Paperwork

Being 33 weeks pregnant, the most often used room in my house has got to be the bathroom. Being a woman in a houseful of men, I always have to be on my guard when I go to use the facilities, though. Stumbling into the bathroom in my stupor at o-dark-thirty is likely to end up with my nether regions taking an unexpected bath if I'm not aware of my surroundings. When I found out that Baby #3 was a boy, I lamented "Oh great, I have to teach ANOTHER one to put the seat down."

Potty training is all on Diva Husband, and he's excellent at that job. My rationale was that since I have girly bits, not boy bits, I can't really give my boys the full experience of standing, aiming, and doing the deed. He had The Manimal trained in nothing flat.

Pooping is another matter entirely. The art of wiping seems to escape children. Too much toilet paper, too little toilet paper, to flush a baby wipe, to not flush a baby wipe, to use kleenex in a pinch...

I'm sure those of you with small people in your homes understand.

I have to say though, that, the former on that list hasn't really been a terrible problem for us. We're not flying through toilet paper like crazy. I haven't had to wonder if my kids are storing up for an emergency. Occasionally, when doing laundry, I've actually discovered that I may need to have a discussion with them regarding *ahem* using too few of those precious squares.

Clearly I'm lucky in this regard. My fellow blogger, Spuds, is not so lucky. Spuds is a single dad raising 6 pygmies, the youngest 4 of whom have a penchant for paper. Go check out his blog "Carrying a Cat by the Tail" and read about it!

But be warned, you might need a roll of paper to wipe the tears or whatever may issue forth from various facial orifices as you snort with laughter.

First Blood

The Diva Homestead has been invaded by a seemingly innocuous, gentle species. They're sweet-looking, cute and fuzzy.
Yes, I'm talking about the Lagomorpha Leporidae.

I prefer to call them the "wascally wabbits".

We started having problems with them last year when they discovered my hostas in the front yard. We're trying to avoid them attacking our lovely tomatoes and herbs and many assorted young trees in the back yard.

However, we're a peaceful people, and haven't resorted to anything more extreme than spraying fox urine around the plant beds.

Yesterday, Princess the Wonder Dog changed all that.

Diva Nana and I were sitting out on the patio, enjoying a break in the humidity and watching the dog run around the yard. Suddenly I heard it.

It.

Yes, it.

It was the most horrible squeaking, squealing sound I can ever remember hearing. It is burned into my eardrums for all eternity.

I immediately knew that Princess had used her wondrous powers for evil, and ran over to the fence.

She had discovered a nest of the creatures, and helped herself to the contents. One of the poor little things had become her toy and was making the noise.

I summoned Diva Husband to come to the rescue of the quickly expiring creature, and he disposed of it. Unfortunately, there was really no way to keep nature from taking her course, and pretty soon Princess had made short order of FIVE of the little bunnies.

I tried to block the aural and visual images from my mind by humming "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King".

It didn't work.

Now that she's had her "First Blood", I'm just hoping Princess the Wonder Dog doesn't go all Rambo on us.