Tag Archives: Guinea pigs

An Update on Soccer (and other things)


At least four people have asked me how The Nibbit did at soccer this week. (That’s really true. I’m not just writing that as a fake way to introduce this post.) And as I started to write a Soccer Update, I thought you might like an update on some of the other things I’ve discussed this past year.

I debated waiting until December to do this as a nice end-of-the-year round-up, but I have never been one for delayed gratification. So you’re getting it now.

  • The Nibbit had a MUCH better experience at soccer this week. Amanda brought him (at his request), armed with a post-soccer snack and lots of encouragement. He still didn’t love all the drills – he’s particularly unfond (is that a word? it should be) of the jumping in and out of the rope ladder thingy. But we’ve got progress! He played in the mini-game and scored two goals. I think all the positive feedback he received for that should carry him through next week as well. Feed the ego… that’s my strategy.
  • Ben Folds was great. I did NOT receive 30 comments on that post, so there will be no scrunchie photos for you but TRUST ME, I rocked it.
  • Bic has NOT contacted me about becoming the next National Spokesperson for their “Pens for Her” line. WTF? Not even one Goddamn free sample?
  • Squeaky and Pip are doing well THRIVING and The Loud One still loves them. They are still terrified of us. (Wait, maybe they’re not thriving. Well, they’re growing really fast.) Anybody have any idea when they’ll warm up and leap into her arms? I’m afraid she’ll lose interest in them if they don’t start really liking her back soon.
    • We had to bring them to the vet to get their nails trimmed this week because my attempt to do it myself was, um, shall we say UNSUCCESSFUL. Two pet pedicures (yes! they are really called that!) and $40 later, we can hold Squeaky and Pip without looking like we got into a catfight with a drunk girl.
    • Here’s what I’ve learned about guinea pigs: they POOP A LOT. That is all.
  • Despite what you may be thinking, I have not been fired from the EW.com gig (I don’t think). I’ve written a bunch of columns, but they just haven’t been posted yet. I’m not sure that’s a good sign, but I’ll let you know if/when I get the “this just isn’t working out the way we hoped it would” speech.
  • I’m thrilled to say that I’ve noticed less “Just waits… ” happening around me. I don’t dare think my blog has any kind of influence, so I’m going to call it a happy coincidence and just be glad. If you are someone who has decreased your own usage of “Just waits,” WELL DONE!
  • My bag is still a disaster. A quick list of what’s in there right now: Peppermint hand sanitizer; two pairs of dirty kids’ socks from God knows when; an Epi-pen (I’ve finally decided to be more responsible about my kids’ allergies); one Matchbox car; three packs of gum; three gum wrappers; one straw; one used tissue (I’m pretty sure that used tissue makes me an OFFICIAL member of the Mom’s Club, right? That and the gum and the Matchbox car?); one packet of Teddy Grahams; one chip clip (in case we don’t finish the snack-size packet of Teddy Grahams?); a billion receipts from outlet shopping earlier in the week; one old grocery list; one Back to School Night program; all the same lollipops; markers and animal figures that were there last time and a tube of Tylenol. Oh and one giant Tupperware on top.
  • The Loud One isn’t writing as many books as she used to. I am REALLY, REALLY SAD about this. But she is reading a lot more so that’s a fair exchange. And guess what else she still loves? PRETENDING SHE’S A PUPPY. Seems that might never get old. Awesome.
  • I have not gotten a publishing offer for my book about pregnancy yet. I’m not sure why. I feel like women need to know the truth even if it is extraordinarily depressing. Am I wrong?

And I still really, really HATE cancer.


You have to carry this around in case your awesome friend offers to make you soup. Duh.


New Pets… & S’mores


I’d like you to meet Squeaky & Pip.

These are the two new creatures guinea pigs that live in our house. The Loud One turned six yesterday and for the first time, our household has a non-fish pet. Actually, two pets.

Yes, we got two. Because as I reminded my sister-in-law, my motto has always been, “Go big or go home.”

