My Vet’s Hotter Than Your Vet

Recently we changed vets. Our former vet was at the super chain pet emporium. Great staff; terrible corporate-structured business plan designed to make sure that every time you take your dog in it will cost at least $500. And  it will have to stay overnight.

So we have a new vet that we love even though we’ve only been there once so far. Then Casey developed an issue. There’s no polite way to say it: she wouldn’t pee. When I called to bring her in they asked if I could get a sample.

Me: Umm. That’s kind of the problem. Nothing’s really coming out.

They said not to worry about it. They’d take care of it at the office.

Casey and Jack are terribly attached to each other. Jack more so; he screams whenever they are separated. Yes, screams. Ever heard a pug scream? Click here. It’s neat. And loud. He started screaming when Casey and I walked out the door and he got left behind. I could hear him as I was pulling out of the driveway, even with the house closed up and the car windows rolled up.

In the car Casey jumped into my lap and forced her full body weight against my chest. She trembled silently as I attempted to steer around her. It was pathetic.

At the vet she kept looking back over her shoulder at me. Without her twin there, she was completely ungrounded.

We waited in the exam room.

caseyface
Casey under my chair in the exam room

And then the doctor came in.

This was a different doctor than the one we saw before. Much different. This doctor was a hot Columbian chick in leather pants, knee-high boots, and a lab coat.

She was awesome.

We discussed Casey, and then the doctor scooped her up under one arm before Casey even knew what was going on and took her in the back to “get a sample”.

I’m not entirely sure how they managed to get a sample out of her. Did they just squeeze it out? Is it in any way like milking a cow? I kept picturing different scenarios until she came back in with Casey. And a sample.

I didn’t ask.

We put Casey on the exam table- which was an elevator, which totally freaked her out- and I held her head in a futile attempt to relax her. The vet meanwhile slapped on a rubber glove, lubed up and started manually checking Casey’s urethra for stones. Then she spoke to Casey in the most incongruous baby-dog voice and Casey calmed right down. Didn’t seem to mind at all. And I couldn’t think of a single appropriate thing to say.

Jack was Still. Screaming. When we got home. I’m glad no one called the cops on us this time. That happened.

Thinking about it afterwards, leather pants seem really appropriate for vets. They clean easily and offer way more protection against scratches and bites than scrubs do. There are probably a lot of other occupations that could benefit from leather pants. This has become my current obsession and I would love your input on which occupations you think could really do a better job utilizing all the benefits of leather pants.

Really, we’d all benefit. I’m thinking here perhaps a National Leather Pants Day (there isn’t one; I checked. There is, however, a National No Pants Day, though there is some great debate on what day that is).

 Meanwhile, your questions of the day: How do you think they got “the sample”? Who do you think should be wearing leather pants? When is National No Pants Day, and are you going to celebrate it?

Casey is going to be fine. Even with four medicines (because she also has an infection in her ear and between her toes) it was less than $500 and she didn’t have to stay overnight. One of the medicines is a shampoo for just her paws.

That I am supposed to leave on for fifteen minutes.

Which should be interesting.

Remember to enter my Pi Day Pie Challenge!

One Slurpee Shoe Sunday

#4: You remember that day about a year and a half ago when I was riding on Julietta’s scooter and I wrecked and hurt my finger real bad and I haven’t wanted to go on a scooter or a skateboard ever since?

Me: You mean right before we bought you the skateboard for your birthday that you’d been asking for for three years and now have never ridden? No, I don’t remember that.

#4: Well, that day I had a Slurpee and I dropped it.

Me: While you were riding on the scooter you were drinking a Slurpee? Maybe this is connected to you wrecking.

#4: No, I was drinking it next to the scooter. I just dropped it you know?

Me: Mmm-hmmm.

#4: And when it landed it just landed exactly like this, I didn’t do anything to it, so I took a picture and put it on my phone for the background:

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A Slurpee after my own heart

#4: It almost made up for not getting to drink my Slurpee.

