Baby rabbits…

aka What I get when I ask my friends for blog ideas LOL

I wasn’t going to broach this subject because I don’t have pet rabbits and have never had them. The closest I’ve got is owning two guinea pigs and watching the wild bunny in my parents’ backyard. Oh and that traumatic time a neighbourhood child killed a bunny in front of most of the kids on the street, but I’ll skip that experience.

There are, however, two serious issues that have to do with bunnies so I decided to run with them. The first one, for people who are actually having warm weather, are bunny nests. Some bunnies build burrows underground but their slightly less savvy cousins simply dig a bowl shape into the ground and cover their babies with pulled grass. So, if you’re mowing your lawn and see a patch of grass that’s brown and messy, don’t just assume it’s from dog urine. There could be babies under there.

 

The second issue has to do with Easter. I get it, baby bunnies are seriously cute with their soft fur and little twitchy noses. And Easter practically revolves around baby bunnies and chicks.

I’m not going to stop you from getting a bunny but please be aware of their down side. Bunnies are very timid creatures who can have a heart attack simply with the shock of a sudden loud noise. While children are pretty much noise in a people suit.

They need to have plenty of space and time to roam around outside their cage. The bunnies, not children, although I’m sure there’s many days parents wish children had a crate option. They also love to chew, especially on wires and cords. And, while some can be litter trained, many cannot and they poop about a hundred or more times a day. Something I never thought I’d google. And you thought you were sweeping and vacuuming a lot already.

They need timothy hay to eat alongside their food and I can tell you as the former owner of two guinea pigs, hay gets everywhere. Plus rabbits are very fragile. You can break their back easily with a low fall. Kids aren’t known for their coordination, especially if they’re holding something wiggly.

If you want a pet rabbit, by all means do your research and get one. Making sure it’s kept safe if there are children involved. If you’re buying one for your children it would be better for everyone’s sake to buy each of them a stuffed bunny. Because nothing makes Easter suck more than having one of your kids accidentally kill their new pet.

And there you go Charlotte and Maria, a post for you 🙂

Life… and all that stuff…

Jeremy’s off visiting zir sister Emma for the day, leaving the apartment quiet… almost overwhelmingly so. Jeremy is not a quiet person. Zie putters all day, long building elaborate water systems for zir plants, upgrading zir computer, and rebuilding zir remote control cars.

plant watering system

This is only half of zir plant watering system.

Jeremy is not quiet during any of this. Zie either has zir music on, a video, or both and zie talks to zirself the whole time. Zie answers zirself too… holding complete conversations. The only time there’s silence is when zie puts on headphones, at least until zie laughs.

I’ve made the most of my quiet day. So far I’ve taken a nap, made myself chocolate pudding, and done some scrapbooking; including a layout of one of my favourite pictures of Jeremy. It’s a selfie zie took last September at the beach.

Colin

And now I’m finally settling down to write before zie gets home. I’ve been meaning to write here for a while but life got hectic. The biggest change is my job; I transferred to a closer location. This is amazing for us because the store is a five minute walk from home instead of an hour long bus ride. At the same time, it’s a huge change for me.

I don’t handle change well *huge understatement*. I left a store where I’d worked for six years. I knew the rules, the location of everything, and all the people. I had coworkers who would hug me as soon as I got to work and coworkers who waved and said “bye” when I left. I knew most of our regulars (and we had regulars that treated the store like their second home).

I’ve lived here for three years and had previously been in the new store four times. Once to drop off a resume, once to pick up tickets to Canada’s Wonderland, and twice to order food. I was so not a regular. I didn’t know a single person who worked there either. I spent just over a week fretting that I made the worst decision of my life. Then I went to leave work one afternoon and several of my coworkers smiled and said “bye” while my supervisor looked sad and said, “you’re leaving already?”. I think it’ll be okay.

