Cousins: A Love Story in Pictures

While the rest of the state of Louisiana was in New Orleans on their Mardi Gras day off, we took Dixie while Cydney was out of town, so that the boys could meet her. Jake is exceptional with animals, which is surprising since his own dog at his mom's bit the beejesus out of him and bruised both his legs. He's very calm and careful with Dixie. Landen wants to move her and hold her and constantly engage her, and we spent a considerable amount of time saying "Landen, stop. Leave her be."

Jake is really into reciting his family tree right now: Lily is his sister, Dixie is his stepmother's sister's dog, so that makes her his cousin and Cydney his aunt. I told them to smell how sweet she smelled, and Landen sniffed her and said "Oh, so good. She smells like Sitney's face."

The three of them played in the boys roomduring which Dixie quickly established ownership of all the TinkertoysAnd they watched Dad play some Xbox.

and then we took all of them to the elementary school playground next door. I have a son who cannot abide by fair play (Landen cheats at everything) and a niece who has no intention of sharing, as shown here with the stick her parrain wants for himself.

And don't think for a second Jake and Landen got to play with their Nerf swords in peace

before Dixie won out and claimed one for herself.

At the conclusion of this day, a nap was in order.

An update on her relationship with her first cousin Lily: this is how she looks at Lily when she walks by

and Lily spent the majority of the afternoon like this.

Fun boy pictures, not related to the puppy--Landen climbed one of those chain link walls that go behind the batter on a baseball field, with Corey spotting him at the bottom, until he got to the top once and got his t-shirt caught. Despite screaming bloody murder, he was able to get untangled and safely into Dad's arms.

And Corey played the troll who wasn't letting Jake cross the bridge

Out of the mouths of babes

One of my favorite things about having kids is the crazy shit they say. I love when people fall down, and I love when people say craziness. Even at 5 and 7, Jake and Landen say some of the funniest things. I'm inspired to write this because today, my office mate brought her son to work (Lundi Gras, skeleton crew) and he's three, nearing four. A new thing he picked up is apparently saying "are you sure?" when you tell him something. So she instructs him to tell me what they say they don't like at their house, and he tells me that "we don't play games and we don't have shenanigans at bed time." I always get excited on our weeks because I know Jake is going to say some genius shit and Landen is going to say some hilariously evil shit (one weekend it was, in fact, shit.)

This week is our week, and it's a big one. Wednesday night we have church with the whole family for Ash Wednesday at Jake and Landen's school. Thursday morning is Landen's sixth birthday, so we're waking him up with a cake and a banner and a button that says he's the birthday boy. I asked Landen what he wanted to do for his birthday this year, and he said he just wanted to stay at the top of the Marriott. (Where our apartment is, the terrain and the buildings are really flat, except for the Marriott, which sits right new to the interstate and is about 15 stories high. Jake and Landen are fascinated with it--it's one of their landmarks.)

So for Friday night, I've booked a room for the highest floor that has the regular rooms with the regular rates (a six-year-old doesn't need a penthouse birthday) and we're going to open his presents and eat more of his cake and get room service for $5 french fries and $3 glasses of milk and watch a $12 PPV movie and look out the window a whole lot.

And this weekend we get one day with Dixie, so Mommy will have to administer some of her prescribed anti-anxiety medication to her doodlebug Lily, who will be invaded by the boys and the dog at the same time.

It's goin' down, now

Today was The Day. The introduction of Dixie the Dog and Lily the Kitty as Cousins. (Remember the other part of the day involved me getting a new sofa, but the bitches at Haverty's damaged it, so they've sent off for another one.)

Lily did much better than I thought she was going to. When we first got back with Dixie and they were feeling each other out, Dixie had the gumption to walk up to an apprehensive Lily and kiss her smack on the face, and Lily lept over her and hissed, but that was the only altercation from Part A of the afternoon. It looked like this:

Lily would then perch on a piece of furniture where she could see Dixie, looking at her, wondering "What is that? What does it do?" That looked like this:

Later in the afternoon, Lily started doing shit like this:
which led to the inevitable strike and yelping of puppy. No blood was shed and she wasn't traumatized. She must've gotten too close, and Lily rared back and popped at her--the animal version of "step the f*** back Bob Jr."

