It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas..

Christmas in Texas, anyway. How bout this crazy ass 65 degree weather in December here in Rhode Island? What the what?! Last week, I stood outside putting ornaments and lights on our potted stoop trees, and realized I was wearing a tank top outside. Comfortably. And my country ass was barefoot too!

On the serious, I pretty much love it. It’s just weird as hell. My brother, who is ACTUALLY in Texas, got two inches of snow. I’m starting to think that perhaps that whole global warming thing isn’t just a bullshit scare tactic made up by Al Gore. (Sarcasm. It totally was.) (Sarcasm again, did you actually think I thought that global warming is made up? Who thinks that!)

But at any rate..I’m fucktastically excited for Christmas this year. So, remember how I told you guys that we didn’t do holidays for awhile? Right, we didn’t. So when I decided we would start doing them, John agreed that I could pretty much do them however I want. And that means theme trees. Ridiculous, beautiful, cohesive, OCD theme trees. Last year, it was teal and silver. And I’m not dumb, I hit up the stores the day after Christmas, and bought all my coordinated shit in advance at like 75% off, so it cost me about $4 in total. (Estimate.)

So, here was last year’s tree, and it was the first tree I was 100% responsible for. This is a crappy cell phone pic, sorry.

See how pretty it was? *sigh*

But when I shopped last year for this Christmas, I knew I was pregnant. And I knew I’d be taking a boatload of pictures, and when I look back on those pictures of Xavier’s first Christmas, I wanted them to look classic and timeless and not too trendy. So I decided to go with a red & white theme this year.

However, I did not know my mom would be here this year, so I only purchased three stockings. Now I have one mismatched stocking and I can’t remember where I bought these, and I haven’t seen them on the shelves at all the usual suspects. So I have an odd man out. Screw it, it’s fine. It’sfineit’sfineit’sfineit’s fine.

It’s FINE.

Okay? Also, since Xavier’s little, no need to be stealthy, I can already start stuffing his stocking, he doesn’t care.


So. I also snapped up these cute little tree thingies from Target. (IfuckingloveTarget)

Cute huh?  I love them!  Here’s how I decorated the banister:


You like the way my balls dangle, don’t you?

Now…I do normally let the hubs do the outside. He likes to be spastic and crazy, with all the colors, like someone puked up Christmas Fruity Pebbles all over the place. But since he happily obliges me when I say “This tree is all wrong, please help me take it all down and start over”, I let him go nuts. This is his favorite tree, it reminds him of Charlie Brown, I guess. I’ll show it to you, and then we’ll never speak of it again.



He’s mad because I’m not showing it to you lit up. But…I think you get the idea don’t you?

Now. Let’s move on. We have two Arborvitae trees in pots right outside the front door. Like I said, normally I let him have the outside, but I’m pretty sure this still counts as inside. So..clear lights and red ornaments:

Notice the one that’s in the pot now? Yea…John found that in the driveway this morning, a solid 20 feet away. The hook part had been ripped off and split in half. Stupid raccoon I bet,  I hear they like shiny shit. Tried to jack my shit but didn’t make it too far before he realized it wasn’t food, or treasure, or what the hell ever he thought it was. John thought it was appropriate to just place it back in the pot.  Maybe if the little vermin returns he’ll take that one again rather than trying to pick another?

Okay so I’ll quit dicking around and show you my tree now. But before I do, I need you to know that both my mother and I are allergic to natural trees. We break out in hives, so don’t give me any shit about my fake tree.


Pretty awesome huh? That thing I said about taking everything off and starting over again? Totally happened. And yes, the wrapping paper is coordinated with the tree. Christmas just cranks my crazy right up.









And fun facts:

Xavier started solids this week. Not entirely unrelated, Xavier pooped on me. And the floor. He has also started giving drooly open mouthed kisses, so it evens out. We’re giving peas a chance.


An Xavier Update.

So we went back to the pediatrician today, and I think that means it’s time for an update.  I know it’s exciting, try to keep your pants on.  The last pediatrician visit was sort of sad. He wasn’t gaining weight, and we were instructed to start supplementing with formula. And we have been. I’m still fighting with my milk supply, and I’m still losing. And I was THIS close to giving up entirely. Then I got sick. But Xavier didn’t.

