Animal Observations

As I sit here, I am currently listening to my cat clean up a mess she made. I am blessed with a cat who eats so fast, her stomach actually forces it back out. Kind of, "Wow, that's a lot of food all at once. Why don't we try that again in slow motion."

So after binging, then hoarking her kibble, she is now methodically eating it again. I've gotten over many things that would make a normal person squeamish, however I'm still a sympathetic puker.  Yes, even with animals. Only when I was pregnant did I actually throw up. Now I just dry heave a little; things are looking up!

Not that all this isn't disgusting enough, she has now re-eaten her fill and left the area. Cue dog...yep, here she comes, right on time.

There is no more methodical eating, just one big disgusting, bile-raising, slurp. Quick. Efficient. Done. (Insert dry heave)

This raises a couple, thought provoking questions.

1. Why won't the damn cat slow down? Seriously, almost every night we go through this binge, hoark, eat routine. Yuck! (Yes, we've tried feeding her less, but more often. We've even put obstacles in her food dish - doesn't seem to slow her down at all.)

2a. Why does the cat eat her own puke?

It's disgusting on so many levels. When humans hoark, we usually figure out that something went wrong between the eating and the digesting posts. After we finally quit reversing natural physiology, we go lie down somewhere to wallow in self-pity.

2b. This is somewhat the same question. Why do dogs eat nasty stuff? Trash, tissue paper, diapers, anything rotting, the list goes on.

They have super noses, so they should be able to figure out, by smell alone, that they are about to eat something normally considered inedible. Unless their super noses can pick up on subtle nuances that we can't?!

Most days I'm happy when I can actually smell or taste the things I'm supposed to taste when drinking wine. I always thought having a nose capable of picking up the things a dog can smell would be extremely helpful; now I'm not so sure. Anything that may lead me down the road to eating my own puke doesn't seem like a good thing...and that's just a cat's nose. A dog's nose would evidently make someone else's vomit a delicacy. No thank you.

The H Word

I've decided I'm going to do it, I'm going to dedicate an entire blog post to one awful, horrendous word. This word is actually so awful that it is up there with the number one word I hate to hear: "moist." Ugh, I hate hearing that word, though not as much as the one this post will be about. I'm also not going to use it in this post, so unless you have kids, you may not get it. If you have kids, don't be ashamed, you really aren't alone in this!

If you have children, it doesn't matter how many, you deal with this word on a rather consistent basis. You also think you are the only one that suffers, but then when it finally gets to where you think you are dying, you make that embarrassing doctor's appointment. You are so ashamed you whisper your affliction on the phone to the receptionist.

When it is finally time for your appointment, you walk in, head hung in shame because you feel diseased in a way. When the nurse calls your name, you have hit your low point and you question whether you can just walk out and not deal with it for another few weeks. You decide you have to deal with it sooner or later so you walk past the waiting room door so the nurse can take your vitals.

Once you reach the inner sanctum, the nurse turns to you and begins the embarrassing questions part: how long, how bad, etc. You answer in a hushed shame. Then something weird happens, you are transported to a different world, (if you have a female nurse that has kids). The nurse begins to tell you how awful she had them and how often she gets them.....wah?

Then the doctor comes in and explains how she gets them all the time too....wah? I have a wonderful doctor who likes to explain in details, so at a point I become uncomfortable again, but I do find comfort that I'm not the only one.

What I come to find out, is that once you have a child, this becomes rather a regular problem. No one speaks of it, so everyone thinks they are the only one. My issue is WHY? Why does this happen all of a sudden after having a kid?

My first thought was because everything gets stretched, torn, and all sorts of awful things that are considered "natural." However, I had two cesareans, so on the stretching/tearing aspect, I got off pretty easy, so that rules that out for some people.

It can't be hormones, because I think after your first child (definitely after your second), your hormones stop saying, "Hey! Let's have kids!" Now they are saying, "Sleep woman!" or if your husband gives you that look, "Don't even think about it buddy!"

So WHY?!

I came to the realization yesterday, that I think it is mostly time. Yes, that wonderful concept that as a mother, you don't really have any left, or to yourself. If you are a stay-home mom, your world is compressed into timed segments of where and when your kids have to be, homework, dinner, baths and bedtime. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I think my kids get more showers/baths than I do, in a given week. (When my husband isn't deployed, I come out ahead, or at least even, with the kids.) If you have a career, your time is compressed into spending the few hours left during the week into homework, dinner and bedtime.

Also, for some strange reason, when a dad goes to the bathroom, he is LEFT ALONE. What the...? Why?

The kids can be on a different floor than I am; they could even be sleeping or watching a movie. It's like they have this switch, "hey, mom went into the bathroom, let's go check on her." I don't even have to be using the restroom, I could be cleaning it (ha ha!) and they come find me.

Even if you lock and barricade the door, they find away to bother you. Constant knocking, or the ever-creepy fingers-under-the-door trick, when you just want a minute of peace. So unlike a dad who gets 20-30 minutes of peace (they can read chapter books!), moms get: strange conversations/questions, knocking, fingers under the door (or objects), barging in (forgot to lock the door), crying, kids fighting, stuff breaking, etc...

I tried to "bother" the kids while they go to the bathroom, hoping to teach them respect and privacy...that didn't go well. They actually enjoyed the company, I think. Therefore, I think I may start a new bathroom policy when Military Dad comes home. For every minute, I'm bothered in the bathroom, the kids will be required to bother him in the bathroom! Either, MD will help enforce a "don't bother mom" code, or I won't be the only person in the house with the H word.