Thursday, March 23, 2017

Cat's Vomit

When I was younger I had a bunch of phrases or words I'd use as profanity replacements. Things to shout out when I was mad or frustrated. There were made up words for good feelings too-- I had a friend who used "Yeah, baby!" a lot when he was pleased, in reference to Austin Powers and i give that a big fat thumbs down. I tried it out for a time and hated myself a little.

So one of those faux-swears was an addition to the classic "rats!"  To take it a step further-- "rat's vomit!"  Because what's grosser than a rat? a rat that's just vomited. The vomit of a rat. {cringe, grossed-out face}

A few mornings ago, all felt hopeless and lost. I have been feeling a little suburban mom life-stifley and Julian lacked any decent story to tell which is basically a reiteration of what I just said, what was happening to me.  And then the cat puked and it saved us all.

It was truly foul. I have accepted having an inside pet, something I never had growing up--Sean never had any pet at all-- but it took a little bit of time. Like, we walk in the house seeing the cat roll around in the dirt and then ten minutes later he's napping on our bed. {cringe face} But, you know, we take care of him and he's a fluffy sweetie and has taught Julian how to love so the pros outweigh the cons.

Normally in situations such as this, I would absolutely confer this task to Sean. Julian has thrown up one time in his life where it wasn't immediately cleanable. As a baby he threw up in his crib. I had been out late and upon entering our apartment I sniffed and declared a funk in the air. Sean didn't notice anything strange. I went into Julian's pitch black nook, bent looow in his crib, breathed in, and then died. YUP. A FUNK.  We turned on the light and it was eeeverywhere, ha ha. So gross. I took the baby and Sean took the bed and that sealed it, sorry Sean.

But this time, he was busy working and it just sat there on the rug, seeping in, and I had to bite that disgusting bullet. I felt like a true American hero, and declared myself as such to Julian (as if he needed any more proof).

So as I sat scrubbing before school (and later re-scrubbing, vacuuming, then scrubbing again) Julian toiled and fretted because it was Monday and they had a "weekend news" journal and what would he write about?? The fact that Dad hurt his back (which never happens)?? Or that the cat threw up?? And he did not know which exciting thing to talk about! I wished him luck at making such a tricky call and spent the rest of the day sitting on the floor, scrubbing whilst reading Reader's Digest, again, a good shake up to the day. Cat's vomit!

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