Dear Sweet Pea,
You are 11 months old–almost not a baby anymore. Please get your act together and start sleeping longer than 2-hour stretches at night. Seriously, I’m tired. But I do love how happy you are to see me in the morning, despite the fact I was with you only 2 hours earlier–it does give my ego a boost.
I know you’ve been a little deprived of attention lately thanks to your sister’s clingy behavior, but you have got to stop standing right under my feet in the kitchen. Also, please stop yelling during quiet time because it wears on my nerves. Mommy needs quiet during quiet time. However, I do love how you’ve been walking around saying, “I love my mommy so, so much.” It’s adorable and please never stop doing it.
Please bring home chocolate.
Love, Your Wife
You are no longer “Creature #1” in the house. Please act accordingly. Isn’t enough that you won the battle to come into our bedroom? I suppose you make up for it by being cutely fuzzy.
My husband’s birthday was last week. In order
to kill time add to the festivities, I thought it would be fun if Babykins and I made a birthday banner. So I hauled out a long piece of banner paper, dumped out some crayons, and went to work.
I outlined the words “Happy Birthday, Daddy!” (inspired, I know) and told Babykins that we were going to color the paper. She colored for about 30 seconds and then proceeded to gleefully roll around on the paper. Then one of our cats joined her. The toddler and the cat, both enjoying a giant sheet of paper in the same unhelpful way.
I never did finish that banner.
Since Sweet Pea is proving easier to put to sleep by wearing her in the Moby wrap, she’s not in the bouncer or swing often. However, these items aren’t going to waste; our cats have commandeered them for sleeping spots.
It’s always nice when baby items get good use.
In all truthfulness, the bouncer was free and the swing was only $20 at a garage sale. Babykins exclusively napped in the swing from 6 weeks to 4 months, so we got our money’s worth out of it already.
My father-in-law is working on downsizing his house, so he gave us his Christmas tree. We set up our “new” tree today. The cats lost no time trying to destroy it. In less than an hour, one of them managed to bend half of the lower branches.
Now we’re working on cat-proofing our Christmas tree.
On the bright side, now the tree is also baby-proofed.
Here is our other cat, Phantasma. She likes to eat window clings. The door used to have the word “Harvest” on it until she pulled half of it down. We’re trying to find a rehab facility for window cling addiction, but no leads at this time.
Here is Moonface, one of our cats, at 7:30 this morning. He was trying to do 2 of his favorite things simultaneously: Sleep and watch the leaves on the deck. It was hard not to be envious of his obvious contentment. It was so simple, but so hard for a human to achieve.
Then I remembered that part of his bathing regimen involves licking his butt and my envy dissipated.
Yesterday I woke up with a headache that began to turn into a migraine while I showered. My migraines are few and far between. They are also quite manageable as long as I can take some Tylenol and lay down for a half hour. Unfortunately, a half hour of rest when Babykins is awake isn’t doable these days.
My husband promised to relieve me once he was done teaching the women’s Bible study, so I hunkered down for a couple of hours of toddler-minding. I let Babykins clamber over the couch and armchair for awhile, read her The Very Busy Spider 10 times, and gave her a snack. I thought I was feeling better and tried to start laundry, but the migraine resurfaced.
Admitting defeat, I tossed some toys on the floor for Babykins and laid down next to her. Of course, this wasn’t particularly helpful either because next thing I knew, one of our cats was trying to snuggle on me for warmth. Babykins thought this was a game a proceeded to pat my head again and again, giggling.
Next time I’m turning on the T.V.
Never fear, my husband returned soon after this and I got to rest. Fully recovered, Babykins and I spent the rest of the day doing Pinterest-worthy crafts, enriching activities that will make her into a genius, and cooking a feast. Just kidding. We went to the library where she licked the toys and then she cried when I tried to take her outside to play.
The term “Fur Baby” has several different meanings attached to it.
First off, there are the crazy people who legitimately believe that caring for and loving their pets is just like caring for and loving their child (and while pets and babies have many similarities, they aren’t the same).
Then there are the people who do not yet have children or are unable to have children. They adore their pets, but they also realize that pets are animals and not human. Therefore, they don’t demand that their pets be treated like children.
Finally, there is us. We have 2 cats who shed constantly. Seriously, I think one of them sheds on a whim, specifically when she’s extremely cuddly. Likewise, we have a baby, so consistent vacuuming just isn’t happening right now. Consequently, our fur baby looks like this:
Yup, our current fur baby is just Babykins covered in cat fur. . .
I once read a great description of cats that went something like this:
Cats are hilarious because they act dignified but they do ridiculous things.
It’s true. Be that trying to pretend that they meant to fall off the couch or ignoring you after you disciplined them for climbing on the counter, cats try to add dignity to whatever silly thing they are doing.
Case in point:
Our cat may look like she’s cool, calm in collected. In reality, she is sitting next to Babykins’s highchair waiting for food to drop to the floor. I never thought a creature could look noble while begging, but apparently cats can.
Some people assume that while dogs can be trained, cats cannot. However, this isn’t true. While most cats may not be willing to learn tricks like “Roll over” or “Play dead”, they can be taught good behaviors. It just takes some time, consistency, and a spray bottle.
Despite utilizing the aforementioned 3 things, our cats are still proving difficult to train not to sit on the table. To be clear, we adopted these cats when they were two months old. They have never been allowed on the table. When we catch them jumping up, we squirt them with water. And they certainly don’t like the water.
Regardless, a scene like the following plays out multiple times a day in our house. It’s been especially bad this week because they are fascinated with the beautiful bouquet of roses we were able to bring home after my husband’s ordination service:
Every time they get caught, every time they act like they weren’t doing anything wrong. I’m beginning to think that we’re only practicing an exercise in futility rather than training our cats.