Текст книги "Troubles and Treats"
Автор книги: Tara Sivec
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
It’s been three years and I am now the marketing manager of Seduction and Snacks, which has grown by leaps and bounds. A few years ago, Claire and Liz had decided to turn their business venture into a franchise. There are now ten Seduction and Snacks stores located throughout the south.
Or is it west? I can never remember. I’m not good at geology…or genealogy…or that other thing that starts with a “g” and ends in a “y”.
Luckily, since Claire and Carter have two kids, Liz and Jim have three, and Drew and I have two, we are all very family-oriental. The kids are all at the shop at some point during the week, and I can work from home whenever I need to, making up my own hours as I go along.
“Yes! It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. It was like these straps that almost look like seat belts and they hung down from the ceiling and I could sit right in it and hold Billy. There were these weird hole things made out of the straps that you were supposed to stick your legs in I guess, but I didn’t get what the point of those were for so I didn’t use them. And it didn’t really have a back on it so I just leaned against the wall when I wasn’t rocking. You should have seen how quickly I got Billy to fall back to sleep. It was awesome,” I explain as I take the signed invoices and start scanning them into the computer.
“Good morning, hookers!” Liz states as she breezes through the connecting door of Seduction and Snacks and takes a seat on the small couch in the office. “Did you get a chance to print out the order that’s coming in next week? I need to make sure I got enough strawberry gag reflex gel. I swear to God, I think Mrs. Molnar drinks that shit like water. Either that or she just needs buckets of numbing gel to get Big Balled Bob’s one huge nut down her throat.”
We all shudder at the though of Mr. Molnar and his penis. He had come into Liz’s store a few weeks ago to tell us about his open heart surgery and somehow ended up showing us not only the scar that ran down the middle of his chest but the effect the anesthesia had on his junk. One of his balls swelled to four times its normal size. It had looked like a grapefruit hugging a toothpick with a sad, lonely prune stuck to the side.
“Can we please not talk about Big Balled Bob this early in the morning? I had a good night last night and want to baste in the glory of it,” I tell them.
“Bask. It’s BASK in the glory,” Liz corrects me.
“Oh whatever. You know what I meant.”
People are always teasing me because I get words wrong. I’m really not a dumb person. I know what I want to say in my brain, but by the time it travels to my mouth it usually gets mixed up.
“So what happened last night after your lame-ass left us at the bar?” Liz questions. “Wait!! Oh my gosh! I totally know what happened, you little slut! Drew finally gave you his present, didn’t he?”
I look at Liz in confusion.
“How did you know about the present Drew got me?” I ask.
“Duh! He bought it from me,” Liz says as she gets up from the couch to pick up a piece of paper from the printer and look it over.
“Wait, that was yours? Did you use it with all three girls? I don’t remember you mentioning it,” I ask as I power down the computer.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What girls?”
“Uh, your daughters? What other girls would I be talking about?”
And Liz thinks I’M the dumb one.
Liz sets the paper down on the desk and puts her hands on her hips.
“Why in the hell would I ever use something like that with my daughters? That’s gross,” she states.
Gross? Why the hell would it be gross?
“Oh my Jesus,” Claire mutters, covering her mouth with her hand and staring at me with wide eyes.
And then she starts laughing uncontrollably. She bends over at the waist and wraps her arms around her stomach.
“Oh God! I can’t! Oh Jesus, it hurts!” she says through her snorts and giggles.
“What the hell is so funny?” I demand.
“Yes, enlighten us, Claire,” Liz states seriously. “A swing like the one Drew gave Jenny is no laughing matter. That thing is top of the line. He shelled out a lot of cash for that thing.”
“Holy hell! This is the best day EVER!” Claire laughs as she finally stands backup and wipes the tears from her eyes.
“Why did you say it was gross? What is gross about a baby rocker? Did someone puke on it or something?” I ask Liz. “You didn’t feed the girls naked on it or anything, did you?”
This just throws Claire into more fits of laughter and causes Liz to stare at me with a horrified look on her face.
“Oh dear God. Please tell me you didn’t. No…just...no,” she says.
What the hell is everyone’s problem? This was the sweetest thing Drew did for me in a long time and they’re laughing at it.
“I don’t even want to tell you now. You’re just going to make fun of Drew for being so thoughtful,” I complain.