The part that’s better than okay is Jeremy. This job means that I wake up at the time I previously had to leave and am home before I used to get on my first bus back. Jeremy sees me for almost two additional hours a day and knows, if zie’s really lonely, zie can meet me at work. Zir mood has perked up dramatically. Zir sleeping is still horrible but a pleasant mood makes up for a lot!

I’m moving forward in other ways too. I got my passport and bought a plane ticket so I can visit L in 201 more days (and 1 hour and 30 minutes)!!! Plus I’ve filed for a divorce from my emotionally abusive ex-husband. As expected, he did not take this well. Since Jeremy is the one who served him, zie got stuck listening to him rant about how much he hates me and how he wants to buy me a one way ticket to London.

Jeremy rolled zir eyes when zie told me this. “I don’t think Dad understands how immigration works,” zie said dryly.

My ex called a short time later wanting to know how he can file a counter claim… for a simple divorce. We’ve been separated for fifteen years, I have no idea what he could want to counter claim about. Child support has long been hashed out and he’s 15 years behind in that. Custody has been dealt with as well. Besides, Jeremy’s almost nineteen years old, I’m reasonably sure any judge would laugh in his face if he wants to renegotiate custody.

Then the call moved back to Jeremy.

“He’s my son!” my ex retorted.

That’s when I lost it.

“Zie is not your son!” I snapped back. “Zie is your teen.”

“What?” his tone was both angry and confused, not a good combination with him. But it was too late to back down now even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t.

“Jeremy isn’t male so zie isn’t your son. And zie doesn’t use he or him for pronouns.”

“Jeremy has never told me this,” my ex replied haughtily. “Until he tells me himself that he doesn’t want me to call him my son, I’m going to continue to use male pronouns.”

That was it. I held the phone out to Jeremy, who’d been sitting beside me the whole time.

“What pronouns do you want your Dad to use?” I asked. I’d expected a quiet zie and zir.

“I am not male!” Jeremy said forcefully. “I don’t want to be called he and him. I want you to use zie and zir.”

I put the phone back against my ear. “Did you hear zir?”

I’ve never heard anyone splutter before but that’s definitely what he was doing. “That doesn’t count! It doesn’t count until I feel like asking him what pronouns he wants me to use. Until then I’m going to keep on using he and him.”

If you ever wanted to know what Jeremy’s father is like, this conversation sums him up completely. Along with the fact that he’s been arguing with Jeremy for weeks now, telling zir that we need to carpet bomb the entire Middle East. That “we” is presumably North America and not the two of them, but with my ex it’s hard to tell. The good thing is, he has nothing more flammable than his own flatulence and a cigarette lighter. Jeremy keeps trying to explain to him that there are millions of innocent people there but zir Dad isn’t overly concerned about things like morality and ethics. Unsurprisingly Jeremy has been cutting zir visits short and they weren’t exactly long to begin with.

With any luck, in another month I can start planning my divorce party. I’ll post pictures of the cake once it’s made.

I should have some sort of conclusion to put here but we’ve got thunderstorms rolling in and I just took a couple of Advil so you’ll have to settle for “The End” and a picture of Jeremy posing with zir Easter dinner.

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Happy spring!

The End!

Happy Easter!

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I think Jeremy might be the only 16 year old who asked for a pizza slicer for Easter. Not just any pizza slicer, as you can see, but one that came with an attached pizza slice lifter.

Jeremy divides the year into holidays, planning half a year for Christmas and half a year for his birthday, with Halloween and Easter spread in between for smaller treats. He’s had his birthday planned since the middle of January and we still have two months to go until the actual day. The pizza cutter was deemed too small to be a birthday gift and he started begging for it as an Easter gift back in February. He also asked for a solid milk chocolate initial because apparently you can’t have a holiday without one. This would be the white box, which I turned around. Just pretend it’s a letter J.

We spent Easter with my family and the day went very well. My Dad doesn’t like Jeremy’s hair but thankfully said very little about it. Meanwhile Jeremy hung out with his cousins and took them on a bike ride to the park. Then he stuffed himself on burgers, ice cream, and way too much chocolate. It was a good day.