Here Kitty Kitty!

Sorry I haven't written in awhile, I haven't been able to think of anything to write about.  I figure you don't care about the mundane happenings in my life.  Heck, you may not care about any of this at all and are just looking for a distraction from work.  If that is the case, sit back, enjoy, take yourself a little break.  It will probably make you more productive in the long run. (Unless you work for Tom James.  If you are a Tom James salesperson, get off the Internet and get back to work!  This post will still be here after phone time.)  To all the rest of you, welcome!

I want a cat.  A cute, furry, purring little fur ball of love and attitude.  I want one so bad, I can taste it.  Well, not really taste it; we all know eating cat is disgusting and highly frowned upon.  That just made me think about this Chinese restaurant near the house where I grew up; there were many rumors of cats disappearing around said restaurant.  I'm just glad we didn't live any closer because my handsome Siamese cat was overweight and probably would have been the Kobe beef of cats.

I digress....

Steve promised me that we could get a cat for our 2nd Anniversary (which would have been last year), but then I got pregnant.  While reading my baby books, I read that pregnant women cannot scoop litter boxes due to a chemical in cat feces that leads to birth defects.  When Steve learned that he would be the sole operator of the pooper-scooper, he pooped all over my itty bitty kitty dreams.

I accepted that excuse for postponing a kitty adoption, but kitty fever has struck again.  Steve still says no.  Why, you ask?  He says we should wait until Davis is old enough to know not to pull the cats hair and/or tail which could result in a kitty scratch or bite.  It would also be a good idea for him to know not to play in the kitty litter.  Steve raises some valid, reasonable, and responsible points....and I hate him for it!

I do well with a time frame.  Steve said he thinks Davis will be at this point around the time he is 3.  All I heard was, "we can't get a cat for 1.5 years," and this is not sitting well with me.  So, I have devised a plan.  I am going to expose Davis to as many cats as possible.  If you have a cat, we want a play date.  We will be going to different shelters to pet the kitties (if they allow 1 1/2 year old children to do this), we will read books about kitties, we will even acquire more kitty stuffed animals if we have to.  It's crunch time people!

Some of you may be feeling less than sympathetic right now because you 'hate cats'.  I was once told by a guy that if you don't like dogs (which apparently, to dog lovers, means that you have to own a dog in order to like a dog), then you don't have a soul.  Well, if we are making snap judgements, allow me to make one of my own.  If you don't like cats, you lack self-confidence.  You see, cats are the perfect pet.  They clean themselves, feed themselves without overeating to the point of sickness, can be left alone for several days and won't destroy your house...in fact, they will probably thank you for the peace and quiet, and you don't have to pick up their poop with your bare hand and a plastic baggie.  (That last one really doesn't sit well with me.)  Cats want you when they want you.  They don't drool all over you when you walk in the door, harass you when you want to be left alone, and most importantly, they don't bark while you are trying to watch The Real Housewives.  In order to be a successful cat owner, you have to realize that you are not the center of your pet's world, and that is a tough pill to swallow for some.  No judgement, just don't judge me for wanting a cat.

So, today's homework:  If you have small children and cats, I need tips.  If you see Steve, I need allies.  And most importantly, if you come across a chocolate or seal point Siamese cat in need of adoption, let me know!

Let me please state for the record that I like dogs, I just don't care to own one.  Please see the sentence about poop, bare hands, and a baggie for further explanation.

Bribery gone Bad

Davis is obsessed with trucks these days.  I mean OB-SESSED!  He carries them around the house, sleeps with them, keeps them nearby when he eats and takes baths, and points out every single we see in the car.  Attempting to be a good, fun mom, I thought it would be fun to take him to the fire department to let him sit in the trucks, touch the wheels, and point and say "truck" 1,000,000 times. 

I have never made an impromptu visit to the fire department, so I figured it would be most effective to take them a tasty bribe.  One so delicious, that they will turn on the sirens, let him drive the truck, and even go on a call with them.  So, I bought all of the ingredients and slaved away during Davis' nap time (which is precious mommy time, so you know I was serious).

Ta-da!

 

Feast your eyes upon this!  Chocolate cake with a layer of nutella, then a layer of homemade whipped cream, then a layer of macerated strawberries, then repeat.  If I told you I got this recipe from Pioneer Woman, would you be surprised?  No, I didn't think so.

 

I was feeling great about it until this started to happen:

 Do you see the cracks forming on the right? 

I convinced myself that it would be alright; that the heavenly nutella would hold it together.  I went upstairs to get Davis and came down to this:

No!  Tell me this isn't real!  All of my hard work. 

Then, to try to keep it from sliding onto the floor, I did this:

Yeah, that's better. 

I couldn't help but notice that someone perked up a little when he realized that I could no longer give the cake to the firefighters.

This look has 'guilty thoughts' written all over it.

Hey mom, let me see if I can help you with that.

Ahhh....that's better.