Spring Break Staycation

This week is Spring Break, so all four girls are home and driving me crazy enjoying family time with their mother.

We're playing lots of board games and video games. We're baking batches of peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies. We're making puppets from paper bags and reading lots of stories.

The sadists at my daughter's high school have scheduled soccer practice at 6:00 a.m. That's six IN THE MORNING. Over Spring Break. Fortunately, my husband drops her off, so I don't have to roll out of bed until 7:00 in the morning. OVER SPRING BREAK.

I'm trying to balance the "boring" stuff, like household chores, with a few outings here and there. The twins visited the hair salon for a trim, which provided an exciting adventure for them. I'm not joking—they really, truly find it great fun to sit in the big chair and watch the lady cut their hair. The older girls spent an afternoon at the new Oz movie.

Oh, we mustn't forget my trip to the vet. Our cat, Tie-Dye, had worms. GROSS. The cat was infested by tape worms from all the mice and birds she hunts. GROSS. The vet assured me that they are not transferrable to humans. Still. DOUBLE GROSS. Tie-Dye has been banished to the garage to sleep in the suitcase that's sitting on the top shelf.

The cat has been medicated and the worms should be gone. Unfortunately, the mental trauma I have incurred shall stay with me forever.



Dinner last night: scallops and chicken over rice

Exactly one year ago:

So Much for Spring Break

Exactly two years ago:

Thinking of Mom

Touch the Drapes and You're Dead

Tie-Dye is our cat. She showed up on our doorstep shortly after we moved into our home almost three years ago. She comes and goes as she pleases, although throughout this past summer, she expressed little interest in stepping foot inside the house, preferring instead to hunt mice and the occasional bird.

We have a special pair of gloves, the Mouse Gloves, which we keep next to the mudroom door and which we use at least once a week to pick up a dead mouse or shrew that Tie-Dye has left for us in the garage. They used to be partially eaten, but recently they've been left whole and pristine. Sorry. Circle of life, and all that. My 9-year-old used to be saddened for days after seeing a poor little dead mouse on the garage floor; now she just shrugs her shoulders, pulls on the Mouse Gloves, and tosses the corpse into the woods.

Mice are not the only things to feel the wrath of our cat's claws. Tie-Dye has shredded the base of my lilac tree, by using it as a scratching post. Now that winter is approaching, and Tie-Dye is taking her daily 6-hour nap indoors, I'm a little concerned about what she plans to use inside the house to sharpen her claws once she awakens and feels like stretching. So far, it's been the Berber carpet, which provides a nice rough surface for her to grab and pull. I don't care too much, since it's old flooring that we're planning to replace as soon as we have the money, or Tie-Dye destroys it, whichever comes first.

Like the woman said . . .

Circle of life, little mousie.

Dinner last night: hamburger quiche

Exactly one year ago today: Two Kims for the Price of One

Love Hurts

You'd think that a cat possessing all her claws would use them against twin toddlers who squeeze and pat her to death. But not Tie-Dye. She just relaxes into a bag of bones and waits for me to rescue her from the arms of her 3-year-old stalkers.

Sorry, Tie-Dye. Just think of it as payback

for all the times you "played" with mice.

Dinner last night: tamale pie

The Fog Creeps In on Little Cat Feet

I was looking over at "Kim's Categories" –––> and noticing that I don't have many Tie-Dye posts. I thought I'd be writing a lot more about our cat, but as you can see, she doesn't do much. She likes to lay around and take naps on the couch. Not unlike myself.

Dinner last night: sour cream enchiladas, refried beans, corn

You Can't Argue With Logic

Mommy: Have you fed Tie-Dye today?

8-Year-Old: Ummm . . .

Mommy: When's the last time you fed her?

8-Year-Old: Yesterday. But she's still got some food left in her dish!

Mommy: I don't care! You've got to give her fresh water and food every single day! How would you like it if I only fed you whenever I felt like it? "Oh, not today. Maybe tomorrow." If I didn't feed you for three days, you'd have to go to the hospital!

8-Year-Old (completely unperturbed): What if I just fed myself?

Mommy: Well, uh . . . you . . . uh . . . can't . . . 

8-Year-Old: Tie-Dye will go catch a mouse or a bird if she gets hungry.

(pause)

(pause)

Mommy: Oh, alright, you've got me there.

Dinner last night: tuna noodle casserole, zuchini

Minor Irritant

I just caught our cat up on her hind legs, neck stretched forward, tongue extended, drinking my coffee. My morning mug of aromatic Hawaiian Macadamia Nut coffee full of caffeine goodness, with its rich robust flavor and perfect cream-to-joe ratio, had been waiting for me at the computer desk. My warm cup of happiness was sitting there, innocent and defenseless, about to get sucked up by a coffee-stealing spaz cat.

Time seemed to stop as I watched in horror her tongue lapping, slurping, befouling my precious beverage. Images flashed strobelike and in slow-motion across my mind: the headless mouse I had to clean up from the garage floor . . . the bird foot and feathers I had to pick up off the carpet . . . the many furball stains I have had to detoxify out of the carpet . . . Tye-Dye's leg over her head as she washed herself down there.

I tried to run towards the crime scene but, as if trapped in a nightmare, the room seemed to lengthen and narrow with Tie-Dye sitting unreachable—so very far away in a tiny pinpoint of light—guzzling down Momma's cuppa. The harder I tried to run, the heavier my limbs felt and the slower I moved. Finally, after what seemed to be hours minutes seconds, I reached her. I pushed her out of the way, picked up that contaminated mug of mocha, and considered pouring it all out and starting over.

Nah. Too much work. Good morning, Internet, this one's for you. Sip, Aaaah.

Dinner last night: chicken and chips

That Darn Cat

Tie-Dye disappeared.

After three days, my seven-year-old came to me in tears. She was worried that her cat was dead or trapped in someone else's house. What's a mother to do? I tried to reassure her that Tie-Dye can take care of herself, then I told her to brush her teeth and go to bed.

I went outside on the deck and looked around. It was so cold and quiet, and getting dark. I called out weakly, "Tie-Dye? Tie-Dye! Come home!" I prayed silently, "Lord, I know she's just a cat. But our little girl is really sad. And she's been praying every night for Tie-Dye to come home. Please help that cat find her way back." I went inside to finish the dishes.

Fifteen minutes later,

Tie-Dye was meowing at the door.

Dinner last night: cheeseburgers, baked beans, watermelon

The Cat Who Came to Dinner

Meet Tie-Dye. She showed up on our doorstep late last fall and wouldn't go away. After almost a week of her peering in the windows, all skinny and pitiful, I put out a can of tuna fish.

Another week went by and the temperature started falling. When it hit an unusually cold minus 8, I opened the garage door and told her she could sleep there just that once. She, of course, discovered a doggy flap hidden at the back and began coming and going as she pleased. It was just a matter of time before our seven-year-old daughter was sneaking Tie-Dye into the house proper.

Now she's a member of our family. A lean, mean, bird-eating member.

Yesterday we woke up to a trail of feathers outside our bedroom door. Despite searching the entire house, we found only feathers. And one bird foot. Did our entire family suffer temporary blindness and/or amnesia? Surely someone would have noticed a bird in Tie-Dye's mouth when they opened the door to let her in.

Rest in peace, little bird.

Dinner last night: orange chicken supper, creamy fruit salad