“Oh, no. You have to tell Liz just how thoughtful Drew was. Please. Please tell Liz how super your evening was after you left us. Say it slowly and don’t leave anything out,” Claire begs with a huge smile on her face.
I roll my eyes at how ridiculous the two of them are acting about a baby rocker.
“Fine. But not a word out of either of you.”
They both pretend to zip their lips and throw the key away.
“You guys know how tired I was when I left the bar last night. Billy still isn’t sleeping through the night and it takes me forever to get him back to sleep. So, when I got home, Drew told me he had a surprise for me upstairs. I thought it would be another one of his lame excuses to try and have sex.”
Claire snorts and then plays it off like she’s choking when I shoot her a dirty look.
“I get upstairs and of course Billy chose that moment to wake up crying. I got him out of his crib and walked over to our room and saw that Drew lit a bunch of candles. I’ve been complaining about how the nightlight we have is too dark to see by when I feed Billy in the middle of the night and the candles were just perfect. I walked over to the corner of the room where I have the glider so I could rock him and in its place was a baby rocking swing that hung from the ceiling,” I finish, giving both of them a smug look.
Let’s see them make fun of Drew now. My husband is a giant man-child, but sometimes he does sweet, unexpected things. It’s been awhile since he’s done them but this makes up for it.
I stare at Liz expectantly, waiting for her to apologize for being rude.
“Hold on a second. I need a minute,” Liz says as she grabs Claire’s elbow and turns so that they both face away from me.
I roll my eyes at their backs.
“It’s not working. I can see your shoulders shaking. I know you guys are laughing.”
The girls compose themselves and turn back around, trying to keep straight faces.
“So, you guys didn’t have sex last night?” Liz questions in confusion.
“No! I told you, I was tired and then Billy woke up when I got home. But oh my God, that rocker was THE BEST! He went right back to sleep, and I actually fell asleep in it too. Now I know why you never told me about it when the girls were babies. You were afraid I’d try and steal it from you. No wonder they were such good little sleepers.”
Liz nods her head and closes her eyes, holding one hand up in the air as if to say, “STOP!”
“Sorry, I think I need another minute,” she says before mimicking Claire’s earlier pose and bending over at the waist to guffaw at the ground.
“What the hell?” I yell.
“I think what Liz is trying to say is that you rocked your baby to sleep in a SEX swing,” Claire says with a giggle.
I stare at her blankly.
“A. SEX. SWING. From the Latin words, ‘you are supposed to fuck in it, not rock your kid to sleep’,” Claire states.
“What she said!” Liz laughs as she stands back up and then covers her eyes with her hands. “Oh highway to heaven, I can’t even look at you right now!”
Oh. My. God.
“I rocked my son to sleep in something that people bang in?” I whisper in a horrified voice.
“Well, yes. That’s why it’s called a sex swing,” Claire offers.
“Did you actually put your thighs in the stirrups?” Liz laughs.
“Stirrups? Oh my God. I used those to hold the extra bottles,” I complain.
“Oh God, here we go again!” Claire says, bending over and laughing so hard she starts dry heaving. “I’M GOING TO PUKE!” she yells in between heave-laughs.
“I hate both of you. You are both jerks.”
I feel awful. Not just because my friends are jerks, but because my husband had tried to do something kinky and fun and I ruined it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I used to be fun and outgoing and kinky as hell. Me, of all people, should know what a sex swing is. I had made a mold of my vagina and gave it to Drew on one of our anniversaries for God’s sake. We had even made an amateur sex video and submitted it to YouPorn. Without our faces of course. There are certain things my grandma should never see. Although why my grandmother would be on YouPorn when she’s clearly over the age of legally having sex is beyond me. Isn’t seventy when they say you have to pass a test to keep having sex? Or maybe that’s for your driver’s license. No, I’m pretty sure it’s for sex. Regardless, a sex swing is something I should have first-hand knowledge of.
Stuff like this has been happening more and more lately, Drew attempting to spark something between us, and me not knowing what to do or having no interest in it. My friends have the most perfect marriages and sex lives, and they were able to raise their kids while doing it. Drew and I had managed to do pretty well after Veronica was born a little over three years ago. Our marriage strengthened and we had sex all the time. As soon as I got pregnant with Billy, though, everything stopped. Suddenly, I had to juggle a toddler in potty training hell with a pregnancy that kept me puking almost the entire time and a full time job.
