Tag Archives: Ozzy

You Can Read the Post, But I Know You Just Want to See the Picture

This is life with a newborn. At least mine.

Day 1: Realize you’ve been up for about 40+ hours when you finally go to sleep.

Night 1: Your baby won’t sleep in the crib and will only sleep next to you in the bed. Expect every nurse to yell at you, and feel relief when they don’t.

Day 2: Thank goodness for the hospital gown.

Night 2: Realize you have the best baby ever because she sleeps for about 5 hours straight.

Day 3: Fight the urge to burn the hospital gown. Count every minute until you can leave the hospital.

Night 3: Five hours of straight sleep turns to 3 hours…and she won’t sleep in the crib at home.


Don’t be fooled: She’s resting in the hospital bed on a pillow.

Day 4: Wonder if your baby was bitten by a radioactive spider because that’s the only possible explanation for the color of her poo.

Night 4: Your baby refuses to sleep in the crib. Have visions of a teenager still sleeping between you and your husband.

Day 5 AM: Snicker at your husband for having to change a diaper he put on 30 seconds before.

Day 5 PM: Curse karma when you go through 3 diapers before you can even get the baby off the changing table.

Night 5: Your baby spends part of the night in the crib! Although you’re initially excited, during an early morning potty break, stop by the crib and hold your breath until you see her little chest rise up and down.

Day 6: Poke your baby while she’s in the crib because you can’t tell if she’s breathing.

Night 7: Your baby spits up all of the milk in her tummy around 11 PM. Spend the rest of the night nursing her every hour to make up for it.

Night 8: Realize you’ve never been so thankful to wake up to nurse every 3 hours again.

Day 9: Wonder if the hospital will deliver food to your house.

Day 14 AM: You are wiped. Worry that exhaustion has finally set in.

Day 14 PM: Realize a fever should not come with normal exhaustion. Begin antibiotics for mastitis.

Day 15: Hear that your stitches are healing nicely. Walk the dog for the first time in weeks.

Scout is 3 weeks old tomorrow!

I Got a Black Eye…From My Cat

The other morning Ozzy and I got up while it was still dark outside. Actually…it’s always dark when Ozzy and I get up.

I opened the door to let Ozzy outside. Instead of his usual mad dash for squirrels, he took one step and then froze (not literally) in the doorway.

Open the door! The squirrels are getting away!

Open the door! The squirrels are getting away!

He looked at me, and I swear he said, “I don’t have to pee that bad. I can hold it.”

Esme Kitty saw his hesitation as her chance, and she dashed out while meow-yelling, “YOU CAN NEVER TAKE…MY FREEDOM!”

I let go of the door and reached down to grab Esme. Unfortunately, that lined up my eye with the door handle. SMACK!

The next 5 seconds went like this:

Thoughtsy: Power through the pain! Must…get…black cat…before the darkness swallows her up whole.

Ozzy Pups: THE CAT IS ESCAPING! ::he starts to chase Esme::

Thoughtsy: Screw the cat. She has fur for a reason. Ozzy will herd her home anyways.

Ozzy Pups: ::after 5 steps::  Screw the cat. It’s even too cold for chasing.

Thoughtsy: I will never forgive myself if Esme turns into a catsicle. ::walks outside::

Esme: Freedom is cold. So very cold.

And that’s when Esme ran back to the door and started pawing at it to be let in. Ozzy followed.

Esme: I'm taking this coat with me next time I go outside.

Esme: This coat is now mine. Get another.

Once back inside, my adrenaline rush was over. My head raced:

  • I’m gonna have a black eye.
  • Do I put steak on it or frozen peas?
  • What if I have a concussion? I shouldn’t go to sleep.

The good news is I still have a fully functioning eye. The bad news is it looks like I’ve applied blue and purple eyeshadow to only one eye. I can’t wait it turns green.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Ok, I’ll admit it…..I took the baby out for key lime pie martinis. What? I’ve been waiting for you FOREVER. At least somebody in your family still knows how to have some fun!”—Misty’s Laws

My Cat Ate My Pop-Tart

The other night when the unborn child started twerking in my tummy, I tried testing out my mommy skills to figure out what she wanted.

I hadn’t eaten much for dinner. Was she hungry?

I reached over to the nightstand’s box of Pop-Tarts that hadn’t been touched since the first trimester. The crinkling foil woke up Ozzy Pups. He moved from my feet and sat close to my stomach…on my right side.

Esme Kitty mimicked his actions, but she sat on my left side.

