Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...but she didn't have to laugh so darn much about it.

You know, there are days when as a parent, I feel just like Adam West in the infamous Batman movie (it's in the top ten of my most favorite Processed Cheese flicks). He's running around in sagging tights and flippy cape, and is in a state of absolute desperation to solve a problem...in particular, safely disposing of a bomb on a crowded pier. He dodges past the Salvation Army, he wiggles past cute kiddies, the Salvation army rounds the corner again, he's jumping this way and that, and just as he's found what seems to be a safe exodus from the situation, cute-widdle-fwuffy-baby-duckies swim right under his intended bomby-egress. "Some days," he says with genuine exasperation, "you just can't get rid of a bomb." Today, after my darling boy decided to use a laundry detergent cap as a Josh-hat, and of course managed to pour the remaining contents from it into his eyes, and I had to fight him for over twenty minutes to get him to hold still so that I could properly flush the stuff out -- one hand on screaming, berserker boy, one hand with the water jug, a wrenched back from the joy of it all right there in between, and eardrums that nearly bled (mine) from the noise we both were making -- and I felt exactly the same way. This has not been one of the better days, but it really has been a while since we've rubbed each other to such a raw, exhausting state of mind. I'm trying to bear that in mind...a genuinely difficult thing when the rawness and desire to run/crawl away is still high in what's left of my thought-processes. *Sigh* Moving on.

My friend Heidi M. has been spending much more time with us than she used to...not that I mind a bit...with Den and Care in Texas and the general insanity of Jay and Dev's schedule, she's been giving me the chance to play big sister to someone closer to home lately. Heidi's had a series of rough patches ...all of them seem to be landing on her head in clumps right now...finances, concern over her family's health...and trying to help her sort things out lets me feel better...just more focused. I feel like an adult when I give advice...and I don't usually feel that way most of the time...God love her, she's young enough to take suggestion...and bullheaded enough to trust her gut...I wish I had been as strong when I was her age. She's just sort of blended in, and I'm fairly certain that she is Josh's first girl love (as opposed to the utter adoration that Harry inspires in him) and he will do anything she asks of him. If he doesn't eat his hot dog, she looks him dead in the eye and firmly tells him that she doesn't want him eating HER hot dog...and his eyes get all big and sly, and with a huge ol' evil grin, he opens his mouth as big as it will go and tries to shove the entire hot dog into his mouth...she has since learned to tell Josh not to eat little bites of HER hot dog all-gone, with much greater success....but "Heidi's hot dog" then became "Heidi's mashed potatoes" or "Heidi's spaghetti". He will even climb onto the couch and want to know if it's "Heidi's couch" -- but Jon did draw the line when Josh asked if our television was "Heidi's Television"....That one got a rather strong, "NO.". As we have discovered, anything that gets the progeny to eat without a major hassle is a good thing, and while there is still food left on his plate from time to time, there's much less of it, now that he's eating "Heidi's portion." Heidi also has a natural ability to play wall...which means I just keep bouncing my own theories, worries and ramblings off of her. It's nice just being able to talk to someone without the constant new mommy fear of being judged...and usually, she's smart enough to just let me talk it out and figure how to handle things on my own, which is a huge help...and sometimes, it doesn't take much of a nudge from her to help me into a different mood. Take the following conversation:

• kim says (11:55 AM):
  serendipity is one of my favorite things
  Heidi says (11:56 AM):
  that is a big word
  kim says (11:56 AM):
  means happy accident...if Josh had been a girl, that could have been a possible name
  kim says (11:57 AM):
  We'd have called her "Dippy", obviously.
  Heidi says (11:57 AM):
  nice that child would never of had any issues huh lol
  kim says (11:58 AM):
  um, no bigger issue than that we were her parental units.
  Heidi says (11:58 AM):
  shut up u guys are good parents u just don't know it yet
  kim says (11:59 AM):
  If he doesn't end up in therapy, jail, or spiraling relationships, I'll buy into that.
  Heidi says (11:59 AM):
  u crack me up u know that


• kim says (12:00 PM):
  is truth...paranoia tribbles are now a part of my life in a big way since he came into play
  Heidi says (12:01 PM):
  i know but i am still going to tell u what good parents u r anyways so
  kim says (12:01 PM):
  and I'll lap it up like a kitten...even if I don't buy into it

(and Speaking of Kittens)

Hinata M'OWee has literally entered our lives with a leap and a bound. We were not looking for another cat. We were just fine with Koda, thank you VERY much. The fact that we were not looking did not mean that She wasn't looking. On July 29th, after Josh in his usual bossy-determined fashion decided we were going out to the lower field to play (his latest game consists of leaping dive-somersaults/"flipper-flops" over his giant play ball) we were waylaid by a wild beast. She looks like a living shadow...mostly black with a brown collar-ruff...her eyes disappear into her face...and she reminds you of nothing more than a bit of leaves on a forest floor. She was tiny (seven months old, but starving) and absolutely the sheer lovingest cat I've come across in a long time.

