My Friend

17 years is a long time. So much can happen in 17 years.

I remember walking into that shelter as if it were yesterday. April 20th, 1995. I'll never forget that day.

I grew up with cats and had to leave my own behind when I left for college (something that still haunts me), so the moment I knew I was moving into a cat-friendly apartment, I went on the hunt for my special friend. I wasn't looking for just any cat, and boy did I see cats. I searched every pet store and shelter within a 3 county radius. She wasn't the first- or even the second kitten, I saw that day at the Marion County animal shelter. The first cage actually had two of the cutest kittens I've ever seen in my life, and both howled at me to open their cage, but I couldn't bear to break up a pair and leave a lone kitten behind; and so I moved along. The second cage had a litter of 5.

When I opened the cage door, four huddled in a corner while Chabot strutted up to the edge. She let out a little meow- something that would become one of her trademarks, and I was hooked. She was so cute, and LITTLE! She crawled all over my car for the 20 minute ride home. When I got home, I made her a makeshift bed (see: shoebox + blanket) and a makeshift litter box (see: shoebox lid with shredded newspapers). She had ample room in that bed and I remember her little green eyes looking at me that night before I turned off the lights to go to sleep. She meowed and CLAWED her way up the comforter and laid next to my head on the pillow. I gently picked her up and put her back in her bed. We repeated this process another two times before I just said, "fuck it," and let her sleep there. Her purring lulled me to sleep many a night. I let her sleep there until she no longer fit and moved to my side or the foot of the bed.

She did some of the coolest things. Everyone always said she was the coolest cat.

On the monthly trips home, she would spend the 4.5+ hour car ride between Gainesville and Miami walking around the car or sleeping on my lap. She would crawl around the back and people would see her and honk. It was hilarious. On her first ride to Miami, she crawled around so much that I wondered if she was looking for somewhere to take a shit. Almost as if I willed it, she popped up from the back, onto my lap, put her two paws on the window, and meowed. Because I am totally fluent in cat speak, I thought she was telling me she had to go; so, I pulled over. I held her tight as cars flew by us, and positioned her over some grass. Would you believe she actually peed?!?!?!? She did it every time she had to go to the bathroom...for years.

She would talk- clearly, after that bathroom story; but no, really talk. You would tell her, "Chabot: speak," and she would meow at you. It was her version of cat parlor tricks, I guess. My grandmother used to call her the social butterfly because she would just walk up to her in the hallway of our building, meow, rub her leg, and then continue.

She was a sly hunter too. While it is commonplace to get the token lizards, rats, and small birds, Chabot once brought me an armadillo. She brought an opossum too. She was also known to steal food from plates left unattended. I suppose that was the consequence of always feeding her tuna and table food.

She loved to play all sorts of games. Lord only knows how much money I spent on toys and quality cat nip. She loved to play "catch the thing under the comforter" where I just made jerky movements with my hands or feet under the comforter as she tried to pounce on it. She also loved to play under doors. You could stick an item under a door and she would try to grab it on the other side. She would stick her paws under trying to grab it. It was the cutest thing seeing these little paws sticking out from under the door. She would go n u t s with cat nip. Purring and rubbing and doing the crazy shit cats do when they're high. She would hide on top of the fridge and then jump on you when you walked by. She actually played this hide-and-go-seek game all over the place- under beds, around corners; it was awesome- except when I was running late for work and she ripped my stockings.

She loved laundry day- days. She had a penchant for jumping into laundry hampers full of clean clothes and piles of clean laundry atop the bed. She'd restregarse bien in all the clothing. Her long, white hairs all over everything didn't help her case. Oh, and let me not forget about drawers! She would crawl in drawers and sleep on the clothes. Chabot got me to do what my mom couldn't: to close drawers. In these last years, her favorite spot to sleep was the drawer underneath the crib where all the baby blankets are.

She'd always come running to the door- whether she was outside or in, when I arrived. She never ignored my call. She'd meow and rub herself up against my legs. I knew it was an excited hello, and I was always happy to see her too. I now wish I wouldn't have rushed through some of those moments as quickly as I did. She would stand in the window and I would tap the glass and play. It was hilarious when she would pop her head in the tub. I would be in the tub and she would just peer in from a corner...or when she would knock over all my shoes trying to find hiding spots. I miss so many things already.

I miss seeing her. She was the most beautiful calico, with the most gorgeous green eyes.

