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Free Advice Friday – Death of a Beloved Pet

Dear Kim,

I we have a cat that is very old and we know she won’t live much longer. We’re starting to think about how we’ll break the news to our kids when she dies. How would you do it?

Thanks,

Kat in Hairballia, MD

 

Dear Kat,

How do you tell your children that their beloved cat died? You don’t.  The way I see it, there is no good way to break the news, and even the best explanations leave the children with heartache and questions about life and death that I’d rather not answer.

If you’re going to follow my advice you have two options: pretend your cat is still alive or convince your children that the cat never existed in the first place.

Keeping her alive…furever.

Take a look at this…

This is our hermit crab Lily, she’s been dead for two months and our kids have no clue.  To keep up pretenses, I periodically move her around the cage and eat a little bit of her food everyday.  And sometimes, when the kids come home from school, I tell them stories of the funny things Lily did while they were gone. To hear me tell it, she’s a real hoot! I recently moved her cage next to the litter box, it helps to explain the fishy smell and it deters them from playing with her as often.

When, our dog, Mr. Bojangles dies I plan on having the local taxidermist stuff him with an electric blanket. We’ll run an electrical cord out of his ass and plug him in so he’ll feel warm and lifelike when the kids kiss him goodnight.

 

Purr-tend she never existed.

If you ask Collin about his dog Skittles, he’ll say “who?”.

Collin believes Mr. Bojangles is the first dog he has ever owned, and that’s by complete design. For the first two years after Skittles’ death we took great pains to remove any reminders of his existence.

The day he died I donated his food bowls, toys, and bed to a nearby animal shelter.  And when Collin got off the school bus and asked “Where’s Skittles?”, we simply said “Who?”. From there on, there was no turning back.

Skittles was cut out of all family photos and Christmas cards, home movies were burned.  I very meticulously replaced the voids with pictures of our current cat.

The back of this photo says “Collin and Skittles. Mittens at Xmas”

All Skittles’ stories and memories were revised.

 “Remember going to the cat park every Saturday with Mittens, that was fun!”

We even made certain to remove Skittle candies from Halloween bags, Easter baskets, and movie concession stands, least they be a reminder.

Right now, our family and close friends are reading this and saying to themselves “I don’t remember them ever having a dog named Skittles.”    Exactly.

Kat, *making your children feel crazy is way better than making them heartbroken. *Therapists may disagree.

Good luck in whatever path you take. But if you use my taxidermist (I included his card) please use my name as a referral; he offers a “one small animal with each referral” incentive program, and our hamster is about to expire.

Kim

Free Advice Friday- anger management

Dear Most Brilliant Mom Ever,

How do I get myself to stop freaking out in front of my kids? And by freaking out I mean..totally screaming SO loud and scaring the children into tears while losing my voice and making my face go numb.

Please advise,

Mom of 2 Crazies.

 

Dear Crazy,

The most “brilliant mom ever”? Wow! Thanks for the undeserved compliment, unfortunately it  won’t make my advice any better. Sorry. But it just so happens Crazy, that your question falls right in my wheelhouse.

Did you know that I once taught an anger management class at the nearby community center? I know what you’re thinking, “A mother, wife, professional trampolinist, Little Miss Delaware 1979, rescuer of dolphins, shampooist…is there anything she can’t do?” Yes Crazy, I can’t remember the passwords to any of my accounts: email, bank, computer login, etc.  Instead, I always choose the “forgot your password?” button. It’s an inefficient way to live.

Anyway, I’m proud to say my Anger Management classes were popular and well attended by members of my community.  Of course, most of them were there through a court order, but I like to think that they really enjoyed the program. We did a lot of singing (“If You’re Happy and You Know It” was popular), role playing, and expressing our feelings through macaroni art.  I saw my fair share of macaroni middle fingers.

I ran the classes for about 3 weeks before it was “suggested” by my boss that I look for employment elsewhere.  He said I became too angry when students missed my class. Damn right! How would he feel if he had to skip the ending of One Life to Live every Wednesday only to find that some “angry ass” (as I called my students) didn’t bother to show?

