Love Hurts - A Cat Story

"Look at what you have done!!" I exclaimed to Junior Cat.

"Who? Me?? I have no idea what you are talking about! I was just sitting here..." 

And so the (nonexistent) conversation with our Junior Cat (would have) went, as I looked at the mangled encyclopedias and marvelled at the fact that he almost pulled out the letter "G" (I think he must have wanted to Google something). 

He is destruction on claws. He loves, loves, loves the feeling of wood underneath his claws. So he is also making his mark on our door casings. Carpeting feels pretty good too. He tends to attack the basement stairs - out of sight (but I am certain that he knows we can hear him).

One of these days I am going to want to repaint and repair the damage of the past nine (???) years of 'life' within our home. But how can I even begin to think of fixing and replacing that-which-has-been-damaged when we live with a furry weapon of destruction who does his worst damage when he is on patrol after the house is asleep and no one is monitoring his every move?

I called our friendly neighborhood veterinarian office (I may have to put these girls on my Christmas card list - we are in such regular contact) to tentatively check out the option of having him declawed. It even hurts to say the word. But I can't afford to have him continue to damage that-which-we-have. What we have isn't all that grand, but it is all we've got. I like to take care of it. And Mr. Junior Claws is not respecting my wishes.

Thankfully, the person that I spoke with was happy to supply me with a list of alternate methods to try before we even considered anything so rash.

We have tried clipping Junior's claws in the past and he has made it known that he wants nothing to do with this. My son managed to clip half (?) of his claws a month or so ago and that was quite the production. I thought that I could assist but even between the two of us, we just didn't have the technique required to get the job done. 

I thought it would be well worth it, to take him in for a professional 'manicure'. So we bought a 12-month nail trimming card for $120.00 verses $20.00 per clipping. This is insane. I have been scratching my head trying to figure out how to juggle the books to cover our expenses over the next few months and I run out and buy a 'nail trimming card' for our cat-of-mass-destruction?!!

Despite my (lack of) wisdom, it is a done deal. We will be escorting him to the vet once a month in an attempt to save our home from further mangling. 

Last night was our first trip.

First of all, he didn't want to go in the cat carrier. I made the mistake of bringing in the cat carrier at the very last moment and the cats didn't have an opportunity to go in an out of it at their leisure before it became exactly what it is - a cage.

I had to back him into the carrier. Bribing him with cat treats was not working.

Then I took him and his carrier out to the car. He meowed while I was unlocking the doors. He meowed as we drove there. He was crying for His Boy (my son always, always, always) assists me on our vet runs and I think he is part cat whisperer, child whisperer, human whisperer. He calms those around him with his manner and modulated tones. Junior Cat needed him and he wasn't there.

Nor was Senior Cat. Where one goes, the other follows (when it comes to wherever the cat carrier goes). Senior almost runs into the cat carrier whenever he sees it. But he didn't see it this time. He wasn't there as Junior's security blanket. Junior was alone. He didn't have 'his boy' and he didn't have 'his cat'. He just had me. And I was not enough.

He endured his manicure (they said it took longer to get him out of the cat carrier than it did, to trim his nails) but he let me know that he was offended and frightened by my actions. He had no problem showing me that his level of trust (as far as I was concerned) was depleted to nil. He reacted to every move and noise that I made. He hunkered down to the floor in a flight or fight response and his eyes were full of distrust. I wounded him. All of the love and trust that has been built in this year-of-living-with-each-other? POOF! Gone. 

All because I took him to the vet to get his nails trimmed. After he took it upon himself to seek out and destroy our home. 

It is a very good thing that this 'love' thing is quite unconditional. I understand and empathize with his disdain for me and the cat carrier. I even think that he (on some level) understands that I did this because he is part of our family unit and this is just a small price to pay for being loved. 

Love hurts sometimes. Just ask our cat.

Severed Connections

The world seems to be sending me a message lately and I must not be heeding its wisdom. Because the lesson keeps being repeated.

We lost our internet, cable and telephone services several mornings ago. Our address was the only one affected so it considered an isolated event. Though we were put on a high priority cancellation list we could have been without services for up to three days. Thank goodness for cancellations because our wait time was cut by a third. But it was a long and rather squirmish twenty eight hours.

I learned a few things while our services were out. I think I like myself and my actions a little better when I am disconnected from life-outside-of-these doors.

I tend to do more productive things with my idle time. Yesterday I washed down a few walls and washed the screen doors. I finished reading a book. I was in the moment and not living-outside-my-life by taking on the world and all of its thoughts, troubles and perceptions.

I rather enjoyed our evening of disconnection. No internet meant that I had the main computer to myself for the evening. I had some writing projects to tend to. If our disconnection would have continued it would have been an ideal time to clean up the clutter within this computer. I have many ways to keep myself busy that tend to get finished sooner when I am not continually distracting myself by checking on emails, Facebook and following the path the internet may take me when I sit down to check out one piece of information.

My son and I had the opportunity to sit down and simply enjoy some Cat Chat time. The light and easy, breezy conversation that happens when we sit and stare at our cats together. I have really missed that lately, as he has been consumed with on-line computer games since we became owners of an up-to-date computer. I suppose that I should take a hint and realize how I have quietly resented the computer dominating his attention this past while. Take a hint, girl. This is how others see you when you are busy checking emails, updating blogs and working on various spreadsheets, writing projects and simply frittering away your time on the World Wide Web.

