We're closing in on big girl status!
Now we are 35 weeks and two days.
Not that I'm counting days.
Oh, but I am.
There are things about pregnancy that I didn't know that I won't discuss on here, as they are too private. However, I'm not enjoying that I currently leave the bathroom and feel like I should turn around and just go right back in.
My bladder is having a difficult time these days.
Trinity is also claiming G's room isn't a "baby" room, but a "Betsy" room. He thinks it doesn't look like a child will reside there. I'm not into the baby look. I am trying to compromise though, and he suggested stuffed animals would make it more child friendly. I drug out some bunnies from her closet.
Oh, my.
They seem to have multiplied in there.
Like rabbits, it appears.
I have received several Itty Bit bunnies.
Speaking of fluffs....
Hello, Kashmir.
You have a serious allergy issue.
Normally, she is pretty chillaxed.
Such as here, where she was watching the Olympics, as I so cleverly documented on the photo.
She gets allergy shots several times a year, and she is due for one.
I am super busy with bunny arranging though, and haven't gotten her to the vet. We have a friend who is a vet, who assured us it was perfectly safe to give a cat children's Benadryl.
This is when all hell broke loose in our house.
I stopped at CVS yesterday to procure said drug. I got the "dye free" version that was clear in color, and thank the sweet Lord Jesus I did that. Why? Because that sh** be all over my house.
I also bought the "syringe" plunger tool to shoot it down her throat. When I showed this tool to T he was horrified.
"Let's give her a pill version."
Oh, seriously, now.
This isn't my first rodeo.
One doesn't give a pill to a cat unless one is wanting a feline performed appendectomy right then and there on oneself.
His next suggestion..."Let's lace her water with it."
What?
First of all, who uses "lace" as a verb unless you are holding a shoe or are the assassin in an 80s Bond movie?
Apparently, my husband.
No, no that won't work. Only the syringe will do.
Trinity grabs Kashmir.
I grab the syringe.
I shoot.
I mostly miss.
There is foaming out the mouth and this-
that is a hole ripped through my husband's undershirt with a tuft of kitty fur hanging from it.
We literally had to pull her from the fireplace mantel.
And we were standing by the refrigerator.
The hacking, clawing, and gyrating that ensued was beyond description.
A foaming kitty, an injured husband and a Benadryl "laced" mother to be.
The foaming mouth was quite similar to the foaming that ensued when Pansy June, my childhood Himalayan, decided to snack on some granules from the giant Tide box in the laundry room.
Mother discovered her frothing profusely and flipped out.
She grabbed PJ, ran next door and nearly beat down the front door of the Cardiologist who was our then neighbor.
Upon opening the door he discovered mother clutching a frothing fur ball and screaming, "help me!!!!!!!"
His response-
"What is that?"
This didn't bode well with mother.
"It's a cat, dammit!"
"Well, take it to the vet."
Oh goodness.
Mother did, Pansy survived, and that fool man had the decency to take his highly degreed self and move elsewhere.
Jane never forgave him.
Kashmir will be going to the vet next week.
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