On a more serious note

The last month has been hectic. Those few who actually read my nonsense and commented on what's up with my lack of posting, here's some of what's been going on.

Mostly, my life has been a mix of homework, cheerleading, homework, karate, homework, cub scouts, homework, a couple of camping trips, and homework. That alone would not be enough to keep me away from my blog though. I love blogging. I think its cathartic putting my rambling thoughts out there for the world to see. No, the main reason for my absence has been my son.

Those who have been reading my blog since it's earlier days know that back in early June my son was diagnosed with Klinefelters syndrome. We have always suspected him to be ADHD and he has always had problems with his speech both of which can be related to Klinefelters. It was the testing for ADHD that uncovered his condition.

Since my post back in June, Connor has been through a series of more tests. Without going into the long boring details of the results, the bottom line is that we have decided to move Connor into a private school. It's going to be a killer financially (Almost the equivalent of sending him to college every year) but from the research we have done over the last month, it's going to give him the best chance for his future. Something we discovered from the testing is that Connor has a learning disability that will make normal school much more difficult for him to handle. He needs more personal attention than a classroom of thirty other kids can provide.

My mom has been a HUGE help to us during all this. I can't begin to thank her for everything she has been doing for my little man. She kept him three nights last week to give us a rest. While she was playing with him, something happened that absolutely broke my heart. Suddenly, in the middle of playing with my mom, he stopped and asked, "Nana, do I talk funny?". Later, when I asked who told him he talked funny, he told me some of the kids at school were taunting him by singsonging "Babytalker!...Babytalker!...Babytalker!". Ouch.

The Wife has been taking all this pretty hard. What free time I have, I've been spending with her. So I've been a bit negligent on my blogs. Things seems to be stabilizing a bit now and I hope to be able to post more often than I have been. I'll also be around to visit all my friends blogs soon, I promise!

Cats, Cats and more Cats

After two posts in a row (with a slight delay between the two) you might think I'm done with the whole cats thing for a while, right? WRONG! It seems that the cat gods have decided that as punishment for having previously disliked cats, I am now to be deluged with them. I thought by rescuing not just one, but two cats from imprisonment the cosmic scales would be balanced. I was wrong. The cat gods must be a vengeful and unforgiving group. So what am I talking about?

Earlier this year I got a new shed for my yard. The arrival of my new shed meant removing the rusted metal piece of crap old shed. The thing is, removal of the old shed would require physical work which means sweating. I hate to sweat. I guess I might not mind sweating if I were normal. The problem is I seem to have not sweat glands, but sweat weapons of mass destruction. I'm not kidding here. I could work up a sweat in a meat freezer. Have you ever seen the movie Airplane? Remember how sweat was pouring like a river down Robert Hayes face while he was landing the plane? There you go.

In order to limit the loss of vital bodily fluids, I decided to wait until the cooler weather of Fall to remove the old eyesore shed. About four weeks ago, I stepped outside and took a look at the shed and saw something that made me look twice. Kittens. Four kittens to be exact, rolling and playing right in front of my old shed. I was not really surprised since our neighborhood is full of feral cats.

I had earlier noticed a cat hanging around the old shed and even with my limited reasoning ability I deduced she must have chosen it as the place to have her kittens.

Several cans of cat food later and Mom Cat was tame enough to allow us to stroke her and handle her babies. Unfortunately, about two weeks after we found them, Mom Cat disappeared. Since I highly doubt she would leave the food we were giving her, I assume either something tragic happened, or she fell victim to one of the many cat traps our town has placed throughout my neighborhood. Either way, we found ourselves the caretakers of four kittens.

So that's where we are now. There are a grand total of six cats in my life now. No, we will not be keeping the kittens in case you are wondering. We have already put the word out and I hope they're adopted soon. Each day the wife and kids are getting more attached. They have already named them. OK, I admit it. I getting attached to the little furballs too. Anyone want a free kitten?

My Cats (Part Two)

The next Saturday we headed off to the SPCA (notice how I pretend there hasn't been over a month gap since my last post?). For my wife, going to an animal shelter is traumatic. All those animals in their cages is hard for her to handle. I sometimes suspect if not for me, she would become one of those people that sometimes pop up in the news found dead in their homes with dozens of cats and/or dogs running about. I'm joking, but she does get very upset seeing those poor animals in their cages.

It didn't take long before the wife and kids had picked out a friendly black and white. My brother told us it's a good sign if a cat will allow you to hold it on it's back and rub his belly without freaking out. On a side note, I'm pretty much ok laying on my back while someone rubs my belly. I'm not sure if that's a good sign in humans though. So I picked him up, flipped him over and started rubbing. He laid limp in my arm and if not for the purring, I might have though him dead. It was good enough for me.

We paid the fee, filled out a bazillion forms, received a complementary cardboard cat carrier and took him home. Of course, we had to stop by the pet store on the way to spend about a hundred bucks on essentials.

So that's how Sylvester (or Silly-Vester as my daughter calls him) became part of the family. With the exception of the occasional stalking and pouncing on my poor thirteen year old terrier Max, he's a good cat. He is such a good cat that it didn't take much convincing from the wife and kids to get a buddy for Silly-Vester. After another trip to the shelter, Merlin joined the family.