And this is where I’m going to thank boobmilk for that. So I’ve been doing a little bit of research and it appears that there are some moms who don’t pump at all. It looks like I can nurse when I’m home, and not pump when I’m at work (Because seriously, I’m getting such pitiful amounts it’s not even freaking worth it.) and my body will somehow figure it out.  So this week I’m taking it down to two pumping sessions at work instead of three. We’ll see how it goes.  Hopefully it’ll work out that way.

So I was pretty nervous about today’s visit, really hoping he’d gained some weight. It seemed like overnight, none of his clothes fit. I even had to crack open the six month sized stuff, because 3-6 is just all the sudden a joke.

So, his visit today went well. We showed the dr his head holding up skills, how he’s thiiiisclose to rolling over and sitting up. He measured his head. 17 1/4″ , putting him in the 75th percentile for dome size. It’s because of his big brain.

He had also grown a full inch, so he is now 25 1/2 inches long. Which is why none of his damned pants fit him anymore.



Finally , his weight. He was 14 lbs even at his last visit a month ago. But come on, look at how he’s filling out. I knew he had to have gained at least one pound. He gained almost two! He’s 15 lbs, 13 ounces. Woohoo!!!

So. I guess what we’re doing is working. We tried rice cereal a few times a week for the last two weeks. On Thanksgiving night, holy hell. This poor child was so constipated and uncomfortable, we were up until 2 AM trying to comfort him. It was miserable, he couldn’t sleep hardly at all. Finally on Friday, we gave him some prune juice and all was well in his world again.

But since then, I’ve been afraid to give him any more. We talked about that today and the Dr said maybe moving on to a single grain oatmeal cereal, or mixing in some peaches or pears with his cereal would help with the constipation.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am blogging about my baby’s constipation.

So all in all, he’s looking good and healthy and cute.  And, I’m being totally serious when I say this, he is just the best damned baby ever, I got so lucky. During his entire appointment, he was cooing and kicking and giggling. Everyone kept commenting about what a happy baby he is.  Until the actual shot came, then of course, he cried. And I kinda cried but pretended not to. But then like 4 minutes later, he was sleeping and he’s been totally fine ever since. I kinda wish he could just stay this age forever.

In other news this week, I officially turned 30 on Saturday. I actually don’t feel too bad about it, it is what it is, and hell..looking at these pictures, I know I’ve accomplished something pretty fucking amazing.



Giving Thanks

The last few years we haven’t really celebrated holidays much around here. It was just the two of us, and it kinda made me sad because I was away from my friends and family and I’d get all emo and shit about it.  But after Christmas two years ago, I decided I wasn’t going to exclude us anymore. It made John all sad not being able to stroke his holiday boner. (Figure of speech, not literally.) (Okay, kinda literally. Let’s move on eh?)  (Anyone else picturing an actual holiday boner now?)

So I decided the next Christmas I’d do that shit up. And last Christmas, we did. I had a tree and everything. But last Thanksgiving I don’t think we did anything at all. I was pregnant, and probably slept through it. Or wanted to barf at the thought of a turkey carcass. Both probably.

But this year is Xavier’s first Thanksgiving and my mom is here now, so I have family. Hardcore awesome family.  The plan was  that we’d go see John’s family in the morning, and then we’d come home and do dinner here with my mom.

It’s worth noting that my job requires me to work the seven days leading up to Thanksgiving. Christmas too. Because we’re insanely busy and we tend to make big bank, I don’t usually mind. However..a certain person who shall remain nameless decided to bring a virus to work with her to share with all of us. And I was the first man down. But I fought through that shit for the most part. Ugh, it’s nasty though. Last night I finally gave up the ghost and bailed out of work just a little early and headed home. I had a temperature of 100.4, I had chills and I couldn’t breathe worth a damn. My mom hooked me up with one of her nebulizer treatments or my ass might have just landed in the ER last night because my asthma was flaring SO badly with this crap. Luckily, the rest of the household has been spared thus far. But I begged John to cancel our visits for today, I’m pretty sure I offered him my soul if we could just stay home and do the visiting Sunday.