After this, Lily perched in an observation post for the remainder of the afternoon, and Dixie doing her tiny puppy stuff, which looked like this:

The only accident she had was when she took a dump on Aunt Weezie's floor, but Jazzy used to shit all over that house, so no damage was done. We took her outside to tinkle every hour and TWICE when we were playing in the living room, she would waltz over to her piddle pad and relieve herself. And the big stupid human type things would squeal that she was such a good puppy and give her a treat, which I'm sure pissed Lily off because she's been teeteeing and poopooing where she's supposed to for YEARS and all she got was an afternoon with this dumb dog:

I know, right? Ingrate.

Yeah, well your mascot is fat

I wasn't going to be too political on my blog. Corey is an issue voter, which makes him saner than me, because I am what my Aunt Jean has affectionately dubbed one of those liberal pukes. My dad, from whom I learned such compassion, is also a liberal, though he's become less pukey of one the older he gets.

But this is just too brilliant not to share with anybody who ever looks at this blog. It cannot be limited to the three email inboxes it was shared among. I will not tell you names, but I will tell you that the people featured below are all mentioned in the paragraph above. It all begins with a forwarded message called "Dear Grandad"

OK...this is a simple letter..but I need the 2 of you to read this and explain to me how we are all gonna be better off...I am really trying to look at the positive side of Obama's stimulus package.

Letter From Granddad

An excellent letter for children who are expecting an inheritance, as well...)

I guess that most of you heard that 68% of the youth vote went to Obama. My granddaughter called this morning to tell me she was one of them. I replied with this e-mail:

Dear Granddaughter,

The election of Obama comes down to this. Your grandmother and I, your mother, and other productive, wage-earning tax payers will have their taxes increased and that means less income left over. Less income means we will have to cut back on basic purchases, gifts and handouts That includes firing the lady who cleans our house twice a month. She just lost her job. We can't afford her anymore.

What is the economic effect of Obama's election on you personally? Over the years, your grandmother and I have given you thousands of dollars in food, housing, cash, clothing, gifts, etc. By your vote, you have chosen another family over ours for help. So in the future, if you need assistance with your rent, money for gas, tires for your car, someone to bring you lunch, etc., call 202-456-1111. That's the telephone number for the Office of the President of the United States . I'm sure Mr. Obama will be happy to send a check from his personal or business accounts (as we have), or will leave cash in an envelope taped to his front door for you, as we have.

It's like this. Those who vote for the President of the United States should consider what the impact of an election will be on the nation as a whole and not just be concerned with what they can get for themselves (welfare, stimulus checks, etc.). What Obama voters don't seem to realize is that the government's money comes from taxes collected from tax paying families. Raising taxes on productive people means they will have less money to spend on their families.

Congratulations on your choice. For future reference, you might attempt to add up all you have received from us, your mom, Mike's parents and others and compare it to what you expect to get over the next four years from Mr. Obama. To personally congratulate Mr. Obama (and to make sure you're on the list for handouts), write to:

The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW
Washington, DC 20500

We Love You, honey, but in the future please call the number listed above when you need help.

.................................
REPLY #1

Depends on how much your state needs stimulating. I'm on the fence about the stimulus. When gas is cheap for consumers, it is bad for the state of Louisiana , because a little less than 20% of our general funds come from the oilfield. So last year's budget and the coming year's budget were written by our Prodigal Governor based on the revenues generated from oil that was $140 a barrel. Which it no longer is. So for the remainder of this year (to July 1) the state has had to cut $38 million from its operating budget. For the next fiscal year, beginning July 1, we are $1 billion in the hole. Every state agency has had to submit budget projections to the administration showing budget cuts ranging from 18% to 34%. Since there is a higher percentage of mandatory funds than discretionary funds, this means that these cuts will be absorbed by 40% of the budget areas. Small things, like closing state parks, are inconsequential when you consider that the biggest cuts will be to HEALTHCARE and HIGHER EDUCATION. The situation is dire enough that LSU would be cutting faculty and removing academic programs. However, the $3.8 billion Louisiana will receive from the stimulus package over the next three years will keep us from cutting back our healthcare programs and keep ALL public universities from laying off staff/faculty and cutting programs, which results in a significant drop in college enrollment for the state of Louisiana . That being said, I am aware that $780 billion has to be generated somehow, and I am not brushing aside that concern. I am deeply concerned about the stimulus package, and how long it's going to take me and Corey and Jake and Landen to pay for immediate stimulation, and damned if Buddy Roemer may be right about what a mistake this is, but at the same time I am thanking Sweet Baby Jesus for this stimulus. Because Louisiana hasn't been panicking like this since the 80s, I'm told. So, this is bittersweet for me, I guess.

