Father/Daughter dinner dance

The two loves of my life ditched me for swanky outfits and a night of dancing and good food. I'll admit it, I was jealous. But only for a minute, and then my Mom and I went out for a relaxing dinner, which was really nice.

When Rick got home, I wanted details. Details from a male perspective? It went something like this: "Sophia was the best dressed and cutest one out there, I had a lot of help from the other girls, she ate fruit and french fries and didn't want to eat anything else." Um, thanks Captain Obvious. I want details. Anyway, I didn't get much else out of him, but it seemed they both had a great time from the looks of things--Sophia was keyed up, and Rick was exhausted.

Molly Kitty in memoriam

My cat Molly was hit in front of our house yesterday. She was 13 years old, and acted like a kitten her whole life. This cat had sass and a feistiness that was relentless.

I was in my last year of college when I adopted Molly. I had been going to the SPCA on a weekly basis, looking for a kitten that would be able to hang out. After weeks of looking, the assistant had told me there were a new litter of kittens that just arrived. They had been found in a tied pillowcase, that was thrown over the fence and into the dog yard. It was a miracle a few had lived through the ordeal. She opened the cage, and this little black and white kitten jumped out onto my shoulder and perched there. I sat on the floor and she curled up in my lap and fell asleep. This was my cat. I brought her home that same day, with a bag of toys to welcome her into her new place. The first evening I had her, I found out she was very ill. She had a stomach virus, ear infection, and upper respiratory infection. We went to the vet and an obscene amount of money later, back home we went with various meds and instructions. It was touch and go for the first few days. I had classes to finish and term papers to write, so I left Molly with this stuffed mouse that was almost as big as her to keep her company.

And Molly got better. In fact, that was the last time she had any illness at all. When she got better, I realized that this kitten was not the type of kitten to just hang out. She bounced off the walls. She soon grew larger than the mouse stuffed animal, and we'd play fetch with that thing forever. I would carry her in my backpack to friend's houses and parties. She ran around and socialized with everyone. She had to be the center of attention, which proved to be a trait she would hold on to.

I moved around quite a bit after I graduated from college. My parent's babysat Molly a lot...sometimes for an extended stay. The stuffed mouse moved around with her. Sometimes between visits, I would forget to bring the mouse back home. She would caterwaul for that mouse all night, until the next day priority mail came with the mouse safely tucked inside, thanks to my Mom.

People that didn't like cats liked Molly. She would specifically go to the people that didn't want her near, just to prove to them that they would love her if they only gave her a chance.

When Sophia was born, I worried a lot about how Molly would take to her. Anyone that knew Molly, also worried how she would handle the new addition. She was not one to share attention. But she proved us wrong, and took to Sophia like she took to all people. She was actually even a little gentle around Sophia.

All Molly really demanded was attention and love. She was such a presence in my daily life and although she could be annoyingly affectionate at times, she will be dearly missed. We buried her in the backyard behind the garden yesterday afternoon, with her mouse stuffed animal to keep her company.

Wet kisses

Sophia likes to kiss. She gives it her all. She will kiss your whole face and tell you what she's going to kiss next. "Eye, other eye, cheek, two cheek, chin..." until she has left kisses all over. It's adorable. Unless she has a snotty nose. She's had a snotty nose for the past few days, and it's not so cute when the wet kiss comes from the mucous kind of wet, opposed to the slober kind of wet. And how do you explain to an almost-2-year old that her kisses come with conditions when it's supposed to be an unconditional kind of love?

Cupcake love

Statistics was the only math class I passed on the first try

I did always like statistics. It was the only math class I could understand, because it was based on a story. "There are 100 college kids having unprotected sex, and 33 get their period..." this was the story I was told by the specialist, to illustrate where I fit--statistically. Statistically speaking, I'm normal. That's what the specialist informed me during my consultation with him today. He even broke it down on a little chart for me, as if I couldn't follow his horny college students having unprotected sex story. I suppose the referral from my OB/GYN was really just a way to have me talk to a specialist to confirm and validate what she's been telling me all along--it's just bad luck. So an hour later, the bottom line is just to do what any normal person would do when trying to get pregnant and "just pee on a stick" (using his exact phrase) if I think I might be pregnant. Actually, the only concern he did find was the ectopic, and the higher risk of it happening again. But the ectopic is not considered a miscarriage, because it could have been a healthy pregnancy had it implanted in the right place. I mentioned that there was no heartbeat, which he responded that blood flow isn't the best in a fallopian tube. So there you have it. I'm not "special" enough to see a specialist. I'm just one of the statistics. Which is great news. But really, I was hoping to walk out of there with a magic pill that would ensure I'd have a healthy, full term baby as a result of my next pregnancy.

Keep your hands to yourself

We went to the zoo the other day and met up with some friends. Sophia decided that the turtle housing was her domain, and didn't want Jack anywhere near the window. Jack was really only concerned with the red lights in the exhibit, and didn't understand or care that Sophia was guarding "her" territory. Saying "no" to Jack wasn't working, so Sophia decided to step it up a notch and began to hit. I told Sophia that hitting was not OK and that she needed to keep her hands to herself. She thought about it for a second, put her hands to her side and started to headbutt Jack. I had to take a quick picture before the reprimand started again, this time trying to come up with a way to include no hitting, headbutting or touching--just to cover all bases. I wasn't expecting to be outsmarted by my almost 22 month old.

The block...The headbutt...

When did that happen?

I don't see my "baby" anymore. It seems like overnight, Sophia turned into a little girl. Doesn't it?