First, she tried to get us to follow her. Then, when Josh sat down, she ran right over and threw herself into his lap, where she purred and rubbed and adored him with every inch of herself. Josh locked eyes with me and simply said,

"I'm her brudder." And any and all prepared speeches that I might have had to the contrary went out the window. (<--Yes. This look, right here.)

Oh, dear. Well, I held out a small hope that this wasn't the case -- that I could somehow backpedal out of this one. I tried to get him back into the house...but she wouldn't leave us (she was just as affectionate to me as she was to Josh)...and circled our ankles as we walked up the driveway to the road...you and I both know what would have happened next. So, some frantic phone tag later with Jon, and a small black kitty in the kennel, and the next day she was in the vets getting spayed and shot and everything. Jon's more upset about the unexpected hit to the finances than the new cat...but I think once she adores him like she adores the rest of us, he'll be a goner for her too. Her name comes partly from one of Jon's favorite characters, and partly from Josh's mispronunciation of Mal-E (malley), the name of one of Mom and Dad's cats. Jon thought we'd end up calling her Nata...as in "Nata chance in hell was Jon going to be able to get out of keeping that cat"...but M'OWee has stuck and in more ways than one.

Koda got a quick sniff and hiss in, and a few grudging yowls...but he hasn't got a chance to really get used to her yet, and since she was so young, and blends in so well with absolutely everything, maybe he doesn't think she's a real cat. She was very well behaved in the kennel. Ate like a horse and nearly inhaled the food bowl with her food, which broke my heart, and talked to us a bit, but she was really quite the lady...she's more or less five pounds of purr. I loathe anyone who would just drop off an animal like that but I suppose I should be grateful that it doesn't happen that often here (and living as far out as we do, I would have expected more strays) and that we found her and that she was healthy and sound when we did. In the last few days, M'OWee has become utterly convinced that Koda is just the most FAB-U-LOUS toy anyone has ever given her... and poor old Koda is equally convinced that that nasty little black cat should be dropped back off in the field we found her in. I shouldn't take such delight in it, but watching them interact is like watching a small speck of dust take down a very fat, very bewildered gazelle. Koda has taken to spending most of his days hiding behind a broom in our closet, trying and completely failing to maintain his dignity....though to be fair, I don't know how much dignity I would be able to maintain with a small cat clamped on to my butt like a bull-rider going for the full eight seconds -- and all this while I ran from room to room crying for my mommy. Which, really, is exactly what Koda has been doing. "Oh, Mom, Oh Mom -- Get it Off!!" Koda's really trying to go for the martyred air of a put-upon elder statesman, but he's can only really pull off utterly confused and deeply unamused. I have betrayed him completely and he will never forgive me and could he please have just a smidgen more of that lovely cat food, thank you, oh, so much and where was he - Oh that's right, completely and totally betrayed. Just grow a spine, durfy cat. It's not like you don't outweigh the new kid by about eight pounds. M'OWee doesn't care. She has a full belly, she's warm and snug, and she can be petted by as many people as she wants...the only real problem(s) with her are her uncanny ability to be on every shelf with breakable things in the house...somehow all at the same time. The other problem is, I may as well just say it, is her litter box odors. The shelf thing worries me...the litter box, well, that's just pretty awful. My friends are all under direct orders to tell me if the house ever smells of cat...and it's never really been an issue..all has been well...but M'OWee is not on Koda's special required diet that as a happy bonus cuts back wonderfully on all lovely cat scent. No-ho-ho...M'OWee, because she's still more or less a kitten, is on Purina kitten chow, which, I am utterly convinced, is made from raw broccoli and cauliflower. And perhaps raw potatoes.

