It's pouring!

You know that old saying, "When it rains, it pours." Well, this week, it has been pouring. And I have tried hard to keep my usual positive attitude working for me, but friends, it has been tough.

I know that you do not want to hear me drone on about the details of the wild and crazy week we had. We are all here, on the other side. And nothing too terrible happened! But in the interest of getting it off my chest before I move forward and try to get back in the blog habit again, I am going to rattle off a list, OK?

Week of the Military child was a huge success at Jessa's school, but it required that I (and some days both kids) be up and dressed at school before 7:30 to help out. Yikes. There were also some lunches - yep, the PTO handed out 720 Popsicles, 720 cupcakes, and 720 bags of popcorn for every kid at the school. Whew!

Awesome Bay came to hand out candy for Army Day

I am so lucky to have a pediatrician here that I love because we spent time there this week. Twice. With 2 sinus infections for each baby. Yep. Lots of late nights alternating Tylenol and Motrin to try to bring down scary high fevers (both were generic, so no recall worries, I just did not want to spell out the active ingredients). And now we are choking down a course of antibiotics. But they are both doing so much better. Yay!

I had to make another long, long drive to the University of Missouri this week. But it was all good because this time it was to pick up my sweet kitty instead of dropping him off. He was wet from his post radiation isolation bath, but he was thrilled to be going home. He spent the trip yelling at me for leaving him and recounting the horrors that he suffered.

He alternated between trying to lick himself and repair the damage that had been done to his coat with meowing loudly, letting me know just what he had been through!

It was a LONG day that started at 7:30 at school, involved rushing to meet my Momma at the pediatrician's office with Spencer, and ended with everyone home again and on the mend. (Well, Stewart is locked in the guest room for 3 weeks to avoid direct contact with small children. We we only have 17 days left, but who's counting!?)

I got to go and see Oceans with Jessa's school. So. Much. Fun. On the bus ride, I got schooled on how to play Star Wars on Wii by one her little friends. If I understood correctly, C3PO has the secret codes, in case you were wondering. Oh, and we also decided after the movie that we were glad we lived in Illinois. The sweet boy said, "You know, Jessa's Mom, because no Great White Sharks." Point taken.

It was parent watch week at ballet. Jessa is a ham and is very excited about the recital, where she will be a butterfly. WITH wings.

AND she is not too shy to ask Bay for a hanky in the middle of class to blow her nose.

My Awana Cubbies practiced to sing in church this week.

Spencer, at Cubbies - the arm is his future wife, who is always sitting next to him!

And today (Sunday), they did it! I was so proud of them. Even Spencer, who had vowed to not sing, ever(!) went on the alter with his class. And well, he was up there.

I agreed to let him hold the "Cubbie Bear" that Bay painted for the class.

You can see his fingers!

Oh, and I backed into the garage door on Wednesday just before leaving for church and ballet. I thought I cleared it when I was backing in to load all the stuff I needed to take with me. I cried. David was not thrilled. BUT my crafty husband FIXED it. OK, he may have almost lost all of his fingers, but he fixed it! And with Bay's help, they even got the darn thing in working order again.

Jessa spilled GREEN fingernail polish on the carpet. It was only a few drops. And she was REALLY sorry. And when I was fussing at her for playing with nail polish without permission, she looked at me and said, "Well, Mom, at least I did tell you the truth." Yes, dear child, but the truth does not get the green polish out of the light gray carpet.

There was a PTO lunch meeting to plan next year's activities, etc. I went. It was potluck. I made potato salad. I met some new people. It was lovely. Oh, and before I left, they wrote out the slate of officers for next year. It will be voted on at the meeting on Monday. Am I forgetting something? Oh yes, now I remember. My name will be listed next to the office of "President." Oh. My. Word.

David. It was a crazy week preparing for a big trip (he left Saturday). Oh, and he had dinner with Bono. Well, he was in the same room where there was a dinner in Bono's honor. And the keynote speaker was Bill Clinton. Not to shabby. And Bono even wore purple shades! He is so cool.

