Lubricate, Try not to Hate

Jimbo called me yesterday and said, “So I’m at Walmart buying latex gloves and lube.” Sweet mother of God, I love my husband. “I’m in the check out line and the chick behind me is totally weirded out.” We were cracking up on the phone. Jimbo had the latex gloves and the lube splayed out on the conveyer belt for all to see. That is so freaking awesome! He had also purchased a muzzle earlier in the day.

When Jimbo walked in the door later on that evening, KY Jelly, latex gloves and muzzle in hand, I knew right away what he had in mind. He had that look on his face that said, I’m about to go wrist deep up a dog’s anus.

As you know, Penelope, our dog Cletus suffers from an array of allergies. And sometimes, his anal glands swell up and bleed as a result of being exposed to an allergen. Which is what happened to Cletus’s pooper—aka his ring of fire—yesterday afternoon. The last thing that Cletus wants in this condition is to have someone poking around down there. Which is exactly what my most brave husband had to do. N-A-S-T-Y, I know. But now you understand about the sexy-time accoutrements.

Expressing an anal gland is not rocket science. I mean, I’ve never done it, but I’ve watched Jimbo do it a few times. I know it involves two o’clock and ten o’clock. And it usually results in a spray, or as in our case last night, an arc, of fluid. There’s also a particular squirting sound, but you have to really listen for it because it’s subtle.

This morning Cletus went to the vet for further probing and now he is wearing one of those awful, cumbersome, but always-good-for-a-laugh, Elizabethan collars. He keeps running into walls and furniture, making this horrible crunching/scraping sound. He looks kinda miserable. But I think his butthole feels better.

Some good did come out of our dog’s pain and suffering: KY Jelly and latex gloves! I don’t care who you are, that shit is funny every time!

Play date of the Year

What if you had a play date and no one came? Would it still be considered a play date or just a solitary and pathetic afternoon? These are my philosophical musings in response to the semi-traumatic experience Yoyo and I had yesterday. We showed up at the park at the specified time for a play date with our breastfeeding group. The park was empty, the swings were still, the mulch untrodded. Well, I said to Yoyo, we must be a little early… let’s wait. So we waited… and waited and waited. We walked around the park, which actually has some lovely gardens and nice shady trees. Yo crawled around in the grass, babbling and making cute little R2D2 happy sounds. I followed her around, making sure to keep the leaves she was picking up out of her mouth because I’m certain that the grass is sprayed with all kinds of toxic weed killing chemicals (how else can it be so homogenous?). After 45 minutes, we went home, demoralized and sweaty.

Ok, so it was a scorching 98 degrees or something like that. (It really does get that hot in North Dakota… who knew?) I guess I just thought that if moms here took their babies out in 15 below zero weather, which they do, then surely they wouldn’t be scared off by some UVB rays and hot burning playground equipment. Right? Wrong. Apparently, here in the northern plains, paper beats rock and the sun turns people into wussies. SOL for us.
Who knows, maybe they had something better to do. Maybe they were all at the DQ getting soft serve. Maybe they were chilaxin in the AC at the local superstore.

Anyhow, like I said, semi-traumatic. For me, not for Yo. She was happily oblivious, soiling herself, babbling and such, as babies are known to do. I was a little sad to have missed out on the chance for some mommy-to-mommy conversation.

Processing no mommy-to-mommy on mommy-no-mommy.
Word to your mommy.

Wedding weekend smackdown

I second that emotion, Pen. It was an excellent week with old friends and new friends that feel like old friends (I’m talking about you, W.!) and lots of beer in the bathtub. I love hanging out in adjoining hotel rooms! Empty beer receptacles, pizza boxes strewn alongside dirty underwear and holy bibles. Everybody hanging out on the germ infested beds. It’s a party. Except that I really didn’t do much partying on account of the little person that is latched on to my ta-tas for several hours each day. Still, I hung out next to you as you partied. Just as fun? Hell, no. But I’ll take what I can get. I live in North Dakota, remember?

Yolanda managed to sleep through most of the nighttime hijinx. Occasionally, someone would snap out of the reverie and ask in a mildly alarmed voice, “Hey, where’s the BABY?”. Not to worry, Jimbo and I had it under control with the baby monitor. Yoyo slept peacefully, curled up with her monkey, in the room next door. See here:

She was oblivious to the fact that her father was practicing wrestling moves on the floor with D. and W. Jimbo and D. can’t hang out together in a hotel room without getting it on WWE– formerly WWF– style. W., always ready for a good time, joined in the fun.)

And can I add that we danced our asses off at the wedding. I had to literally pick pieces of my ass up off the dance floor cuz I danced so hard. That shit was crazy.

But back to the baby (because that’s what I talk about 90 percent of the time). Jimbo and I were psyched to have her meet the inner circle. And I was so pleased with the way she just melded into the fray. I’m pretty sure that her wit and appreciation for irony were sharpened after spending just one week with you guys. I know she’s only nine months old, but I swear she gave me a sarcastic look yesterday as she shat herself. She was practically dripping with sarcasm and feces. And today she turned her little nose up at the sweet potatoes I offered her for lunch. Probably because sweet potatoes are so obvious and overdone.

Ahhh… today sarcasm, tomorrow crippling cynicism that stunts her creative potential and crushes her spirit.

Kitty Wedding Recap

Check it out, Bunny – yesterday’s sole Mommy No Mommy reader found our blog from the search “how to pick up slutty women.” Not so apropos, you know?

Today Monty and I are going to a Bastille Day pool party. I’m a little bit nervous about putting on a swimsuit after the weekend-long love/food/booze binge that was Kitty’s wedding. But I wouldn’t trade it because some great things happened:

Monty and I finally met Yoyo. What a sweet and smart little person she is! Besides the fact that she’s the only one I know who can wear the hell out of a frilly white hat, her general good nature and confidence make her an awesome baby. Plus her great big open-mouthed, drooly besos are the best.

Kitty had a really lovely wedding. Her Sopranos family, the gorgeous views and photo ops, the free-flowing wine, the giant cannoli and the fact that the djs were dissatisfying enough to render it not too perfect made for a fine day out and a wonderful opportunity to see our dear friend get hitched. I like that husband of hers, too.

I consumed more potato chips in two days than I had for the last 12 months. I just feel like that is a small accomplishment. My fingers swelled up like Ball Park Franks from all the salt.

We got an in-the-flesh reminder of why college was such fun. The moments of tiny drama (why did S and S leave the hotel room so abruptly?), the zingy conversations, the marathon hilarious beeriness, and all that creative collective energy made me misty again for our misspent youth.

College was fun, but I think now is better. Our better halves don’t feel left out in the cold because we’re grownups now. Thanks for your patience, Monty, W. and John.

And for purely selfish reasons, I got lots of time with Bunny. I’m so glad we got our car rides and extra days. Love you love you! (Or as I used to write all over some intricately-folded notes in middle school to other girls whose names I forgot long ago: LYLAS!)

Well wouldja look at the time! I have to go – we got last-minute tickets to a Decemberists show tonight after the pool party and there’s much to do….mainly laundry folding. Besitos to Jimbo and Yoyo, and here’s hoping the lost boy who clicked our blog yesterday found the answers to picking up slutty women.