It’s no secret that I am an obsessive dog mom. This is partially because I own the worlds most neurotic dog and partially because I am the worlds biggest control freak.
It’s quite the combo.
This past weekend some of us, including Belle, went up to Michigan. This trip was 90% relaxing, and 10% Belle digging up the yard and then getting into the leftover bbq ribs at 3am. Her digging is a pretty random habit, but as it turns out she can dig a pretty deep hole for having such short legs. So if we’re sticking to percentages, I am 98% annoyed at her digging and 2% kinda proud.
The real issue of the weekend was the whole 3am rib feast she got into. This rib feast led to her being up night whining in the bedroom when she couldn’t get back out to the rib feast, and then her refusing to eat her dog food the entire Sunday, and eventually she realized eating crap and then not eating her real food would make her feel terrible and irritable and so she took it out on everyone on Sunday night by being generally an asshole.
Here’s where my dog mom habits got kicked into overdrive.
I immediately got on Pinterest and searched “homeopathic dog remedies”, and the amount of results that came up were astonishing. It seems I am just one drop in a large pool of dog parents who would spend hours giving their dog a therapeutic bath and then hand feeding them pig dicks.
Thankfully, the above mentioned was not a cure for Belle’s “generally an asshole” diagnosis and I could skip feeding her animal genitalia. This time.
When it seemed like Pinterest wouldn’t be able to solve my problem, something I’ve never experienced before, I walked over to the local dog store to ask him what he thought I should do. I went in and sort of browsed around the remedy section of the store until I looked lost enough that the owner came over to ask me what I was looking for. I explained that while taking a 3am potty break this weekend, by dog had gotten into some ribs and was now acting like a real bitch. No pun intended.
I was already holding coconut oil because all the dog blogs told me it worked wonders on basically everything a dog could ever suffer from, and the store owner agreed with the online community of dog owners aka my best friends. He also suggested that I give her a little bit of tripe with her food, as it’s an immune booster.
Immune booster? Check please.
So I left the store with a jar of coconut oil and three cans of tripe aka cow stomach. Pretty gross, but not quite genitals.
I still had some hours in my workday so I couldn’t run home and pile all of these remedies on Belle’s food like I wanted to. Upon reflection I am genuinely ashamed of my excitement level about plopping these animal insides and oil on top of a dogs food. But here I am.
It’s worth it to mention now that before the whole ribs fiasco, I had already been putting a spoon of sweet potato and a spoon of wild salmon on top of her dry food. So now I was adding two other toppings to her breakfast and dinner, making it a total of five different ingredients that went into her breakfast and dinner.
On a good day, I’ll pack myself a lunch that would consist of maybe three different things. But here I am feeding my dog a four topping pizza two times a day.
Who owns who, am I right?
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Although I am a single and childless person I am pretty heavily involved in the toddler social scene via my position as nanny to the coolest little boy in the neighborhood.
I had to pause while typing this first sentence to pull a large chunk of spit covered mushed up peanut butter sandwich out of his mouth after he got overzealous about how much he could fit in there. But, he’s still the best.
In an effort to show him off to as many people as possible as I can everyday, we spend a lot of time out and about in the neighborhood. Being active and adorable at the park, chatting up the baristas, and petting all the dogs we come across.
Yesterday, his mom told me about this “meet-up” app thing that some moms in the neighborhood had put together to tell other moms (and nannys!!!) about stuff they were doing around the neighborhood in the hopes of everyone hanging out. I was all, “Uh yeah sounds awesome.”
I promptly download the app, called “meet-up”, and it is apparently an app that can be used world-wide to meet-up with people doing stuff you think is cool and do the cool stuff with them. Once it’s downloaded it’s asking me all sorts of questions like, “what do you like to do?” “here’s some cool stuff people your age are doing in your city, are you interested?” and I’m all excuse me can you please just take me to the “West-Town-Mamas” meet up, I have toddler hangs to plan.
As I’m browsing the events West-Town-Mamas has posted, I realize there’s a story time at the library this morning! JACKPOT! I immediately RSVP, and then it asks me if I’m bringing a guest, but then I look and see that no other moms have RSVPed that they’re bringing a guest so I realize it’s implied that I’ll be bringing a toddler with me to a Mama meet-up, so I remove the guest and I hope no one noticed!!!!
The story time is at the nearby public library at 10:30, and the meet-up is at 10 because according to the other moms the story time can get pretty crowded so it’s best to get there early.
Good lookin out, mama’s.
