First there was Peanut. You all know about that one. She sent the world spinning just as expected, and we are just starting to slow down, though not yet stopped by a long shot. (it does stop, right, more-experienced-mothers?)
In the midst of the spin, another big change. My mother-in-law reaches her own realization--it's time to retire and move into the suite in our house. This is something we had all talked about doing off an on over the years, but here it was, happening now. It's a big shift for all of us, but one we're hoping will be good for all concerned. One of those times when life rolls in a certain direction and you have to just roll with it, though I confess I am not always as good at that as I'd like to be.
Then, one day, we found yet another occupant in our house, a squatter. The first evidence was the little mouse poops on the carpet for two days in a row. Then Sean saw him, scampering around outside his office late one night. The next day, I reached into the oven drawer for a cookie sheet and was surprised by our friend. I leapt back, tried to play it cool for Boodge and then, abandoning my feminist spirit completely, I called Sean to come get my pan. My prince swaggered in, "I'm sure it's long gone by now, you would have scared it off." He reaches in and the mouse jumps over his hand, scampers to the corner and disappears into a hole by the dishwasher. Sean and I both leap back, I scream. Boodge looks at us like, "What is the big deal??"
Sean, who loves animals, has been pushing for a cat for a while now. I've been hesitant, reluctant to have yet another being to take care of. My mom even jokingly suggested to Sean that he planted the mouse. 'Cause guess what! A few days later, "Boodge, we're getting a kitty! Just like Caillou has! And the kitty will play with you, Boodge!" (We sold his sister to him the same way--I'm sure he's skeptical.) So off we go to the local humane society. We need a cat with a combination of killer instinct and mellow, good with the chaos of kids temperament. Also, Sean kind of wanted a male cat, and I kind of wanted a female.
We met a young mama cat named Maya. The volunteer cat-lady took out her lazer pointer and shook it, and Maya leapt at the spot. She let us pet her, and she didn't freak out with Ardan in her cage. Then the cat-lady pointed out her son, Hercules, in the cage next door. Hurk jumped for that lazer with the light speed of a hungry adolescent. Hurk, or Maya. I didn't like the thought of taking a mommy away from her son, or vice versa. Sean got a little giddy at the thought of two cats. We called his mom to see if she may be willing to take one on from time to time, and catsit when we're away. And before you know it....Sean is carrying in a cat cage with Maya and Hercules.
Boodge was so excited, he rode his fire truck around and around the cage in circles for probably, 20 minutes. The cats were terrified. I probably should have stopped him, but I figured that the cats should know what they're dealing with before they leave their safe haven. And besides, Boodge cannot truly be stopped....they would have found out sooner or later. They continue to find his energy very--jarring. So, though we have cats, they hide all day and only emerge when Boodge is asleep. Except....
Last Thursday, we all traipse in from the library and get ready for night night time. I turn out the light and Boodge crawls onto his bed. "Aaaaah!" he exclaimes, just as I say, "What's that smell, wait a minute...." and turn the light back on. He holds his hand up, horrifyingly covered with a thick layer of putrid smelling cat-shit. AAGH! I try to play it cool again, but I'm almost puking in my mouth as I clean it off of him, strip his clothes and the bed, and replace the sheets. It takes me an hour or two to recover from the smell.
It was totally intentional. You know how pissy cats can get when they want things their way. So Sean and I decided to keep his bedroom door closed from then on, and hope they get used to him. But the next day, the day, by the way, that my mother-in-law is moving in, we traipse in from a crowded breakfast with Santa at our local drop-in. Boodge is in full meltdown from overstimulation, hunger, and tiredness. Peanut is right there with him, and they are both screaming to outdo each other. I coax Boodge down the hallway...("I want night night NOW!" "Well, come on to your bedroom. COME ON. Get up and lets go!") and he crawls into bed right over ANOTHER TURD! Fireworks explode in my brain. Both kids screaming, I change the foul sheets, cursing the cats and not under my breath, either. They are both asleep 15 minutes later and I am in the comfy chair, recovering my frazzled nerves. Suddenly a little mouse poop on the carpet seems like no biggie at all. Why couldn't we just welcome the mice as pets?
I feel like quoting Jon and Kate Plus 8 now..."It may be a crazy life, but it's our life." It is ours, and crazy as it is, I know every day that I'm lucky to have this life and this home to grow into. But the last couple of months we have felt like a snowball careening downhill, picking up speed an size as it goes. I can only hope that the end of the hill is coming soon and we can coast to a stop. Well, I can also hope that the cats stop shitting on my son's bed. And I do hope that, I really, really do.
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