Well, this one time I had to leave my house minutes before finding out if Cord was the father of Tina’s baby…and goddamn it if there weren’t 3 no-shows to class! WTF?!  I got so pissed that I started throwing those metal folding chairs all around the room while my students stood in the corner egging me on. I think they took some sick pleasure from it.  In fact, had I not crossed the line and flipped over the complimentary Coffee & Donut table, they probably wouldn’t have ratted me out.

I tried reasoning with my boss, but apparently my “Do as I say, not as I do” philosophy was not embraced by the Sussex County Community Center.

This, of course, was all pre-kids.  I knew that if I wanted to be the best mother ever, I needed to stop drinking, swearing, and throwing chairs.  I can help you with the throwing chairs part.

Here are a couple tricks I use to control my frustration and anger level…

You need a panic room

Think of this panic room as a “time out” for you, an escape if you will. Just before you’re about to go bat shit, I want you to quickly and quietly flee to this room for your safety and the safety of those in the house.

I realize that it’s hard to find a house with a panic room (unless you buy one of my old homes) but don’t worry, you can create one on a budget.

I took an ordinary spare bedroom and covered the walls and floors with those foamy egg crates meant for the bed, this absorbs my screaming and protects me from the screaming of my children.  I then added a second layer of goose down comforters because they are soft, warm, and absorb my tears (unlike poly-fill). You’ll also want to add an additional lock on the inside of your door, maybe a deadbolt.  It’s been my experience that your children can open the regular lock by inserting a tiny screwdriver or a bobby pin from Baby Hathaway’s hair into the doorknob.

Once you have the foundation for your room set you need to go about filling it with things that make you happy and/or calm you down. My panic room is filled with food and beverages that make me feel indulgent and occasionally buzzed.  In addition, I leave inspiration notes to myself all around the room. You can either hand write these notes or go to a website that sells motivational posters and purchase some.  It really depends on your decorative budget.  I like www.successories.com for my posters as it allows you to narrow down the choices through categories.  I always go right to the “WTF? This Isn’t What I Signed Up For!” section.

Here’s one corner of my room:

I pipe in Enya because it mimics the crying of my soul.

 

Displaced Aggression

This involves finding something that you can take your anger out on without the cops or Family Services coming to your home.  It could be something as simple as kickboxing, or digging a grave in the backyard to bury your sanity.  It’s a very personal choice.  I like to do something a little more sadistic… Look at this before and after pic:

 

This plant thought it was going to a good home.

It was wrong.

I am the plant torturer.  I buy the plant and then… if I’m having a good day I water it, if I’m having a bad day then I don’t.  I think you can tell by the pics how the beginning of the school year has been going.

Tip: If I’m really pissed off I leave the watering jug next to plant where it can see it, and running my fingers up and down the handle I say “It sure is hot out here, I bet some water would feel refreshing.” and then…and here’s the best part…I pour the water onto the asphalt next to the plant and say “Oops! Darn that’s all the water I had. That’s a shame” – then I make a sad face and leave! I just f-ing leave! It’s like the opposite of waterboarding.  I could probably work for the CIA if I didn’t have such loose lips.

Crazy, I hope I gave you some ideas that you can use.  Just remember, they’ll only be at home until they’re 18 and then again at 35 when they get a divorce, so you’ll have 17 years without all the bullshit soon enough.

Kim

 

Free Advice Friday

Dear Kim,

I have been following your excellent advice and also understand you’ve added running to your repertoire of amazing abilities. I feel now is the perfect time to ask your opinion on how to handle a ‘noise’ that may sometimes squeak out from ‘behind the lower area’ when walking /running with others.

Thank you, Slightly Embarrassed Susan

Dear Slightly,

I’m not sure I understand your nicey-nice talk. Are you trying to say that farts emanate from your ass while you run? If so, I can help.

