You are going to find that blog entries are very short these days...we are trying a 'hands free' approach to swaddling these days (i.e. swaddling the lower half of Scotty's body, but keeping his arms out) and it is downright exhausting trying to put this child to sleep. He gets so sleepy, but the minute I put him in his crib, he wakes up and smacks himself in the face. Sigh. Such is my life.

Anyways, I am happy to report that I finally - FINALLY - found something that I am GOOD at in the land of Motherhood. Yes, you read that correctly - I actually have some positive, discernable skill. After almost 11 weeks of battling sleep deprivation, breastfeeding blues, and diapering issues (well, I'm fairly good at changing a diaper, but it's also insanely easy), I discovered that I am good at trimming Scotty's fingernails! From everything I've read, this is one chore that most parents fear - the teeny-tiny hands, the sharp clippers, a squirmy baby. But for whatever reason, I seem to have some ability to do this task and do it well. Haven't drawn blood yet and his little nails are short and blunted. Hoorary! I would like to point out that I am using the very same technique that we used for seven years to trim Emma's nails - and it's working like a charm. So there IS some carry-over from cat ownership to parenthood. I knew there was. Thank goodness.

I went to Target today for the first time in literally months. I was all excited to buy a new lipstick (to wear...when? But that's not the issue) and just lose myself in the makeup aisle for awhile.

But then as soon as I walked in, I saw all of the Halloween decor and was reminded the big holiday is only a few weeks away. I thought about what we should dress Scotty as this year, and headed to the costume section.

But then I realized - I headed  for the pet costume aisle instead. I didn't know where the children's costumes as I had never shopped in the kid's setion before. I inadvertently landed amid kitty litter, cat chow and fuzzy mice.

It made me so sad. :-(

Emma was a ghost last year. I'll try to post a picture when I can.

It's that time of year again. The air is a little crisper (high 90s, instead of 110s), the leaves are changing (not really...we just have cacti out here), and there is the sound of grown men hitting each other in pursuit of a small brown ball in high-def. Yes, it is officially football season in our household.

Before I met Brian, I really didn't think people watched football anymore. I remember they brought Dennis Miller on Monday Night Football as a commentator, and I thought it was because viewership was down. As in, the sport was on its way out. But then I moved to Vegas and met my soon-to-be husband. It was the week after the Packers lost to...someone...and Brian almost didn't come to our first date since he was still in mourning. (true story). I didn't realize it at the time, but I had the longest amount of time possible between the end of football season and the start of football season, giving myself plenty of time to fall in love with Brian without REALLY knowing his true personality. Which quickly emerged at the first kick-off in early September 2002. And then I realized...he's an addict.

I've tried to get into football. Really. I even played fantasy football for one year (through his firm. It's like the national sport there). After drafting a defense in the third round and being laughed at the entire season, I quit. I turned my attention to hosting football gatherings - if I busied myself in the kitchen, maybe I could stay busy while still watching the game. When we went to sports bars to watch the game, I found myself grabbing the paper...or a magazine...or a book...and my phone...before we left, just in case I got bored halfway through the game. And as much as I tried, I just never really got into it.

I knew Brian was especially excited about this football season, and was pleased that Scotty 1.) managed to come before the start of his fantasy football draft (both leagues...he dropped the third one this year),  and 2.) wasn't born on a Sunday in September, since I really didn't want to find out who Brian would pick - me or the Packers. Thankfully, it never came down to that. And, best of all -- we had added another Packer fan to the family. Not through conversion, but through breeding.

(ironically enough, Kelly's husband Jake is also a die-hard Packer fan with Wisconsin roots. This is especially devastating to my Bears-loving father. Both of his daughters married Packer fans. And yes, Ben is being raised as a Packer).

But imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning only to find Brian and Scotty both downstairs by 8am. I thought to myself, "Oh, that's cute. Brian is getting the baby ready." And he was. He had the bottle out, the diaper changed, and Scotty's football onesie laid on the couch. Mind you, Brian has not seemed concerned about Scotty's wardrobe to date so far - yet he was very clear about his wishes this morning. He had to wear the football onesie and he had to have it on before the first game.  And then when Scotty spit-up on his onesie half-way through the Seahawks game, Brian and my mom dressed Scotty in his official Packer onesie (just in time for the Packer game). Seriously adorable.

We all kind of held our breath when we put the Packer onesie on Scotty - was he going to scream his head off, ensuring a tough season (and potentially some genetic Bears allegiance?), or would he be a content little baby, highlighting his Packers loyalty and the possibility of a winning season? Well, it all worked out - there was a little bit of fussing, but one warm bottle of milk and a nice tight swaddle later, Scotty has sound asleep in my arms for the duration of the football game.