Well, everyone but one of his family members said Sunday was fine. But one person had to work Sunday, so he asked REALLLLLLY nicely if we could just go visit her, and this morning I actually felt ok so we went.  I’m feeling much better today, by the way. Not better enough to traipse around New England, but better.

So when we got home from that one visit, John started cooking. (You didn’t think I would do it, did you? You’re crazy.)

When he got everything going, we got started on what’s going to be our Thanksgiving tradition from now on.  It’s simple, and you guys might laugh, but you don’t think I give a shit, do you? You are def crazy.)


Now..I’m no Martha Stewart. I literally went to Michael’s yesterday during my lunchbreak and felt so Special Ed asking the best way to make a freaking hand turkey. But I want them to last forever, but be super simple and fun. Not complicated, and nothing Xavier would have to hold still for extended periods of time for, come on, he’s an infant.  The lady at Michael’s was nice enough not to laugh at me too much, and showed me craft foam and explained how to use the stuff. $15 later I was back to work.

I was pretty scared about having to hold Xavier’s hands still enough to trace them, and it did take two of us but we got it. Hand turkeys alone are boring though, even with glitter glue and feathers. So we wrote on ours what we’re thankful for.

Here is Xavier’s. He didn’t do any of it though. I told him to glitter that shit up but he just kept drooling and playing with his feet. So he dictated his list to me.

Yea..the boy listed Naked Time. But he REALLY loves it, so what are you gonna do? We have to be as accurate as we can, this is serious. There’s no bullshitting on craft foam.

And usually, John’s so excited by holidays that he runs around like a maniac, looking for stuff to do, chattering nonstop. Who knew that all it took to combat this mania was a little glitter glue and feathers? This kept him occupied for over an hour. He was pretty cute, having me trace his hands and gluing his feathers. He asked “Can I use this color?” And I said “Do whatever you want, they’re your turkeys. Turkey it up buddy!” His face was priceless, like a kid in a candy store.

Here’s his finished result:

Pretty good huh? mom likes arts and crafts about as much as she likes shopping. Or as she put it “As much as I like herpes.” I shit you not, she said that. So she huffed and puffed as I “forced” her into making some “goddamned hand turkeys”

I told her “My only requirements are that you put your name, the year and list what you’re thankful for.” I traced and cut out her hands for her, glued on the eyes. I wrote “I am thankful for” and told her to go to town. Decorate your turkeys, write your list.

I looked over a few minutes later, she had done nothing but smear the glitter glue I had written. “Need some help?” I said, thinking she might not be super handy with the glitter glue pen. “I know what I want to write, but my handwriting is no good.”

“Okay, go”

“My Kids.”

“ok. And?”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it”

“Cats? Family? Football? Cheese? ”

“I think my kids pretty much sums all that up.”

Well..I’ve already been enough of a control freak. You got it. I write it with the marker she chose.   I put it back in front of her and tell her “Now you can pretty up those turkeys.”


I go back to working on my turkeys, watching her out of the corner of my eye. No moves. For like 10 minutes.

“Need some help?”

“I’m done.”

Ohhh kay.

At least she didn’t throw anything at me. Here’s her turkeys:


I love my crazy ass momma lol.

Alright so I’ll show you mine now. Prepare to have your faces dazzled right. the fuck. off.

 My turkeys look like Vegas Showgirls.

I know, y0u’re still in awe of my glitter glue skillz. But, I am after all, me, and I had to include the pups.  I found a way to make their turkeys too. I just traced their paws and cut them out and made them front facing turkeys instead of profile turkeys.

Okay it kinda looks like crap. But the idea is solid and if I were good at stuff this would probably be the shit. I’ll call Martha’s people with it. It’ll be the new thing and you guys saw it here first.

Happy Thanksgiving, bitches!

An Xavier Update.

I don’t have a ton to write about this week. It’s been kinda rough around here, lots of stress going on. This week hit a whole new level of shittiness, John got laid off from his job, and someone stole $200 out of my purse. Lovely huh? But to ice that shit cake a little more, Xavier got a few trips to the pediatrician.  About two weeks ago, I went to change his diaper and found a tiny pink spot, about the size of his dime in his diaper.

