"There's been an accident in the pool"

You know how sometimes you go to the pool and hope not to get a lot of attention because, say, you've just come from an all-you-can-eat brunch (and brunch was after a spin class where even the instructor said afterwards, "Wow. That was really hard!" so you ate everything, twice)? And then something happens and you have ALL the attention? Yeah... That happened yesterday.

I love the pool. I love swimming. I love sunning. I love reading and listening to music. I love trying to pretend all those kids at the pool aren't there by sipping cocktails and blasting Taylor Swift in my earbuds.

Then, the sun goes behind the adjacent building, and it's my cue to get in the water. I throw off my headphones and sunglasses and slip into the pool trying hard not to make a splash or otherwise draw a whole lot of notice to myself. (Right?? The one time I'm not trying to be center of attention! If there is ever a time I'm trying not to be noticed, it's in a bathing suit after stuffing my face, that's for sure.)

Huh. I'm the only person in the water. All the families must be packing up to head home. All at once.

Then I hear a child's alarm, "Uh oh!!! There's someone in the pool!"

What?!?

All eyes are on me. All of them. Every eye. All over my brunch-inflated, whale-sized floatation. Then, they're all talking to me; well, the ones who aren't staring, mouths agape at what I've done or the bitchy, gay couple that's in a fit of giggles are talking.

"Miss, miss? There's been an accident in the pool. We're not swimming right now."

Always apropos, I say, "Oh shit!!!" and jump out.

Then I get the story.

How did I miss a kid POOPING in the pool, miss everyone else noticing it and extricating themselves and their 100 kids each from the water and then sitting around chatting about the proper way to handle POOP in the POOL?!??!?!

Something to think about, I suppose, as I spend the next 4 days in the shower.

Dr. Jenny and the phone consultations

You know I'm a hypochondriac. (Ok, and all of these.) Fortunately for me, my mom's a nurse. And, my brother's an EMT. And, my dad was the medical guy on his Green Beret and Delta Force teams. So, I'm covered when I freak out about my latest perceived, terrible illnesses and impending death.

My sister has recently become a veterinarian. And, what do you know?! I am a first-time dog owner!! Hooray for the (actually not at all accidental on my account) serendipity!

As you can imagine, taking care of myself is tough work, but taking care of someone else too?! DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE! I don't know how parents of human babies do it! So many terrible, awful, horrific things could happen to my baby pup!! And, you just never know when they might occur. The whole world is a death monster, conspiring to get the little love of my life!

So, naturally, I have my sister on speed dial. Here are a few of the phone calls and FaceTimes--you know, if there is something I'm pretty sure she should examine--I've made to Dr. Jenny.

Jen!! The breeder said to take Lolly's collar off him when he goes to bed in his crate because he could strangle himself. I JUST LEFT HIM AT HOME ALONE WITH HIS CRATE OPEN!!!! Is he going to strangle himself?!?!?!!?

Jen! Lolly's poop is weird!!

Jen! Lolly's poop is weird but in a different way than before!

Jen! Check out this picture of Lolly's crazy weird poop! Is it supposed to look like that?!?!

Oh my gosh, Jen! Lolly's poop!!!
[The poop call happens a lot. Jenny said to me one time, "Why are owners so obsessed with their dogs' poop?! When I told her that everything you read about puppy wellness says that changes in their poop are first indicators of something being wrong, she said, "Kern*, how different does your poop look from time to time? Do you call your doctor every time it's different??" I mean, I might, if I were related to my doctor...]

Jen!!!! Lolly's making this crazy throat sound! DO YOU THINK HE CAN'T BREATH?!?!?!?! It almost sounds like he's got something in his throat--OR LIKE HIS THROAT IS CLOSING UP!!!! Oh, so you think he's just clearing his throat. So, that happens to dogs too, huh?

Jen! Jen!!!! Lolly's got weird goopy eyes! It's so gross!!! Here, let me send you a picture! DO YOU THINK HE'S BEING ATTACKED BY A MEMBRANE-DEVOURING BACTERIA?!?!?!!? Yes, there is pollen all over the ground. So, allergies you think, huh? Huh. What?! Give him Zyrtec?! Like I take?!?! That doesn't sound right... You're sure? Really sure?? Really, really sure dogs can take my human medicine?!?!
[Dr. Jenny actually said, "Poodles are known to be prone to allergies. You know, because they themselves are hypoallergenic! Har har." But, really.]