In 17 years, so much has happened. I've voted for four presidential candidates. I've traveled the world. I've had 5 cars. I've moved 6 times. I've mended a broken heart or two- always with her purring softly beside me. I've buried a grandparent. I've buried friends. I've had a few jobs. I've had countless hair colors. There have been 6709 sunsets. I've weathered 5 hurricanes. I had a benign tumor removed from my body. I've danced my ass off more times than I can count. I got married. I had three children. I lost one. I lost her.

So much has happened in 17 years, and yet it seems like such little time to have been able to spend with her.

I miss you so much, my friend. You are loved very much. I hope I did right by you. Thank you for choosing me that day. Just, thank you. I hope to see you again.

RIP Chabot Casanueva Rodriguez
4/20/1995 - 4/26/2012

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Genetics

It's said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Well this rambunctious thing sure be-holdin' it!

She's also got daddy wrapped around her finger!!! Is it any wonder?

If You Have Nothing Nice to Say....

What is with some people and their inappropriate comments?

I OFTEN wonder if some mothers forget to teach their kids to keep undeserved snide remarks to themselves because there are plenty of adults out there who write checks with their mouths which their a$$es can't cash! Being a smartass in response to some crappy situation is one thing but to make crazy comments outright, for no reason, is just plain rude. To do so in the course of your job, takes the cake.

Being pregnant seems to make you a magnet for sh*t like this.

Since this is my third time around, I thought I'd pretty much heard it all and learned how to graciously deal with off-the-wall commentary. I've learned to stomach remarks like 'your belly is huge,' ' are you sure there is only one in there,' 'you look like you swallowed (insert large object here),' 'are you going to breast feed with those huge boobies?' It's second nature to just smile and respond 'I love being pregnant,' and leave it at that. Yet, this morning I was greeted by the most inappropriate one I've heard to date and it left me speechless.

Today, while shopping at Target, the cashier felt it her duty to inquire about my fecundity.

Cashier: You have this pretty, little girl and you're already expecting another?

Me: We also have an older child who is 7.

Cashier: Don't you have a TV?

Me: ..... (I said nothing.)

Not only do we have a TV, but we have quite a few- one in our room, a huge one in the Florida room, one in Nick's room and one in my hubby's man cave. We also have Direct TV, an overabundance of movies, 4 gaming systems and a cabinet full of board games.

Oh, and did I mention that we also have healthy sex drives and a loving marriage? No complaints here- CLEARLY!

I am overly impressed with my restraint at not responding with an atypical, off-the-cuff response because this character was truly deserving of one. She had 4" brown roots on blond hair, a severe case of whiskers and a nasty case of camel toe from wearing pants that were two sizes too small. You'd think she could use her Target discount, not to mention the paycheck I just helped her earn by patronizing her employer, to buy a pair of pants that fit, some tweezers and some hair dye.

Why I oughta...

You should see the other guy!

Photo/caption credit: my awesome hubby.

The Nature of the Beast(excerpt 'Raising Nick' re: Culture)

Kids say the darndest things. Everyone knows it but I swear this kiddo of mine tops the list.

His latest epiphany: little Viv is a beast.

Here's how he came to this conclusion:

As I sat there feeding Viv in her high chair (she's at the saying "mmm" every time you put food in her mouth stage), Nick comes out of his room to avoid cleaning it.

Nick: Remember when we had Chinese day in 1st grade?

Note: They learned about Chinese customs, ate Chinese food and were given one of those place mats displaying the Chinese zodiac.

The Chinese zodiac, much like the Western zodiac, features twelve signs. Yet, instead of a monthly cycle, each personality is based on a 12 yr cycle. The personality associated with each sign is supposed to be how people perceive you. There are also 4 groups, or Trines, consisting of three similar personalities or perfect balances.

Nick: What year were you born, mom?
Me: 19XX...Never ask a woman that question.
Nick: You are a Rabbit.

I am a rabbit. (haha) Gracious, good friend, kind, sensitive, soft-spoken, amiable, elegant, reserved, cautious, artistic, thorough, tender, self-assured, shy, astute, compassionate, lucky, flexible. Can be moody, detached, superficial, self-indulgent, opportunistic, stubborn.

Yup, sounds like me except for the whole I'm not Chinese and don't follow this bit.

Rabbits belong to the 4th Trine. The other two personalities in my Trine are the Sheep and the Pig. The quest for these three signs is the aesthetic and beautiful in life. Their calm nature gives them great leadership abilities. They are artistic, refined, intuitive, and well-mannered. These souls love the preliminaries in love, and are fine artists in their lovemaking. The Rabbit, Sheep and Pig have been bestowed with calmer natures than the other 9 signs. These three are compassionately aware, yet detached and resigned to their condition. They seek beauty and a sensitive lover. They are caring, unique, self-sacrificing, obliging, sensible, creative, empathic, tactful, and prudent. They can also be naive, pedantic, insecure, cunning, indecisive, and pessimistic.

