Pet lovers of America: Are you neurotic? If so, your pet must have inherited it from you. If you’re well-adjusted, no problem. You must have some unexplored, deeply hidden neuroses because your pet? All of his/her/its problems are your fault.

For my Thursday Thirteen:

13 Things I Found Out at the Vet’s Office Today

13. I need to modify my behavior if I want the dog to change, according to the vet tech. I began cursing at her, and it went downhill from there. And yes, she already knew about this and this (but not this) from reading his chart. (Is it karma? Is this whole thing my bad karma, because I stole the dog? Universe, you win.)

12. “I have fucking tried everything. Nothing works,” is what I hissed at her. (I did not slap her, as promised. Sorry.) Then I told her I was ready to have him put down over this, because my life is a mess. My house? Also a mess. She harumphed and left. They then sent in another vet tech who was nicer.

11. Just because the cat has worms it does not mean the dog does. Or the other cat. We now have a prescription for worm medicine for the one cat.

10. I found out that if I give the dog four tablets of Benadryl (25 mg. each) he may sleep at night and not stay awake, tormented, chewing his feet and tail and keeping us awake. (Bonus: I didn’t have to buy any! I’m planning to give him the liquid stuff I give the kids. Not straight out of the bottle — I’ll use a medicine spoon. Which I will wash afterward. Or burn.) (Also, the whole visit set me back $144. And that was without shots.)

9. The vet: “If you’re not getting enough sleep because the dog is keeping you awake, this might make you a little stressed.”

8. Then: “Our goal is to keep you less crazy than your dog.” Good, because that’s my goal, too. Finally we’re on the same page.

7. I need to take out the trash every time I leave the dog alone in the house. And keep all the dishes done. (Funny, I’ve already been DOING THAT. Because the few times we haven’t: Chaos.)

6. I am to give him one Metronidazole tab, 500 mg., every 12 hours for the next week. This supposedly will prevent bowel-carnage all over my domicile.

5. If I fill out a nine-page “Canine Behavior Consultation Questionnaire” and pay a vet who specializes in separation anxiety hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dollars, she will work with us. Sample questions: How does your dog get along with family members? Answer: Too well. He cannot bear to see us go. Describe your dog’s learning ability. Answer: He is smarter than I am. I’d have to say “Pretty good” to this one. List family member with least control: Hahahahahaha!!!! See? It’s always gotta come back to me, doesn’t it?

4. The Dog Whisperer says, “Give me a biting dog anyday over one of those frickin’ neurotic Yuppie Black Labs because those dogs? Those dogs cannot be helped.” (Or words to that effect. Actually, I didn’t find this out at the vet — I told her that I’d read this in an interview with him. She sadly agreed.)

3. If we try giving him treats we might be able to teach him better habits. (If we hadn’t already tried that one, lady, my dog probably wouldn’t weigh NINETY-SIX POUNDS. Not 85 — 96.)

2. Doggie Prozac might help. We probably would not be able to find a good adoptive home for him. (We’ve considered this.) “Dogs like this are extremely hard to place.”

1. “It might come down to how much your quality of life is suffering. Not his — he’s fine. I mean, look at him. He’s fine. But this is not good for you.”

You really do not want to read this if you are eating, or have a weak stomach. Or if you hate pets. Or if you love pets, for that matter. I do not love pets. I wish I’d never brought pets home and into my life. (more…)

Dear Wacky Mommy:

New Mom

Dear New Mom:

First, a disclaimer: This column is not meant to take the place of medical attention from a doctor, witch doctor, or mental health professional. Please seek professional attention when needed. Can you find someone who does counseling sliding scale? Check with your baby’s doctor, check with your doctor, check with Baby Blues Connection. (Their site has phone numbers to call.)

I think Tom Cruise really did us all a favor when he insulted Brooke Shields and went off on his whole anti- anti-depressants spiel. It got us all talking about a previously-taboo subject. I remember breaking down in my ob-gyn’s office after my second baby, because I’d found out that my doc was leaving her private practice to work for an HMO. The thought of being without her did me in. She gave me the hugest hug, and we talked about different ways to build community. (It’s hard. It’s embarrassing to say, “I need help” because in our society, and especially in some families, you had better well pull your own weight — and your baby’s. And your baby’s father’s. Or else. This is garbage. Please do not buy into this. You’ve signed up for the most difficult job on earth. But I know you can do it.)

Sometimes anti-depressants are the only way to go, and if it means weaning the baby, and if that’s the only solution — then so be it. The nursing really helped my depression — all those endorphins were great, as well as the bonding. I was twitchy about exposing my babies to meds, so I hear you. However… weigh your options.