And my Momma. Our May. She saved the day like a thousand times. Had she not been here, I could have made most things work. I could have dragged sick children with me to the University of Missouri. I could have packed coloring books for them to work on while I was busy at meetings. But nothing could replace my sweet babies being able to sleep as late as they needed to and lay around in their jommies all day when they were sick. And they had way more fun snuggling with May and watching Spongebob, than they would have being dragged all over town while I took care of everything that needed to be taken care of. She even drove Stewart home when I met her and Spencer at the doctor's office! She is so awesome and she was such a blessing and a Godsend this week. AND Bay even shared her and let her spend the night with us a couple times to help out! Yes, it caused them both to ask the tongue in cheek question, "Now tell me again, why did we have children???" They are so funny. I think. That question was tongue in cheek, right guys? Momma? Daddy? Guys??

So that was our week. I did get to spend a crazy amount of time with my Jessa, which was really nice. And Spencer spent lots of time with his May, just the way he likes it! We have all spent most of the weekend relaxing and getting over all the craziness. There were many naps taken. I am starting to feel human again, and you know, ready to tackle another week. . .

Now that I have all of that off of my chest, I promise to be a better blogger. You know, for the handful of you who stop by every now and again. . .

Furry Friday - March 12

OK, people. I try to never play favorites, you know? Not with the children or the furries. I try hard, really I do. If I see Dunken, staring at me, beckoning me for some attention, I stop and love on him. Then I immediately look to see if Max noticed. Don't want him thinking I love Dunken more. There is nothing worse than Westie sibling rivalry. I know you know what I mean.

My kids are tuned into this as well. If I say that I am proud of what a good eater Jessa is at supper without IMMEDIATELY mentioning Spencer's chewing prowess, his face falls. Same with her. They both just need to HEAR that they rock and never worry that I think the other one rocks more.

BUT I have to focus this Furry Friday on Stewart again. Since I started this whole idea, Stewart has been discussed 3 times. Look, y'all, my furry children cannot read. So they will never know that I have been slightly unfair with face time, unless YOU blab. Please don't tell them, OK? If you run into Dunken or Max or even Abby or Cooper, just act naturally, OK? If you don't tell them, they may never know! And for heaven sakes, don't tell Stewart - we don't want him getting the big head.

Anyway, my Stew is having some trouble.

He spent all day yesterday at a new vet's office. He has been needing to go, so I finally took him. And when they weighed him, he was only 9 lbs. This is great except last year, he weighed 12 lbs, 11 oz. He had lost a little bit then, too, so before I went I called 2 vets to compile some weights for comparison. And that is a ton of weight loss for a kitty. So they ran all sorts of blood tests and kept him there all day trying to get him to tee-tee. (Oh by the way, he never did. He did IMMEDIATELY upon coming home, though, of course.) (AND, by the way even more, we have to try again Monday for a sample.) Today the new Vet called and said that we are 99% sure it is his Thyroid. This is what we were thinking and sort of hoping, as it is treatable. So now he will get to take medicine twice a day until probably forever. I am OK with that, too. I just want him happy and healthy, you know? And back up to his fighting weight, of course.

Bless his heart.

I just hate it when any of my babies are sick! Even the furry ones. I actually think they are harder to handle because they cannot tell you, "hey, lady, I don't feel good." That was the best thing about the kids learning to talk. They could TELL ME. Isn't that always the worst? You are worrying about your baby and trying to figure out what is wrong using a slow, frustrating trial and error method! I could never be like a scientist in a lab or anything. Of course, with our children we will do anything! But that testing things out until you trip over and fall backwards into a solution thing is for the birds. Or the fancy lab scientists or whatever. You get it.

So now, I am about to head up to my new second home, our Vet's office to get some drugs to help him. Whew!