Side note: This is a lie. That has never been my motto. I’m more of a “Half-ass it or just stay home in the first place. Why bother going at all?” kind of girl.

Before I forget, I want to thank you for all of your pet-related advice; I really appreciated all of the suggestions you guys sent. (Except for you people who said, “CAT.” Your suggestions were not appreciated.)

We decided on guinea pigs for a few reasons:

  • They’re supposedly very social and love people (although ours are stilled scared shitless all of the time, so we cannot confirm this yet)
  • They’re less smelly than other creatures pets
  • Maintenance is fairly simple and the Loud One can do a lot of it herself (she is actually very excited about using the beach shovel to scoop out the poop, so who am I to stand in her way?)
  • They are big enough to not look like a mouse (like for example, say, hamsters, which I do not like. At all.) and don’t have long, creepy tails like rats.

I will admit, they are a little bit cute.

So, we assembled the cage and got the whole presentation ready in the basement for when she woke up yesterday on her birthday.

I would love to tell you that when she came down the stairs and saw the cage (the animals were hiding out under their igloo home), she started squealing with delight and jumping up and down, but that would be a lie.

As she walked in, KJ said, “We want to introduce you to some new friends.”

She looked at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed (is that called slack-jawed? I think she was that), walked over to the cage and then just stared.

KJ said, “Happy Birthday Loud One! (Editor note: he actually used her real name here. Although we have started calling her Loud One at home. There has never, in the history of nicknames, been a more deserving nickname. And anyone that was at her birthday party yesterday would back me up on that.) These are your new friends… they’re guinea pigs!”

And she just stared with a strange sort of half-smile on her face and then said, “Thank you.”

I’m sorry, what?

Thank you??

I’m not sure if she was just in shock, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t thinking, “HEY kid! I just brought two rodents creatures into my house for you… you better start jumping for joy… NOW.”

Rest assured, she warmed up. As soon as the camera was switched off (and we told her they could live in her room), she leapt into my arms and yelled, “I LOVE THEM!”

And sure enough, she has hardly left the side of the cage since, excepting for the few hours she was outside for her faux-camping party.***

We’ve had to remind her A LOT that no, Squeaky and Pip are not ready for her to grab them and hold them in her lap and hug and kiss them because they just got ripped from the only home they’ve ever known and a young girl named “THE LOUD ONE” has been screaming at them for the past 12 hours –

HI! I LOVE YOU! I’M YOUR NEW OWNER! (Please, don’t let this be true.) YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE IN MY ROOM! DO YOU WANT A TREAT? (From you, crazy lady? No thanks.) YOU CAN TRUST ME! I LOVE YOU! DO YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME? (Um, we’re not parrots) I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU, I PROMISE! (Except maybe our ears). I LOVE YOU! MY NAME IS LOUD ONE (Yup, that seems about right). THESE ARE MY BROTHERS… BUT YOU BELONG TO JUST ME. NOT THEM. JUST ME. (Do we have any say in this… that little one seems much quieter.) I’M JUST GOING TO PLAY PUPPY FOR A FEW MINUTES AND I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. (No rush!)

But she does come right back. Every time. She comes back every five minutes to check on them. Spoiler alert: they’re still terrified. But they did come out and eat a little, so there’s hope. I’ve assured her that they’ll be jumping into her hands any day now. (Fingers crossed we didn’t get emotionally damaged or naturally shy guinea pigs because she will NOT be entirely happy until they are whistling a tune on her shoulder.)

All joking aside, this animal-loving daughter of mine DOES love these creatures pets more than anything, except maybe Happy Dude. (But definitely more than the Nibbit.)


I think her new little pets, plus having S’mores instead of birthday cake, made her 6th a birthday to remember.

She loves these guys (well, they’re girls, but whatever)… even though she keeps calling them hamsters.

Who needs cake?

***This is what a faux-camping party looks like when THIS PERSON doesn’t plan it. For the record, none of this was my idea. Thank you, Pinterest.