Show me your teeth.

My baby has two teeth. And he’s going through his six month growth spurt. Or someone fed him after midnight and he’s turning into a Gremlin.

I know it’s not just the teeth, because he’s had those coming in for awhile. This growth spurt business can suck it though. Yesterday, my normally sweet, angelic, Buddha baby actually beat on my chest with his tiny, chubby fists while screaming in my face.  He had napped approximately 30 minutes for the entire day. (normally, he’s a rockstar sleeper.) And he’d been kind enough to wake us up at 6:30 in the morning, and hour and a half early, after he stayed up an hour and a half past his bedtime.  I know, two or three days out of six months isn’t shit, and there are lot of people with way bigger problems when it comes to their offspring.

Today seems better though, he’s actually down for his second nap. So please, baby Jesus, let that be all of that crap. I want to tell you bitches about some shit that’s helping the little gremlin be more like Gizmo, less like Stripe.

Here’s Gizmo, because he’s cute.

Look at him driving the little car, saving the day. Awww.

Anyway. I’m by no means a baby expert. But I am using some doggie wisdom on my teething baby. For instance, when he bites down on any of my body parts or something he shouldn’t, I tell him “AH AH!” in a sharp sounding voice. He seems to notice the difference.  I swear.

So the first toy I want to talk about is Sophie the Giraffe.

Sophie is made of the same damned vinyl that cheap dog toys are made out of. She even squeaks.  I’m pretty sure that the getting richer by the minute folks over at Vulli are laughing their asses all the way to the bank. I have multiple momma friends who swear this is their kid’s favorite toy, that their child is obsessed, it’s totally worth it.

Xavier doesn’t have Sophie, and unless someone else shells out the $20 for something that will ABSOLUTELY be shredded by one of these dogs, he never will. I have been tempted. The thing is cute, and come on, I have spent $20 on stupider shit.

But I think I’m taking a stand on Sophie. Especially after I read all the reviews on Amazon about that killer front leg of hers..all these kids almost choking to death. Pass. There’s way cooler stuff to choke on. (That’s what she said.)

One thing he does have and is obsessed with and came with a reasonable price tag is this guy:


Okay, on the serious, it looks kinda weird, like a diseased nipple or something. But the kid will lay there holding onto this thing and babbling for like days. And he chews on the sides and the ring part too, all made of silicone. Which holds temperature pretty nicely so I stick this bad boy in the freezer between uses. And for $5 if the dogs should eat it, whatevs.

Next up, the craziest thing about these things is how long it took people to invent them.


Holy shit are these things awesome.

We’re dabbling with Baby Led Weaning. Cuz I’m kind of a hippie and I like to do hippie things. (We’ll come back to this.) But the other day Xavier bit off a big ass hunk of his avocado wedge, and it was only thanks to my cat like reflexes that he survived. I’ll be honest, it scared the bejeezus out of me.  So we’re kinda backing away from that, I can’t take the scariness. I figure eating purees like the rest of us poor saps for the last 20 years probably won’t land him a seat on the short bus. Besides, if I’m being totally honest, I have shit to do.  I want to enjoy my kid, not spend it watching him like a hawk while he rubs a slimy ass banana all over his face and trying to catch the shit he drops before the three lurking beasts do. (Again, cat like reflexes come in handy. And a good “Drop it.”)

So this takes the scariness out. I put that banana hunk in there, hand it to him, and now I can actually do stuff while he’s rubbing it all over his face, not much is hitting the floor, more is landing in his mouth. Plus, I freeze stuff before I give it to him, so it helps soothe the pain from those evil little pearls of doom.

Moving on..I’m not a huge fan of medicating the shit out of my kid. I’ll medicate the shit out of myself, but that’s another post.  So when I spotted an Amber teething necklace on my friend’s baby, I thought “Oh how cute, jewelry on the baby, I love it!” But this is functional jewelry, not just bling. Sometimes hippie shit works, alright? So when my friend said this crap actually appeared to be helping, I thought hey, wtf, I’ll give it a shot.

This is not my kid, but it kinda looks like a made for tv movie version of him.

Okay, no it doesn’t. But he’s sleeping, goddammit. SLEEPING. So I’ll take a picture of him in it another time, but he looks cute. Like Tommy Pickles decided to go on tour with Phish. It’s not designed to chew on. It uses magical powers to make the pain disappear, or something. Look, I don’t know science. But I do know, this kid sleeps longer when he has been wearing it. And sometimes, I double it around his ankle and let him sleep with it on, inside his feetie pajamas. (Even in my most paranoid mom hypothetical worst case scenarios, I’m just not sure anything bad could come from that.) And even John, who laughed at it and called it “hooey”..admits that it works. And it helped my friend’s baby too, so there. Don’t be stupid and leave it on your baby overnight or unsupervised.

He has a bunch of other teething toys and stuff, but none rock my world like those do so far. But I’m betting this won’t be my last “OMG FUCK TEETHING” Post.

A couple of other things before I go.

1. I have finally hopped on the Pinterest bandwagon. Productivity has slowed to a halt around here.

2. I am officially planning Xavier’s first birthday party. It’s going to be a pirates theme, which I’m pretty sure means I need to drink my weight in rum and fantasize about Johnny Depp a lot. Which is pretty much like normal times.



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!

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.

10 Ways Dog Grooming Prepared Me For Motherhood.

Now that I’m back to work, I’m realizing all the parallels between my work life and my home life. So I thought I’d compile a little top ten list, because who doesn’t love a good list?

10. My life is lived in three hour blocks. I know I have three hours to get a certain amount of work done and I have to prioritize these things in my head and accomplish them in the company of living beings who don’t give a shit about the time. Life with a newborn: also three hour blocks.  Feed, sleep, change, repeat.

9. Ever tried to dress a baby? It’s very much like trying to gift wrap a squid on PCP. Numerous flailing dogs have taught me how to utilize every single one of my fingers in order to restrain just the right places with just the right pressure in order to accomplish what needs accomplished without causing pain.  The Pug needs his nails clipped. Xavier needs to wear a button down shirt with buttons the size of a bedbug’s nipples. Okay maybe not. But it looks cute so shut up.

8. Removing gunk from little eyeballs without removing little eyeballs.

7. Clipping tiny nails without clipping tiny toes.

6. Never walk away from the table or tub when there’s someone on it or in it.

5.  Drool? Not a problem.

4. Patience, patience, patience. They know not what they do.

3.  Baby talk. According to some science I made up, the exact same pitch works for dogs as does babies. Well timed baby talk can go a LONG way.

2. Poop. Need I elaborate?

1.  The art of Zen. You’re 30 minutes late, and you get him all clean, fresh, looking adorable, and all the sudden..blam, projectile poop. As you’re cleaning that up, he pees all over and starts screaming his head off. The oven is dinging, the phone is ringing, and there are multiple dogs barking their heads off in the other room.

Just another day at my office, kid. Take a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and just do one thing at a time.  This little creature is referencing you to gauge how to act, so you gotta be The Fonz, or else they will sense your panic, and panic too. So bitch, be cool. (That part was said in Samuel L Jackson’s voice.)