Oh, and I would like to knock the disrespect out of the douche who wrote this letter. Like him or not, he is the President, and he should be addressed and referred to as such. Mr is unacceptable, uncouth and disrespectful to the office, whatever person, any previous idiot, holding it.

..................................
REPLY #2

To start with, when you realize we are spending 8-10 billion a month in Iraq, and they have a 180 billion dollar surplus in their treasury because we have been building all their schools and hospitals, and digging all their wells, and providing medical care to all their people, you might see where some of the stimulus money may come from. Now that Cheney is out of office, he can no longer steal at the rate he was stealing (eg. Halliburton, Blackwater, and Dresser) that should help. 700 billion of the stimulus was authorized by W before he left, and that is included in the whole package. At least one-half of the package is in guaranteed loans to banks, insurance companies, brokerage houses and GM, and is supposed to be paid back. Large chunks of it are grants to States, which should replace the highway/Medicaid/education funds they would have gotten over the next three years anyway. So a lot of the package is just money moved around we were spending, or would have spent, anyway.

President Obama is our president whether you voted for him or not, regardless of his race, creed, or previous condition of servitude. We are in deep shit; financially, militarily, diplomatically, environmentally. All of us, R’s or D’s, white or black, even douche bags, need for him to do well. If one has no patriotism, one should hope for President Obama out of pure self-interest, for we will all go down together. He is the only President we have, and we should all be for him, hoping he is right.

And only a chickenshit Republican douche bag would threaten to cut off his children because he did not like the way they voted. Maybe his children and grandchildren voted for President Obama because they were fed up with dishonest, money-grubbing, lying, crying and stealing assholes who had led us down the wrong path, selling us out to big oil, big pharmacy and big defense contractors, wasting our reputation abroad, leading us into vain, useless and wasteful wars, and pissing away the lives of almost 4000 of our people to prove one Bush had a bigger dick than another, to mention only a few of the reasons why the Republicans got their asses kicked.

Throw me sumthin' Mister! Like that dog, right over that fence. . . .

Have y'all noticed that when we don't have the boys, we don't have shit to say? Corey's been working late, we've been eating out, watching our TV shows. One night we went to Target. Neither of us have any energy this week, and we're completely unapologetic about it.

This weekend, we're all geared up for a good time. There will be preparations. Items will be thrown. There will by shimmying and shaking with wild abandon. Corey and I will have to some drinks to get through it all. We will see more frightening activity than we've ever seen before.

Nope, it's not Mardi Gras. First of all, our new couch is being delivered tomorrow morning. In preparation for this, we have to clean out the old couch (you know you have hot tamales and pencils in your couch too) and wash the cover and vacuum the temporarily-vacant floor. This couch is being donated to the future Bacheloretta Pad of Cydney and Dixie Wilson. Such an event will result in a fair level of trauma and acting out, since this is the couch Lily has claimed possession of for six years. You know she does not care for change.

We keep going, because while Cydney runs off to New Orleans to enjoy some Mardi Gras debauchery, Dixie is coming to stay the whole day with her nanny, uncle and cousin Lily. A fine time will be had by all, rest assured. I myself have had serious anxiety about this meeting since Cydney said she wanted to get a dog, and here we are. I have a plan and I just went out and bought one of those baby gates. And yeah, I know a cat can jump over a baby gate, but a puppy cannot. So there.

