The Cat That Wasn't Really Lost (Also Titled: Why I Drank Three Glasses of Wine Last Night)

Prior to leaving to pick the boys up from school yesterday, I gave our sweet kitten a nice big bowl of stinky canned cat food. She was happily gulping it down when I left.

Upon arriving home from school we had a nice little visit from Aunt Roxanne and Uncle Ron who were passing through KC in their way home from a vacation.  We all sat and chatted for a few minutes in the family room. Then the boys went cat hunting. Aunt Roxanne assured them that she had seen the cat. Pet the cat. Held the cat.

After thirty minutes of searching and reassuring the boys that the cat HAD to be inside because all the doors had been shut since we walked in from school, I realized that the back door had been left open. Crap!

So the search continued. And continued. And continued. Three hours of searching. One boy in his room crying. Another boy not really understanding that when I say, "I have no idea where the cat could be", what I really mean is, "Ah crap. We've lost the cat. I'm done. No more pets for me. I can't take this anymore."

Then, while one crying boy sat on my lap, we found the cat. In the ottoman.

Now, you're probably asking yourself, "How could you not see the cat on the ottoman?"

Just to be clear, I said IN the ottoman.

Here, let me show you.

Here's the ottoman in the family room where we sat talking. Pretty innocent looking, right?

 

 

Ahhh, but here's the ottoman turned upside down.

 

 

 

Here, take a closer look. See how that one edge is pulled away from the structure of the ottoman? Our sweet kind little kitten pulled the fabric away from the staples to make a nice cozy little hammock for herself.

 

 

 

So when you are frantically searching for your cat that is in a food coma from all the yummy deliciously smelly canned food she just ate, she is sound asleep IN the ottoman like this.

 

 

So, when you move the ottoman FOUR times just to make sure she is not underneath, you can't see her sleeping IN the ottoman. Not a peep from her. No meowing. No purring, No scratching or moving. Remember, she is in a full bellied sleep coma.

 

As the boys and I searched the house for THREE hours carrying around an open can of cat food to lure her out, we had no idea she was IN the very ottoman that I sat on while typing my lame "lost cat" post on Facebook. I am certain Cookie was laughing silently at me the whole time.

 

While I know there is a lesson to be learning in this, I am not sure what it is.

 

On second thought maybe it's "Always keep a stocked bar", because that's what I needed after three hour of searching and two stressed out kids.





Two Things

Two things happened today.

Cam asked me to tie his shoes. Specifically he said, "Mommy, will you tie my shoes?" He said mommy. My heart melted.

Tonight at bedtime Colin held out his arms as he was crawling into bed for me to give him a hug. He held on for a long time. And then whispered in my ear, "Mom, I really love you". My heart melted.

My boys are growing up so fast and yet they are both still so young. Today took me back years ago when nap times and sippy cups defined my days.

Sometimes it's hard to love the season that we are in. I desperately miss those sticky kisses and pudgy boy fingers wrapped around my neck.

I love my big boys but I miss my little boys too.

Dear Muscle Head...

Dear Muscle Head (and your Muscle Head Friend Blocking My Car),

I have a very busy schedule today. In the time that it took you to roll out of bed and arrive at the gym, I have already packed school lunches, dropped both kids off at school, paid some bills, read the newspaper, exercised for an hour and thirty minutes and stopped by the post office. Now I need to shower, do a load of laundry, plant the three mums I bought this weekend, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen, balance out my household budget, go to the grocery store and find a solution for world peace all before I pick up my kids at 3:30pm.

But I digress, back to the subject, could you please kindly NOT block my super cool mini van in the ever packed Lifetime Fitness parking lot when I walk out at 9:40am? I realize the parking lot is full but it appears to me that you and your muscle headed buddy are either stupid or rude. Maybe a little of both.

Your God's gift to women (aged 22-28) attitudes have no effect of my late-thirties brain. Yes, you have super human biceps and your quads scrape together as you walk. But I rock some amazing crows feet near my eyes that can only be placed there by years of sleep deprivation due to my stellar parenting skills of walking and rocking my babies while they screamed each night. You don't come by my extra pounds and twitchy bad back easily. You have to work on years of stress eating, baby lifting, lego floor playing and mac n cheese dinners to look like this.

Hence, the reason I am AT a fitness club. Last week I was in la la land as I exercised at 1pm. I should have known better than to arrive mid-morning rush but it seems that you are in no rush. You are standing there drinking your crap GNC protein shake (I can see the four pound canister sitting in your beat up Impala) talking about God know's what with your sidekick Robin in his way too tight matchy matchy outfit.

Your mothers would be embarrassed at your treatment of elders. As I walked to my car and pointed saying, "This is my car", I assumed you would understand that my tired, sweaty body was getting ready to leave. Instead you checked yourself in the mirror five more times. I'm not sure why you were checking yourself in the mirror since you literally had no hair. Again, maybe due to your crap GNC shake.

I know I sound angry but I'm really not. I'm dismayed. The fact that you and your buddy could stand in the parking lot talking with his car sitting idle directly behind mine is baffling to me.
I thought that by starting my car and putting it in reverse, you might take the hint. Maybe years of too loud music piped into your ears while you lift massive weights has made you deaf. Or maybe at some point those massive weights were dropped on your head.

Here's the kicker, when I finally got out of my car and asked you and your friend to move, I realized you were both actually employees of the gym. Bravo. Now I have your names from your cute shiny name tags. I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon to treat your guests like a nuisance to your otherwise very busy and important job.

I was a little awestruck to be in the gym last week. With all the shiny equipment, flashing televisions and never ending supplies of towels, you had me hooked. Then this morning I drove into a packed parking lot, had to witness lots of naked ladies in the locker room, felt like an out of date idiot in my one good work out shirt while all the cute thin little ladies ran a 6.30 mile in their perfectly thought out running gear. From start to finish I felt out of place, out of touch and out of breath.

The parking lot debacle left a bad feeling in my brain and a tiny bit of resentment that I'm almost 40. I'll still make it to the gym tomorrow but probably not until 1pm. I think I'll go eat a cookie now.