Happy Birthday Baby (It’s me, Really, Your Mama)

Sep 25th, 2013

Oh how I’ve missed you dear reader.

You probably don’t recognize me, now that I’ve been stripped of my crown.  Now that I no longer hold the title and wear the proud sash  ‘Queen of Those Who Will Never Ever Allow Animals in this House.’

I’m not who you think I am.  Or maybe I’m not who I thought I was.

Either way I am breaking radio silence with a confession.

Frankly, it’s my behavior.  Erratic, unpredictable, and totally unprecedented; I don’t know who I am anymore.

Here’s the thing — We got a bunny.

As in a real live rabbit-like fritter (furry+critter = fritter) living INSIDE our home.  I’ll wait while needles scratch on the sound-tracks of life and those who know me well gasp for air in an aura of disbelief.

It’s true.  See?

That’s Pesto (the brown furry thing, not the kid.)

Surely it hasn’t been so long that you don’t recognize my birthday girl?  You know, the one who looks pretty darn happy most of the time but apparently, sigh, could be so much more so if she got a bunny for her birthday.

The one who spent the better part of the year writing persuasion papers on how bunny-ownership improves the quality of life.

The gal who swears that she will take full responsibility for caring and cleaning and whatever else goes along with this pet shebang. (Go ahead and smirk, you know who you are.)

The one with the smile that screams I HAVE THE BEST MOM IN THE WORLD but secretly is thinking, hey, who is this strange lady? She looks a little familiar and still has that weird thing for kale, but gone is that unending diatribe against pets.

I don’t know what happened to her and if you, dear friends, think it best to lock me up than I defer to your better judgement. (Another confession: I’ve taken to chatting up the fritter as I walk by on days where it’s just me and him, home alone, clearly insane.)

Leaving for a moment the unanswerable question of how we got here, I bet you’re wondering how a floppy-eared fluffy thing goes and gets himself named after an herbed Italian sauce?

Once upon a day last week, I was covered in basil and garlic and wondering how to make it into sauce.  This is what followed when I asked my daughter to read the list of ingredients from a googled recipe:

She:  Do you want it in a southern accent, or a British one?

Me:  Southern

She: Well, Bubba, that’s just the way I feel about pesto

Me: Um, huh?

She:  Well Bubba, that’s just the way I feel about pesto

And so it came to pass that

  1. My sauce did not taste very good.
  2. The bunny got named Pesto.
  3. Our family has a new framed motto that hangs  above the kitchen table:

8 Comments on “Happy Birthday Baby (It’s me, Really, Your Mama)”


  1. Leslie said:

    So glad that you are back!! I have missed the always entertaining Greener Biener. Welcome to the wonderful world of pets!


  2. Dave said:

    “You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife
    You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?”

    Even after 15 years you still keep me guessing. I certainly never saw this coming. Glad you are writing again, keep ‘em coming.


  3. The mama bird diaries said:

    If I ever let me kids get a pet, it will be a bunny.


  4. david said:

    love the name, Pesto :-) Having a bunny is an important step in every young girl’s life. And it is a great warm up before getting a pony!


  5. Tori said:

    Thanks for helping me start my day on a high –love getting your emails! Heard a rumor that you had hopped the fence. Hope Pesto (great name!) and Acadia are getting along well. Burning question is will the cute fritter get a friend for Hanukkah?

    Hope to see more posts in my inbox soon :)


  6. Lanie said:

    Pesto, so nice to meet you!! Be sure to talk back to that strange lady who talks to you when no one else is home. xoxo


  7. Lanie said:

    P.S. Happy belated birthday Acadia!! Good job persuading your mama! :-) :-)


  8. Dan said:

    …in case you regain your throne

    Rabbit Fritters
    Cut the meat from a cold rabbit into small pieces, put them in a pie-dish and sprinkle over them parsley, chives, thyme, and a clove of garlic, all chopped very fine, salt, pepper, and a bayleaf; pour over all a glass of Chablis and the juice of a lemon. Let the pieces of rabbit soak in this for two hours, then take them out, dredge them well over with flour, and throw them into boiling fat till of a nice golden colour. Remove and drain them, pile them high in an entrée dish, and pour round the following sauce. Take the liquor the rabbit has been soaked in, add half a pint of stock and a little thickening of flour and butter, and let it boil well. Then strain through a sieve, put in a tablespoonful of piccalilli chopped fine, or some chutnee, give another boil, and serve.