Stay tuned. There will be photos involved.

Twenty-five minus five things about the Mister

It was taking me too long to come up with 25, so deal with it..

1. My first name is of English, Irish and Gaelic origin. I would have preferred to be named something else. Statistics show that more babies were named Corey in the 1970’s than any other decade in history. Statistics also show that 6 out of every 10 cited statistics are made up at the moment of citation.

2. I’ve been in the Army for 12 years. Not because it is my bliss, but because it is the only thing that I have ever really done well and gotten paid for. Also, they don’t just let you quit whenever you want and there is something very cool about a job that pays you to do kickass stuff like blowing trees down with C4 and shooting grenade launchers.

3. I am one of those people who will eat or drink anything. I’m not talking about Fear Factor crap like drinking pee and eating buzzard intestines – I’m talking about things that are (mostly) intended for human consumption. You will never see me refuse to eat or drink something because it sounds, looks, or smells nasty. I may yak and never go near it again, but I will give it a shot. I laugh in the face of danger, after all.

4. My wife loves blue china more than any decent person should. From where I am sitting on the couch I can see 20 pieces of blue fucking china. I am literally surrounded by the shit, and sometimes I feel like it is watching me. In my bedroom is a walk-in closet. In that walk-in closet is a tool box. In that tool box is my MFing hammer. It is pleasing to know that I can retrieve that hammer and embark upon a blue china killing spree if it ever becomes necessary.

5. I agree that violence doesn’t solve everything. I do believe, however, that it must always be considered as a possible solution. You'd be very surprised at how much a jab to the trachea can accomplish.

6. I spend too much time playing video games. I like video games. I should spend more time running, but running sucks. Unless you’re running in a video game. With a sword. Or a machine gun.

7. Lately, I am wondering what has happened to my cat-like agility. Recently, during a single trip to the bathroom, I managed to (a) Fail to place my feet in the proper position to keep me from rolling face-first out of the bed and onto my stomach in the floor, (b) Fail to maintain positive control of my upper extremities, which caused me to bash my right wrist painfully into the bathroom doorknob, and (c) Fail to maintain positive control of my lower extremities, which caused me to bash my left knee painfully into the toilet. Then, last weekend, I somehow managed to stomp on and break my own toe. Enough is enough already! I don’t know what I have done to deserve it, but I am going through a clumsy phase, and I need Jesus to hurry up and make that go away.

8. I nearly won a spelling bee in the fourth grade. I should have won, and I would have if spelling bees weren’t complete bullshit. “W-A-S-T-E. Waste.” Nope. The one they were looking for was W-A-I-S-T. I could’ve spelled that one too, dammit. Penalizing a fourth grader for being brilliant and confident is mean, A-S-S-H-O-L-E-S.

9. I don’t sleep well. It only takes a teaspoon of bad jujumagumbo to keep me up all night. This happens to me a couple of times a month, and it turns me into an absolute barrel of rainbows and butterflies.

10. I have much more in common with Kiyana than I thought I did (#1, 3, 10, and 22 of Kiyana’s 25 random things). She is kickass-tastic like I am, it seems.

11. I am, at this very moment, suffering the sadistic side-effects of too many cups of coffee. Last night was one of my no-sleep nights.

12. My fingernails are atrocious. I have a despicable habit of picking at them, so they always look like I stuck them in a damn pencil sharpener. I know that it is nasty, but I don’t even realize I’m doing it. It drives Nell up the wall. She peels the skin from the bottom of her foot, and that drives me as well.

13. I have an unusually broad taste in music. I have yet to discover a genre of music that I am unable to appreciate. The ‘Favorites’ playlist on my iPod will take you on a mind-blowing audible odyssey, from Killswitch Engage to Beethoven to Mamma Mia to Lil Wayne, and so on. It kicks way too much ass for most people.

14. Once upon a time, in sunny Baghdad, an enemy mortar exploded near me and blew a large fragment of rock into the top-right side of my chest. My body armor stopped it from going through me, but it felt like it had blown my GD arm off at the shoulder. It is fortunate that nobody judges your reaction when this type of thing happens to you, because mine was less than heroic. My panic-induced hysterical wailing may have been more alarming than the actual explosion. I ended up with a football-sized bruise on my chest for about a month, but the damage to my ego was permanent.