It’s not that I don’t want my husband or don’t love him, sleep just takes priority. Even though the job is flexible, there's still a lot of work that needs to be done. Not to mention the fact that Drew works the night shift, and I'm stuck doing most things alone in the evening.
I never used to have any trouble getting up at four in the morning when he had come home from work for a quickie. I loved having sex with him while I was half asleep and still warm from being under the covers half the night. The first time he tried it after I found out I was pregnant with Billy, I told him if he brought his penis anywhere near me, I would tell all his friends about how he wore my silk thongs to work because he liked how they slid through the crack of his ass when he bent over. Any time after that when, he would get his penis within five feet of me, I would run to the bathroom and throw up. I was pretty sure he took defense to that. It wasn't my fault the sight of his penis made me sick to my stomach. He has a very pretty penis, actually, and I even drew a picture of it once. There had just been something about how it looked like a jellyfish with one eye that made me queasy. Once Billy was born, I had just been too exhausted to even think about sex.
Our son STILL doesn’t sleep through the night. Right now, I just want a full night of sleep more than I want sex. Okay, I'll take that back. I do want sex. Just not at appropriate times. Every time I want it, Drew’s either sleeping or he’s at work. It never happens when we’re in the same room together. I can’t even masturbate right anymore. The last time I tried, I fell asleep with my vibrator in my hand. While it was still running.
Drew had come home from work and found me sprawled out in bed with my arm flung off the side, clutching a big pink vibrator that was slowly losing juice. Instead of sounding like wirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it sounded more like, wirr-rrr-wirrrr-r……rr. I couldn’t help that the vibrations lulled me to sleep. Now I knew why babies loved their vibrating bouncy seats. Drew got excited when I loaded up on double-A batteries at the grocery store that week, and I made sure my nightstand was fully stocked with them. I was pretty sure I could hear him weeping in the bathroom when he found out I just needed them so I could stick my vibrator under the mattress to help me fall asleep faster. At least I thought he was weeping. He had made some really funny sounds and when I had knocked on the bathroom door, he said he was busy reading.
I need to do something to re-erect our love life.
Re-erect? Is that a word? That’s the word I’m looking for, right? Whatever.
First, I need to do something to get myself in shape. Three months post-baby and I still feel big as a house. I lost all the baby weight pretty quickly, but I still feel like my ass is huge. I also need to do something about my vagina. There is no way it feels the same to him when we have sex. Although, we haven’t really had sex since Billy was born. I let him get halfway in and then he made some comment about my sloppy vagina and I told him to get off of me. Plenty of women have natural child birth and they don’t have floppy vaginas. I've looked it up on the internet. I've tried to look at mine with a mirror and my leg up on the sink of the bathroom. That had been right after I got home from the hospital with Billy though and it was a hot mess. I probably should have waited a few more weeks, but now I can’t look at raw ground meat without crossing my legs and wincing.
Basically, I’m afraid to have sex with my husband. He’s always loved my vagina. He even has a shirt that says: I love my wife’s vagina. What if having sex with me now is like fucking a bowl of Jell-O Jigglers? That is not at all hot, especially if they’re green Jell-O Jigglers. I’m not saying my vagina is green, but I’m sure it’s jiggly. I shook it a little when I had looked at it in the mirror and it definitely wiggled when it jiggled. Vagina’s should never jiggle.
I am going to leave work early and go to a yoga class. Getting my body in shape might help make me feel better and then I can work on getting Drew to help out more around the house so I’m not so tired all of the time. Drew doesn’t work tonight so he’s home with the kids all day. Maybe a little bending and stretching will get things back to where they’re supposed to be, and I won’t have to worry about the lips of my vagina hanging low and wobbling to and fro. You should never be able to tie them in a knot OR a bow.
Chapter 4 – Downwind Lapping Dog
“HE CALLED SHIT, POOP!”
I laugh out loud and put up my hand so my daughter can give me a high five.
I can’t help but laugh whenever Veronica quotes her and her brother’s namesake movie: Billy Madison. We are curled up on the couch together, watching the best movie of all time, and Billy is asleep in his swing a few feet away.
Jenny walks in the door a few minutes later. Actually, she limps in the door and hobbles across the room until she makes it to the couch and sits down on the other side of Veronica, giving her a kiss on the head.
“Mommy, you gots a boo-boo?” Veronica asks her.
I stare in horror at Jenny as she pulls the footstool closer and props her leg up on top of it, leaning back into the couch and pulling Veronica onto her lap.