Are you getting financial support from the baby’s dad? Can you ask family or friends for help to pay for babysitting and/or counseling? I remember feeling so beat-up the first two years after each baby was born — it’s just been recently that I’ve been able to work-out regularly, go to the doctor’s alone, go to the bathroom alone. When people do that whole, “oh you think it’s hard now just wait!” thing — don’t believe them. Once kids are verbal — and in school all day — life is but a dream. (Mostly.)

I read Down Came the Rain and liked it a lot. Do a library search with your county library and check out a few books on PPD. Read up online.

You’re not the only one. Although I went through it with both babies, it wasn’t as bad with the second one. Of course, we’d just been through 9/11 so I think we had a huge time of national depression and mourning, anyway, so who knows how bad I was feeling. I remember just feeling a sense of despair at times, or as my friend N described it, “It wasn’t like I was really, really depressed. I would just look at my baby and think ‘I should be happy. Why am I not?'” That’s how I felt, too. I got depressed during my first pregnancy, too, because of the morning sickness. Not wanting to die, but not being able to come up with many reasons I wanted to live.

If you think you are going to do harm to yourself or your baby, please get help immediately. Join a mom’s group, if you can, or check on Craig’s List and try to find some parents in your neighborhood to do swaps with. My neighbor saved my ass by swapping childcare once a week with me so I could get a few minutes alone. Don’t feel guilty about this — you’re not doing your baby any favors if you’re weeping and unable to get out of jammies.

Re: drugs. It bothers me that we don’t have any long-term studies on the impact that drugs have on breastmilk and nursing babies. Are they doing any studies? Who knows. They need to, though — especially for anti-depressants, antihistamines and decongestants. Vistaril is a antihistamine that they are not recommending for nursing or pregnant mothers, but that works well for anxiety and depression. (As well as clearing up your sinuses. Ha.)

Talk with your doctor and see if there is anything — Tylenol PM, Vistaril, anything — that wouldn’t be as harsh as a full-scale anti-depressant. Talk with a naturopath and/or acupuncturist about herbal treatments. My doctor (general practice) gave me a ton of grief because I refused to go on anti-depressants while I was pregnant and nursing. She was not kind. She offered me no alternatives, no support, and it made me feel alone and like a horrid mother. Do not see this kind of doctor. (I no longer see this one.) She kept repeating, “All of these medicines are totally safe for nursing babies,” and I kept asking, “Says who?” They don’t flippin’ know. My mom’s doc insisted she take DES when she was pregnant with me. Thank God she had more sense than he did and refused.

I am in way over my head here, and I apologize, but I’ve been reading some studies about people who have bi-polar disorder and the new studies are showing that anti-depressants are possibly the opposite of what they need? Jeez, I’m starting to sound like Tom Cruise here, I apologize. But I would see what a mental health professional has to say. PPD? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? Depressive Disorder?

Check with your doc about taking prenatals (I took them the entire time I was nursing both kids); also check about calcium (they told me to take 1,500-2,000 mg. of calcium citrate — easiest to digest; no Tums — the absorption is not great); drink enough water; no booze or recreational drugs; try to get some exercise, even if it’s only half an hour three times a week; get enough sleep.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. You’re a new mom. You’re probably getting no sleep. Your hormones are on overdrive. You’re a single mom, so you don’t have someone to kick in the middle of the night and tell, “You get the baby this time.” Find someone awesome to kick in the middle of the night, someone who (of course) adores you and the baby. Here’s some fairy dust while I’m at it, to make that happen. “Mr. Wonderful needed, Aisle 14!” For real — build whatever support system you can. I didn’t find a group of mommies to hang out with until my second was born, and the moral support and the knowledge that you’re not alone in this — you can’t buy that at a store.

Check the blogs, post frequently, e-mail people off-list and ask them for help (like you’re doing here).

And make some calls.

Love,

WM

Also (Part II), if I don’t get Milli Vanilli’s Blame It On the Rain OUT OF MY HEAD… well. I don’t know what will happen. But it might be bad.

Also, why the fuck has no one nominated me for the Happiest Blog award?

Q: So. How you doin’?

A: Good. Except I’m trying to stuff all these old entries into categories. I have, uh, 327 to go? I am so screwed over here. Why did I not do this before? Every time I read other people’s blogs I’d think, oooh, looky! They have these neat little category thingys. How do you do that? Then I’d la-di-da away from the computer. Why?

Q: Cuz you’re a dingbat?

A: Is that a question?

Q: No, not really. How was dinner?

A: Good, good. We had dinner with friends. I mean, grown-up friends. Actually, it was terrible.

Q: The food?

