Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The pitter-patter of little... paws

Today is my cat's birthday! Well, maybe. He's a shelter rescue, so I don't know his exact birthday, but based on his age when I got him, I picked one. And it's today! He's 10! That is OLD for a cat!

Not long ago, I started putting Soft Paws on his front claws, for purely aesthetic reasons. I mean, my (gay) cat is faaaabulous, so why shouldn't his nails be faaaaabulous, too? The point is, not only are his lil tootsies gloriously silvery-sparkley now, but also when they've grown out just a smidge, they touch the floor. When he meanders around my hardwood floor apartment, he now sounds like a puppy - tick tack, tick tack, tick tack on the floor. AND I LOVE IT. I've started calling him Ticky-Tacky, and it just furthers my belief that he is a Puppy Cat.

tick tack tick tack tick tack

Is this how parents feel? This morning, wishing my fuzzy baby a happy birthday and listening to him tick-tack around and meooowwwww for treats as though he is starving and I have not fed him in 3 weeks and oh my god he is going to WASTE AWAY if he does not get TREATS in the next THREE SECONDS... I began to think about kidlets. You know, real human ones.

I've never wanted kids. Oh shit, I just lied to you! Okay, to be totally honest... when I was teeny tiny and had no idea what "having kids" really involved, and just figured they all sort of appeared and were totally easy and fantastic like my own little self, I wanted kids. Loads. My brother still likes to tease me about it - I wanted no fewer than 6 boys and 6 girls. Yep, I was alllll about the symmetry, even then. I remember we were living in Guam, so I couldn't have been more than 6 years old.

In fact, when I got married, my lovely brother used window paint to write "6 boys, 6 girls" on my car window. Yeah, THANKS FOR THE REMINDER, BIG BRO. But I had long since decided I was not a kid person. Babies freak me right the hell out, in fact. They're so fuckin fragile, and they cry without warning, and it's not like when a person cries (yes I recognize that I just implied babies are not people, but come on... they're really more like aliens if we're honest). It's not a few snuffles and some tears leaking out, some hiccups and a little snot that the crier is fully capable of wiping away. No, it's an ASSAULT. There's screaming, wailing, snot galore, and that little thing? That little thing is alarming in both its lung capacity and its snot-creating capacity. And cannot (or will not) clean up its own snot. No no, that's YOUR job.

Plus! PLUS! The poo. Yes, I think poop is funny. It's funny to talk about, poop jokes are hilarious, even the WORD is funny. Just say it: pooooo. So fun. And if you opt to add that little, final "p" sound to the end: poooooop. Hee. I have the sense of humor of a 5 year old, fo' realz.

Wait. Um. Oh yes! So babies! And poo! NOT FUNNY! And once again, YOU get to clean it up. AND! You never know when they're just gonna spurt a little barf out for ya. Don't call it "spit up." It's barf, and it's gross.

Okay, I'm sorry all you baby-havers. I do admit that when they are not crying, pooping, or barfing, babies are kinda cute. I like their tiny fingers and toes and noses, and when they're making cute little baby noises or smiling (yeah, they're totally tootin), it's pretty cute. But no, I do not want to hold your baby. It might barf on me. I held my niece once when she was a baby, and the second my hand touched her back as I cradled her, she started wailing. Granted, my hands are usually freezing (I'm a zombie!), but still. TRAUMATIZED. (Me, that is, not her. I hope.)

As if all of this wasn't enough, there's pregnancy. Bloating, morning sickness, swollen ankles, mood swings, back pain, etc etc ETC!!! for nine freaking months?!? Are you kidding me?? Is it not bad enough that women have to have periods every damn month, but we also have to go through THAT?

Oh, and birth. If you are squeamish, you should stop reading. Actually, if you're that squeamish, you probably stopped a while back, so never mind. BIRTH. I recently got to see my friend Little Mama, who has a tiny tot. Naturally, Genie and I asked loads of questions about giving birth.

1. It hurts like fuck. Not that I understand that phrase, because if fucking hurts, you're doing it wrong. Or right, depending on how you like it, but you get my point. SO MUCH PAIN.

2. Things in the lady's nether-regions tear. Things that should never, ever tear. Gah.

3. Most women poop, right there in the delivery room, right there in front of everyone. Just: hi, I'm pooping! Wheee!

4. Did I mention the pain? Because let me mention it again. We asked Little Mama what it feels like, honestly. She said, "It feels like someone is twisting all your insides, and at the same time, shoving their whole fist up inside you."


Naturally I decided we needed to start a band called Twisting & Fisting, but guys... ladies... childbirth feels like TWISTING AND FISTING. How is that fun?? How is that something I would ever willingly sign up for? Don't give me all that "new life beautiful baby blah blah" garbage. TWISTING. AND. FISTING. I will never forget her explaining it that way.

And so I leave you with this thought: poooooooooooooo.


  1. I'm not a kid person either. It's taken quite awhile for my parents to understand that. I don't think they do, but they've stopped asking me about it. I'm totally willing to accept that compromise.

  2. My mom gave me the "grandcats" line about 3-4 months ago. I thought it was hilarious, more so because I was there with my girlfriend.