Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Dad Always Told Me I Should Be a Vet

My poor little Stuart's tooth needed to be operated on. Pulled, grinded down, something. His fang had grown into his cheek and my piggy was hurtin! From past experience, I know that his tooth should've broken or worn down because that's what happened on the other side of his mouth.

A couple of weeks ago, I was feeling extra sorry for Stu. I grabbed some plier type tool, and some other pincher type tool, and I was going to get me a tooth. I sneaked up on the poor guy while he was sleeping and grabbed hold of that tooth with what I later learned were channel locks. Then we did a little dance, kind of like riding a mechanical bull, Stu squealed a bit and all of a sudden - SNAP!

Stuart looked at me and made this sound "UUUUURRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGG", then breathed the biggest sigh. I know in his heart he was saying "Thank you mommy, I feel so much better now that my fang is no longer digging into my cheek."

I gave him a big bowl of grapes and he's still my best friend. He still scares the shit out of everyone else, because he's a 300 lb. pet with huge fangs. Terry had been avoiding the task of pig dentistry because he said it was a 4 man job. (Or 1 WOMAN.)

Anyway, I kept the tooth. I soaked it in alcohol to kill the germs and I'm going to make it into a weapon. To signify my strength. Whatever, to signify that I'm nuts. That pig could've killed me when I did that.

Well crap. I wanted to put a picture of Stuart in here, but I can't find one.

Should I Call Them Now?

Ok, so I'm going to be an aunt again. Sara is freaking out a bit, because that's what she does, but also because she has to change OB's for insurance reasons. She had filled out a medical history for the OB that she wanted, but was waiting to find out if he had accepted her. Here's an e-mail conversation from yesterday afternoon:

Title: No one's Called :(

3:52 PM
Sara: Should I just wait and see if they call tomorrow or should I call them at 4:30 (their office closes at 5:00)?

3:56 PM
Me: Go ahead and call. Don't let it ring more than 3-4 times.

4:04 PM
Sara: Should I wait until 4:30? They haven't called my house either..I've checked the messages like 6000 times ;-)

4:07 PM
Me: Give it up and call the office now. So they can tell you that they've been super busy and won't be able to review your paperwork until tomorrow.

4:13 PM
Sara: I'm nervous! I will call them at 4:20! Wish me luck!

4:17 PM
I totally stole this phrase from Amalah.

4:25 PM
Sara: Halleighlulah, praise the Lord, they are going to see me. she really spelled it that way

She called me BEFORE I had even received the last e-mail.
Sara makes me laugh. So hard, sometimes I pee my pants a little.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

It's Not A Grape-el, nor is it a Flushie

Last night I'm sitting on the toilet and Max comes in to talk to me. (I get no privacy when I'm using the bathroom, like most moms, I'm sure.)

ME: Max, you have a freckle right there.
Pointing to his very obvious freckle on his neck he's had since birth.
MAX: (snarls his nose) A WHAT?
ME: A freckle, right there.
MAX: I'm going to go look in the mirror. (He goes to his room to check rather than looking in the bathroom mirror, comes thumping back down the hall.)

MAX: Mommy, I saw it. I saw the GRAPE-EL on my neck.
ME: Max, it's FRECKLE, say it with me. FRECKLE.
MAX: Oh, I have a freckle.

He has the cutest way with words. One day when Terry was going to the gas station (Max was 3 or 4), Max yelled out the door "Daddy, bring me a Flushie!" It was so hard not to giggle when I explained to him that he wanted a Slushie, not a Flushie.

Blog Post-It

Things I've wanted to post, but haven't had the time....

My pot-bellied pig dentistry experience.
Tessa's love for our hamster.
How great my husband is.
Max's grapel. Pronounced grape - l.
A bunch of SHIT about my job, but I'm not posting anything about work on the internet.

I'm going to try to get to these soon, but right now I'm freaking about taking Max to the dentist tomorrow. I know he's got a ton of cavities & I've now failed as a mother.

And just when I REALLY NEED a margarita, Sista Sara (my margarita partner in crime), goes off and gets pregnant. The weekly margarita dates lasted really long, maybe 2 weeks? Any way, I'm going to be an aunt again. Congratulations Sista!