Eh.

It can be very grating to spend my mornings with a group of lazy, apathetic teenagers.  For the most part they are your average 14/15-year-olds, eyes glazed over, talking non-stop, and drinking overly caffeinated beverages.  However, the majority of them are also brilliant, which may only add to my aggravation.

Suffice it to say they may be rubbing off on me.  I have always been a procrastinator, but it may be getting worse.  For example, I haven't updated this blog for a week.

I just didn't feel like it.

It's not like nothing happened, I did turn 30 last week.  THIRTY.  

JG is cutting two teeth, which is really adding to her...um, pleasant demeanor?  Last night she would not sleep without me, so I just threw the towel in and went to bed early with her.  It's uncomfortable, my arms fall asleep, but by golly she didn't cry all night.  (We here at the PoetsHead household don't have the patience for the "cry it out" method.  I've adopted my sisters logic: there is such a short window of time where you can fulfill ALL of your child's needs, why deny them something that can be so easy to give?)

Mael is out of his cone.  For now.  Already I can see his foot getting bad again, but I figure that he should have some time out of the confinement of his cone.

Alex brought home a Doctor Who pinball machine.  He now has FOUR pinball machines.

I am such a good wife.

I got my hair cut.  It's really short and I really like it, but the back of my head and neck are cold all the time.  What is up with that?

And, finally, JG is 10-months-old.  Holy crap, she'll be a year-old in no time.  

(Here she is last month, taming a wild balloon Alex gave her)

Working

So JG's naps have been terrible this past week.  Not only is she fighting the afternoon nap as if it were a cloaked Romulan warbird  (yes, I am that kind of nerd), but when she does nap it's only for 30 minutes.

Suffice it to say, I have had very little time to work on anything.  Meaning my house is a mess and I have made one monster in the past two weeks.  One.  And I haven't even sewn him up completely.

In my head I'm working on some new patterns.  I'm planning on using some of my dad's old Levi's to make a soft denim monster, but what kind of monster I am unsure of.  I am in this creative space where I am lazy and know I should be making things, but instead am busy adding new photo's on facebook.

So.  Sad.

I should just give myself a date where I'm going to reopen the etsy store and go for it.  Give myself a friggin due date.  But my banner is old and I can't figure out how to make a new one.  (And it has the added bonus of giving me yet another excuse to not get things done.)

So.  Pathetic.

Plus, I have to deal with this:

Yeah, I think that's puss.

So.  Gross.

This was taken a couple of weeks ago, his foot is doing better now, but I'm a little sick of playing nurse to my gimpy cat.  The bigger/longer cone has made it so he can't reach his foot, so hopefully it will actually heal completely in the next two or so weeks.

Otherwise I'm going to amputate it.  Take that gimpy cat!

And, finally, the obligatory JG photo.  She really enjoys chewing on her sweaters.

Fat Head

See?  JG sort of has a fat head.  It's an adorable fat head, especially with that hat her grandma made, but a fat head non-the-less.

I have been working on creative things... I'm just not very good at taking any pictures of my progress.  I'm in the process of making two new dolls and have a few "monsters" lying around.  This is my doodle of what I wanted it to look like:

And this is how it turned out:

He has a furry brown back and a fleece body and arms with felt "detailing."  His legs stick out kind of funny, but that's what you get the first time you make something.

I think it's kind of cute.  I'm working on the revision.

I don't think Maelly cares.

Cats in Ceilings

This last week I seriously started to question why I am the parent of two cats. Two injured, somewhat retarded cats.

As you know, Mael is diseased. And I was starting to feel pretty confident about his foot healing, up until he figured out how to move the cone so he could reach said food and lick it. With his sandpaper tongue. Which means it's taking forever for it to heal because he won't leave it alone.

Nevertheless, I was okay dealing with his foot.

Then, a chunk of fur fell off his rear right leg and revealed a new inflamed spot.

Effing cat.

To make kitty matters that much more interesting, Opal (who was loving and cuddly before the baby came, and is now hesitant and distant mixed with "You must hold me NOW") was in a fight (read attacked) with some tomcat and has two bites above her tail on her rear. They ooze. And the battle must have been quite the thing, because all the hair surrounding the bites is gone, like she was shaved.

So not just one injured cat, two. I keep looking at Stella and waiting for her to come up with something new (please dog, just don't).

And when Opal is sick or feels gross she prefers to hide. She spent a couple days in the cabinet with my baking pans. Another day with the towels (admittedly, she was accidentally closed in with them, so she couldn't have gone anywhere else if she wanted to). She also hid in JG's wardrobe, but that seems to be a kitty favorite.

Then, she found what to her must have been the celestial door to our basement ceiling (it's this weird opening at the back of our lazy-susan in the kitchen that gives her direct access). I wonder if she hears angels sing when that happens? The best part about her finding her way into the ceiling is that she really doesn't know how to get out. So I can be sitting there checking email or sewing, and hear her scratching, or meowing, from the heavens (read ceiling).