Oh my God. This is it. This is the fake injury. How should I play this? Should I call her out immediately and tell her she’s a big, fat liar? Wait, never call a woman fat. Especially after pregnancy, even if you’re just joking. Lives will be lost. Maybe I should just play along and keep my cool.
“Yes, mommy has a boo-boo,” Jenny replies with a sigh.
“HA HA! YOU GOT HURT!” I yell.
Jenny gives me a dirty look and I quickly wipe the smile off of my face.
What the fuck was that? I shouldn’t be happy if she’s injured, right? Play it cool, man. Play it cool.
“I mean, that sucks that you got hurt. You hurt yourself. That’s just sucky. I mean, because you know, you hurt yourself.”
There. Much better. Be calm, be cool. She’ll never know you suspect anything.
Jenny’s dirty look never leaves her face and I start to squirm. “You couldn’t have picked up a little today? This house is a mess.”
I look around at all of the toys on the floor and the dirty dishes on the coffee table.
“We were busy watching movies,” I explain.
She turns and looks at the TV, noticing for the first time what we’re watching.
“You have seriously got to quit watching this stupid movie. Veronica doesn’t stop quoting it as it is,” Jenny complains with a sigh.
This worker’s comp fraud has already changed her! She used to love this movie. Nooooooooo!
“So, how did you hurt yourself? You know, when you really hurt yourself,” I ask, folding my hands in my lap and acting concerned.
She can’t know that you know. What if it’s like that TV show, When Animals Attack? She might just come at you, bro.
“Well, I decided to leave work a little early and try a yoga class. It turns out I’m not as flexible as I used to be,” she tells me.
Is yoga her code word for something? Is that what she’s calling “sticking it to the man” now? I wonder if she has a group of minions working for her, helping her with this elaborate lie. Yoga – yeah right!
“I tried doing that Downwind Lapping Dog thing and I twisted my ankle,” she finishes, resting her head on the back of the couch and closing her eyes.
See? I totally caught her in her lie. Downwind Lapping Dog isn’t the name of a yoga move. It’s a Chinese proverb or something, like, “He who fart in church sit in stinky pew.” I think it goes, “He who is downwind of lapping dog make bump-bump in pants.”
“So does Claire know? Did you tell Claire? What did Claire say?” I question.
“No, why would Claire know? After class I just wanted to get home and put my foot up. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet.”
Ahhhh, so she’s biding her time, formulating a plan. I got ya.
Jenny picks Veronica up from her lap and sets her back down next to her, pushes herself up off of the couch, and starts hobbling towards the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I need to get some ice for my ankle,” she replies as she uses the wall to support her as she goes.
Wow, she’s good. She really thought this through. I would have never thought to go get ice. That limp kind of looks real too. She must have been practicing.
I jump up and go to her side in a show of “helping” her with her “injury”, when really, I just want to see if I can trip her up.
As I help her walk into the kitchen, I stick my foot out in front of her and she stumbles over it, grabbing onto the table at the last minute before she falls to the ground.
“Drew! What the hell? Did you just trip me?” she yells.
“How’s your ankle?” I ask, staring down at the foot suspiciously as she holds it a few inches above the floor.
“What is wrong with you today? You’re acting weird,” she mutters before using one of the chairs to help her stand and then hops over to the freezer to grab an ice pack.
“I’m onto you, Jenny,” I tell her menacingly.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she asks as she sits at the kitchen table, brings her foot up to a chair, and sets the ice pack on top of her ankle with a wince.
Man alive, how is she so good at this? I never knew she was such a good faker. Oh Jesus, what if this isn’t the only thing she fakes? Oh my God. This is why she never wants to have sex with me. She’s tired of faking it!
“You’re faking it when you have sex with Claire and now you want to cheat me out of my money! Sons a bitchin!” I yell, before stomping out of the room.
~
In hindsight, I’m pretty sure I can pinpoint exactly where I went wrong with Jenny. I blame it all on natural childbirth. No man should ever have to see his wife in that position. No man should ever have to look at a live vagina in that position. Although a dead vagina in that position would probably be just as bad because it would be dead. A dead, gooey vagina. It’s a sight you can never un-see.