Here’s my advice: Shit your pants. You only have to shit your pants once, after that your friends will think nothing of a fart. Of course, they might be concerned that you’re going to shit your pants again, but if they make fun of you for that then they were never your friends to begin with. I’m a firm believer that laughing at someone for farting is funny but laughing at some one for shitting their pants is just plain cruel.

If you feel like this isn’t an option for you (ie. constipation, empty bowels, etc), I have a couple more alternatives.

1. Make it so people don’t want to run with you.

When I run I flail my arms and legs wildly. But don’t do it too wildly otherwise passersby will throw you to the ground and stick a belt in your mouth so you don’t bite off your tongue during your epileptic fit. In addition to my running style, I take Mr. Bojangles with me (when he isn’t busy licking his own ass). We look something like this…

Mr. Bojangles, just before he pulled my jacket off.

I found that this is usually enough to put people off.

2. Muffle the sound

There are two ways of doing this. Your first choice is to make a “Wahoo!” yell as you’re farting. Now this is a little tricky because you need to be aware that you’re about to fart in order to pull this off successfully. I’m convinced that all those people in my spin class yelling “yeah, baby!” “wooo!” and “c’mon!” are all just letting one rip. That’s why I always look disgusted when I’m in there.

*Do not use this technique in meditative yoga.

The other way of doing this is an actual physical muffling. I’ve experimented with this and I find that cotton balls and a little duct tape work really well. And the duct tape actually keeps your ass from jiggling so you look tighter and firmer. An added bonus.

I hope I was able to help you, Slightly. Just stay away from the beans, nobody likes a bean fart.

Kim

Dear Kim,

My kids have been asking for a pet for the last 2 years. I think they’re ready for the responsibility. What kind of animal do you think would make the best “first pet”?

Laurie in Pettingham, AL

Dear Laurie,

I understand your desire to have your children learn about the responsibility and sense of companionship that comes with pet ownership. Studies show that when a child cares for an animal it can help them to become a more empathetic and nurturing person in an otherwise cruel world. Just don’t get a bird. My bird Petey was a total dick.

Laurie, I’ve had newts, fish, crabs (fresh water, not pubic), iguanas…basically all sorts of aquarium pets and they’ve all had the same thing in common, they smell like ass. And not normal ass, the kind of ass that takes three bowls of all beef chili. Don’t do it.

And don’t be fooled by cute bunnies or rodents, they just leave little turds around the house which you will always think are spilled chocolate chips until you taste them.

We currently have a dog and a cat. What a mess. Mr. Bojangles has continual diarrhea flare ups which I believe is linked to him using the cat’s litter box like some kind of walk up sushi bar.

I swore I would never get another animal again. Then a couple months ago Ana was crying about wanting another pet. I kinda figured this was coming because she kept accidentally killing the ants I gave her. She was only trying to pet them.

The first and last time she would pet Timmy.

I got to thinking about what kind of pet would be best for our family and I that’s when I brought home Rickalick, our invisible dog. The kids didn’t buy it at first but then I explained to them “just because you don’t see the invisible fence doesn’t mean it’s not there” then I let them hold the dog collar and walk through it. They couldn’t argue with my logic.

Rickalick is great. He never barks. The kids can take him for walks off leash because he never leaves their side. They spend hours in the backyard throwing balls for him to chase (he doesn’t like to fetch). And late at night, he and I curl up with a glass of Cabernet and some cheese…and he doesn’t steal my damn food when I get up to pee (Mr. Bojangles, you suck).

Of course, continuously convincing the kids they have an invisible dog is not without some effort. At least once a week I have to bring dog poop into the house and put it on the carpet. “Bad Rickalick, bad dog”. Then I make one of the kids clean it up since it’s their pet. And once a year we take him to our vet who gives our invisible dog a very visible bill for wasting his time.

Having Rickalick is really starting to pay off because the kids in the neighborhood have been asking for their own invisible dog. So we’ve adopted some more dogs and have started a breeding center in our downstairs powder room, it’s called I.D.I.O.T.S. (Invisible Dog Institute Of Total Suckers). We’re hoping to have them weaned and potty trained by Christmas.

