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Obviously, I'm not a parent by my title above. That is a choice both my husband and I have made for the past 14 years. We're both happy with our permanent decision to not have kids. Because we don't have children, we have Furry Babies, instead. They're easy to take care of and you don't have to send them to college.
I've been told cats can be left alone for quite some time and be just fine. Not our cats. They need yummies and laps and someone to admire them every day. Which is where my husband and I come in.
When we travel, we have our neighbors cat-sit. Which means they come over twice a day to scoop & poop & feed. I know they also give the mandatory yummies and tummy rubs. I know 2 of my cats are OK with this arrangement, but our alpha cat, aka, Mama's boy, Jake isn't all too keen on this.
Mama's boy, Jake is very attached to me. And vice versa. Our daily routine is very special and it always includes alone Mommy time. (Yes, I called myself Mommy. Just because I'm not a real mom doesn't mean I'm not maternal & dead inside.
My Jake is one of the reasons I know I'd be a bad parent. The days leading to my traveling I start getting sad that I will be leaving him. Yes, I know, I would never see the beach in January if I couldn't leave him. And yes, I know, he's a cat. But he's my baby and I miss him when I'm gone.
And to make it worse, I've been told he mopes and is sad when I'm gone. There. I said it. I'm sad to leave my cat. And if I'm such a wuss with my furry babies, I can't imagine how I'd be with real kids.
Saw this today on Facebook & had to share...
Today is the Saturday after Black Friday. (Is today called Black Saturday?)
This is the first Black Friday in almost 2 decades, that I did not get up at 4:00 & go running with the crazies. Here's why.
1. It has been a tradition for years to have my sister-in-law as my partner-in-crime. Back in the day, we'd get up & go hunting with our game faces on - and we'd come home around noon. Dead to the world, but with loads of presents & even more stories. But she didn't come here this year.
2. If you go out in the wee hours of the morning - you MUST take a said partner-in-crime. And my husband is a good substitute - but not a happy one.
3. You better have your game on when you go. AKA - you better have your strategy. And without a partner, you are a lamb going into a pack of wolves.
4. The major retailers through us a curve ball this year. Many changed their opening hours from 5:00 am or 6:00 am to MIDNIGHT. This just sucked for me. No more getting up at 4, driving to Kohls for the 5 opening. Grab & go & then sit at Starbucks waiting for Target's 6:00 opening. Grab & go & then sit at the mall for the 7:00 openings. Grab Mom's nightgown at Dillards & then get in line for a freebies at the mall (free hot chocolate, etc.). Breakfast then drive to the outlet mall for deals before the early bird specials that end at 1:00.
5. To have a strategy at all of the above stores in #4, you need a LIST. And I have NO LIST. Seriously - if you are a family member & you are reading this - it is in your best interest to give me a list BEFORE Black Friday.
6. I don't have to buy Barbies & Spiderman anymore. This basically means I don't have to hit the Kohls or Target to grab & go the Barbie campers at 50% off. And what it really means is that my nieces & nephews are getting older & prefer gift cards. And those that still like Barbie & Spiderman don't give me a list.
7. We're not buying for every family member anymore. Our gift purchases have dwindled down to buying only for our parents & our nephews & nieces. Brothers & their wives get fruit, candy or chex-mix or a combo of them. And our parents don't want the door busters of Black Friday.
8. It helps to have $ for Black Friday. I used to get my Christmas Club money out of the Credit Union & take that shopping. Never used credit cards for Christmas - ever. But I'm waiting for payments from July from my freelance - so I'm not exactly loaded. Guess #'s 1-7 are a good thing.
All I bought yesterday was 2 Cokes at the mall - so much for Black Friday. I feel naked. Bah
My sweet Rumba,
we met on a Sunday and this past Sunday, we said good bye.
I know we had our ups and downs, but we've had plenty of memories these past 14 years.
Remember when you could jump up on the kitchen counter? That drove me crazy. And you knew it. Did you know you were the first cat to ever knead me? And when I was on Mark's couch at his, er, YOUR home, you would let me know that was YOUR couch. You always said hello when I visited. Not like your little brother, Flynn, who hid from me.
When Mark would go out of town, I'd come over and you would greet me. And I always stayed for at least an hour with you and Flynn. I know you were very independent back then, but you always liked spending time with me.
Once, you made a run for it out the apartment and down the hallway - but your hefty frame kept you from going too far. I've been told you were once very skinny, but when I knew you, you were "tubby tabby", and at the end, under 10 pounds. Your "skirt" was close to the ground – proof of you being overweight at one time.
Remember when you spent the night in the closet at the apartment? (not my fault). It was practice for the time you spent the night in our screened in porch. (not sure if that was my fault - 50% chance it was).
Then you moved into the downstairs of a house. You lost your big tree 3 stories up, but you gained a smaller, nicer tree in your front yard. You had your own window perch that looked like a hammock when you were done with it. It sagged so much, it broke.