And thank goodness. Because when Aaron Rodgers threw the game winning touch-down pass to Greg Jennings, Brian lept so high in the air (and then came down and smacked the ottoman) that had he had child in his arms, it would have meant serious bodily harm for both.

Only fifteen games left.

In other news, I missed both Mad Men AND the season finale of True Blood so all the men could watch football tonight. We are the newest members of the Direct TV family, so they are taped but I have no idea how to access them. Maybe next week I'll learn how to work the TV again.

And thank you to everyone for your kind emails, comments, and messages about Emma. I still cannot (and will not, very strange for me) talk about it. I can write about it, but I can't talk about it. Just not yet. I have learned that denial and avoidance are actually really terrific coping skills (oh, where have my therapeutic roots gone?) and I plan to avoid and deny much about that subject for as long as possible. So, if you know me in real life (where are these 800+ readers coming from? Seriously, I'm flattered, but I know I don't have 800 friends), please don't ask about it. Just not yet.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I have to say...we lost Emma tonight. She passed away at 5:30pm.

I knew this day was coming. I've known it and feared it for over seven years. In some ways, I am relieved - strangely - that today has finally come and gone. Brian and I knew our little cat was with us on borrowed time, and as of today, that time expired.

It was her time to go. We had an emergency trip to the vet on Tuesday afternoon and it was there that the vet told me kindly, "It's her time." Brian and I had a long talk about it and decided to do what we could to ease her suffering. The cancer in her nose had moved to encompass her left eye entirely, and had grown so big that it was breaking the skin on the bridge of her nose. She had started scratching the area, and each time she did, she broke it open even more. She had also lost the ability to breathe out of her nose, and taken to hiding in the box spring mattress under our bed. She had also stopped eating almost completely.

It was this information that lead us to make the decision to say good-bye. While I am content knowing she is no longer suffering, I can't help but selfishly miss her. I want her to be on her corn pillow. I want her to be chowing at her food dish. I want her to announce her presence when she enters a room, and boldly jump onto someone's lap, fully expecting to be petted.

Emma was certainly an interesting cat, to put it mildly. She came into our lives the Monday after Mother's Day in 2002. She literally collapsed on Brian's front door step, a meager three pounds of small brown cat. I sat with her that morning while Brian ran to the 7-11 to get some cat food. We let her go, not sure if she would return, and by Tuesday night, she had found her way back to our doorstep. By Wednesday, Brian had a kitty litter, a cat bed, and a food dish in his apartment, along with a new roommate.

That is what surprises most people; Emma was never "my" cat. Brian and I had only started dating three months earlier and my apartment didn't allow for pets. So Emma moved in with Brian and I visited frequently. :-) By 2004, we had bought our first house and were all co-habitating happily. By 2006, Brian and I made it official and Emma went "national" since she was the image on the stamp used at our rehearsal dinner. (check it out...www.zazzle.com). In 2009, I found out I was pregnant 17 days before we found out she had cancer. And now, she stayed with us long enough to see me through bed rest and to meet our son. She was the best cat ever.

But she wasn't necessarily the healthiest cat ever. When she found Brian and I, we were penniless. I had just graduated from my master's program and was working three jobs before I earned my license. Brian was drowning in student loan and credit card debt from a tough few years earlier. The last thing we wanted to do was adopt a sick cat, but she was so cute and such a fighter, we had no choice but to continue her medical care. We joke that she picked us since we were the biggest suckers on the block.

It started with her teeth. In the summer of 2002, we noticed she was picking at her teeth after eating. The vet recommended we remove several of the rotted ones, only to receive a call during her surgery that they needed to remove ALL of them. And they were willing to give us a discount after the first seven. And so our ruthless, toothless little cat was born.

The vet cautioned us, however, and said Emma's white blood cell count was very high and she likely had cancer. We shrugged. It didn't change the way we felt about her or our "ownership" (I use that term loosely - I think she owned us) of her. The vet was also unsure how old Emma was, since her teeth were in such bad shape, but made a guess she was around 11-13 years old. Interestingly, Emma never aged -- every vet we visited (four clinics total), told us for seven years that Emma was likely 11-13 years old.

