Mighty Thor VS 3-Legged Pussycat

I have a sick kid who needs two eyedrops in each eye three times a day, antibiotics twice a day, an amputee cat who needs pain meds every 24 hours and antibiotics every 12 hours...along with a change of shredded paper litter ever 4 hours or so, because the smell of pee-soaked paper is absolutely nauseating. I have to spend time with him so he's not caged up all day during his recovery, and when I do, Nate gets jealous and has a major meltdown, partly because he wants me to hold him instead of the cat, but also because he wants to play with Orson's lampshade collar, and by playing I mean trying to smoosh Orson's head flat inside by flinging himself on it, or trying to literally remove Orsons head from within the collar as if it is a decapitated head that is merely sitting inside a plastic bucket. He reaches in and tries to lift it out, then gets angry that it won't budge and smacks Orson on the noggin and lets out an emphatic and frustrated "AGHHHH!" which makes Orson leap from my lap and flee with the speed of a three legged Cheetah to escape the wrath of the little beast running behind him.

I'm selling tickets in case anyone missed the circus...

I smell poop and oatmeal

ACK! *gag*

You'd think my son could wait until he's finished eating breakfast, but nooooo. He's covered in oatmeal, smells like poo and the Jack (my parrot) is behind him belching, kissing, and repeating 'Good Morning. Did'ya poop yet? Huh? Did'ya poop yet? Naaaaate?' belch, belch, kisskisskisskiss...'

What a way to start the day...mmmmmm.

The latest in breast enhancement...

I went out to run some errands late yesterday afternoon and found a nice little surprise when I got back home.

After the Meet and Greet at Owen's Deli, my son passed out in the car seat and my headache got worse and worse as I sat in traffic waiting to get past the roadwork (exhaust is a trigger for my migraines) so we went straight home and vegged out on the sofa bed for a while.

Around 5 we went out, and when I returned I looked down and noticed my boob was...well, lumpy. I pull the front of my shirt open and peer in to find a dirty Nate sock... stuck to my bra. I immediately thought of him rolling around me on the sofa, practicing his typical shirt sweep/boob grab maneuver he's become so good at. I mean really good, because I didn't have a clue he'd stashed a sock in there.

So I'm wondering how many people wondered who the lumpy-tit girl was...because there was just no way anyone could've missed it.

Do you ever think back and remember all those times you were sure people were mocking you, or conspiring and whispering rumors behind your back?? Remember how mad you got, wondering what their problem was??

Well, today I realized maybe they never had a problem. Maybe I've just had a sock stuck on my boob my whole life...