You officially became "mine" in September of 2003. Ok, I still referred to you as my step cat, but you and I now had to co-exist. Until this week, I have never spent a night without you in our new house. Our kitchen was getting fresh, yellow paint the first day you arrived. You went in the basement with Flynn and had to find out for yourselves that the basement was kitty safe. It included your litter boxes, food and a nice couch with steps. You had to discover it on your own that at the top of the steps was a special, secret opening - just for you and Flynn. And it was you that found it first. It didn't take you long to realize there was an upstairs to be discovered. That first day, you marked your new turf in the yellow paint.
You didn't take long to find the second story, upstairs. You didn't like the new "rule" with closed bedroom doors. You let us know by your loud voice or simply knocking. Our alarm clock - always reminding Mark it was breakfast time or if something wasn't to your liking. After living with you, I found out that you loved tuna fish, green olive juice, my rain coat, paper from IKEA and helping us build book shelves. You especially loved it when I wrapped presents on the floor. And one of your favorite toys was a simple ribbon. A Rumba Ribbon. You hated fireworks and the vacuum cleaner (but I always gave you a head start).
You and Flynn had the run of the house. And your favorite was Christmastime. Remember that purple, velvet tree skirt? You loved that so much, I didn't care that it didn't match our decor. "Christmas Rumba" napping under the Christmas tree.
But your younger brother, Flynn got sick and died suddenly. You licked him before he died - because you knew he was sick.
I'm sorry to tell you, but we always thought it would be you to go first. But not you, you had other plans. What you didn't plan was another male cat joining the family soon after. And you didn't like Jake at all. He was another alpha cat, and he finally left you alone when he grew up... and when he had Flip to play with. Yes, another, dumb, boy cat joined our family. But Flip kept Jake busy and they both understood that you were to be left alone. They also understood that you always came first.
Just when you had adjusted into being a "grandma cat", we found Zing in our yard. She was unexpected and we reluctantly integrated her into the family. We really did try finding her another home, but no one wanted her. You let us know your feelings by your protest pees on the throw rugs. Once I put up all of the rugs, you then peed where they once laid. And once I finally got the message, you accepted Zing because she knew you were the alpha female, not her.
When you got even older, we gave you special beds - just for you. I placed towels and fleece in your special spots, too. You lost almost half of your weight, so you kept warm in your favorite fleece bed. I'd open the blinds just for you, even in the winter, so you could tan. You loved sun beams and would scoot to them when the sun moved.
Then I lost my job and was suddenly stuck at home - all day - with you. And you hung out with me all day. You would follow me around and would sit at my feet. And all you wanted in return was to be petted – and you didn't care if I used my hand or my foot. You would fall asleep at my feet daily after our special toe rubs. And when I'd get a phone call, you'd always give the person on the phone your two cents worth. I got used to telling them "Rumba says hello".
If I had computer work, you'd follow me upstairs and sit under the desk, on or near my feet. My assistant, keeping me company when I had no one to talk to all day. But you were always at my side. Some days, I'd swear I'd throw you out in the snow because you drove me batty. I think some days you and I yelled back and forth at each other. I'm sorry for that, but then I didn't always want you touching me or meowing at me. You always forgave me quickly and I also found patience with you, too.
On your last day, I opened all of the blinds wide especially for you. But you just couldn't get comfortable in the sun beams. I knew something was very wrong when you became very quiet and you only came to me once. I laid down next to you that morning and we had nice, alone time.
I could see in your eyes something was very wrong. Your breathing was hard and you couldn't do what you did best – sleep.
You fell trying to go upstairs. That is when we knew it was time. You rode in my Jeep (remember the time before? It was with the top down) in Mark's lap, in your favorite bed. No scary cat carrier for you ever again.
A doctor that we had never met before told us you would never get better. She was very kind and understood that we loved you very much. You died with the two people that loved you – and the two people that you loved back.
I'll never get to see you sleep so tight in a letter "C". Or hear you meow in your sleep. You'll never put your paw on me to let me know you wanted my touch. And you'll never lay your head at my feet when I cried because I was sad or lonely.
Today, I'm sad because I miss you, old girl. You were one of my best friends and I know people won't understand that. The Big Rumbowski, Stinks, Honey, Sweetheart, Baby Girl, Rumbooboo, Rumps and Rumby. You were all of those and not just a cat to me – but my very special friend. I miss you terribly. And you'll come home next week for good. We have to find one of your special spots, like Flynn is in Mark's room. Not sure where yet, but you will always have a special spot in my heart.
My mom has always said that there is nothing worse than one of her kids hurting. It didn't matter if it was a fat lip or a broken heart - hurt was hurt. And as a mom, I know she tried to take the pain away. Sometimes, a band aid would do the trick. Sometimes she'd tuck my hair behind my ear and pat me on the back. She would tell me to ignore those mean girls or that that boy wasn't worth my heart ache. And sometimes she kept away the boy who was bad for me. (she was right, but don't tell her - because she already knows).
My mom has also said it crushed her when her husband (my dad) hurts. Again, it could be a hip ache, a mean family member or an employer that undervalued him. All hurt, but my mom would always try to take it away.
I'm not a mom - by choice. I admit, I would have been a really bad mom at times. I have no idea how my mother did not smother me in my sleep. I guess the patience thing comes with simply being a mom. And jail time was too severe for punishment.