Whenever this happens (yes, this was not the first time) Alex starts to lament how she'll probably die up there and then we'll have to deal with the smell, and how will we find her corpse (by stink, I'm assuming) and blah, blah, blah.

She was in the ceiling for 48 hours.

Then Alex got the carpet knife (razor blade with a handle) out. Thank Jesus we have our awesome 70's acoustic tile ceiling, because it made it that much easier for him to cut out tiles (3), find her, and drag her out by the scruff.

Let me tell you, ceilings are dirty places, and she was one dusty kitty.

And my loving husband was very close to killing her. As was I. Doesn't she know I only have enough emotional real estate for ONE sick animal?

The best part? She got into another part of the ceiling the next morning.

Even better? Alex didn't have to cut anything to get to her.

Oh, man, I'm not sure I'm ever owning another cat.

Blue Ribbon MOTHER-LOVERS!

Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Yeah! (If you squint past my grinning mug to the chicken with the blue ribbon dangling from his hand, that's what I'm all up in your grill about.)

This week has been interesting.

My cat (the one who is still available if you'd like to purchase him) is in his third week of wearing a cone on his head. Said cone was necessary because he would NOT stop licking his damned maimed foot. So not only have I been caring for JGR, I've also been nursing a sick cat back to health... which is not fun. I have stories... but, I won't share them out of fear of seriously grossing out my small pool of readers.

By the by, my cat has eosinophilic granulomas (warning, the pictures are gross, and he has had this in his mouth, paws, and neck), which requires steroid injections and guarantee's that he will eventually have diabetes. Awesome.

JGR has been refusing naps and bedtime, and screams/cries like crazy when I try to get her to sleep. Joy. It's times like these when I think of how naive high school girls are when they pursue pregnancy in hopes of bearing a bubbly happy baby. (Hey, this happened at my high school.)

Let me tell you, high school girl, do not do it. Babies are freakin' hard, and I've had to push all thoughts of dropping said baby, or throwing said baby, or doing anything un-motherly to said baby out of my head.

I don't want to go to prison.

So it's times like these when I thank the G-O-D that I live near both sets of grandparents and I can pawn her off on them. Er, I mean, have them care for her when I am unable.

She's going through a transition where certain things I'm used to working with her are no longer working. (I have to admit that when I say "things" I mean "boobs," and while they can be one of the last things I turn to, when my boobs don't work, I'm clueless as to how to help sooth her.) So, in hopes of figuring out what the (hell) is going on, we gave her some rice cereal tonight. She'll be five-months-old next week, and she seems to be hungry after I feed her, so why not?

And you know what? Fell asleep like a charm tonight. Cried a bit, but nothing compared to the last few nights.

Now I leave you with some kitty abuse. I don't know how he lives with himself.

These two make me exhausted. I'm going to bed.

My child and my cat. My very patient cat.

I especially appreciate that instead of running away when she "pets" him (like any smart cat would do), he simply pushes her hands away.

Like, "Woah, there. WOAH."

And yes, she totally cuddles her spit rags.

She's four months old. Whatever fits in her mouth is a go for her.

Cat for sale!

Cat for sale! One diseased and pallid, neurotic and scaredy cat for sale!

Are you looking for an animal to hide when guests come over, to the point where they doubt his existence?

Would you like a cat who needs to visit the vet at least twice (if not more!) times a year for steroid shots? Why, Jesus even blessed him with some crazy kitty disease that allows some wart-like virus to attack his entire body! It's true folks, his foot swelled to FOUR TIMES the normal size and the hair fell out, making him look like he was dragging around some strange slimy red club with him! How delightful, who wouldn't want a cat with the ability to affect clubness/mutantness? And he won't stop licking it even though it won't heal if he continues?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I ask you how can you not see the value in befriending such an animal?

What's more, my friends open mouthed in the audience, who among you would shun this beautiful beast? He also has the ability to PUKE, that's right, puke, non-stop all over the house!

Couches? Covered! Carpets? Covered! Tabletops? Covered! Bedspread? Covered!

Blankets your child sleeps on? Covered!

Now, folks, it's not that bad, he has a simple allergy to cat food. Meaning, you may have to buy the $50 9 lb bag of rabbit and pea food (meaning it's made from rabbits, and peas), which this gorgeous grey and white animal still pukes up because he won't chew it.

And, one last thing, even though he's sick and wan, the expensive food is helping him feel better! Meaning he wants to be pet ALL THE TIME!

How can you deny such an animal!

Behold, the beast we have available for you to purchase today!

He'll even stay still long enough for your four-month-old to "pet" him. (Meaning she grabs clumps of his hair and pulls a little.) And even turns around so she can even pet the other side.

Wait... maybe I'll keep him.