Fun stuff and a Norman Update

I’m so sorry to neglect you, fabulous reader, but we had a pretty busy weekend.

My Mom and my Bob were in town and all the adults basically followed Wallace around and stared with adoring family eyes while he told us loud incomprehensible baby stories and slammed himself into most available surfaces. His Nana is the best and taught him how to find the piggy in his alphabet book. She also taught him to sit quietly in her lap while they read a book, which mommy feels is a basic betrayal because if there is any universal truth it’s that I MAY NOT READ WALLACE A BOOK HE WILL READ HIS OWN BOOK THANKYEWVERYMUCH.

Wallace also figured out that if you race into the livingroom from the kitchen, Nana will scream and you can scream with her, and goddamn if that isn’t the most fun thing ever.

Mom looks great, which was a great relief. She did throw her back out picking up the Hulkbaby without bending her knees, but that can happen to anyone. It’s so common, in fact, that Wallace should come with a sticker on his back that says: Caution: Do not lift without back brace and knee supports. Unfortunately our crappy, $100, 4-year-old futon did not help at all, so in the end Mom and Bob moved to a nearby hotel and got a decent night’s sleep.

OH, THE CUTE!

On Saturday the whole family walked down to the local Halloween faire. Wallace wore his turtle costume and oh my god the cute nearly killed everyone in its path. We got lots of turtle pictures, including the moment of great turtle pancaking**, and the disdain with which pony rides are held. The preciousness was deadly and we had a wonderful time. I’ll post pictures very soon.

Thanks for visiting Mom and Bob! I love you both so much and we miss you!

Today I did something very difficult and dropped my son off at daycare as a turtle and then drove away, missing his day of candy and parades and pictures with all the other costumed kids. It was awful leaving because that house was filled with the kind of liquid adorable that someone needs to figure out how to bottle and sell.

Tonight there is Wallace’s first ever night of trick-or-treating and there will be so many pictures, fabulous reader, that lo, it will be as though the sun were shining at 7:00pm.

I have an anatomy exam on Wednesday and I have to write four papers before Wednesday, but who cares when there’s TRICK or TREATS? Hah. Let us all pray I do not fail all my classes due to the devil holiday.

I promised you a Norman update and here it is. This is the updated Craigslist entry for Norman.

More soon, FR, but class is almost over and in anatomy I really actually have to pay attention.

**Pancaking: A family term describing what happens when a child or animal (specifically a cat) wishes not to be held or guided and behaves as if it is boneless. Can also refer to a mental response to an argument.A refusal to be pinned down or guided, mentally or physically.

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Not. Even. Close.

BASTARD FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Some people, some people are too evil for hell.

Bastards.

So I’ve been working my ass off trying to find this goddamned adoptive family for this rabbit. Poor Norman has been sitting in our bathroom peeing all over our floor and being by himself most of the day. I had hit some roadblocks, but have been working hard to try and find somewhere safe for him to go.

On my way home tonight I got a jubilant call from Andy. After five days the owners had called for Norman! Hooray!! My worries were over. My mother gets into town tomorrow and there would NOT be rabbit pee all over the floor. Huzzah!

When I got home I called and spoke to the daughter, who was the only one who understood English. She described Norman to a T and so I said, “Sounds great! I’m glad we found him! Come on over and get him!”

She stammered, “What? Now?”

Me, “Um, yeah. He’s your rabbit. Come get him.”

She said, “How about in two hours?”

I said, “Well, earlier than that would be better for me.”

She explained, “We’re not at home right now. We’ll be back in two hours.”

“‘kay. Two hours, then.”

They were supposed to be here two hours ago. Two hours. I called once and got an answering service, and the second time someone bounced me right to voicemail.

So I left them a message telling them that their rabbit has been pissing in my bathroom for five days. That I have a baby that needs sleep and that I need sleep and that I couldn’t believe what jerks they were being. I said that if they didn’t come and get the rabbit tonight I’d give it to someone else.

Of course, we didn’t go and get the bunny cage tonight because he was going to be on his way home by 8:00pm.

FUCKING FUCKING FUCKS!

This is what you get for being nice. This is what you get for helping an animal. MY HOUSE IS NOT A BOARDING HOUSE FOR TEMPORARILY UNWANTED PETS. I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT IF IT’S THE WORLD SERIES, ASSCLOWN. COME GET YOUR FUCKING RABBIT.

Well, asshole, it ain’t your rabbit anymore. Shove that up your ass and smoke it.

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I owe you some pictures!

As promised, here are some pictures of the finished Halloween project at 1:00am.

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Would you believe that nobody has called for Norman?

So there he sits, nose wiggling, pooping pellets on our bathroom floor.

He can’t stay with us, which is a real shame because he is such a lover. Yesterday he twined around my feet like a cat. This is supposed to be a very affectionate thing to do.

Tonight Young At Heart pet rescue (the people who gave us Joey) is donating a dog crate to us so that Norman has somewhere to call his own, and my husband doesn’t have to cower in fear at the bathroom door any longer.