A dear friend that is a priest once told me that it is OK to NOT be a mom - but I had to be MOTHERLY and MOTHER-LIKE, instead. What the heck? At the time, I didn't understand, but I think I do now. It means to protect at all costs.
I am a wife now. And even though my husband is a bit older than me, I find myself being protective of him. As you know now, I have been the protector of friends, etc. growing up (see post on bullies). So I think it is natural for me to be protective of my family.
No one or nothing messes with my husband. Period. Sometimes a band aid works. Sometimes a hug. And sometimes I'm up all night losing sleep when he's had a broken heart or been smashed to the ground. Me losing sleep may not really take away the hurt, but I will lose the sleep for him any night, so he can get a good night's rest and take away the pain.
Maybe I would have been a good mom, because I'm finding I will protect my family at all costs... but what I found is that I'm a better wife by knowing my mom.
Today I was stung by a bee and/or hornet, or something type of stinging bee thingy.
I've been surrounded by bumblebees all pool season (they don't sting). I swear they come up to me and my pool towel thinking I was a huge flower. Then, they'd buzz near my ear - just to remind me I'm in their space (not the other way around).
As a kid, I used to PICK UP BEES with my friend, Grant. No kidding. Pretty sure I got stung plenty of times - no big deal, though. Even as a kid, my tolerance of pain must have been pretty good - because Mom would put ice on the sting, then toothpaste. Ok, I'm not positive I'd get toothpaste on bee stings, at least I'd get them on mosquito bites. (after a couple of days in up-state Wisconsin during the summer, I'd be a walking tube of Colgate).
I also remember getting stung by a bee/hornet/etc. in high school while mowing the lawn. It made me queasy. Guess all of that picking up bees didn't build up my tolerance for bee sting poison, after all.
In college, I was stung by a brown recluse spider. That damn near made me pass out. It involved a trip to the freebie college infirmary that ended up with some antibiotics and a lotion to coat my arm in. I was told then I'd probably have to get that epi-pen thingy or the medicine to carry around in case of stings. (I didn't).
Move forward a couple of decades, and I'm pretty sure I've been stung since by another bee/hornet/etc. but didn't have the bad reaction. Last year - pretty sure I had a bad run in with a spider that left a nasty ring of poison on my arm. It felt like the brown recluse years before. It hurt for days, but that is all.
Today, at the pool - a kamikaze bee took his life by placing his stinger right under my left arm. Dangit - as soon as it happened, I knew exactly what had happened. I admit, a part of me worried I'd have to be hauled up the hill by ambulance because my heart would stop. (it didn't) or my throat would close in (it also didn't). Minutes later, I saw the bee fall out of my swim cover-up to the ground. So in its final minutes of life, it a) went under my cover-up, b) got pissed & stung me and c) hung out in my cover-up until it died falling to the ground. It wasn't worth it bee, now was it?
So, under my left arm - about 2 inches from my arm pit is now a huge bump - about the size of Rhode Island. And it feels as if there is still a stinger in there (pretty sure it isn't). And every time I move my arm, it hurts. (not like I USE my arm or anything). I'm beginning to think my tolerance for getting stung is stronger, but my tolerance for pain is getting worse. Stupid, jerk bee.
Let's face it - we're creatures of habit. And we have our favorite spots. Not particular places, but a particular spot there.One of my favorite places IS at the pool, but I have an actual spot there, too. It isn't a complete pool day unless I'm in my spot. And ever since I went to our pool, I've always sat in the same place. There is much to consider for my spot.
1. It is at the deep end, therefore away from most families & the little kids. The shallow end is the place to be if you can't swim or love Marco Polo... which is why I'm at the other end of the pool.
2. I'm in the corner, facing the pool. This way, I can watch all the action AND move with the sun on the 4 hour stays at the pool.
Everyone who goes to the pool knows we sit there. Once a jerk tried to get under our skin & beat us there early and sat there. So we just moved our lounge chairs right in front of him - and blocked his sun. He never did it again.
And once in a while when I visit the pool later in the day (the night crew/closers are there, then) - and sometimes a couple is in our chairs. The even acknowledged they were in "our" chairs. As if they had been caught or something. (or that the jerk told them we'd sit on top of them & block sun).
Ok - so I like to get to the pool early. To get my spot. Not only do I do this at my pool – I do it at my parents' pool half an hour away, as well as in Florida. My parents also have their spot - and ironically, it is at the deep end, at the corner. hmmmmm. I've been known to stake out my claim very early at resorts and on cruises, too.
When visiting Florida, it is my job to set up our spot at the pool. It opens at 9:00 and you'll know what time it is by seeing me put towels out on our chairs. We even have a name for someone else taking our chairs: being red toweled. Years ago, a couple (with red towels) also proclaimed their spot in OUR spot. So we started going to the pool at 8:53. You get the idea. (By the way, the couple no longer has red towels or takes our spot - they have their OWN - right up against the building).
I'm clearly not the only one with my spot at our pool, though. Neighbors that also practically live at the pool, have their own spot, too. Their 9 year old daughter said she hoped no one took their spot this week – and I promised I'd do my best to keep them safe. I guess I'll have to get some extra red towels.
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