We get there at about 10:15 because I don’t want to be too thirsty, even though I’d been thinking about it for going on 10 hours now. There are already more people there than are in the West-Town-Mamas group and I’m wondering who the other members are. Calvin and I run elbows with a few other kids/moms and generally have a good first “meet-up” despite my having no idea who was part of the WTM club and who WASN’T!!
As soon as we get home afterwards, I check the meet-up app and it’s popping off with all sorts of “sorry we missed you!” and “hope to meet next time!’ messages being exchanged. I look at some of the pictures, and realized most of the people we ended up talking to were in fact part of the “meet-up”
Of course they were, we’re soulmates.
I then get an email that tells me a mom I WTM I talked to has clicked that it was “nice to see” me.
Uh, marry me.
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On my constant quest to better my overall health by spending money on products, I wandered into Merz Apothecary a few weeks ago. It of course immediately became my favorite place in the entire world as I am also someone obsessed with the way things smell.
As I wandered the wonderful aisles, I immediately picked up and decided I had to have $10.95 aromatherapy mist that smelled like eucalyptus so that I could spray it on my bed which will clearly lead to an extremely restful night. As I wander I contemplate buying sage to burn around my room that is clearly cursed by the flood gods, but I decide to hold off. Then I turn and see this giant display case that seemed to hold to cure every ailment a person could ever have. Since I can pretty much say at some point in the day I’ll suffer from the majority of these ailments, it took me awhile to decide which one of these I was going to take home with me.
Then I saw it, “sleep aid”.
Hello hello hello….
I grabbed it, got a homeopathic remedy for motion sickness cause you never know, and my aromatherapy spray. That night I was so ready to go to sleep in my bed of eucalyptus and have my new all natural sleep aid rock my to sleep.
I read the directions and took the full dose of five little tablets so I could be sure I would get the full effect. I woke up in the morning, instead of five times during the night, and was feeling very confident in my choice to buy these little miracle pills. I’d had some weird dreams but hey, at least I’d slept through the night.
I continued to use the sleep aid at full dose until it started to be even harder than normal to get up in the morning, which is a hard feeling to top as I’m not even like an early afternoon person. People should basically wait to talk to me until 2pm.
So I started to take four instead of five tablets, in the hope that my mornings would be less difficult. Then I tried three because four was still leaving me very comatose. I started to also realize that it wasn’t hard to get up in the morning just because this sleep aid was extra powerful, it seemed this homeopathic sleep aid also induced hallucinations in the form of weird ass dreams.
These weird ass dreams included my grade school classmates and I having a sleepover as adults, a white porcupine following me around, and me being a private detective following my dad and his friends around. Sometimes one dream would include all these elements. Or they’ll be a really fun dream that’s set in too familiar of a reality and I wake up like,
“Did I forget the boys I nanny at the zoo?”
“Am I failing all my classes?”
“Was I at one of my favorite restaurants for lunch and the food was taking too long so I had to leave without eating anything?”
Talk about a nightmare….
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Well now that summer’s gone, my seasonal procrastination has run it’s course and I have to actually start getting my life together seeing as how it’s back to grad school tomorrow. Unfortunately the text book I was supposed to read is still sitting in my bedroom, and now the reading of it and writing an essay based on it’s contents is being saved for “winter break” when I’ll “have more time”.
My friends and I said goodbye to summer with a series of hang sessions this past three day weekend. Upon reflection on these hangs we kept referring to them with words such as “wild” and “cray cray” when in reality it was all of us drinking and doing karaoke in one friends apartment on Friday, and then sitting on a back porch and drinking on Saturday night. Both nights were spent at these friends houses, until we decided to mosey on home, with or without a pitstop at McDonalds…
Adults can drunk eat too.
Since I am constantly looking for ways to tell myself that I’m slowly becoming a functioning member of society, I would like to look at this labor day as a pretty responsible one.
Sunday we even took a bike ride in the hot ass weather. A bike ride in this case means we rode our bikes to the beach, but still, we were outside moving our bodies in a way that can be considered exercise.
Another check point in the “my life is slowly coming together” box.
We get to the beach, lay our stuff down in the shade, drink a few beers and then I hesitantly follow my friends into the water. Once I’ve fully immersed myself, Aren and I begin a “splash fight”. Then we dunk Anika and Bennett in the water. Then we have a “push fight” tournament which means we take turns slamming our hands together to try and make our opponent lose their footing.
Once we’ve exhausted ourselves of our mature water games, we have another beer and then head back home and out to dinner. Throughout dinner the effects of the sun/water sports/bike ride begin to take their toll on me and I slowly become comatose.
Not too comatose to watch Bring It On in it’s entirety when we get home before passing out at 10pm, however.
Life is all about balance.