Me: What are you?
Nick: I'm a Sheep.

Ah, the Sheep. Righteous, sincere, sympathetic, mild-mannered, shy, artistic, creative, gentle, compassionate, understanding, mothering, peaceful, generous, seeks security. Can be moody, indecisive, over-passive, worrier, pessimistic, over-sensitive, complainer, weak-willed.

Me: What is Dad?
Nick: What year was dad born?
Me: 19XX.
Nick: Whoa. Dad is also a sheep and you know what, the new baby will be a rabbit too! Isn't that cool?!?!

The irony here is that we all belong to the same Trine so in theory, we have the perfect balance for each of our personalities.

Nick: Oh Oh, Mom.
Me: What?
Nick: It says that Viv is a Tiger.

Tiger. Let's see, Tiger, Tiger- ah, TIGER. Unpredictable, rebellious, colorful, powerful, passionate, daring, impulsive, vigorous, stimulating, sincere, affectionate, humanitarian, generous. Can be restless, reckless, impatient, quick-tempered, obstinate, selfish, aggressive, moody.

Holy sh*t. I don't know which one I should be more concerned with- Nick being like Gus, this next baby like me, or Viv with this wild-child hat.

Nick: She's going to eat us alive! A rabbit and sheep are a tiger's prey.
Me: ::blink blink::

I love how his brain works.

Incidentally, curious about additional Chinese zodiac information, I checked up on it later. It turns out that the all-knowing place mat lists Viv's birth year as a Tiger however it's also based on birth dates so Viv is actually an Ox. Neither here nor there with me because I don't believe in any of this hocus pocus, just an interesting fact.

Oh, one last thing; In the Western Zodiac, I'm TOTALLY screwed. I'm a Libra. Gus is a Capricorn. Vivian is a Capricorn. (My mom is a Capricorn.) Nick is a Leo and odds are, this next daughter will be a Taurus. Yup, a conflict loathing Libra surrounded by the most hard-headed creatures: goats, a lion and a bull.

God help me. Wait- God + zodiacs... lol

My Poor Uterus

I'm pretty sure my husband has lost his mind. No- really, he has.

Gus loves kids. I knew that within moments of meeting him, well actually Nick did. Granted Nick will engage anyone in a conversation but the day I met my husband, Nick chatted up a storm with him and Gus loved every minute. My husband was genuinely enthralled with Nick and vice-versa, so much so that I can count the words I personally spoke to Gus that night on one hand. It's funny how many men try to worm their way into a woman's life by smooth talking their children. I say it's funny because it's always so obviously forced that it's pathetic.

In my husband's case, everyone could tell he was genuine and I admit it's one of the reasons that I opened up the dating door for Gus. In hindsight, I'm glad that I did.

Except, that is, when he makes comments regarding future inhabitants of my uterus.

When we were pregnant with Viv, he asked the OBGYN if there were any fertility drugs that I could take that would produce multiples 'the next time' around. ... Both the doctor and I did a Scooby-esque 'Aroo,' with the doc responding 'finish with this one first.' His excitement was cute but I never thought he was serious....although he later had me eating cassava and drinking nothing but whole milk for the entire 6 month waiting period before trying to conceive again.

Fast forward a little over a year and our daughter will turn one on the same day I reach the halfway point with our current pregnancy. She will be 16 months old when her sister makes her grand appearance. I figure three children will be manageable....even with two under the age of 2.

As it is, my calendar is full. I care for the kids. I run my husband's company. I run our home + this pregnancy has kicked me in the butt. My hands are full.... OF LOVE, but there's still room for the one scheduled to arrive in May.

There is not, however, room for a 4th or so on. So, naturally, you can imagine my concern when he mentioned trying for #4 in a year or two.

How do people do it? Moreover, how do the mothers of triplets+ do it?

If I didn't think it would put a serious strain on our marriage, I would ask the doctor to snip/tie/BURN those magical tubes before he closes me up after this C-section. Gus would be seriously disappointed, though. I won't even go into his reaction to vasectomy talks.

I'll tell you one thing, it's going to take a whole lotta diamonds, abdominoplasty, breast augmentation and quite possibly a Porsche BUNCH of convincing on his part for me to even consider being a human cocoon again.

Three children is more than enough, right?