I gave Ozzy a small piece of Pop-Tart, and then I offered Esme a piece as well. I expected her to turn her nose up at it. It wasn’t meat, cheese, chips, or blueberry muffins, and that’s the extent of her human food diet.

She ate it.

I will eat anything! Even your face!

I will eat anything! Even your face!

I was stunned.

Ozzy, who was obviously expecting her rejected piece, was stunned.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course my cat likes Pop-Tarts. Duh.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “You’ve already lost control….”—Ginjuh

My Dog: The Snowman Assassin

This week Ozzy and I spent a lot of quality time together walking in the snow.

Every time we passed a snowman, he became cautious. He’d switch sides so he’d be between me and the snowman, and he’d walk next to me as he stared the snowman down. After we passed, he’d even throw back a glance or two to make sure we weren’t being followed.

He didn’t discriminate either: lawn ornaments or snowman actually made of snow got the same treatment.

And then Ozzy took it to the next level. Maybe it was because…

  • It was still dark.
  • The snowman had a tasty carrot nose.
  • The snowman had “fetching” stick arms. (Bwahaha! I crack myself up.)
  • Ozzy watched the movie Jack Frost, which is about a killer snowman.

But Ozzy actually lunged at the snowman. Luckily, the snowman was unharmed.

Ozzy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, so I’m sure he just wanted to play, but still….

So later that day, Ozzy and I played in the snow. He pranced in the snow and chased snowballs. Then I decided to build a snowman for Ozzy to play with.

Do not play with snowballs and then build a snowman. Ozzy just assumed I was making giant snowballs for him to eat and crush.

Here’s how the first 3 attempts ended:


You can see Ozzy dashing off after crushing the snowball base. Jerk….

 Only after Ozzy was sufficiently exhausted was a snowman allowed to stay.


You’re only still here because I’m too tired to eat you. Tomorrow, you’re mine.

Next Day Followup: I’m sad to report that the snowman you see above is no longer…although I suspect Radley was Ozzy’s accomplice in the demise.

Favorite Comments From Last Post:

  • “It appears you are misunderstanding this “nesting instinct” thing. You don’t have to clean anything – just get a bunch of sticks together.”—Pegoleg
  • “Your position on the changing table and crib is absolutely reasonable, especially because, if those items are anything like my Ikea furniture, it is going to take him at least 4 weeks and 47 beers to assemble them. Chop chop, Kiefer, chop chop.”—PinotNinja

Nesting: What’s That?

Everybody talks about nesting when you’re pregnant. Translation: You’re suddenly no longer exhausted, and you start cleaning and organizing everything.

Since I’m already an organized person, this worried Kiefer who is the procrastinator in our relationship. For example, we had this conversation last month:

Thoughtsy: When are you going to put the changing table and crib together?

Kiefer: Sometime in the next 4 months.

Thoughtsy: So the changing table this weekend and the crib next weekend?

Because I don’t want to annoy Kiefer too much, I’ve tried to remember that 3 months 77 days is plenty of time to get everything done.

But what if she comes a week early? That’s only 70 days. THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TIME!

With Kiefer traveling for 2 weeks, I decided to do everything while he was gone. My list included:

  • Wash all baby clothes, blankets, etc.
  • Wash everyone else’s laundry (the boys usually do their own) and finally match all the socks or throw out all the lonely socks.
  • Reorganize the kitchen cabinets.
  • Clean out and reorganize all of my drawers.
  • Organize all of the baby’s stuff.
  • Finish decorating the nursery.
  • Write and mail thank you cards.
  • Wrap all of the Christmas presents.
  • Start decorating for Christmas.

See how I’ve crossed off two things? I didn’t really take into account that with Kiefer gone…

  • I’m the only one who can walk Ozzy 3-4 times a day.
  • Sometimes I’m the only one who can run Boo and Radley to basketball practice.
  • Laundry is neverending.
  • Although I’ve written all the thank you cards, I need to actually remember to get stamps to mail them.

And then we got 8 inches of snow and then another 4 inches the next day, so I had to shovel…a lot.

Where is the grass?

Where is the grass?

And it’s hard to do all of that with my new 8 PM bedtime. I guess I’ll wait till Kiefer gets back to nest.

Favorite Comments From Last Post:

  • “Why are we supposed to like those stupid-ly-stupid-stupid baby shower games just cuz we have ladybits? Do any ladies you know actually like them? I CALL CONSPIRACY.”—Nikki B
  • “The punch wasn’t a fail — it’s a sign of a good party when even the ducks are passed out face down in the punch bowl.”—PinotNinja