The first day of school is Monday. I admit it–I’m excited. And I’ll be live-tweeting all the drama straight from the library. (By that I mean I’ll have twitter open, like I always do, tweeting throughout the day during lulls. Or lulz. Either way.)
Here’s what I’ve been up to.
Last night I heard mew mew mewing and I recognized the pathetic cry of Jupiter locked up somewhere he did not want to be. That can has one whiny, piteous cry that motivates one to immediately remedy the situation so he will just fucking shut up already. My Mom had been over to watch the baby while Anthony and I got some much-needed sushi so I thought she locked him in the laundry room or bathroom by mistake. That cat is a gray ninja and can slip past anyone unnoticed, even if you’re looking for him. It’s common practice for me to discover him in the basket of the stroller while I’m a block from my house. And we know he does that, so we watch out for him. His ability to move swiftly and completely unnoticed is uncanny.
I walked down the hall calling his name, trying to find the mew mew mew. Bedroom? Nope. Bathroom? Nope. Laundry room, spare room, nursery, closet? Nope, nope, and nope. I sat back down in the living room to play with Isobel when the pathetic mew mew mew started up again. There was definitely an edge of panic to his voice. I noticed Zorro staring through the window next to the front door with a superior look on his face.
Jupiter wasn’t… outside was he? My cats are strictly indoor-only. We don’t live in a cat-friendly area and I’m terrified of them getting out. I open the front door and a wretched-looking Jupiter looked up at me and cried meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.
We still have no idea when or how he got out, but thank god he hadn’t had dinner yet because hunger for sure would have lead him back home.
Some time ago over the summer I woke up and my wedding ring didn’t feel quite right. I looked at my hand and was shocked to discover the band of the ring had a large dent in it, causing a too-snug fit on my finger. We were getting ready to go out of town with friends so I put off taking care of it. My ring had always fit perfectly but the misshapen band meant I could no longer get it off my finger.
Eventually I stopped by a jeweler and the ring had to be cut off. It’s so sad to see it in its mangled state. The jeweler said I needed to wait a few days for my finger to recover and then go back and get it re-sized and mended. After eight years of constantly wearing a ring on that finger it felt horrible and naked without it so I’m wearing one of my Mom’s rings for good measure. Plus I don’t want to look like I’m advertising that I’m single or anything.
Isobel has recently learned to kiss and I can say without hesitation it’s the best part about parenting so far. There are a lot of truly wonderful things about parenting, but when Isobel kissed me on the cheek for the first time my eyes welled with tears and my heart overflowed with happiness. It made up for all the times she’s bitten me.
The first time she kissed me we were sitting on the floor together rough-housing and watching TV. She came up behind me, put her little hands on my shoulders, and kissed my hair on the back of my head. It was amazing. The next day I was holding her hand and walking with her and she kissed me twice on the hand. That night, she kissed me on the cheek and this morning she blew Anthony a kiss. Just thinking about it gives me thrills. I can’t describe how amazing it is that this little creature that we’ve nourished and love is expressing her affection. It makes me want to sit up a little straighter and be the best mom possible.
I have reached a stage of exhaustion at work that only comes after a week like this one. First I had two days of round up excitement, wherein I oversee and organize and participate in the handing out of several textbooks to each of our 1600 students. We were significantly short-handed this year but we had such excellent help we were an incredibly fast and efficient (if exhausted) team. I couldn’t have done it without Doppelganger John (my coworker who is a carbon copy of my friend John—they have never met but are eerily similar) and the Nicest Office Lady Ever. I sometimes have to remind myself she works in an office because she’s so dang nice and beloved by all. Anyway, right after that I was slammed with deliveries and received maybe 300 boxes of things that need to be counted, sorted, and sent off to teachers ASAP. I’m still working on that one. I no longer have an assistant so it’s going to take awhile for me to get through it, especially with how exhausted this week has made me. Please note my current collection of boxes to go through.
At the very end of the week DJ (Doppelganger John) came in to the library and asked if I needed another kitten. Um, no. But that’s not the right question anyway. The question should have been, “Will you help?”Because, duh. Yes.
Three kittens were dumped in the parking lot yesterday morning. One died already. DJ took the other one home. A lone calico female had been living off of old pizza scraps in the detention room.
I called Anthony and he came with Isobel, a cat carrier, and a container of food and we did what we were born to do: took her home and welcomed her to kitten heaven. Things were going smoothly until late last night when Poppy and Jupiter changed from being indifferent toward her to picking on her. We’re looking to find her a home because she’s already been mistreated and abandoned, we don’t need to add “constantly harassed” to that list. I have two leads but nothing is definite so if you’re in my area and interested, let me know.
She’s very skittish and timid but already learning to trust me and show affection.
Also she doesn’t know how to work the cat door yet so when she gets in the garage she goes to the window and cries till someone lets her in. Note the pathos:
We were spending some quality family time in the backyard this morning when Isobel tripped and totally ate it on the cerement. It was so awful. Both Anthony and I were just out of reach and could only watch the fall happen but do nothing to prevent it. Her nose is pretty scratched up and she has a small bump on her head and Anthony’s been calling her “Baby Fight Club.” I told him not to talk about Baby Fight Club. Geez.
She cried of course and I rocked her, but she recovered pretty quickly. She always does. Usually while she’s still sobbing she’ll say “kitty!” or “agua!” or “baby!” or whatever else catches her eye. She usually starts laughing before the tears on her cheeks are dry. For all of her tumbles and falls she’s never really hurt herself so I think we’re pretty lucky. I tried to get a picture of her face but that girl lightning, lightning I tell you!