I received this from a fellow cat lover in my e-mail and I nearly choked on my hysterical laughter and tears! I don’t know how true it is, but it is really really funny.
Cat lover or Not, this is hysterical!
We’ve all had trouble with our animals, but I don’t think anyone can top this one: Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I’m lying. On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head. The accident occurred mainly
because I had given in to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen: “Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it.”
“You know where the button is,” I protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam. “Reset it yourself!”
“But I’m scared!” she persisted. “What if it starts going and sucks me in?” There was a meaningful pause and then, “C’mon, it’ll only take you a second.”
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
No, it wasn’t the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a “fight or flight” situation. Men, in this predicament, choose only the “flight” option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor buck naked in front of a group of “been-there, done-that” paramedics. Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter… and not succeeding. Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.
“What’s the matter?” They all asked, “Cat got your tongue?”
If they only knew…
It’s my absolute all time favourite TV program. I mean, isn’t it everybody’s?
I have seen every episode of every season, and now I’m watching all the reruns– again. At some point in my life, I have been able to relate to all the girls, except to Charlotte, her I-just-want-to-find-‘the-one’-get-married-and-have-a-baby naiveté is fine on TV, but I don’t think I’ve ever been like that. I have definitely been a Samantha, and a Carrie, and a Miranda, I’d kill for their wardrobes, and occasionally for their lifestyles, of course that’s what made it so successful as a TV program. I bawled my eyes out and used half a box of tissues during the final episode.
My mom was never very impressed with it but I think maybe she and my dad just found it a little “too” for their taste (I think they watched an episode or two when I raved about it constantly). I have always wished I had a couple of girlfriends to visit and talk with like they do on SATC, but I think even some of my friends find ME a little “too” sometimes. And then of course, they’re all married or seriously involved. Admittedly I like the “limelight” and I love to shock people, but this country is still so very conservative– I mean, I get funny looks when I paint all my finger nails different colours, or wear a bandanna in public, and that’s not even a little bit shocking!
Oh, to discuss my latest read, my newest accessory acquisition (one of my addictions), my “goodie drawer,” my “conquests” (with appropriate nick-names of course) and even blogging with a couple of girls who will give me an honest answer and opinion to any question or suggestion…
But our conversation inevitably turns to our kids, to our kid’s achievements, our kid’s schools, our families and our jobs. It’s like we don’t exist as individuals anymore, like everything else falls by he wayside when you get married or have kids. And as much as I love my son, I do long to be just me sometimes. Our monthly ladies movie nights are great fun, but they’re not “ladies nights” as such, it’s just like our usual visits, just not with the kids actually in attendance. They’re there in every other way though.
Why do we put things (careers, hobbies, interests) off until later when we start a family, are we SUPPOSED to sacrifice everything that makes us who we are as individuals when we have our own families?
This is a very small part of a really great story.
A friend of mine (from here on referred to as “C”) has a little boy who’s just turned one. She has just won her court battle and will now be receiving R1K/month maintenance with no visitation. She says it’s the toughest thing she’s ever had to do, and things got quite nasty in the process, but she’s happy now and a huge weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
So think about it, there are so many more single mom’s now than there were, say, twenty or thirty years ago. Nowadays it’s considered old fashioned to get married JUST because you’re expecting, in fact, it seems couples are more likely to split than to get married when there’s a baby coming.
Purely from my own personal observation of friends and family, the difference today is that while a lot of married dad’s are getting more and more involved with their children than they were thirty years ago, so too, more and more “unwed” fathers are walking away – because they can. It’s like its become acceptable for the father to ignore the child as long as both parents agree on it, or as long as maintenance is paid… is it because its easier to do it alone than to have to deal with an ex? Do biological ties count for nought in our modern times? And yes – before you yell, I include myself here.
I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have the complication of and ex when I see what a hard time some people have with theirs – BUT – my child doesn’t know everything about where he came from… sometimes I wish he DID know his father just so he could have someone else to be mad at.
Anyhoo, any one of us who is responsible for a child can vouch for what it costs financially – let’s just jump right over the emotional cost for a second – coping on one salary is all but impossible. If you do get maintenance, it’s usually not enough, but here’s the thing: “C” is proof that you should stick to your guns and do the whole lawyer/court thing – IT CAN WORK!
It’s way too late for me now, and since I chose this life, I am not complaining, but – if you’re new to this solo act, and if you can, then I say do everything in your power to get what your child’s father owes to his child (‘coz he doesn’t owe it to you).
Me – I feel that single motherhood has been “glammed up” by rich celebrities who decide to rescue” some poor little orphan because their biological clock is ticking and because they can afford it. It creates a wholly false perception of what it does to a child to be in a single parent family – no matter how much money you have.
How proud can one mother be!
It was my son’s first national competition and he finished 12th out of 30 gymnasts.
I was sitting in the grandstands with my mom, brother and sister in law next to me. Me with my heart in my throat and my stomach full of these GIANT butterflies… I can’t imagine how he must have been feeling! There I am, watching my son, and I’m wishing I could talk to him– just quickly, to remind him to keep his legs and arms straight, to keep his feet together, to look straight in front of him, that I could somehow give him a tip on how to ignore everyone around him so he doesn’t get distracted (like I haven’t already said it all.) I wondered if he’d got enough sleep, if he’d eaten enough, if he was drinking enough water, if I’d been supportive enough without putting unnecessary pressure on him. I wondered what his coach was telling him, was the coach any help? I was so hoping he’d have fun… “Oh please– please– please– let him bring a medal home. Maybe I can ask them to give him a special one ‘coz he’s so special, no that’s ridiculous, oh hell– maybe I should have just stayed at home!”
Is this just me– how on earth do other moms deal with things like this?
Anyhoo, the knucklehead is really proud of himself. He competed with the top 30 in the country and he’s ready to try again next year. I think maybe next year I’ll get me some tranquilisers or something…
I thank God every day that I can give my son the opportunity to do what he’s good at.