Here’s what the inside of my head sounded like :

Omg something is totally wrong with him he’s peeing blood wtf could that even mean call 911 no don’t call 911 call the dr wait what if it’s totally normal, didn’t I read somewhere that it’s totally normal? How can peeing blood be normal, I never do it, do boys do it? Has he been injured and no one told me? Did I see this on SVU as a sign of sexual abuse? How the hell does this even happen? Is it because I didn’t circumcise him? What about that damned hydroceles when he was born, could that be it? GOOGLE IT!! Ah man that’s not good, he’s either dying or it’s totally normal, well that’s nothing I didn’t know before. Guess I’m calling the pediatrician.

So I call. And they don’t say anything but “Can you make it here by 1:30?” And my head explodes. They want to see him right away it must be serious holy crap.

(I am SO cool.)

So, I get us down there, take the diaper. The Dr looks over his beans and franks, and doesn’t see anything. He tells me that it’s probably urate crystals, and sometimes it just happens for no reason at all, and sometimes it’s because he’s dehydrated, and sometimes it actually is blood, and the only way to know is to test it. So they send me home with instructions to collect a urine sample. does one collect a urine sample from an infant? I’ll tell you. They gave me this plastic bag with a hole in it with sticky tabs around the hole. I affix the stickies around his little business, put his diaper back on over the baggie. Then I realize..I have to remove the stickies from his business.

So for an hour or so I walk around, dreading taking this stupid thing off. Surely it’ll hurt, I wouldn’t want a bandaid ripped off my genitals. I try to figure out a way to remove it gently, perhaps if I use nail polish remover, or lighter fluid, that’s good for stickiness? can’t put that crap on a baby! Okay scratch that. Maybe if I just soak it in water? But what if it messes with the sample?

So..I just ended up going reaaaaaaallly slow. And he stared at me the whole time, like “I just don’t know about this Mom”

But I got it. And got it down to the lab. Phew. Oh we wait for results.

The next morning, another spot. A bigger spot. I call the Dr’s office. They say they didn’t find any blood, so it’s just urate crystals. Normal. Yay!  They tell me it’s possible that he’s a little dehydrated, and that I should drink more water. Eesh…fair enough, I definitely do not drink enough water. If it keeps happening, call back and they’ll test the diaper itself to see if it’s blood, further investigate this.  

So, a week or so goes by and it’s all good, I’m chugging water and gatorade regularly, but man I’m still definitely struggling with my milk supply. I’m still taking supplements, pumping and eating oatmeal all the damned time. I’m really trying. But I am still struggling.

So when I see another spot after I’m doing all that, I realize maybe despite my best efforts, he’s not getting enough. I call the Dr again, they tell me to come down. I call the Warmline and tell them all I’ve been doing and that it’s possible he’s not getting enough from me, and we stayed on the phone for awhile..and basically she gave me the “You had a good run, but maybe it’s just not working out for you.” speech.

So we head to the doctor. At Xavier’s appointment at 2 1/2 months, he weighed 13.5 lbs. He’s now 4 months old, and he weighs 14 lbs. That’s not enough weight gain to make the doctor happy. So..he recommended supplementing with formula. confession. When I was pregnant and immediately after giving birth..I really didn’t care about breastfeeding. I had seen a lot of my friends who were all “I’m going to breastfeed, formula is poison!!” and then for one reason or another, breastfeeding didn’t work out and they were devastated, harboring all kinds of guilt and self loathing about it. So I took this “Eh, if it works it works” attitude about it. And if I’m being totally honest, I kinda sorta didn’t want it to work. I saw formula as more convenient, and in my head, breastfeeding kind of grossed me out. (Hippies everywhere just gasped in horror.) I know, logically, that it’s the most natural thing in the world. But in my head it felt dirty.

Until I did it. And THEN it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And it was gratifying and I felt like this amazing earthmomma, nourishing my child with my own body and breastfeeding is awesome, I never have to wash bottles and my baby is thriving and lemme do my hippie dance and be all “It’s natural and beautiful, this is what boobs are for!”