HOW DO YOU DO THE PUPPY HEIMLICH?!?!?! Is there such a thing?!?!?!?! Well, no, he's not choking right now, I'm just wondering in case he does choke one day. Reach into his throat and pull out the object he's choking on?! You can do that?!?!

Jen! Lolly is eating a whole tennis ball!!! Like, eating it, not just destroying it like he normally does. Is that going to get stuck in his stomach or in his throat?? DO I NEED TO DO THE PUPPY HEIMLICH?!?! Or, will it just come out in his poop?
[LOTS of poop questions when you have a puppy.]

How do I know if Lolly's cold, Jen? Do you think he needs one of those puppy coats? Of course, I have a rain coat for him, but does he need a winter coat?? That's true, he does have A LOT of fur...

Jen, Lolly is sniffing another dog's poop. Is he going to get sick from that?!

Jen!! Lolly's balls are HUGE!!!! Like so, so, so huge!!! Are they supposed to be that big?!?! I mean really, they're enormous for such a little pup. Look! Look, Jen!! Look at how enormous Lolly's balls are!! No, really! LOOK AT THEM! C'mon, Jen! Just look at them! I mean, one day they were just tiny, little, pea-sized balls, and now they are MONSTROUS!!! I'm pretty sure he's got whatever that disease is that inflames testicles. ...Huh. So, that's boy puberty?
[When Dr. Jenny neutered Lolly, I tried to get her to acknowledge again, in person this time, that Lolly had remarkably large testicles. She refused. But, when the vet tech prepped him for surgery--I got to watch the whole surgery and prep as a perk of being the vet's sister--the tech exclaimed, "Whoa! Now, those are some sizable gnards!" Vindication.]

Hey, Jen. How's it going? Having a good day? So, Lolly got into my bag and ate half a 12-hour Sudafed. Is that a big deal? WAIT!!! WHAT?!?!?! THAT'S A BIG DEAL?!?!?!?!?! IT COULD KILL HIM?!?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I DO?!?! WHAT DO I DO?!?!?! No, I don't have ipecac syrup or activated charcoal!! Oh, hydrogen peroxide will make him throw up too? I don't have that either!! NEIGHBORS!!!!! NEIGHBORS!!! HELP!!!!!! OH MY GOSH!!! LOLLY NEEDS IMMEDIATE AID!!!!!!!!!!!
[And, then I spent the next hour watching Lolly throw up and picking bits of Sudafed tablet out of the puke to piece back together to make sure we got it all. THANK GOODNESS for kind, close neighbors!]

This was our "I'm so glad you're ok" and "Glad Jenny did that whole vet school thing" shot

I'm so fortunate that Jenny became a vet. Could you image me doing this whole "parenting" thing without a safety net?! Thank goodness for pet insurance for frequent vet visits, right?!?!




*- A nickname attributed to me by my dear, sweet sister in high school because I was, at the time, quite a happily without a nickname. And, naturally, since I hated it, it has stuck for all these twenty-fygwmumbleskhe years. It's actually short for Kernwaller** because, sure.

**-Note from aforementioned sister: "Kern" is actually short for Kernwaller, Shot Caller," which should add further clarity. 

Strategic Mating

I have a beautiful friend named Daisy*. While Daisy has the loveliest blonde hair, blue eyes and peaches and cream complexion, she does acknowledge the limitations of her complexion.

If we’re outside, she’s found the tiniest sliver of shade and is huddled under it in a contorted position that ensures maximum shady coverage of her body. She’ll say she can think about the sunshine and get sunburned. I’ve been to the pool with her before, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t until after 5:00pm. She’d call her coloring “translucent.” I’ve known her to even dye her eyebrows because otherwise they’re seemingly nonexistent. (Sorry, Daisy! I couldn’t resist putting that in—you know, really paint the picture!) It all works very well together, though, and Daisy really is dazzling.

Always the strategic-minded planner, Daisy approached dating with a purpose. She knew one day she’d want kids, and she didn’t want her progeny and light of her life to be so, well, light. If children are built in the image of their parents, Daisy needed to hedge her kids’ bets. So, she set out to date dark. Give the kids a fighting chance!