I have put a listing up at Craigslist in Chicago and have gotten a few interested emails. One woman, in particular, is asking all the right questions and I think her family would be a great forever home for Norman.

Keep your fingers crossed for this sweet guy!

If you want a fun read and think you should know what your rabbit is saying to you, visit:

The Language of Lagomorphs
What Your Rabbit is Saying and How to Speak Back

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Or: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

FR, I have good news about school, but I am very nearly going to die of the tired, so I’m actually taking myself off to bed.

A few notes before I go:

Anybody want to adopt a rabbit?

and

Do not mock the underpants, for they are mighty indeed.

Lastly, fertile? Infertile? Head over to Tales from the Stirrups and weigh in. But if you’re coming from here, Fabulous Reader, please be polite. Remember: Only fuckmunches use the word “fuckmunch”.

Thank you

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Way 1:

My child has fallen directly on his mouth THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW and cut his lip on his teeth and bled everywhere. Tonight he was running (walking rillyrillyfast), tripped and fell and smashed his face against the single square foot of hard tile we have in the entire house. His lip swelled up and it hadn’t returned to normal by bedtime. Third time’s the charm!

Way 2:

Wallace has a milk intolerance. You know how I know? I know because we tried to switch to milk, per doctor’s instruction, earlier this week. That day he was in a foul, foul mood and wound up with the most toxic diaper I’d ever seen. He had a raging rash that four full days of Desitin treatment did little to touch. Yes, The Magic Desitin of the Gods failed to quell the hideous, painful redness.

I said to my husband, “Husband, darling, I do believe our baby boy may have inherited my milk allergy” “Codswollop!”* he said, charmingly English as always, and I replied, “No, it’s true. Look at the total hideousness of his ass!”

Today, for reasons only known to Lucifer himself, I was making Wallace some formula in a sippy cup, just because he loves it, and I thought, “Hang on! Maybe if I make it half-and-half he’ll transition to milk”. Yes. Yes I know. I have no idea why I did it. My brain has taken leave of itself.

So tonight my child went to bed sobbing hysterically, not just because his upper lip sat like a slug on his face, but because my poor son’s personal bits are front-to-back raw, miserable redness.

Way 3:

I have a test tomorrow. It is a test in which I really must do extraordinarily well. Really. And right now is the first time I’ve had to sit down in the past 48 really, and I’m blogging instead of studying. I hate the textbook. It’s written like my eighth-grade papers. Ugh.

But, because I love you so much, Fabulous Reader, that last bit is really your fault.

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Whatever has happened to Norman the bunny one thing we can be sure of is that he has a healthy digestive system.

I’d imagine that spouse bunnies say to their bunny partners upon arriving home, “My! You certainly crapped a lot of pellet turds today, dear!”

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For a bunny

One of the things I love most about my husband is that he doesn’t walk by. Neither of us do, or can. If we see an animal hurt or lost we don’t walk by. If we see a child that is unattended, we don’t walk by. We don’t walk by older folks who are weighed down by things or looking confused and we don’t walk by pregnant women who need seats on the EL. We never just walk by.

This morning I got into my car and saw something furry huddled against the tire underneath the car in front of mine. I thought it was a puppy at first, but when I got out and took a look it turns out it was a bunny. A fluffy lop-eared store-bought somebody’s-pet bun. He was huddled against the tire of the car trying to keep warm.

It took me about an hour to yoink him by coaxing him out with a fruit and cereal bar, but I did it. He’s now shut in our upstairs bathroom with some apples and green beans and water and is pooping everywhere. He’s safe and warm and away from the dog and the cats.

There is no question of us keeping this one. Joey is a beagle and will have him for a snack as soon as look at him. The cats would have a great time chewing on him as well. But given the state of him, I think that he probably belongs to someone just a few houses away. He’s certainly not been out long.

He’s desperately cute and incredibly friendly. He let me scritch him behind the ears and made a nice warm lump in my arms while I held him. If we were pet-free we’d totally be open to keeping him, but he’s got a home, and we’ve already got too many four-legged animals in our small house.

Andy sighed dramatically at me and rolled his eyes at me over the phone, but he knows that it was my turn to find a lost pet. He found the last one. He said, “Every time I turn around there are four more legs in this house!” in that way that makes it sound like he’s mad, but he isn’t really at all.

I’m thinking about a temporary name of Peanut (as in: “Found a Peanut”) or Norman. I’m leaning toward Norman at the moment.

Hello, bunny! Let’s get you home!

If you’re thinking about a bunny, this one almost ran out into traffic several times. He’s not so good with the traffic. Not very car-saavy. If you need a rabbit to help you with your drivers test, this is not the rabbit you want.

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But here’s an appetizer

Me and my Mama and Good Dog Teddy at Grandma and Pop’s house.

I think I’m about two here. I think.

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Remember the movie Fargo starring Frances McDormand? Remember how everyone said ooh yeahhh right through their noses?

The woman across the way (the germ-spreading cow-irker) is having personal discussions with her friends and loudly exclaiming “Yeeeeeaaaaah?” at regular intervals.

I think I deserve a medal for not going over and saying,

“So, you were havin’ sex with the little fellow then.”

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