So..when he told me that Xavier is not gaining enough weight, that he’s NOT thriving, I was devastated, harboring all kinds of guilt and self loathing. I still am. Let it be known that I have the happiest baby on the planet, ask anyone who’s met him. He’s super chill, and never acted as if he was still hungry. So I guess he was just doing what they tell us fatties to do and just eating til you’re satisfied, but not full. (I still haven’t mastered that.)  But I gotta shelve my stupid feelings and do what’s best for the kiddo. In the meantime, I’m still pumping around the clock, taking supplements and eating oatmeal. I’m not giving up just yet.

Non-Bathtime Photos Courtesy of Tana Murphy of The Murphys Photography. Her photos actually do my baby’s cuteness justice.:) Link:

The Illinois Trip.

Last week I got pretty serious on your asses.  This week, I figure I’ll make it up to you by delivering intolerable levels of cuteness to your computer screen. Or your phone screen if you’re on the go. I’m down with that, I like going places. I went to Illinois last month, and took the whole crew with me. Well, we left the pets at home with a stunt double.  But, my mom, John, Xavier and I all went to Illinois for a few days.

Day one, we were up at 2 am, heading for the airport. My mom is semi-disabled, and Xavier’s lazy ass refused to walk or carry anything. In an effort to save money, we decided to only check one bag for all of us, and we all would maximize what we carried on. Everyone is allowed one carry on bag, and one personal item, like a purse. So I busted out my two most giant purses for Mom and I. John got a man purse (it’s a European shoulder bag, dammit) and we all had our roller carry ons. Now add a stroller and a carseat.

Holy shit that’s a  lot of stuff.

Annnnd now we go through security with it. Which..I lost a lot of sleep preparing everything for to get through as fast as possible. But I think you just have to accept that when you’re traveling with an infant and a disabled person, it’s just not going to be speedy. But we tried. I made sure everyone was wearing shoes that slid on and off. No belts, everyones liquids are easily accessible, take that laptop out and put it in the bin by itself please.

It worked, and we got through without issue. Woot! This is the one tip I can’t stress enough when traveling with an infant: Estimate how long you think it could possibly take, if everything and anything were to go wrong. Now add an hour. Yes, seriously, an hour.

I’m a big girl, so being squashed into an airplane seat is not my fave. John and my mom aren’t teeny people either. Again, saving money so we did not buy Xavier his own seat, he had to be held. We looked about like this:

I was absolutely petrified of having that baby on the plane. You know, the one that screams and wails and everyone either goes “Goddammit woman shut that kid UP!” or “Wtf is that baby even doing on the plane at all?”   

 But kid is a rock star. I nursed him on the way up, somehow. He was like half on my mom’s lap, tucked under John’s elbow, squeezed in like a tetris block. But we got it done, and no one except John and my mom saw boobs. And they see em all the time, real talk.

When we landed, he was knocked out cold. So I didn’t wake him up to nurse on the way down. We requested a wheelchair at O’hare for my mom, because if you’ve ever been through that place, you know it’s a legit city. So at the gate, we got picked up by one of those little cars! And we got to baggage claim in about um, five seconds flat. Amazeballs.

Picked up the rental car,  and after a quick stop at Target for diapers and other supplies, (read: diet coke and candy.) checked into our hotel and took a nap. A NAP!!! Blisssssssss. Then John went and got dinner from one of my favorite Chicago area spots, Portillo’s.

Portillo’s is the SHIT, my friends.

You can actually get their food packed in dry ice and shipped to you. No, I never have.  I hear it’s not quite the same, but will do in a pinch. 

We stayed at the Country Inn and Suites in Naperville, which was actually pretty damned nice, and I got a helluva deal on The breakfast there was like a legit buffet, with hot food like bacon and waffles.

Saturday, realized we forgot Mom’s sweater. Back to Target. Back to Portillo’s for lunch. Tried to bathe Xavier using this thing:

He kept sliding right down out of it. It was kind of a fail.

Got myself dressed and my mom dressed. John got himself dressed and mostly got Xavier dressed. We got out of the hotel JUST in time to make the ceremony..but then we hit construction.