Rickalick with the neighborhood kids. We couldn’t get him to smile.

Laurie, I’ve enclosed an adoption form along with an outline of our fees. If you’re interested in an invisible dog for your family just mail it back in with a deposit, preferably a cashier’s check.

Good Luck,

Kim

Free Advice Friday – Incontinence?

Dear Kim,

When I read your blog I laugh so hard that I pee my pants. In Fact, I pee my pants almost every time I laugh and it’s embarrassing. Do you have any advice?

Pees With Glee, Urineville, FL

 

Dear Pee,

Do you mind if I call you Pee? I was so flattered to hear that my blog makes you laugh so hard that you pee your pants, but then you added the part about you peeing at anything- basically you gave me a compliment then took it away. That was pretty insensitive. But because I’m such a great person, I’ll help you with your situation anyway.

I too suffer from laughter incontinence…also coughing incontinence, sneezing incontinence, and flatulence. But I’m not going to address the latter.

A little about me. My incontinence developed shortly after giving birth to my son. He was 3 weeks late and approximately the size of a very small man. When he vacated my womb he wore a Member’s Only jacket, looked around for his luggage, and walked out of the delivery room complaining of cramped traveling quarters. I was really pissed considering he had just spent the last two weeks punching my bladder like he was in a “to the death” cage match. Ungrateful SOB.

Needless to say, my bladder was never the same after that. In fact, having that baby changed the course of my life forever, it ended my career as a professional Trampolinist (Gasp!). That’s right Pee, I had my sights set on the 2008 summer Olympics and I believe I would have brought home the Gold! Sadly, I was told I couldn’t participate because the adult diapers I wore while “tramping” were considered a violation of the team’s regulation uniform. Apparently, the outline of the Depends through my unitard proved too much of a distraction for the judges. I tried suggesting that I wear a “Heavy Flow” Maxi Pad as a compromise. They refused my appeal but granted me permission to continue competing on the amateur circuit. Amateur?! Ha!

“No thank you, Team USA. You’ll hear from my lawyer!”

Back to you Pee- there are really only a few suggestions I can offer:

1. Depends or Maxi Pads as previously mentioned. Though I don’t recommend you wear them swimming. I did this once and blew up like a provoked Puffer fish. And they’ll cause the leg holes on your bathing suit to sag open when you exit the pool. Embarrassing.

2. Cross your legs and hold your vajayjay. This works for my daughter but I don’t think it would be socially acceptable among your friends and family. If it is, then you need new friends and to put a respectable distance between you and your family.

3. Whenever you’re about to laugh think of something sad to counter it. I think about grape crops dying or fires in the desert destroying all the Agave plants or dogs that are forced to wear doggie rain boots. Wait, strike that last one…thinking about those dogs trying to walk in those stupid boots just made me laugh.

4. Urinate every 5 minutes. An empty bladder is a safe bladder. I have a friend that keeps a Princess Potty in her minivan at all times – and it plays “Zippity Do Da” while you pee. But she recommends emptying it before you drive off, when the pee sloshes around the music keeps playing. You can only hear so much “Zippity Do Da” before you’ll want to back your car into a lightpost just to SHUT IT UP.

Why bother holding it?

 

5. Just pee! There is nothing more rewarding than saying something funny then watching the urine pour down your friend’s leg. It’s truly a compliment and a bonding moment for you both. Just carry extra clothes in your purse.

Pee, I hope I was able to give you some worthwhile advice. Check in with me soon and let me know how things are going. And remember…with me, urine good hands! (oh shit, I think I just peed a little on that one)

Sincerely,

Kim

 

Dear Kim,

I was wondering if you could give me some healthy and tasty dinner ideas for my family.

Thank you, Beth in Farkletown, NY

 

Dear Beth,

Um, what? Have you even read my blog? But I’m here to help, right?…try www.idontknowwhyyouareaskingmethis.com

Bon appetite,

Kim

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