I love my parents. I do. They are two of the greatest human beings alive; they love me and put up with me even though sometimes I am a uber crappy daughter. In fact, one of my biggest ambitions is to become my mother one day. They are kind and caring and generous and thoughtful and go above and beyond in every way to make sure lil sister and I are taken care of, while at the same time instilling us with a sense of responsibility and preparing us for the Big World Out There, blah blah blah. Basically, they done good.
But.
There is just one, (teensy weensy,) ever-so-twee little thing about them that drives Sis and I just a little bonkers. You see, my mama took it a little hard when her baby girls done grew up and flew the coop. Empty Nest Syndrome like WHOA. And so, even though we’ve always been a family of Cat People (or low-maitenance people, either way), that wasn’t going to be good enough this time around… she wanted something more than a regal, snooty creature who deigned to let you scratch its fuzzy butt and scoop its poop. She wanted an animal that would worship her and cling to her and NEED her and fill the gaping hole in her Broken Mommy Heart. She wanted a dog.
My father was, at first, vehemently opposed, but let’s face it, I inherited my “strong will” (read: intense desire to always get my way) from somewhere, and she eventually wore him down. He insisted on something small, (presumably so he could ignore it), and my mother insisted on something cute. They found this.
They were, understandably, smitten from the get go. He was the runt of the litter, which meant that this pipsqueak of a “dog” would never grow to more than 3 pounds. See?
And, um, they named him Stewart. As in Stewart Little. (I’ll pause for a second to let you gag. No, really, it’s okay. Get it all out.) Moving on, then.
So, yes, they were madly, disgustingly, pathetically in love with little “Stoo-wie”. This is the soundtrack of my mother around him: Awwww whatsa schnooky booky cutsey wutsey wanna LOVE that face! A booley booley booley boo. A booley booley booley boo! You WUV your mommy DON’T you!!!
And there are, of course, outfits:
I only wish I could find the one of him wearing reindeer antlers and a Santa hat. Cause it happened.
The worst part is, although my father was actually against getting any more critters, especially a dog… he’s actually ten times worse than my mother now. I call him on my walk to work every day, and the first 15 minutes are spent listening to my 51 year old father talk in a baby voice about how “Stoo-wart needs a baff” and “Stoo-wart’s scaw-red cause Mommy’s weaving for work and he doesn’t WIKE it” and “Stoo-wart doesn’t like the snow because it’s too small for his widdle wegs!”. I am not making this up, people. It is truly vomitous. Here’s what he gchatted me when I told him I could still walk to my new job:
Dad: can you still walk to work?
LiLu: yup, it’s a half hour
Dad: Stewart says ‘way to go! pip-pip-purray!!’
There are no words.
When my father took a new job last year, he actually finagled a way that he could work at home three days a week because “Stoo-wart couldn’t be home a-wone for that wong!” No, of course not. Not with that little pea-sized bladder.
When B came to MEET THE PARENTS!!! for the first time last summer, he was understandably nervous about meeting my father. As an boy is wont to be, I suppose, when the elephant is the room is the fact that you’re banging his baby girl. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “They’ll have the puppy with them.” Which meant that my dad would be a pile of mush, and much too distracted to wonder what anyone’s INTENTIONS WITH HIS DAUGHTER WERE.
Sigh. I guess I can’t be too annoyed… not with this wee face, after all.
But the next time my dad starts up with the baby talk? I’m sending him a new pair of cajones in the mail.
{ 51 comments }
Oh my God. I should not have read this at work. I was biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud and I think I punctured it. Ewww.
Oh for the love of all things holy, this is the reason I am a big dog person.
My little boy is a 98 pound English Bulldog/German Shepard mix and I too am guilty of your dads behavior. I will even carry him around. The reason behind this non-sense is that animals will never judge…
Good lord! I completely understand. My dad got my mom a little dog, Nelly Jo, as well when we all left mom. Now that damn dog receives better treatment. We’re certain Mom’s going to leave her estate to the dog. (Here’s how…http://www.vet.ksu.edu/depts/development/perpet/index.htm)
Having met your mom, I know she is lovely. I am sure your dad is too…but yeah. This is a bit much. Dogs are not people.
The dog’s cute, no doubt about that. But your dad has no excuse for his behavior. You should mail him a set of those bull balls people hang off the trailer hitch of their truck.
Racquel Valencia: Ha- I try not to sip my coffee when I’m reading blogs. It’s a hazard.
66: I know. I KNOW.
justjp: At least that’s a work out. I can pick Stewart up with my pinky.
Miss Scorpio: Oh my lord. I understand the Empty Nest thing, but there is a LIMIT, mothers!