And then we hit some kind of accident where the police blocked the whole area off and we had to detour like a mile around, in heavy ass traffic.

We missed the ceremony.

I am so ashamed of this, I can’t even tell you. I was pretty much in tears by the time we got there just as cocktail hour was starting. Xavier, again was just amazing. He got passed around like a joint at a Phish show, and was all smiles. He fussed a little during toasts and my blood ran cold (omg what was I thinking bringing a baby to a wedding he’s going to ruin everything I’m such a fucking idiot…) But then it passed and he went to sleep. Phew.

Here’s some pictures, although I must apologize they’re not very good. I took my tiny camera because I had to use my purse as a diaper bag and only so much crap fits.

Chillin with Dad

My crazy ass Momma and me. Why I didn’t take my sunglasses off my head the entire night, I don’t know. I have a problem with this. I’m seeing a counselor and we’re working on my sunglasses attachment issues.

Gettin some lovin from Auntie Megan, Auntie Sarah, and Grandpa Gary. Grandpa Gary has the mustache John would have if I’d ever allow it. (Hint: I won’t. But Grandpa Gary rocks that shit, hard.)

So yea, I totally should have worn a cami under the dress. I have to adjust to life with boobs. And without sunglasses.

Check out his little pocket square! Couldn’t you just die!

So..we cut out pretty early, because Xavier was fading fast. I did have one glass of champagne though..and it was delicious. Then my mom actually tasted my diet coke to make sure there wasn’t booze in it.  Come on mom, I’m turning 30 this month..not gonna get trashed then drive my entire family home and stick a booze laced boob into my baby’s mouth. Who do you think I am, you?

(I kid, I’ve seen my mom drink like four times in my whole life. It was just a joke folks.)

So that was it for Chicago. We got out of there pretty early in the am, and started heading south. Stopped in Bloomington for a little while, where Xavier met his Uncle Tom. (Ha!) I freaking miss this guy.

We left Mom in Bloomington, and John, Xavier and I went on, down to Eureka Missouri, to meet up with my brother Joe and his amazing little family. We had such a great time just hanging out and talking about everything and nothing. It was SO, so great, no one wanted the night to end. We hadn’t seen them since we got married in 2009, because the distance is just crazy. So I’m really glad we were able to steal a few hours with them. My niece and nephew are getting so big it’s unbelievable.  We stayed at the Super 8. This place was like, right next to Six Flags St Louis, so it was wicked overpriced and badly in need of some serious updating. The game room still had Super Mario Bros/Donkey Kong. Retro!

Here’s a picture chock full of some of my favorite people in the whole world.

Yea I look like hot ass and cheese in it, but what are ya gonna do?

The next morning, we drove the four looooong ass hours back to Bloomington, for our one night appearance. My bestie Tess met us at our (much nicer)  hotel with her brood of crazy kiddos in tow.

Couple things I want to say about this photo. 1. I’m not one of those people who lets their baby run around in a tee shirt and a diaper. This never happens.  I was actively getting him dressed when I looked over and realized that all four of Tess’ kids were actually sitting still and no one was crying or wearing any bodily fluids. PICTURE TIME RIGHT NOW!! And 2, in Rylan’s little baggie right there is dehydrated green beans. NOT  what you think it is. Come on, who do you think we are, you?

I kid. I don’t know if you’re a pothead, or if you’d let your baby stick his hands in a bag full of it. I hope not. 

I had a little fun putting ridiculous amounts of makeup on the two little girls, Kyliee and Addisyn. Not “Full Glitz” like they say on Toddlers and Tiaras, but definitely “Semi-Glitz”, just because it amuses me, and they like the teal eyeshadow too.

SO then Xavier and I went to visit Jimi’s mom. She cooked me dinner and it was, no bullshit, the best meal I think I’d eaten all week. Yep, better than Portillo’s.

Here is Xavier with Gramma Smith:

The next morning, we left at about 4 am. And I’m glad because we hit this insane fog that definitely slowed things down quite a bit. I forgot how bad the fog in Illinois can be, when there’s no trees or hills to break it up, it just settles in like a thick ass blanket that you have to drive 12 mph through.