OH. On a somewhat related note, I must tell you that this vet cracked me up. I had to fill out tons of papers on Stewart when I first got there since we were "new." And I kid you not, the first question on one of the forms was "Does you pet have any nicknames? If so, list." I was so tickled! I have never had to answer that before. I think it is so cool that they chose to include that. And I listed a bunch. I did not want the vet to think that we (1) do not really love our cat or (2) are not creative enough to come up with suitable nicknames.

For your entertainment,

enjoy this list of our cat's most commonly used nicknames:

Stew

Stew-a-lew

Disco Stew

Stewie

Stewart Alewart

Stew-cat

Furry Friday (belated) - March 5

Things have been extra crazy around here for the Crazy Keys. We had a wonderful visit from May! She arrived on Friday, so we have been a little wrapped up, you know? And so that should explain my lateness on the Furry Friday Post. Do both of my readers forgive me? Thanks!

So this week there are no pictures to tell the story. My words will have to do.

I have mentioned before that Maxwell and Stewart do not get along. They are the cliché dog and cat. Seriously, cartoons could have been based on these two. I still do not fully get it, though. Max is so "undog" in so many ways. But this is the one thing he got. His instincts are honed. Cat = bad.

There are no pictures of the trauma and drama that surrounded last Monday with these two furry babies. I was shaking too hard to hold the camera.

Stewart has become too brazen for his own good. He does not see Max as a worthy adversary. He can usually outrun him, but most of the time Max is in his own world and does not notice the cat that is strutting through the room. But on Monday, Stewart was reminded of why we have a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs.

I did not see how it started, so I cannot tell you what triggered the madness. All I heard was the tell-tale bark of "Hunter Max" and some angry, guttural meows from Stewart. I went running toward the horrible sound. What I found was a fight underway in the laundry room. But not out in the open where I could see what was happening and try to stop it. Oh, no. Stewart had either started out behind the washer OR had retreated behind it when Max gave chase. Whatever the case, I was unaware that big, old Max could even fit back there. I guess anything is possible when you are properly motivated. So I can hear the scary noises coming out of my precious babies, but I could not see anything. I am standing there, helpless, terrified. I am trying to think. Do I our water on them? I have to get back there. So I pull a huge Lynda Carter-esque Wonder Woman move. I lifted the corner of the washing machine and pulled it away from the wall, thus creating a large enough space for me to see the fur flying. At the same time, Stewart who has some really smart moments, intertwined with his audaciousness, hurdled the white tornado of fur that was after him. He ran safely to his baby gate and escaped to his upstairs haven. Max, ever the pokey puppy had to back up his portly body to escape the tunnel behind the washing machine. I closed him in the laundry room while I searched for Stewart to make sure he was OK. He was. His paws were bloody, but it was not his blood.

I found a shell-shocked Maxie pacing the laundry room with his snout and nose covered in blood. I put him on the kitchen counter so I could rinse the blood out of his formerly white hair and check his eyes for damage. It was all flesh wounds, and he was alright. The kids were so upset and worried about Max. They started to call Stewart mean until I explained that Stew was simply defending himself. I stopped shaking about an hour after it was over. It was all too much. Lucky I do not have a weak heart. . .

So the effects of this tousle between 2 of my furries are far reaching. When I tried to put the washer back, without my adrenaline to aid me, I was unable to move it. That thing is heavy! But I did not think too much about it.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. I am preparing to get caught up on a whole weeks with of laundry. I had something soaking in the washer and before I started the first load, I set the cycle to spin to drain the soaking water. Guess what happened? Well, apparently I am like Bam-Bam Rubble, and I do not know my own strength. When I yanked the machine out to expose the scrappers, I also yanked (pardn the technical term here) the drain hose thingy out of the back of the washer. So, when I told it to drain, it did as it was told. Just all over the floor instead of out the hose thingy. What. A. Mess. Thankfully David was home to help me figure out what to do. We spent the morning cleaning up the mess after he reattached the end of the hose thingy to the back of the washer. Fun times. Oh, but he did move the machine back into place AND it is so close that neither pet can easily get back there now.