Lemmonex: I can’t believe she didn’t bring him with him when she came. Then you would have gotten to meet him in her Stewart-carrying purse.
Foggy: I’m not sure how those would look on his Saab, but it’s almost to that point.
I am so guilty of every single thing mentioned in this post. Luckily my dogs think I’m just as stupid when I do it as human witnesses do.
Traitors…
Excuse me while I go out and buy myself a puppy now because those pictures just made me a pile of mush.
I can concede that Stewart is adorable, but my mom always taught me that if it’s smaller than a beagle, it’s not a real dog. (I’ve come to learn there are exceptions.)
And if my dad started talking in baby talk…I’d probably schedule a doctor’s appointment for him. I’d be worried.
lol That’s like my husband and our dogs. It’s obscene. He cradles them and talks to them and if he could, he would definitely work partially from home to be with them.
I’m just happy that he’s like this with dogs and not babies, for my sake.
He looks like a mini-Chewbacca!
Which is pretty cool.
Ha. You know that’s all I’m getting from people interested in adopting the “pit-bull-turned-chihuahuha” puppy, right? Oh yeah. It’s like people’s minds go out the window around little dogs. I think the widespread instant regression to the vocabulary of a child is partly why I don’t deal with toy breeds. Heh, plus the whole *shiver, shiver, yap, yap, oh wait let me forget I’m housebroken* gig…that, too.
Stewart is cute, though I did have a long-haired guinea pig once who looked suspiciously like him.
Ben: I forgive you. Your hot dogs are ADORABLE.
Marie: Not you too! He is pretty darn cute though… I prefer more wrinkles, myself.
Liebchen: He was always kind of a softie, but this is going too far.
Kyla Bea: No babies!
surviving myself: And our old dog looked like an Ewok (lhasa). Hmmmm…
inkpuddle: Right. I hate baby talk for BABIES, nevermind a dog!
I cant talk baby talk to anyone without feeling like an idiot. i try but it doesnt work with animals, they just stare at me weird
This could happen to any of us, I suppose, but if there’s one thing I hope to hold firm to as I age, it’s my disdain for things that require care, attention, and demeaning baby talk.
I’m not convinced dogs that can fit in purses once they reach maturity are actually dogs.
Don’t forget to dress his new cajones in little booties.
“Well aren’t they cute? Well they sure are! Yes they are cute wittle cajones!”
I just threw up a little bit realizing I was talking about your fathers balls wearing clothing.
Does your dad do that with your mom in bed?
I just made this awkward.
Chele: Agreed. If I ever have babies, I will definitely talk to them like they’re normal people.
pistols at dawn: HA! That little thing is UNbelievably needy, too. No thank you.
f.B: Agreed, 100%.
moooooog35: “Cute wittle cajones” should be a martini, don’t you think?
rs27: Between you and mooooog, I am REALLY not looking forward to my trip home in a few weeks.
Stewart is wicked cute, but what the hell is he wearing in that picture on the left? And is he winking at the camera?
We had three little yorkies when I was growing up and I think they take away your right to own one if you don’t have the outfits.
Mine had a sailor suit.
You pretty much just summed up my parents existence now that we’re gone too…except it’s miniature poodles. I hate them. This one time my dad was driving my mom’s convertable, with the top down, with a poodle on his lap…and got hit on by a gay man at the red light. He still hasn’t learned his lesson.
But anyways, the unPOPPED popcorn = “old maids.” Let’s put it as the old man in my office said it “in the olden days old maids were not just women who haven’t gotten married or had children…they had also never had sex…so there you-know-whats had never been…do I need to go on?” Ya a 60-70 something year old man talked to me about cherries being popped…or should I say NOT being popped.
PS. I love your blog. You definitly just got a new fan. I will be back.
I cannot judge because I do the same thing to my dog. But Frank (aka Frank the Tank, Fwanksta the Gangsta, Frankums) is just so damn cute. It’s not my fault I found the best rescue dog EVER!!!
Stewart est très adorable!
Kate: He’s winking at YOU, mama!
Kristen: A sailor suit?? That’s hardcore. My parents did a pumpkin last Halloween.
Jen R: Aw, thanks! That’s good to hear. And if my dad owned a miniature poodle, I would be unable to restrain from mocking him. LOL about the unPOPPED “Old Maids”!
PLT: He is pretty darn cute. I had a cat named Frank the Tank… we thought he was going to be huge when he was a kitten, but then he was normal sized, and it wasn’t funny or ironical at all. Le sigh.
Honey makes men cry tears of joy.
That is one cute dog.
I have been trying to get beau to let me have a dog for months. My powers of persuasion are a little rusty apparently. I know he would be the same way as your father if he would just give in.