In all my time of knowing Daisy, and it’s been a long time, she’s had relationships and casual dates, and none of them were Caucasian. She dated an Indian guy for a while, but even his delectably dark skin couldn’t make up for his simple mind and inability to pronounce V’s. (One time while they dated, he took a vacation to “Las Wegas.”) One Moroccan guy lasted quite a while, and Daisy reveled in his café au lait complexion. Unfortunately, some of his other characteristics ended up being catastrophic deal breakers, be damned their attractive baby potential!

As life has a way of working itself out, Daisy found the love of her life, perfect-for-her man. Wouldn’t you know, he’s a good looking guy with dark hair and creamy, ivory skin! And, she’s never been happier, and I’ve never been happier for her.

When Daisy got pregnant, we all held our breath for nine long months. Their daughter is precious! But, while she does have beautiful, dark hair, I fear there’s little hope in that little one ever tanning!

It just goes to show you, as so many things do, you can spend your whole life planning, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and there’s no way around that! Inevitably, one often ends up marrying someone unlike anyone she’s ever dated before. Therefore, I’ve started keeping my own eye out for cute guys with arms full of tattoos! I’ll let you know how that works out.


*Name changed to protect the innocent, and guilty.

Babies. Yikes!

I was fortunate enough to spend the weekend with one of my best friends from college, her husband and their precious little 14-or-so month old (from what I understand, that’s how people count kids’ ages, by month, until they’re—I don’t know—teenagers?). I love my time with one of my favorite, little families and seeing the remarkable growth the little one makes between each trip. I spent this weekend largely monopolized by trying to teach her to say my name, “Biz!!” with jazz hands! Classic KB. And utterly unsuccessful.

I’ve said since I was 5 years old (or 60 months) that I wasn’t going to have any kids. In fact, my sister and I have told my mom on many occasions that it’s a good thing she’s a labor and delivery nurse because that’s her best shot at spending quality time with babies. However, with many of my friends popping out little bundles of love, I’ve gotten in some quality baby time, and it doesn’t seem so scary. Maybe I could even do it! Well, wait. Let me rephrase that. It didn’t seem so scary.

All weekend, my friends' kid was the essence of adorable. Really, she is among the cutest kids I’ve ever met. She just learned how to say “thank you” (and she can’t pop out a “Biz”!?), so any time she gave any of us anything—her toys, hugs, precious kisses, her lunch, our cell phones that had previously been hidden—she would say, “thank you!” in the cutest little voice I’ve ever heard. (She also did it more appropriately when we’d give her things, but that wasn’t as funny.) We went to get ice cream, she chased around a poodle in such a state of toddler glee, and I almost melted!

And then it all came crashing down. While we were finishing up a gorgeously scenic cliff walk in Newport, RI, and waiting for Dad to go get the car, the tot went into full-on meltdown mode. I’ve never seen anything like it! It was behavior like I had previously thought one sees only on TV or in movies. My friend, and the kid’s mom, also said she had never seen anything like it, but I have a strong feeling parents outright lie to the childless. It can be the only explanation for humanity’s continued procreation.

The previously baby-food-commercial-worthy adorable toddler was thrashing around on the ground emitting screams that could have justified an exorcism. We’d try and pick her up, and she’d plant her feet on our bodies and push her entire weight against our arms trying to free herself from such unjustified repression. Dad finally showed up with the car, and the screaming continued. On our way out of town, the ear-splitting screaming continued. I helpfully pointed out buildings I thought might be orphanages or at least day cares, but there were no takers. Almost, but not quite.

Half an hour into the hour-long ride, she abruptly stopped crying and started singing and joyfully cooing. What?!?! Excuse me?! That’s it? It just stops?? No explanation, no apology, just suddenly a complete transformation?! I couldn’t help it, but I found myself angry that her crazy, unexplained outburst could so easily be forgotten in that little mind!

She did go on to win me back. How could anyone be anything but completely in love with that tiny strawberry-blonde head and kissable cheeks?! I mean, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’m back firmly in the “this womb will bear no fruit” camp. Being a mom is a LOT of work! Sure, it seems rewarding, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Of course, one “Biz” and a jazz hand or two, and I could, maybe, be back on the fence!