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Have I already written a blog about my room flooding? I’m sure I have since its happened twice before. So my room has now had at least an inch of shit water in it not once, not twice, but three different times.
I’m minding my own business in Lakeview shoveling empanadas and milkshakes into my face when it starts to downpour. We decide to try and wait out the rain at Potbellys until we realize that this rain is not quitting any time soon. So, Mark does the brave thing and runs to grab my car, picks us up, him and Gina get dropped off at their car, and then Ana, Anika and myself are on our way home with the windshield wipers at full blast.
The closer we get to home, the more flooded the roads seem to be. A good portion of the ride home was “The Little Honda That Could” as my little car became part boat each time we crossed another swimming pool in the middle of the road.
If these driving conditions weren’t enough to send a person over the edge, we get a text halfway home letting us know that our basement, and more importantly my room, are flooding.
Oh good, so it’s not just every street I’m trying to drive down that’s covered in water, it’s also all of my belongings.
By the time we make it home I’ve completely given up on parking and pull into a part of the lake that I think is a somewhat legal parking space. We then jump out of the car and make a mad dash for the house. Once inside, we find Katie and Ryan in the basement ankle deep in what is most likely sewer water.
They’re angels and have moved all my stuff that was on the floor onto the stairs out of water harms way. Unfortunately my bathroom rug, which I’d washed the day before got nice and soaked. My makeup that was very much not on the floor, decided to make a jump for it and 80% of my makeup, primarily my prized lipstick, were floating the nastiness. Though, this being my possessions third flood as well, you can’t really blame them for being like “fuck this basement” and diving head first into their destruction.
“I’m right behind you, favorite purple lip color!”
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Hannah is in town, and that means sushi.
A group of us decide to order an astronomical amount of it and then meet up at our house tonight to eat it. The task of ordering and picking up all the sushi was given to Anastasia, her poor poor soul. It being 2015 and all, we decide to plan what sushi we want to order via group text. Those of you who have ever tried to plan anything via group chat are probably already shaking their heads at us thinking this would be the quickest and easiest way to plan this.
Ana started the chat off with a list of rolls she suggested. They ranged in name from “Mexico” (very PC) to Negi Himachi. Along with a varying rolls that began with “crunch” and ended with a type of fish.
The rest of us then had to find the menu online and decide what we wanted to add to the list. The text stream then went something like this:
“More crunch rolls”
“super white tuna”
“I want ___”
“x amount. Is that enough?”
(back and forth about how many rolls we will need)
I was participating in this text group on an empty stomach so I was pretty much ready to order 10 of each.
By the end of the chat, that may have ended up being what we decided to order…
And wine, lets not forget the wine.
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NEWSFLASH: Turning 27 ended up being great.
Day of, I go to watch Hook in Wicker Park with friends who dressed up as pirates. Then some of us go to Big Star and have a conversation with the bouncer about letting us just sit on the patio and order our own drinks at the bar, which he eventually allows. The conversation to convince him took longer than the actual sitting on the patio and drinking.
The Saturday that follows, I have a bbq at my parents house and invite people over. I tell people the start time is 6, but no one really shows up until around 7. Which, is a completely normal party move. This doesn’t stop my father from making the joke, “is this a reverse surprise party!? Surprise! No one is coming!” over and over again between 6:15-7.
As people showed up, the moscow mules started flowing. And boy were they good. Even better was when Calvin, one of my nanny boys, and his parents showed up and all us twenty somethings spent most of the time tracking Calvin’s moments and smiling at him. Once Calvin left, we all went back to focusing on eating and drinking.
Belle, my dog, was also in attendance and as we decided to head to a bar, I decided to allow my parents the privilege of having a sleep over with her. So, it caught me by surprise when I get a call at the bar from a random man telling me my dog was following him home and this was the number on her collar.
Luckily, I rarely leave my comfort zone and the bar we were at was only a few blocks from my parents. In the typical dramatic fashion of drunk person, I ran out of the bar yelling, “BELLE IS OUT!!” thinking anyone would care. I’m sure most of the people who heard my screams thought I was coming out of the closet. Anika heard my cries of distress and together we ran, and then walked quickly, to where the men had her.
Once I had gotten her and brought her back to my parents house with a large guilt trip for my mother about not noticing the dog got out. Though, in reality it could’ve been the exit of 10 drunk people that caused her to slip out.
We’ll never know for sure.
The night ended with Ryan, Anika and I joining a picnic of strangers on our walk home. This picnic mostly included me shoveling the available food onto my plate and talking boisterously about how good it was. Additionally, I was handed a full cup of Hennessey.
I’m sure all of the attendants of the stranger picnic are now on the short list to be my future childrens godparents.
Three years til 30!
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