Here are your links:

It’s Shamrock Shake time again, at a certain fast food establishment I don’t patronize and haven’t in years. Here’s a badasss homemade Shamrock Shake recipe (bonus: contains actual dairy ingredients, so you can legally refer to it as a milkshake, rather than just a shake. . .gads, I totally sound like a former McEmployee. Which I am.) Shamrock Shake on Homesteading Housewife

If you’ve ever been pregnant, or if you’ve ever made somebody pregnant, or if you’ve never wanted to be pregnant, you should check out this post by Lyz Lenz, who is freaking hilarious and whom I got to hear speak at BlogHer ’12 : I Am Not a Magical Birthing Unicorn

Dammit. Somebody posted this on Facebook and I watched it on my lunch break at work and had to pretend like I got hot sauce in my eye again. Viddler video: high school basketball player passes the ball to a mentally challenged player on the other team.

I have a confession to make: I’m real damn glad I missed out on toddler tantrums. If any of you are taking my name in vain right now, please know that I am exactly 30 days away from having four teenage girls living under my roof at one time. For a bit of insight to the science behind why your animal child (um, speaking only of toddlers here) just threw spaghetti in your face, check out this post: Why Does My Kid Freak Out? on Slate. If you have a teen who just threw spaghetti at you, I can’t help you.

I freaking love this: The Nietzsche Family Circus. Randomized pairing of Family Circus cartoons and Nietzsche quotes. 

One last bonus link for a bonus mom. Lisa Teal-Webb is a stepmom in Ohio who is one of my biggest sources of step-parenting help and inspiration through her group Buckeye Bonus Mom. This link is to an interview NBC4 in Ohio did with her.

Happy Sunday.

Stepmom Guest Post: Piecesonnapkins

When I started this blog, I had one objective: to be part of the force for good in step parenting cyberland. I was looking for positive role models and mostly found stepmom blogs that were full of rants about the ex, the vile children, and even the husband.

I think it’s safe to say that most of us in blended families have already been through plenty of drama, and have enough of it playing in the background most days that we don’t really need another dramatic playground to parade around on.

During my time in the blogosphere I have run across some really great and honest stepmoms, stepmom forums, and stepparent blogs. I had the thought that I wanted to do periodic guest posts from stepmoms I admire. I asked my friend Kaci if she wanted to write a piece because she is most definitely a stepmom I admire. She obliged me and sent it off in about a day and a half. This was before I took my super-long social media sabbatical. I believe two of the children she’s writing about here are married now and one is running for senator. . .

What I like about Kaci and her husband is that as much as possible, they use their custodial situation as a chance to be intentional in their relationships with their children. It takes a lot of work to get to the intentional place, as opposed to the putting out fires and damage control space (speaking from experience here). And then you end up with a story you can blog about.

We Told Them We’d Eat Pizza in California

by Piecesonnapkins

Every odd numbered year we spend Christmas with the kids. Three of them anyway, there’s a new youngest son, but my husband and I made him from scratch so we don’t have to trade off years with that one. Plus, technically he might be Jewish anyway.

At any rate, every odd numbered year we spend Christmas with three of the kids. Oldest Son, Middle Child, and Former Youngest come to our house for TEN WHOLE DAYS IN A ROW over winter break from school, and odd years this also coincides with the Christmas thing.

Anyway, two Christmases ago it was an even year (aren’t my maths skills astounding?) and this means the kids were with the other side of their family on the actual holiday, which got Husband and I thinking.

Husband: “So…what should we get the kids this year?”

Me: “Well, we could spend the money on a lot of crap they’ll break or forget about, or we could just spend that money on tickets to see The Mouse in California. It’s not like they’ll be lacking in presents and Christmasyness from the other side of their lives…”

Husband: “My goodness, lovely and brilliant wife, that is a wonderful idea! I must sing your praises!” (I may have paraphrased this conversation in a way to help improve my awesomeness. Possibly.)

At any rate, we agree this is a wonderful idea and we call Uncle who is King of All Things Mouse (UKATM) and run the idea by him & Ant.