The other drama in our lives of late is a continuing search for a solution to Josh's motion sickness for any drive that takes longer than 45 minutes. On the suggestion of a couple of nurses I know, I tried giving him a 1/4 of a tablet of Dramamine 30 minutes before one of our longer trips. The label warned of drowsiness...it did not warn of drunkeness. About an hour later, on the freeway, Josh was barely able to sit up in the car seat. He was making elephant noises and razzberry sounds every few minutes, and grinning and flopping. Jon was completely freaked out, and I wasn't doing that well myself...I just knew that Hendrix was playing riffs in Josh's brain, and that every time he looked at his hand, he was thinking, "Oooh, Pretty Colors..." Turns out the Dramamine company had just recently changed their formula and this behavior was a consequence of that change. Well, we kept a close eye on Josh, and kept him hydrated and soon (but not nearly soon enough) the weird awfulness passed and Josh suffered no further ill effects. The Dramamine incident scared the living crap out of us, but we were still in fix as to how to help Josh on longer trips. Delaying breakfast or lunch didn't help...cutting back on acidic or dairy food didn't help. We finally went online and asked some advice of the parenting community. Bigger mistake. Now, if you have never been foolish enough to ask an honest simple question of a mothering community online, you may not be aware that while about 60 percent of the folks out there actually want to help, the 40% remaining consists of the meanest, snarkiest, most-knee-jerk reacting bunch of "AwNawYouDi-int" mouth-frothers in existence. There isn't an antidote out there that can counteract the sheer cannibalistic ferocity of Mommy-venom. "Well, if he were mine, I'd just stay home." (Not going to happen. To simply visit my parents, I have to drive an hour and a half a way -- and one minute over Josh's 45 minute mark, and he goes green and the car goes yellow. Besides, I live so far out that "No" and "Where" are actually countries on another map.) "You Evil B----, drugging your child! You'll burn in hell." (Um, to clarify, Lady, my definition of hell is for a small car and all of its occupants to be coated in layers of projectile vomit for hours -- there aren't enough clothing changes or car seat covers available, but gee thanks so for chiming in). We finally discovered Children's Benedryl...and Thank you, God! We have a winner!!! Now, on the long trips, we give him less than half a teaspoon of C.B. (actually much less than that....we just let the medicine cup stare long enough at the medicine bottle to get a few drops wet), and the traveling life is good. Josh gets a little sleepy, but what he doesn't get is green, and more importantly, we haven't found any other side effects and one eensie-weensie dose does him for the ride down and back. Yay!!!

Mostly, the summer days have not been so bad. Harry's knee is healing to the point where he and Josh can go "Buddy-ing" out in the field for some walks and playtime...When the heat hasn't been too intense, I've been trying to get Josh out myself...and we have discovered the cheap thrill of bubbles. "Heidi's food" may be the instigation to eat his meals, but if I tell Josh that "we'll blow bubbles, IF..." well, just call him "Mr. Belvedere", and he's off at a frantic pace to pick up the toys in the living room, sweep it, and he'll even try to dust the cat. (Yes, still working out some kinks on that last one.) Bubbles are lovely because you can make them at home. For sweet bubbles (yes, ask the question -- Why in the heck would you want SWEET bubbles? What bright-eyed twit thought to themselves, "You know, if we could just find a nicer way to get a toddler to eat soap ---") you use some corn syrup as a thickener...for more durable bubbles, use glycerin. I was going to do it right. I was going to mix it ALL...we had the corn syrup, we had the soap...and one day after a very long day at work, Jon was kind enough to scour the local pharmacy to find glycerin for our cause....

Ahem...well....the only kind they had was glycerin suppositories...(yes, that kind of glycerin suppositories...)however, I was enraptured with the thrill of the bubble creating process and intended to have gallons and gallons for us to play with (not an unlikely plan, as we go through at least a gallon or two a week)...and I was convinced that glycerin suppositories were like vitamin E capsules...where you could snip off an end and squish out the liquid goo, and achieve the desired result. So, my poor, much put-upon husband manned it up to the counter, bought the evil suppositories with a blush taking over his head, and brought them home for my bubble concoction. Everything went according to the master plan until we came to the glycerin, which was not in anyway like vitamin E capsules...and was actually a lot more like hard, waxy cones. Hard, waxy cones that had absolutely no intention of dissolving in the bubble solution, especially when (as suggested by the bubble site) you had to refrigerate the bubble stuff for Optimum Bubble Formation. For the last three weeks, obscene white suppository cones have been pouring into Josh's bubble tray (because since we bought it and opened it, we have to use it -- and eventually, they will have to give up and eventually dissolve, SOMETIME...right?), and his bubble wand constantly soaking in suppository.

Someday, when we are paying for his therapy (or at least ours)...we'll look back on this and just laugh....

or so I have been told.