I am telling you; these animals sure are lucky I love them so much. . .

Furry Friday - February 5

In fairness, Dunken was our first born furry baby, so he was my first feature. Of the pets that we have in our home now, Stewart is our second born (to our family anyway).

So, hheeeerrrreeee's

STEWART

He really is excited to be the feature this week, can't you tell??

This week I would like to discuss Stewart and his current living situation. See, Stewart is not a timid cat. He does not hide when we have company. Once a dude working on the fridge had to get me to hold him because Stewart was walking all over him, in the way, and nuzzling him. In Stewart's defense, the guy was on the floor. Anyway, you get the picture. Stewart. Not a shrinking violet. Very social. He lets it all hang out.

But Max thinks that he should chase Stewart. He has watched too many Tom and Jerry cartoons. Seriously, you should not let your kids, furry or not, watch too much TV. And even though Stewart is faster and well, frankly smarter than old Max, we think is is best to keep them separated. So at this house, during the day, Stewart has upstairs all to himself. His food, water, and litter are upstairs.

He is all set. We have a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs so that the dogs are confined to the bottom level of the house during the day.

Now, Stewart still comes and goes because he can walk right by Max sometimes, and Max does not even notice. Seriously, not a bright bulb.

Stewart can go up and down and in and out of the "doggie door" whenever he wants. Our fence is not easy for him to scale, so at this house he is allowed in the backyard AND LOVES it.

Taken in warmer times - he is not a fan of the wet, cold winter.

And IF Max does realize he is nearby and decides to chase him, he glides over the gate to safety.

Then at night, Stewart has the run of the house because the dogs sleep in our room with the door closed. Stewart roams, and usually settles in to sleep with the kiddos.

The only problem is that the temperature in our house is not at all even. If we are at all comfortable downstairs, i.e. we are not forced to wear a coat, scarf, mittens, and 2 pairs of socks, it is stifling upstairs. The result is that every time I walk up the stairs, it looks sort of like someone snuck into the house, held Stewart down and forcibly shaved him. See the floor?

The picture does not really do it justice, I have to vacuum like twice a day. OK, more accurately, I should vacuum twice a day. And Stewart often times has big wads of hair just hanging out of his mouth.

And every time I see the floor like this, I expect to find Stewart somewhere looking like this:

Luckily, so far, he has thicker fur than I thought and Dr. Evil's cat is not inhabiting my upstairs.

But he is starting to show signs of distress.

Just look at him.

I have already placed a call to the Fur Club for Cats.

Frankly, with his charisma and go-getter attitude, it is only a matter of time before he is the president, not just a client.

But for now, it really is rough

Heartbreaking, really.

He looks like he is suffering, doesn't he?

Poor Stewart.

The fish who Lived.

Remember how the Harry Potter Series began? You know, the boy who lived? Well, our little Hannah Montana Fish is still swimming, so I am calling her the fish who lived . I was worried for a while. After the unprovoked attack on this innocent littler water breather by the evil Lord Stewart-mort, things did not look good. Her color was bad. She was not eating. She was staying at the bottom of her tank under her turtle all the time. I was so sure that despite the quick thinking of sweet David, the shock of the incident was just too much for her.

This weekend, I changed the water in both of their tanks. They both needed clean water, but I was REALLY worried about that. Sometimes that can be shocking for them. But after their water was all clean, David put their tanks back in the proper place (since the incident they have been on top of the fridge for safety). Well, I think she is feeling better because she is swimming around like she used to. She is eating. Wow! I was preparing the speech in my head to tell Jessa what happened without implicating Lord Stewart-mort. I did not want Jessa to be mad at him.

So despite the bored, lonely, murderous Lord Stewart-mort, Hannah Montana will live to swim another day. . .

Doesn't she look good? No lighting bolt shaped scar, but we are so happy she is feeling better!

And Lord Stewart-mort is back to ignoring the fish now that there are other things to occupy him in the house. Tragedy averted.