Did you ever get behind in your journal growing up? And then you'd think, "gosh, I'm going to start writing in my journal every day." And then you'd boldly declare your intention in the first sentence of your journal entry that day, "I'm going to write in my journal every day from now on. And I'll catch up on everything that has happened lately tomorrow when I have more time." And then looking back you realized you had only five entries over a year's time and each entry started with your I'm-gonna-journal promise and nothing else of substance. And then you never trusted yourself ever again.
Yeah...ummmmm...me neither.
Anyway...
First order of business: Christmas. There are a lot of things that are not as fun as they could be with four children ages five and under - you know church, grocery shopping, getting into and out of a car with four car seats, church, making sure everybody's bread is buttered at meal time, keeping bottoms as clean as they need to be, church...oh gosh, am I still talking? anyway...But Christmas - gosh - Christmas with four children ages five and under is the best and probably a little better than that. There was joy, there was much toy playing, there was gratitude, there was a day for keeping tucked away in the good memory basket.
My Mom and Dad came here to enjoy it all with me. My Mom wrapped the presents. My Dad baked the rolls. I ran in circles worrying about the mess of toys and food in my house. Knock, knock, knock - Jessica, it's Christmas, go eat another piece of strawberry pie and relax for a little bit. For Pete's sake...
Second order of business: A cat. My kids, they want a pet. I tell them when our babies are more grown they can start to think about a pet. But no cats! Cats make me sneeze and itch and cry (CPT Kindergarten asked me if I didn't want a cat because it is embarrassing to cry). WELL, the night before Christmas I went out to the mailbox to check the mail and found an orange tabby all nestled up on the pillows on the porch bench. She hopped down and wrapped herslef in and out of my legs like I'm the lady that feeds her every night, like she loved me, like she needed me. She even hinted at wanting to come inside. I took it for a one-night stand. Then on Christmas night a neighbor girl brought the orange tabby to our porch and asked if it was ours because it had followed her and her sister all the way down the street from our house. She also mentioned that she thought it was pregnant. Ahhhhhh! No pregnant cats! "No, No, No! That is not my cat!" my insides cried. Then tonight as we walked home from the neighbors Sidekick Sister shouted, "A coyote!" And there was my orange tabby running alongside us back to our house. The kids were giddy. They hugged and loved and petted and picked up. And the cat didn't struggle or scratch OR RUN AWAY. AHHHHHHH! Don't be a nice cat. I can't have nice stray cats on my porch! And then the worst thing of all happened. Our neighbor girl who had walked us home named the cat. She named her Fizbee. And I liked it. Oh Heaven Help Us. CPT Kindergarten checked and rechecked on that cat all through getting pajamas on and brushing teeth for bed. All the kids went in and out on the porch to pet Frisbee one more time. Yeah - CPT Kindergarten said Fizbee was too hard to say. But I even like the ring of Frisbee...of course that might be because you can throw Frisbees far, far, far away. There will be no naming of any stray cat Boomerang. I told the kids we would not feed the cat...tonight...it would have to get skinnier first. And I told the kids we would not be adopting this cat. And then the cat looked up at me with its round, lonely eyes, the rain pouring down coldly just behind her at the bottom of the steps to our porch. My heart thumped! OH NO!! I cannot have sympathy for a cat that I'm allergic to that I don't want to adopt that is insisting on being adopted. And now it's mewing on the porch. I need help. Serious help. I don't want a cat.
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