse, so no wonder she’d eat a goat.  Because she’s a terrible person.

And I apparently would be a terrible goat herder.

It Could Always Be Worse

There’s this thing that we parents say to try and make ourselves feel better.  Because being a parent to two babies and three dogs is a lot of work some days.  Ok, most days.

Ok.  All the fucking time.

And not only is it a lot of work, it’s shitty work.  Literally and figuratively.  My life, on an average day, revolves a good 50% around the bowel movements of other living beings in the house.  Even my own desire to take a shit has to go on the back buner, because a baby always seems to have dibs on that, doesn’t it?

So, what we say to ourselves is this:

“It could always be worse.”

That is the singsong of comfort that we mothers whisper to ourselves as one child is throwing up and the dog is eating it and some asshole is banging on your door when you have clearly indicated that you do not want ANY of what they are selling EVER.

“It could always be worse.  At least I don’t have to wash the floor, because the dog cleaned up the mess.”

It’s the reassurance we give ourselves when the baby wakes up at waytoearly o’clock and you come downstairs to fetch a bottle and instead find a steaming pile of dogshit at the bottom of the stairs.

“It could always be worse.  I could have fucking stepped in it.”

It’s what we do when the toddler grabs her brother’s penis because she doesn’t have one and still doesn’t understand the differences between boys and girls.

“It could always be worse.  They could remember this one day.  Good thing children have no memories before what, 5?”

The trick, however, is not to say “it could always be worse”  in front of your demonic little spawns of love.  Because if they hear you, they think it’s a challenge.  They think that you are daring them to make it worse.  Like they don’t want to be the only ones who cry in the house.

They already know how to keep you up all night if they hear the words “I’m tired”.  They will keep themselves up to the point of their own misery just to fuck with you.  Why?  Because it’s the only power they have.

You are in charge of all the things in their life, and they want a piece of it back.  So the only way for them to really get you by the balls is to come up with a mystery ailment in the middle of the night and watch you do the dance of “How the fuck can I make this kid happy and get it back to bed?”

And then you whisper to yourself:

“It could always be worse.  We could be out of rum.”

And that is when you know you’ve hit rock bottom.  There is puke on the floor, you almost stepped in dogshit, there is an imposter salesman at your door, the toddler is freaking out because she doesn’t have a penis, it’s 4 am and you haven’t slept yet and now you’re out of rum.

So the moral of the story?

Keep the bar stocked.

Thankful

This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving.We all use it as an excuse to eat more than our share and then complain about how full we are.  That’s the tradition, right?

And that’s ok.  That’s the fun part.  But we humans are just so good at losing sight of what some holidays mean.  This one, being called Thanksgiving is fairly obvious.  We are supposed to think of all the things we are thankful for.

Some years its easier than others.  Some years, when we are faced with unhappy things in our lives, it does one extreme or the other.  It either makes us bitter and unable to feel thankful when there are so many wrong things, or, it helps us to see the little things we should be thankful for.

Yesterday happened to be my birthday as well.  So we pigged out on pizza and cake and wine.  It was a really nice day.

But I also thought about the things I am thankful for.

I looked around the table and thought about how lucky I am to have so many people in my life that love my children.  I was thankful to know in my heart that should anything ever happen to me, my children would have many wonderful people to provide for them and guide them.

I was thankful to be running out of room in the fridge while so many people don’t have enough food to keep their children fed.

I was thankful to complain about the cost of buying a new car this year.  I was thankful to not have to take the bus with a stroller and a toddler.

I was thankful to be able to fill a tub with warm water and bubbles while so many people don’t even have clean water to drink.

I was thankful to be in a marriage that is based on trust and love and friendship.

I was thankful to get up early in the morning because my beautiful infant son was hungry.  I was thankful to look down at his smiling face and have some quiet time with him before we started the day.

I was thankful that my daughter loves people and imaginary play more than material things.

I was thankful to have three dogs to trip over and curl up with.

I was thankful to be loved.

I was thankful to have to open the windows because my home is dry and warm.

I  was thankful for a happy, healthy life.

And mostly, I was thankful for whatever force made me decide to have children. I looked down at them and was thankful for the person they have changed me into.  I was thankful for all the things they have taught me so far.

So as the holiday season is now beginning, be thankful.  Not for the material things in your life, but for the things that you could never replace.  Cherish them, love them, and don’t waste one precious second.

 

Go Away. I Will Eat You Tomorrow.

You know what I hate?  People who are trying to sell me something.  Or convince me of something.  Or guilt me into to something.  Or who want me to support their cause.

Guess what, assholes of the universe?  I don’t want to buy your crap.  I don’t want to support your team if you’re a stranger.  And by the way, I have my own fucking cause to support right now.  It’s called two children under the age of two who need to nap.  And when you ring my doorbell trying to get me to support your cause, it sends the dogs into a frenzy and wakes up my children.

AND guess what your chances are of getting my money now?  They used to be 0%.  Now you’re at minus 1000%.  Try digging yourself out of that hole, Dicksmack.

Seriously.  Are we in the 1950’s still?  Do people actually go door to door to peddle their shit?  Why don’t you go on Dragon’s Den or get an infomercial like everyone else out there, and leave me alone?

Furthermore, I have not one, but, TWO signs on my door saying “No solicitors, agents, or peddlers” and “no unsolicited flyers”.  Why is it that every single person trying to get my money thinks these signs apply to everyone except for them.

Because you know what?  It’s not that your charitable organization isn’t worthy.  It’s not because I’m a scrooged out old bag who can’t part with her money.  I support plenty of fundraisers and make plenty of donations whether it be items or money.  The signs mean that I don’t want a stranger ringing my bell and waking up my babies that finally went to sleep after they have been driving me up the goddamn wall all morning.  It’s about me having one small window during the day where both of my children are momentarily satisfied enough with life to leave me alone long enough to have a sandwich and read a book.  It’s about you disturbing my peace.

So pardon me for asking you to go away or telling you to go fuck yourself if I’m feeling overly irritated. Which will happen when you don’t accept the word “no”, by the way. I don’t think I need to be nice to you when you have clearly disregarded my wish to be left alone.  I’m sorry if I offended you or if you think I’m a bitch.  But you earned it.

I think I’m going to change the sign on my door:

“Babies sleeping.  Ringing this bell will trigger the trap door which lets my guard dog out to chomp on your balls.”

and

“Go Away. I will eat you tomorrow.”  (thank you Paper Bag Princess for this lovely phrase..)

I wonder if people would get it then?

AfterOtis

Written by Natalie Louise Oldham.

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