The day had started off fairly well. Jenny was a week overdue so the doctor had her check into the hospital first thing in the morning so she could be induced. We took Veronica with us since the day would mainly consist of us sitting around waiting for something to happen. Carter and Claire agreed to take her home with them for a sleepover once things started progressing. We did everything we were supposed to do so Veronica wouldn’t hate her brother at first sight. We included her when we picked out the name, we let her help decorate the nursery, we brought her to the hospital, and we had a present hidden in Jenny’s overnight bag that would be given to Veronica, “from her brother”, as soon as he was born – everything necessary so she wouldn’t step on his nuts and call him a shitbag when she saw him. Considering that was the name she picked for him, calling him that at first sight actually wouldn’t have been that weird. It was her new favorite word, and it was a hard sell to get her to pick another name out for him when we were going through the baby name book.
“But I wanna call him Shitbag! Baby is a shitbag!”
It was kind of hard to be mad when she strung together her first swear word sentence. It really was a proud day for me.
Around lunchtime on the day of delivery was when things got serious. And by serious, I mean seriously fucked up. Jenny’s contractions went through the roof and the woman I like to refer to as “Crazy-Ass Bitch” made an appearance. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GUY WITH THE DRUGS?”
I put my hands over Veronica’s ears and stared in horror at my wife. Jenny never yelled or cursed in front of Veronica. Ever. She raised her voice at times, but it was usually just because someone couldn’t hear what she was saying. This was a whole new side of her I wasn’t used to.
“The nurse just paged him like two minutes ago, baby. He’ll be here soon,” I reassured her as I removed my hands from Veronica’s ears.
“FUCK YOU!”
I glanced at the contraction monitor and saw that the little squiggly lines were so far off of the top of the page that the thing was flashing a red warning light.
“Breathe, baby. Just breathe. Think about something else,” I told her.
“I’M THINKING ABOUT SHOVING YOUR BALLS STRAIGHT UP YOUR ASS, YOU SHIT HOLE!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carter and Claire standing in the doorway with equal looks of horror on their faces.
“Um, so we’ll just come back later,” Claire said as she quickly darted in the room, scooped up Veronica, and made a mad dash back to Carter whispering, “GO, GO, GO!”
With Veronica out of earshot, I walked over to the side of the bed and tried smoothing hair off of Jenny’s forehead and telling her it would be okay, but she bit off my hand.
And that wasn't an exaggeration. She literally leaned over and clamped her teeth around the palm of my hand.
The doctor had showed up a few minutes later, but when he told Jenny he wasn’t the one with the drugs, I actually feared for the poor guy’s life. Then he had told her he needed to break her water to really get things going.
What has been happening in here for the last hour? A mother fucking tea party?
I really wish I could erase this part of the story because I look like a giant douchebag, and if I could take it back, I would. But I guess it’s necessary for you to understand everything.
The doctor had ripped open a package and pulled out what could only be described as a crochet hook. It was a long stick with a hook on the end, and it instantly made me laugh when I looked at it.
The doctor went to the end of the bed and asked Jenny to spread her legs. And before you ask, yes, I laughed at this too.
“Hey, hon, looks like the doctor is going to do some knitting while he’s down there between your legs,” I joked. “I bet you he could make a blanket for ten people with all that long-ass pube hair you got going on.”
Can you hear that? That’s the sound of my nuts being clamped in a vice.
After the doctor broke her water, and I apologized profusely for not shaving her ridiculously long pubic hair before she gave birth, it was back to the waiting game. No, not waiting for the baby to be born, waiting for the god dammed drugs.
“I don’t think we should name him Billy,” Jenny stated in between breaths as she “heeee-ed” and “hoooooo-ed” and “hee-hee hoo-hoo-ed” through the pain.
“What are you talking about?” I asked her in horror as I paced back and forth over by the door. My nuts still hadn’t recovered from the pubic hair crack so there was no way I was getting within five feet of her right now.
“Who names their kids after a stupid movie?” she questioned as she took a big sigh of relief when the contraction ended.
“You must be delirious from the pain. That is the only excuse for the nonsense coming out of your mouth right now.”
She glared at me and I instantly covered my nuts with my hands. I wouldn’t put it past her to pick up the phone, yank it from the wall, and chuck it at my dong.
“Did you just call me an idiot?” she questioned softly.
I really should have just run right then...turned around and darted out of the hospital room and down the hall until I reached the ward with all the comatose patients who wouldn’t scream at me.
“If it walks like a duck and talks like an idiot, then yes, yes I did,” I told her boldly, putting my hands on my hips.