So we dropped off the car just in the nick of time, got to the airport, where I was hoping for another ride in the little car because HOLY SHIT that’s a lot of stuff. But no such luck. They have you drop off your elderly or disabled in this little roped off section, then they deliver them through security to their gate in the order in which their flight leaves.

My mom was not happy with this “Cripple Service” as she calls it. We didn’t care for being seperated, and it took them longer to get her there, than it did for us, with the baby, and standing in lines, and walking. But whatevs. Got on the flight, Xavier was an angel again, even though the ride was crazy turbulent. I’m a pretty seasoned vet when it comes to flying, after four years of back and forth, but it was enough to make me nervous. Boooo!

So even though it went as well as could be expected, I’m in no hurry to do that crap again. It was worth it, but exhausting. Mom and I are discussing taking a trip down to Texas so that Xavier can meet his Uncle Ben, (ha! Uncle Tom AND Uncle Ben) and his cousin Trinity, who is just three weeks older than he is. (and who I can’t wait to snuggle!) The trouble with that is that we’re looking at at minimum, two layovers to get to where they are in Texas. Last February, I took this trip alone. (If you count 16 weeks pregnant as alone, that is.) I got stranded in Washington DC for one night, with just my carryon (which only had my laptop and camera in it.) and it was epic fucking suckage. So the possibility of that happening with my mom and baby in tow..well let’s just say I’m hesitant.

But we’ll see, because Trinity IS pretty damned cute:-)

My boy is sick:-(

I’m whining all over the interwebz today about it. I know I’m long overdue for a post, and I’m sorry about that. But it’s just been insanity here at home. And just when I think things are calming down, Capone gets sick.

Let me just give you some background on Capone. He’s the dog that made me love dogs. He’s THAT dog, the one that some people are lucky enough to get, that no other dog can ever live up to. He understands what I say to him, even when I’m not using his commands. I’ve had him since he was 7 weeks old. He’s not just a dog. He’s like..the best damned dog in the world. He was kind of a terror in his adolescence, but neutering and training is critical with a male pit bull. I wasn’t always the genius you see before you today, ha ha ha.

I believe in soulmates, but not just like, the romantic cheesy hallmark card you complete me bullshit. Like..there’s a part of your soul that recognizes a part of mine and we’re meant to be in each other’s lives type of soulmate. I’ve been lucky enough to know a few. Capone is my doggy soulmate.

And if you wanna laugh at me, go ahead, I don’t give a shit. I love my other two dogs a LOT. A LOT. But Capone is that dog.

So when he gets sick or hurt, I FREAK THE FUCK OUT. When I am faced with his mortality, I just come unglued. I can’t handle even thinking about it. I know he’s 9 years old and that’s kind of starting to get up there. But he acts like a puppy. He’s a really happy, hyper, goofy dog. No one believes me that he’s 9 when they meet him.

So yesterday afternoon, I was out in the yard doing some fall planting. (That’s for another post.) Capone was out there with me, “helping” (it only looks like he’s laying in the sun. In reality he’s holding down the earth. You’re welcome.) I went to the box where we keep our gardening crap, and there was a rubbermaid tote next to it with some stagnant ass water on top. Capone started lapping at it, and I immediately stopped him. Gross, weirdo. We went on about our business. Me, breaking my back digging and planting and slaving, him, holding down the earth.

We come inside, and he vomits up approximately a metric fuckton. Of course, he puts it on the rug, not on the bare floor, cuz he’s awesome like that. I put him outside on his run while I clean it up so he doesn’t try to “help”. (Gross, weirdo!)

After I clean it up, I go to let him in and he’s out there in the poo position. And he kinda walks around like that. He’s definitely got the runs. Well this is not good. But I’m a seasoned vet, so I’m not freaking out just yet. But then I call him and he just stands there, head hung down and just looking at me. I call him again, this time with the promises of cheese, treats, anything. Still doesn’t move.