In the winter of 2002, Emma jumped into a bathtub we had just poured Drano in. Emergency trip #1 to the vet commenced. In the summer of 2003, her anal glands ruptured. This required two weeks of treatment at the kitty spa, where she sat in a whirlpool to avoid infection. In 2004, she had a stomach hernia removed. By 2005, she was diagnosed with kidney disease. By 2007, she developed pancreanitis when we were on vacation in Mexico, and thankfully, her cat sitter was keen enough to seek immediate medical attention.

2008 was a busy year for Emma, too. She was diagnosed with thyroid disease and fell into a vat of paint primer (my bad). Emergency Trip #2 to the vet, as well a phone call to Poison Control. By 2009, we were thankful our little cat was still with us, but we learned about her cancer diagnosis on January 14th, 2009. This was also the day I told my parents I was pregnant. This is also the day I told my sister I was pregnant, who replied, in a voice I'll never forget, "So am I." January 14th was a big day for our family.

As was August 18th, when our little boys joined us. But tonight is a day I'll probably never forget for a long time to come. We were with her in the end. She was swaddled tightly in a pink blanket and her corn pillow was tucked in with her. The procedure was quick and painless. And then...she was gone. I've spent seven years watching her breath, only tonight to watch her stop breathing. It was surreal and heartbreaking all at the same time.

I hope our little cat is somewhere in heaven, meowing up a storm and pushing the other cats out of the way at the food dish. (she was never one for manners). Brian and I have gathered her belongings and will put them in storage for the time being; he already registered with a burmese cat rescue organization. We figure that since we've helped (and loved) one little cat, we can open our home to hopefully many more.

Oh, and for those who are wondering where the North Korea reference comes from...in November 2002, we had just seen the latest James Bond movie (the one with Halle Berry and that ice castle thing). The bad guys were the North Koreans. Emma had just had some random vet-related procedure and was wearing an e-collar at the time (the lamp shade looking thing). She had a penchant for sitting in Brian's window, and we were still unsure how this vocal, highly social little cat had just wandered into our lives. We came up the with the rational (and highly plausible) conclusion that the North Korean's had sent her over to spy on us Americans, and her job was to find the softest people on the block to adopt her. She laid in the window to transmit signals back to the homeland, and the e-collar simply provided better reception. We've been happily harboring a North Korean spy for seven years, but we think she officially defected in 2005.

Scotty is a good reminder that life goes on. Brian and I got home after everything, and I went straight upstairs to pump. Brian turned on football. We both opened a beer and sat on the couch. We ate some pretzels. I've seen 'The Lion King' - I understand the cycl of life. We saw 'Marley and Me' over the Christmas holiday last year. I know pets (and people) die, but hope springs eternal. Our little baby boy is the best reminder of that. Ever.

The definition of irony:

Owning a cat with a meow that sounds very similar to a baby crying, only to spend the last seven years learning how to tune out the meowing while you sleep. Now when you have a baby that cries like a well, baby, you are unable to wake up because you have since learned to tune the noise out.

::sigh::

So, I've been a little out of touch lately with my blog. I know this sounds crazy, but I've actually been very busy! Busy on bedrest should be an oxymoron, but you'd be shocked at how packed my days are. Oprah at 9am, The View at 10am, Deliver Me at 11am...then on to phone calls, list-writing, and tending to the Emma cat. Hectic, folks, hectic.

Anyways, just wanted to update you on what will be coming up next. I am about halfway through 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter,' by Kim Edwards (generously donated by my mom, complete with another blue post-it note that read, 'Thinking of you, Love, MOM.' The post-it notes make handy bookmarks). I've been reading a lot of 'What to Expect the First Year,' but will not be reviewing it - any reference text, in my opinion, is not reviewable. I am slowly trudging through 'The Prodigal Summer' (sorry, Amie) but am not getting very far.

As for TV shows, I've become strangely addicted to 'Wheel of Fortune' and even have Brian in on the game. We like to shout answers from the couch, and I'm sad to admit he gets more puzzles right than I do. I also want to highlight a major victory in our household - as of last Saturday, Brian became the 2009 winner of his law firm's golf tournament. The win came with a generous cash prize and bragging rights for a full year. I don't think Brian has stopped smiling. Big spenders that we are, we plan to hightail it to Babies-R-Us one of these nights and buy a stroller. Maybe if we get really crazy, we'll buy a breast pump, too.

Big shout-outs to all the friends who have stopped over or called. You are definitely making this whole process much more bearable - almost pleasant, in fact. So, Michele, Sarah, Krista, Liz, Jen, Amie, Claudia, Sherri, Courtney, and of course, Mom and Dad - thank you!

In lieu of book/TV reviews, I offer Emma's Fourth of July picture. Hope everyone enjoys the three-day holiday weekend.