Mamma mia
You know, I think I have what it takes to be a mom after all.
Last weekend (poop alert!), Sampson had a bad night. Sammy has a low, plaintive cry when he's about to puke. He let loose with one of these at 2:30 in the morning. I sprang out of bed and put him on the tile in the bathroom, but no puke. Nope, not at all... and then I looked up and realized that he had had multiple accidents in the bathroom.
That was a tasteful description, no?
After I cleaned that up, I went in the other room where he was crying again. Poor kitty had another accident; at least this was in the vicinity of the litter box. After I made a mental note to adjust his meds, I cleaned that up and cleaned him up. There we were, just the two of us at 3:00 in the morning, lying in the hallway after I got on the floor to clean up his fur. He let out a little groan and snuggled next to me. I didn't want him to think I was mad, since he was obviously distressed, so we cuddled and he fell asleep.
Granted, I'm a crazy cat lady. Guilty as charged. But when I was there, on the floor, holding him in the middle of the night after cleaning up after him, him snuggling into me and purring away into my neck, I thought, I can do this. If I can do this for a furbaby, then I can do this for a real baby.
And that's that. A feline-fueled epiphany. Call me crazy (yup, guilty there too) and call me weird, but somehow in that moment I knew that I could handle a kid. Which doesn't sound so strange from what some of you wrote to me in email or comments; some of you had similar epiphanies. Minus the cat poop.
So what does any woman do after she realizes that she wants a baby in a few years? She googles baby stuff online, which brings her to baby name sites. Turns out Sampson means "name of the Lord" and Casper means "one of the three Magi." I think that's hysterical, considering Sammy knows he's the Big Kahuna and Casper is submissive to him. I have also determined that my parents should have named me Mia, which is Hebrew for "sea of bitterness." Yup, sounds 'bout right to me.
Last weekend (poop alert!), Sampson had a bad night. Sammy has a low, plaintive cry when he's about to puke. He let loose with one of these at 2:30 in the morning. I sprang out of bed and put him on the tile in the bathroom, but no puke. Nope, not at all... and then I looked up and realized that he had had multiple accidents in the bathroom.
That was a tasteful description, no?
After I cleaned that up, I went in the other room where he was crying again. Poor kitty had another accident; at least this was in the vicinity of the litter box. After I made a mental note to adjust his meds, I cleaned that up and cleaned him up. There we were, just the two of us at 3:00 in the morning, lying in the hallway after I got on the floor to clean up his fur. He let out a little groan and snuggled next to me. I didn't want him to think I was mad, since he was obviously distressed, so we cuddled and he fell asleep.
Granted, I'm a crazy cat lady. Guilty as charged. But when I was there, on the floor, holding him in the middle of the night after cleaning up after him, him snuggling into me and purring away into my neck, I thought, I can do this. If I can do this for a furbaby, then I can do this for a real baby.
And that's that. A feline-fueled epiphany. Call me crazy (yup, guilty there too) and call me weird, but somehow in that moment I knew that I could handle a kid. Which doesn't sound so strange from what some of you wrote to me in email or comments; some of you had similar epiphanies. Minus the cat poop.
So what does any woman do after she realizes that she wants a baby in a few years? She googles baby stuff online, which brings her to baby name sites. Turns out Sampson means "name of the Lord" and Casper means "one of the three Magi." I think that's hysterical, considering Sammy knows he's the Big Kahuna and Casper is submissive to him. I have also determined that my parents should have named me Mia, which is Hebrew for "sea of bitterness." Yup, sounds 'bout right to me.
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