15. In China there is a legend that one day a child will be born from a dragon, grow to be a man, and vanquish evil from the land. That man is not me, because I killed that man.

16. I daydream too much, and it drives me nuts. I catch myself daydreaming about all kinds of ridiculous crap. I’m a ninja. I can fly. I’m a bazillionaire. I’m an Olympic athlete. Snap out of it and live in the now, idiot!

17. I love my family a lot, but I have a fuckload of family and it can be exhausting. There are several (Nell knows who I mean) that I wouldn’t claim if I could avoid it, but I probably wouldn’t shove them in front of a bus. Thankfully, we only have big get-togethers at Christmas.

18. I love me some Su-pah-pah Trou-pah-pah. And I don’t care who knows it.

19. I have a horrible singing voice. I sing my ass off when no one can hear me, though. Dancing is a different scenario altogether. I’m such a shitty dancer that I embarrass myself even in private.

20. My wife is the shit. Read it again; I want you to feel it. My Wife Is The Shit. I don't know how in the hell I pulled this off, but let's not jinx it, ok? You see lots of men looking for reasons to ditch the wife so that they can hang out with their boys or whatever. Damn that. I'm all about hanging out with the guys, but nothing is more enjoyable than spending the day with Nell. I love that we are both assholes, so we spend most of that time making fun of people. These are total strangers, guys. We would never make fun of any of you. Unless you were to do something completely asinine like breaking your toe while lightsaber dueling with a 5 year old.

They f*** you at the drive thru

I may have mentioned that Cydney just got a new puppy, whom she rescued from the humane society in Vicksburg, Miss.

Don't. go. there. ever. And here's why.

The punchline is that Dixie has parvo.

I'm not really a dog person. I'm a cat person. I like the independent pet. Dogs have bad breath and take big shits and have periods or big red weenies. No, thanks. But I love Dixie like I would love something Cydney Wilson birthed her ownself. Yes, in just six days, it's that serious.

Dixie has been in gastrointestinal distress. Well, first she spent very few hours in a 24-hour period actually awake. Then she started ralphing and having The Diarrhea, so last night Cydney took her to the LSU Emergency Vet Clinic at about 9:30 PM. I told her that I was going to bed but Corey would be up and to call him when she had Dixie all taken care of. The next thing I know, Corey is flying into the bedroom holding the phone and I can hear Cydney crying so hard I can't understand her.

The highway robbers at the LSU ER informed Cydney that Dixie had the parvovirus, and the options were hospitalization with fluids at a cost of $2500 or put her down. I am crying before I can even get my pajama pants on and I'm rushing out the door at 11 PM on a schoolnight, bound for seester and my niecy-poo. I get there and join Cydney in the lobby, holding Dixie and crying all over her.

Then Justin calls. (At the end of this story you will agree with me that Justin may be The Very Best Boyfriend Who Has Ever Existed. His heroism in this story should be combined with the act of getting the dog for her and holding her hand through every step of this grueling training-the-dog-not-to-pee-in-your-hair-on-the-pillow process.) Justin has interrupted his Hummer-driving veterinarian's evening of COPS-watching with this puppy-emergency, and she will be meeting us at her clinic toot suite.

Her clinic is no less than 480 miles from LSU. It felt like it at midnight for someone who's pushing 30 and has to take the kids to school at 6 AM, anyway. She meets us there and declares that saying it's $2500 or euthanasia for parvo is like saying you can put a band-aid on it or kill it. She will cure Dixie of this parvo at no cost to Cydney, "because it's for Justin." (Now's the part where you worship him and agree with me that his middle name is clearly Makeshithappen.)

So today, Dixie has eaten and played a little, so she's responding well, and she will be released just as soon as The Diarrhea is gone. Cydney now has to sterilize all of Dixie's accoutrements and throw out her toys. And wash about 40 pounds of dirty and peed-on clothes. (Her roommates dog has no respect for the property of others.

