Andy's Fears:Chewing Gum

Andy was terrified whenever I chewed gum. I can probably pinpoint what exactly scared him. I popped my bubbles after blowing them. The loud noise scared the shit out of my baby boy. He didn’t take long to associate my chewing gum with popping bubbles.




Once that association was made , there was no way I could separate the fear he had from when I chewed gum. It didn’t matter if I did not blow bubbles anymore. He learned to tie together the chewing gum with his fear of loud noises. I would try to chew quietly. I would not blow bubbles. It was too late.



Every time I put gum in my mouth, his eyes grew wide, his ears would drop and his head would sink as low as it could. He was scared. Once in a while, he would leave the room altogether, his body shaking.



He would never lose his fear of chewing gum. I had to give it up while he was alive.

Trump Is a Fucking Hypocrite!

I was watching Fox News last night and saw a video of Trump lambasting Anthony Weiner concerning the TwitterGate Scandal. Trump railed against Weiner saying that the congressman from NY was despicable and should resign.

All I could think about at that moment was Trump's scandalous affair with Marla Maples in the early 90's. Donald did a shitty thing to Ivanna. She didn't deserve that humiliation.

 Forgive me, dear readers for judging, but having extramarital sex is a far worse sin than showing one's tallywhacker on the internet. I couldn't believe someone as vulnerable as Trump is in the morality department was wagging a stiffened finger at Weiner who did not do nearly as bad as Trump did a couple of decades ago.

Keep throwing those stones, Donald!

Turning Off the TVA Conditioned Response

Every time I turned off the TV, the babies would immediately pop their heads up and look at me. What they did next depended on what time of day it was. If it was night time, they pretty much guessed it was nighty-time. During our first few months in the condo, I’d ask them if they wanted to go nighty, and they would hop up and head towards the stairs. Later, they wouldn’t even wait for me to ask them to go to bed. They knew what was going to happened and what they should do.




However, if it was day-time, their response was a little different. They knew one of 2 things was going to happen. We were all going to go bye-bye or I was going to leave them all alone in the universe; all by their baby-selves. They would intensely watch me and wait to see what I said or did. If I said the magic words “Let’s go bye-bye” they would head towards the door and wait for me to put the leashes on them.



But if I said “I’ll be back.” They dropped their ears down and hung their heads. They were going to be alone and they knew it. I learned to ease their pain of isolation by keeping the TV on while I was away. It took the sting out of my departure, a little.

Abby's and Andy's Fears:Check Writing

Both Abby and Andy were scared when I wrote checks. Since my condo was small, I didn’t have an office where I could quietly and discretely write checks. Instead, I would take my bills to the kitchen counter which doubled up as an eating area. I would stand at the end of the counter with all my paperwork and start paying-off my bills.




Meanwhile, Abby and Andy, normally in the living room, had a full view of the process and became very still and quiet. I could tell by their focused wide-eyed looks on their faces that they were scared.



I don’t know if were scared because I was so quiet or had a focused look on my face, but something about the process made them scared. The only thing I could do to assuage their fears was to look up from my concentration and tell them everything was “OK . . . it’s alright.”



The babies would not stand down from their state of alert until all the checks had been written and the paperwork had been put away. I never could find a way to train them to pay any attention to my check-writing procedures. They would always be nervous and scared.

Andy's Fears:Cooking

Andy was terrified of electrical appliances. I love kitchen gadgets and love to cook. Some of my gadgets are electrical. Others are not. I love my stand mixer. Using that took about an hour off of my annual Christmas cookie baking. I loved my hand mixer. When I made sauces, that appliance was invaluable.




Andy hated it when I cooked. He would hide out in the living room when I cooked. Other times, he would go upstairs in his sanctuary, my bed. However, he would learn to tolerate my cooking and look on at me in great interest when I prepared a meal.



I think two things led to Andy’s diminished fears in the kitchen: gluttony and greed. While Andy was shivering in fear as I prepared a meal, Abby would sit in the kitchen waiting for me to drop food or to give her food. Abby learned that dropped food was fair-game for her to hustle over and gobble up. Abby also knew that if she gave me a doleful look long enough, I’d cave in and give her a tooty. (tooty = treat).



Abby did not eat gracefully. She chomped down on her food and smacked loudly and with seeming deliberation. Andy could not stand it when he was left out. He was absolutely jealous of her and had to get in on the action. He was a jealous and greedy baby.



Andy also genuinely liked tooties. Andy was more discriminate in his tastes than Abby, but Andy liked quite a bit of human food. The problem Andy faced was his fear of cooking. He hated the noises generated while I prepped and cooked. Andy also did not like the focus and intensity on my face. It made him scared.



Eventually, Andy put those fears aside and would ease his way into the kitchen when I was cooking. He knew he would get a tooty if he came into the kitchen. He also knew that if he did not go, he would not get anything and Abby would get it all.

I'm 1/3rd of Lawyer Now!

I recently received my grades and am in good academic standing. Onward to 2L!

What does it mean to be 1/3rd of a lawyer? It doesn't really have much use or meaning. Being 1/3 of a lawyer has as much use and meaning as a bridge that extends only halfway across a river.

Andy's Drinking Problem

Soon after Andy moved in condo, I found out how much water he drinks. He drank so much that I was worried he had diabetes or something. Fortunately, he never had diabetes. Unfortunately, his compulsion was all mental. There wasn’t a damned thing I could about it.




Every time he passed by the water bowl, he had to take a drink. Often, he would not stop until the water was all gone. If he was still thirsty, he would go drink out of the toilet. This bad habit gave me strong incentive to clean my bathrooms.



If the water bowl was empty, Andy occasionally pitched a baby-boy fit. He would nudge the bowl against the wall. Sometimes he would lift one end of the bowl and let it abrubtly drop. It sounded like a bell ringing. Andy would then glare over at me like “Yo, do something.”



I wanted to quantify the amount Andy drank when I set up an experiment. I measured a half-gallon of water in a bowl and let him drink. It took him less than an hour to finish it. About an hour later, he had to hurry out. He had to go so badly that his legs were trembling. It took him a couple of minutes to empty his bladder.



When the vet asked why I did that, I responded that when he wanted to know how much Andy drank, I wanted to be able to give him some objective data. I didn’t want to simply say to him “He drinks a lot and all the time.”



Andy had nothing physiologically wrong with him.