So..I go out there to him. He sits down and his eyes are kinda glazed over. This is not holding down the earth at all. He’s not himself at all. I check his gums and they’re totally white. This is REALLY not good.’s noteworthy background information that right before we left for our trip to Illinois, a good friend of mine lost her dog very suddenly to a ruptured spleen. She was fine in the morning and then..she wasn’t anymore. She was a damned good dog and healthy as a horse, so not that it’s ever easy to lose a pet, but when it’s out of nowhere like that, it’s especially painful. This is still very fresh in my mind, so be damned if I’m taking any chances. We’re going to the vet, RIGHT NOW.

I throw some cleanish clothes on, grab my purse, leave Xavier with my mom and I’m outside again, waving the leash like “COME ON CAPONE WANNA GO FOR A RIDE???”

Normally this would incite some serious happy dances. He just sat there, drooling. I have to go get him, clip the leash to him and walk him slowly to the car. By the time we get to the car, I’m in tears and I’m starting to lose my shit. Something is REALLY wrong.

I call my vet, it’s closing time but I beg them to stay and they’re awesome, so they wait around. It’s approximately a 15 minute drive, I was there in about 90 seconds. He vomits again in the car.

He wanders sloowly into the vet. Doesn’t wag his tail to greet anyone. Doesn’t give her kisses when she looks into his eyes. Doesn’t even flinch when they took his temp. She palpates his belly, doesn’t think it’s bloat unless it’s really early bloat. He’s not running a temp. His gums are starting to pink back up, but he still has that glazed over thing going on, and I don’t like it one freaking bit. She tells me we can do bloodwork, but we won’t have the results until tomorrow. We can do an xray, but if he ends up in the ER tonight, they’ll do one again anyway.

So I’m like “Okay..if this was your dog, what would you do? And like..the best dog you’ve ever owned and really just can’t picture life without kinda dog?”

“Take him to the ER, now.”


So we drive down to good ol Ocean State Veterinary. I’m freaked out because I know..KNOW that this place is not cheap. And we are not rich, especially right now. That trip to Illinois pretty much drained us, to be frank.

So I take him in, and he actually wags his tail when the tech approaches him. He slowly climbs up onto the bench next to me and sits down. He whimpers at the pile of kids toys, thinking they must be for him. Okay, this is promising. He’s starting to be himself again, maybe it was a fluke. He’s peeking over the bench, saying hello to a little girl who was playing with the toys, and he starts to lick her face and…well knowing he just barfed and all, I thought this was not a good idea, so I gave him a little tug on the leash. And he slipped and fell off the bench. I swear I did not tug hard. On any other day, I could pull with all of my strength and not move that dog an inch if he didn’t wanna go. So when he fell off the bench and just LAID there..I got really scared again.

We went into the exam room and the vet checked him over, and he was really looking about 50% better than before. She said doing an xray was the most important thing to make sure we weren’t looking at bloat or a blockage, as those were immediately life threatening stuff. She asked me permission to sedate him..I said sure if you really feel like you need to. But he will do pretty much anything you ask him to. If you try to physically restrain him he pushes back just because he doesn’t understand what you want, he thinks you’re playing or something. I don’t physically manipulate my dogs much, they’re stronger than me and I don’t want them to know it. It’s all mental in this camp, bitches.

But apparently they felt they needed to sedate the ever living shit out of him. They didn’t see anything at all of concern. They would be happy to do bloodwork or keep him overnight for observation, but they felt like a little anti nausea meds, some fluids to combat the dehydration from all the explosiveness and a prilosec and bland diet would do the trick. So that’s what they did. They gave the fluids subcutaneously, so he had this big ass hump on his back. I got back a little drunk baby camel. He was so out of it when I got him back that I had to pick him up to put him in the car. He just put his head on my lap and slept the whole way home.

When I got home, he couldn’t lift himself up out of the seat, so I had to pick his big ass up again. He took a few steps and just stopped. John had to come out and help me carry him inside and up the stairs and put him on his bed, where he pretty much stayed all night.

Today, he’s weak and shaky. He turned up his nose at the burger and rice lunch I prepared for him at first (SO UNLIKE HIM!) but then he ate it after awhile. He’s pretty much been sleeping all day. I hate it. Watching him like this and realizing that he’s really getting old and can’t bounce back like he used kills me.

I’ll post pics from the trip and stuff soon. It went pretty damned well, thanks to my obsessive planning and my unexplainably angelic son.