Folks, telling UKATM was just exactly like those commercials you see on TV where parents tell the kids they’re going to see The Mouse. He squealed! He jumped! He hugged! It was as much of a gift to him as it was to the kids…and the kids didn’t even know we were going yet. Of course he and Ant would join us. Of course we would get adjoining hotel rooms at his favorite place to stay within walking distance of The Mouse. Of course they would keep it a secret and play along. Of course it would be all-caps AWESOME. Right before the trip Uncle G was going to join as well! Five adults to three kids is a most excellent ratio for seeing The Mouse on Dec. 30. Plus, even numbers! Everybody gets a buddy! This will be done! Eep, Eep, Eep! The Jumping! The excitement! The question, “Um, UKATM, you can keep this a secret from the kids, right?”

We pick up the kids on the 26th, as per the usual, and have a little family celebration with food and some gifts from the grandparents and the kids don’t even notice they didn’t get a single thing from us.

We get up on the 29th and we ask the kids what they want to do that day. “Eh, I dunno” is the general response so Husband and I suggest we go to California to eat some pizza. We had a trip to California a few months earlier for some beach time and they’ve been itching to get back. Former Youngest is on board, ’cause he’s cool like that. Middle Child wants to know what kind of pizza. Oldest is…skeptical, but he’s skeptical about everything. Then he realizes we’re not joking and he’s completely ready to pack up and go.

UKATM, The Spouse, and Uncle G are already en route and arrive at the hotel long before us, get both rooms checked in, and enjoy themselves.

We borrow my dad’s van and start to make our way from AZ to CA and all is well until this happens…

Riiiight.

But we have a spare!

And we’re near a town!

And we get new rubber on the old wheel!

And we’re off. We eat, we drive, the kids play car games and draw pictures and pass notes back and forth. The sun sets and they doze some and we’re starting to get close. The sleeping children will help make the surprise stay a surprise until the next morning when we get up and casually say, “Hey, guys, why don’t we take a walk and see what there is to do around here…”

Then this happens…on the exit ramp…from one freeway to another…mere miles from the destination…

Very glad we spent too much money on new rubber on the other wheel.

Very glad we didn’t get hit by traffic.

Very glad Husband is excellent at changing tires.

Very glad that everyone is still aslee…oh. Wait. Middle Child wakes up. We try to coax her back to sleep, telling her we’re getting close, start trying to distract her by talking about the kind of pizza she wants (pizza that is now being picked up by Uncle G and The Spouse)…forgetting that SHE CAN READ NOW.

But, gotta say, the look on her face was priceless when she realized just exactly what part of California we’re in. Plus, the boys are still asleep and she loves a good secret, even though this is one she can hardly contain.

We arrive at the hotel and I “get the key from the front desk” (UKATM) and he hurries back to the room after I tell him phase two of the secret was compromised after the second popped tire. Phase one is still on. Tired boys and Middle Child trying to play it cool get to carrying things to the hotel room, walking in, going to the adjoining room door (like they always do), opening the adjoining room door to ask the question, “what’s on the other side of that door?”…only this time, finding the other door open.

A gruff voice in the distance says, “Come on in, we’ve got pizza…”

I say, “Yeah, go ahead.”

They look at me, wide-eyed, and essentially say the kid version of, “What the hell, woman, are you trying to kill us?”

Then they realize it’s Ant! and Uncle G! and UKATM! And we go ahead and let the cat out of the bag and tell them where we are so that Middle Child doesn’t spontaneously erupt with excitement. UKATM got all of us awesome T-shirts to celebrate, and will indoctrinate the kids in the ways of pin trading.

Then, the next morning, even though they found out the night before we get this…

We all had such a fun time, and the kids loved that it was Uncle G’s first time there also. They were still totally surprised, and in the end it didn’t matter that it didn’t go off without a hitch. In fact, I think those popped tires might have made the trip even more memorable than it might have been.

Plus, on one of the busiest days of the year with the amazing help of UKATM (this guy would appear out of nowhere with magic passes to get us to the front of lines), we were able to ride fourteen rides with kids aged 8, 7 and 5 in nine hours.  No one puked or whinged all day, just lots of thanks and smiles and funny stories. It was such a successful trip that this past Christmas, even though they were with us, they opted for another trip over presents. Wonder what we can get them to believe this year…think a plane trip for a movie is out of order?

If you see a stepmom you admire today, tell her she’s doing a good job.