If you have no idea what parvo is, looky here http://www.workingdogs.com/parvofaq.htm.

If you are ever forced to adopt a puppy from the filthy human society in Vicksburg or turn to the LSU vet clinic for emergency services, bless your heart.

Oh, and if you are scratching your head about the title of this post, you need to rent Lethal Weapon 2 immediately.

Cooperation is key

I don't feel good. I really didn't feel good last night, and I don't feel so hot so far today. I'm not going to elaborate on why, but I'm a girl-type person, so it shouldn't really be a stretch of the imagination.

Last night, I did not really want to be touched, looked at or spoken to. I managed to interact with, love on and not act like I resented the presence of my kids, which I didn't, and never do. This gets taken out on Corey. So I told him early that I was really only interested in finding something to fight with him about, and so maybe he should only pat me on the head and tell me I'm pretty for the rest of the night.

AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HE DID! He would respond if I generated conversation with him, but otherwise every so often he would rub my head and tell me I was wonderful and/or pretty and he loved me very much. It was so delightful, not that I delighted in anything last evening, but today, I'm very appreciative.

I think we're going to be good at this marriage thing, by the way.

Get those things away from me

Guess what? Lily hates the boys. Hates. They call her their sister and tell her she's cute. She refuses to step foot in their room, moves if they sit near her and stares at them like cretins when they hover around her.

Actually, last night Landen got the fine idea to sneak under the table next to the couch and peer up at me through the crack between the two. By the time I figured out he was under there, so had Lily, who was in the ready position on the couch cushion behind my head. I reached back to give her the okay, and I must've scared her more than Landen Under the Table did, because she launched herself off the couch, over the table onto the floor behind him, hissing as she flew. And when he stood up and whirled around to face her in fear, she hissed at us both. Poor Landen teared up, the rejection was so strong.

But we have had some breakthroughs. When I pulled Landen's first tooth, he stood in the mirror screaming at the blood and empty space like I was at that moment digging out his teeth with a dull, rusty blade. Once he calmed down and declared it didn't really hurt, Lily came and rubbed against his legs for a millisecond, like she knew the sound of pain and responded to it, even though it was a boy.

Last night her food and water bowls were low, so I instructed Landen (he takes more interest in Lily, Jake is satisfied to respond to her in kind) to put more food and more water in them. After this, she walked by him and commenced eating, and when he bent down and patted her head, she didn't wince, growl or hiss. Nor did she slow her nosh.

Point is, this doesn't bode well for Dixie. Lily is so used to just being with me, then she took to Corey because she's a big flirt and loves the boys. But when Rowdy and Raucous moved in, she had reached her limit of feline tolerance. No children have been injured during this transition, but Corey and I, with our own cat-like reflexes, have managed to avert some near-serious injuries.

I mean, is this not the face of something that would eat your flesh for supper?

Saturdays in the park with Dad

Our absolute favorite days are the Saturdays we have the boys. This Saturday, Corey took them next door to Westdale Elementary, which has the best school playground I've ever seen. We did not have a climbing wall at Jena Elementary. Anyway, we have resolved to take the boys to parks every weekend, since there's not a lot of sun in our apartment, and their aunt Cydney accuses us of giving them cabin fever.If Landen gets a week of Super behaviors, he can pick the restaurant we go to on Saturday nights. We've made this deal twice, and both times he missed the stellar behavior performance, and Jake has gotten to pick the restaurant. The first Saturday it was "kibachi." This Saturday it was Mexican. Jake thinks hamburgers in Mexican restaurants are the best hamburgers (there is no accounting for taste) and Landen likes to dip his cheese quesadilla in every sauce-substance available to him. The Main Event of the Mexican restaurant is when Landen gets to eat his "Mexico dessert: sopapillas." He usually tries to order this before his food comes out. Landen loves sopapillas like Great Clare loves crab--with his entire soul. Once the little pastries are gone, the fun commences--and it never gets old to watch him make a sauce of the sugar/chocolate/cinnamon/honey/whipped cream with his fingers. It brings joy to his little heart.

And no, he doesn't eat the entire plate. He eats at most 3.