A: No, the food was great. We’ve been going to a place called Pause, this pub over on North Interstate Ave. Burgers, great pastas, starters, soups, yummy desserts. Decent service, nice setting. We met there. Our friends just moved — they have no kitchen. They’re remodeling. So they have to eat out every meal now — it’s like they’re pretending we live in Manhattan or something.

Q: So it was the company?

A: NO, OH MY GOD. WE HAD DINNER WITH OTHER GROWN-UPS. They’re nice. Smart. Know how to put, you know, sentences together. And stuff.

Q: It was the kids, wasn’t it?

A: THEY’RE MONSTERS. Not theirs — ours. Their kids are great. Ours won’t eat. They crawl under the table. They crawl on the table. They throw things. They spill things. They run around and annoy other diners. I’ve turned into one of those horrible parents who’s all, “honey, sit down honey, please honey,” and looks like she’s just donated her BRAIN or something. Wacky Boy grabbed my friend’s beer and tried to take a big gulp of it. My friend is all, “That’s not yours, guy,” and Wacky Boy is all, “I want beer.” LIKE WE GIVE HIM BEER WHENEVER HE ASKS FOR IT. We don’t.

Q: What’s his favorite toy?

A: (silence)

Q: Spill it. What is it?

A: His father’s Homer Simpson beer opener.

Q: The talking one?

A: Yes, it’s the talking one. It says, “Ummmmmm, beer, YES, OH YES! WOO-HOOOOO!” when you use it.

Q: You are the worst mother I’ve ever met. Interview OVER.

Dear kind readers,

I am running girl all week this week, but wanted to post quickly to say SORRY!!! WE ARE SORRY! to those of you who received an error message when you called up the site earlier, or were re-directed to Hockey God’s site. (Yeah, a clever ploy to steal my readers… Ha! It did not work! Or maybe it did, I have no idea.)

Anyway — a lot of smut mail is sprinkled throughout these entries — computer glitch. So please ignore and do not think I am endorsing these various illegal drugs, ringtones or penile implants. I’m deleting them as I find them. Whew, Nellie! There are a lot of people out there causing trouble.

I’m not one of them.

Please send along love/suggestions for the new design, if you have any.

Kisses,

WM

I was at a school meeting all day today — it was excellent, all about various learning styles and how to get parents motivated, two of my favorite topics — and when I got home I found out Hockey God had redecorated.

My entire blog, that is.

I’m liking it in here! The banquettes are comfier, the new paint looks good, the carpet is squooshy… Heh heh. It really does feel like that sometimes, blogging. Like it’s a genie’s bottle I climb into and run my own talk show or something. While I’m jumping up and down on the cushions and no one’s screaming, “STOP!!!” at me.

So what do you think? If you don’t like it, that’s cool. Because I love it enough for both of us. Ha! Please leave a comment if there’s anything funky that isn’t working right for you.

Also we’ve switched over to WordPress and I must say, it’s a lot easier to use than Pivot was. (Fond as I was of Pivot.) Something about needing a new server, my excessive popularity blowing out our bandwidth, burning down the house, blah blah. If you’re into the geeky/techie stuff go check with my partner in crime because I just don’t get it.

I’ll talk to you about learning styles all day long, though. Turns out I’m a Visual Learner, as well as an Auditory Learner and a Kinesthetic (Physical) Learner.

No wonder I can’t keep shit straight.

Reviewed today:

(more…)

For my Thursday Thirteen (helloooooooooo everyone!) Wacky Mommy, Advisor to the Would-Be Stars presents:

THIRTEEN REASONS YOU SHOULD NOT GO ON “AMERICAN IDOL” (and I’m not joking here, people):

13. Most of you are unable to keep your breasts inside your bedazzled halter tops.

12. You don’t know how to pick songs to save your ass.

11. Your asses (speaking of) are not shakin’ nearly as well as that girl’s in the opening credits of “Las Vegas.” That is some ass-shaking, there.

10. Simon is a jerk. Paula is drunk. Randy is unpredictable. Ryan doesn’t give enough hugs.

9. Your kids need you at home. (Did you catch the guy who missed THE BIRTH OF HIS BABY GIRL because he was waiting to audition? AND HIS WIFE SEEMED TO BE OK WITH THIS. Good thing for him the judges said “yay.”)

8. Your wardrobe needs to consist of something a little more, I don’t know, telegenic? Khaki: nope. Dirty T-shirt: nopey-nope. Jeans that don’t really fit: triple-nope.

7. They won’t let you bring your dog to howl back-up. And I know you won’t leave home without him.

6. There are other ways to become a star.

5. You need to give more attention to your blog.

4. And the dog.

3. Really, do you need to break your parents’ hearts? No, I did not think so.

2. Your acting is much better than your singing.

1. You’re just not that damn good.