Mistake number two.
Jenny’s cell phone smacked against my junk two seconds later, and I squeaked out a groan and clutched onto the boys.
“Cheese and crackers! That hurt! Dude, Billy Madison was the first movie we ever watched together. And it is the greatest movie of all time. There is no way we are naming our son anything other than Billy. We already have a Veronica, named after his hot teacher, Miss Veronica Vaughn. We can’t leave our daughter hanging like that. Think of the children,” I pleaded. “Do it for the children.”
“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” she wailed as tears started running down her cheeks and she put her head in her hands.
Sweet Jesus what is happening right now?
I rushed over to her bedside and wrapped my arms around her while she cried.
“Hon, of course I love you. Calm down,” I told her.
“YOU FUCKING CALM DOWN! I’M SITTING IN A PUDDLE OF MY OWN UTERUS WATER!” she yelled.
I tried to hold it in, really I did, but I couldn’t. I dry heaved. It was just…uterus water. Water from her uterus. She was sitting in it. She was marinating in uterus fluids.
“OH MY GOD! DID YOU JUST GAG?” she yelled.
I started furiously shaking my head “No”, but the damage was done.
The anesthesiologist came in then and pushed his cart of drugs in front of him and I almost begged him to give me a hit of whatever he had. I really should be numb from the brain down for the rest of this day before I fucked anything else up.
The doctor let me stay in the room for the epidural and let me tell you, nothing prepares you for seeing a needle as long as your arm, being pushed into your wife’s spine. And since she was in the middle of a contraction, all she did was sigh when it went in. Until I opened my mouth.
“Holy fuck that’s a huge needle,” I mumbled.
Jenny glanced over at me and scowled. Well, as much as she could anyway since she was hunched over her big belly as far as she could go, and a nurse was pushing down on her shoulders.
“What if he moves a fraction of an inch to the left and you’re suddenly paralyzed?” I asked in horror.
“Shut...Up,” Jenny muttered.
After the epidural was firmly in place, I double checked that we had a waiver on file that states we would own the hospital should my wife become paralyzed. If I was going to feed her mashed peas and wipe her ass until we die, I wanted to be rich.
“You’re never going to want to have sex with me again. I’m going to push a human out of the hole where you stick your penis, and you’re never going to want to go there again,” she sobbed.
Why God, why? WHY did she have to put that image in my head? I never had a problem having sex with her when she was pregnant with Veronica. Never went through that whole “Oh no, what if I hurt the baby or he sees my penis” bullshit. But this? Oh sweet Jesus, this is the end for me.
“Oh, that’s just silly. Why would you say something like that?” I asked nervously.
Maybe because it’s true. A human is making his way down that canal, and I’m supposed to not freak out about this?
Seven hours later, Billy had come screaming into the world, and I had thrown up in the trashcan next to the bed.
Somehow, now, I need to convince my wife that I do not fear her vagina. Not anymore at least.
Chapter 5 – Could it be…SATAN?!
I’m going to kill him. I swear to God I’m going to murder my husband.
The week before Billy had been born, he thought it would be a great idea to get a kitten. Something little to take care of to refresh our memories because it had been three years since we last had something that little to take care of. But when he had said we, he really meant me.
Granted, the kitten, Miss Lippy, named after the weird teacher in Billy Madison, is cute and cuddly and likes to rub her little pink nose against mine when we curl up in bed at night, but she also poops more than the average human. I’ve never seen so much poop come out of something so little and cute. If she'd been an outdoor cat, I might have guessed that she ate a rotten animal or something and got sick, but she never goes outside. She is strictly an indoor cat. I had almost called the vet to ask them if it was normal or if Miss Lippy was dying from some sort of pooping disease. I had the phone in my hand all set to dial when Drew had finally decided to tell me that he pooped in the litter box a few times to see what it was like.
I've SCOOPED MY HUSBAND’S POOP! Do you have any idea how NOT okay that is?
And yet, it’s not even the reason why I want to kill him right now, although it should be. So, not only do I have a three-year-old, a four-month-old, a husband, and a kitten, but Drew has come home tonight with a puppy.
A PUPPY!
Because you know, why not add one more thing to my list? Really, on top of all the crap I already do, it should be a piece of pie to clean up after yet another person. I’ve already had to potty train Veronica and Drew, might as well try a dog this time. Maybe he’ll be easier.