Can I just say how cute it is that your parents have found a new love? It IS cute. Right? Vomitous, but cute.
(1) Somebody sounds…jeaaaalous.
(2) The fact that your father gchats you up makes me feel like less of a dweeb for being stalked by my mother on Facebook.
Stewart is a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e!!
And your Dad sounds pretty cool, btw!!!
rothko: I’d take a Honey in a SECOND.
Deutlich: He is, if you can call it a dog.
Oxen Cox: Just come home with a puppy. There’s no WAY he’ll be able to resist!
Kate: Silver lining, I suppose. As long as they’re happy…
Fearless: 1) Shuttup. Okay, FINE. But you know we can’t have a dog in our twee apartment… you’ve seen it. 2) I’m friends with BOTH of them on FB. It’s sad.
Briana: He is painfully cute, I’ll give them that. But my dad is most decidedly UNcool.
Stewart is very cute and I can see why your parents melted…
Have they had a birthday party for Stewart with cake and balloons??? I’ve known people like that.
I think you should worry when you come to visit and there is no room for you or sis because they’ve given Stewart your room.
“i’ve since blocked him.”
you HAD to. you did the right thing.
Stuart needs to meet my Yorkie Sophia. They would be BFF, I just know it!
Okay. Stewart is just about the cutest dang dog I’ve ever laid eyes on!
But I think Dad needs a Labrador or some other MANLY dog, right? No one baby-talks to a Lab!
Oh, man. My dad embarrassed me in a multitude of ways, but I am so glad he never baby-talked about our dog.
I’m choking here from gagging and laughing so hard…..
AHAHAHAHA!!! That was HILARIOUS, and filled with cute puppy pictures. What more could anyone ask? You are great, Lilu
AH! A YORKIE!
He looks just like mine! I love them. Best breed. Especially if you like “clingy.”
I can hear it now – “Awww…wat aw your intentions with my wee lil dawter?”
I don’t do the whole baby talk thing. I’m too tough for that shit. I make Chewbacca noises at my cats instead.
I’m okay. Really.
I got nothing. I keep trying to think of something to say to that but it’s so outside my frame of reference. Then, again, my dad built a snowman this year.
I am totally dying of laughter over here. That little Stewie is too cute!
I like Stuart Little movies. That’s a good one you got there. I like the color. Thanks for dropping by my blog. =)
I do not like babytalk and despise people who babytalk to their human babies.. especially when they then wonder why the kids grow up needing years of speech therapy!
Saying that, dogs don’t speak English, so why not?! (sorry to be an enabler, but I’ve been known to lose control, despite my best intentions, and babytalk to my little cat. I cannot condemn.)
my parents are (okay, my entire family is) exactly the same way. we can’t help ourselves.
and if my dad knew how to work some sort of chat application, i’d award him a medal. he wasn’t sure how to fill in the info fields on his “newfangled face journal thing.”
LMB: Thank the baby jesus, no, they haven’t gone that far yet. My room’s already an office… lil sis should probably be worried, though!
brookem: I know. I feel bad sometimes, but then I get his cheesy emails of loldogs that look like Stewart, and I know I did the right thing.
notyourplainjane: Ha- they totally would be. If you do go little, I think yorkies are the way to go.
nothingfancy: A Lab- yes! Then B would be ALL ABOUT going to visit my fam.
Lisa: I know, right? It’s redonculous.
Jules: Don’t die on me! I need you!
Ruby: Cute puppy pictures never hurt, I always say.
Rachel: He is the clingiest little creature I’ve ever met. And that includes all my exes. Badum CHING!
Narm: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
BWP: I think it’s time for some more medicine.
Kristin: Building snowmen = sweet. Baby talking a 3 pound ferret = humiliating.
Cyndy: It’s a good thing, too.
witsandnuts: Likewise, I’m sure!
Connie: Ha- fair enough. I can’t argue with your logic.
CAVFC: My dad’s a software engineer, so he’s got a leg up on Gen X, I suppose. He’s even got his MOTHER chatting me, although it says “Gramma is typing” for 10 minutes and then she’ll say, “Hi!”
What is it about babies and tiny animals that reduce us to comlete idiots. UGH!
I. Can. Not. Breath. I. Am. Laughing. So. Damn. Hard.
Your dad sounds utterly adorable and that dog is the perfect anti-terrorism weapon. Send one to Bin Laden. We are sure to have world peace.
On a side note – cats a low maintenance? Could you please inform mine of that fact.
SMB: I don’t know… I really dont! But it’s vomitous.
emma: Well, I meant low-maintenance in that you don’t have to walk them and pick up their poo and they can be left alone for a couple days. Other than that, you are on your own, my dear!
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