In the wake of Robin Williams death, I am almost certain that I would have immersed myself in all of the media coverage. Though there were so very many wonderful and thought provoking things written and said (which I read when I was able to reconnect with the world last night), sometimes it is simply nice to think your very own thoughts without outside influence. And (as an extreme over-sharer) it is equally important to simply listen to your own thoughts without feeling the need to put them all out on display. I am sure some of my reflections will trickle out of my fingertips as time moves on but after reading so very many people's words, I simply feel it is not right or respectful of me to join in on that particular bandwagon. Not right now.

I seemed to think that opportunity was trying to call or email me while I was on this unplanned sabbatical. I was so intensely consumed with this notion, that I chose our take-out food restaurant by the ability to access their free Wi-Fi while I was waiting. Only to discover that the only email that was awaiting me was junk mail. Then at the tail end of this disconnection period, I found only one email of any importance. It was the same thing with the phone. My plea to the technician who was helping me troubleshoot our issues was "I run a daycare out of my home. It is important to have contact with the outside world. I really need phone service!" So she forwarded our calls from our home phone, to my cell phone. And guess who was trying to call? Someone giving away a 'free' cruise ...

The only call of importance that I received was the call from the technician who was in our neighborhood yesterday afternoon, calling to see if we were home so that he could remedy our problems.

Who knew? Twenty eight hours of disconnection and no one was trying to call. Yes, it is time to get over myself. Perhaps it is not the fear of not receiving incoming calls and emails that is my problem but the isolation that comes from not feeling like I could reach out and contact anyone myself. I had put off contacting a few people I-most-wanted-to-talk-with until today. Guess what? There was no answer. Communication is a two way street. Just because I was available and able to reach out, it didn't mean that anyone was there. It was an illusion all along.

I had a small backlog of things-to-do this morning since I handed the main computer over to my son last night. I thought that my quiet time before my daycare family arrived would give me plenty of time to tie up all loose ends. It would have been. If ... the power didn't go out!

I couldn't believe it. We just barely got reconnected with the world outside of our doors and a power outage severed all of our connections, along with lights, electricity and the ability to make my morning smoothie!

I went about my morning just knowing the power would turn back on at any given moment. I was grateful for many things during this power outage. My cell phone not only provides the up-to-date time, but it illuminates a room quite nicely in the dark. The longer the power stayed off, the more I realized that I should not waste the battery power on my cell phone. I lit some candles (note to self: buy more candles) and found gratitude in the fact that lack of power does not affect our ability to turn on the tap and be rewarded with water. Not only that, but the residual heat in the water heater allowed me to have a bath before I went out in search of my morning java.

As I drove down the street, I couldn't help but notice how isolated our power outage was. Lights were on across the street and straight down the block from us. It was just our side of the street, for a few blocks.

Okay, Universe, I hear you! But I still don't seem to be heeding your wisdom. The moment the power was restored I was back on the computer, submitting the columns that I had started to prepare before this period of disconnection. I checked my email (once again, to find a relatively empty inbox). I read the blogs that I follow.

I have been sitting at the computer (almost) ever since. But I have done a few important things. I have filled up the water jugs in the house and have them at-the-ready and I have charged all-that-needs-to-be-charged in case of a power outage. And I have done a load of laundry. One simply can't be too prepared.

Do I realize how inconsequential all-of-the-above is? Yes. These were simply minor inconveniences. Very minor. What if it wasn't 'just me' (or my block)? What if it wasn't as simple as calling a technician who would be dispatched as soon as possible? What if these issues (most importantly the power) weren't resolved within a few hours or a few days? What if I didn't have a cell phone (again - very minor in the whole scheme of things but crucial to the panic I felt when it seemed like my connection to the outside world was severed)?

As our Fair City is hitting record temperatures (a heat warning has been issued) today and air conditioners will be running in an attempt to keep things cool and tolerable we are so very fortunate. When all goes according to plan and we wake up to a world where power is a flick of a switch away, we come by water as easily as turning on tap and we are a phone call away from calling for help ... we are beyond wealthy.

Losing one's connection with the outside world feels isolating and lonely. If it were not for my cell phone I would have felt like Canada Post was my only hope of sending or receiving a signal from beyond my back yard. We have come a very long way in this world of ours. Is it possible to be too connected? I think so. I think that is the message the Universe is trying to send me. Unfortunately my phone and internet have been down so I have 'missed' its call.

In the Light of a New Day

The first thing that I was greeted with this morning (after a very good night's sleep, which followed approximately twelve hours of intermittent napping) was a bright yellow piece of paper that was sitting on my dresser. It contained all of the answers that were just beyond my fingertips last night after waking up from my day of rest.

The more yesterday is in the past tense, the more I realize just how 'impaired' I was by the sedation cocktail I was given during my outpatient procedure. In fact, this morning I tried to read the terms and conditions before checking the box to something I had agreed to do and the words started swimming on the page. My 24 hour period has not yet elapsed so I thought that I will wait and read that later today (chances are, that the words will still be doing the back float in front of me - too much legalese is simply too much).

As the fog began to clear, I remembered that I wrote a blog post last night some time before I went to bed. I remember struggling with the words. I remember reading it, rereading it, trying to finish reading it, needing to start over from the beginning to read it start-to-finish over and over and over (and over) again. I remember hitting the 'Publish' button and wondering if I should post it. I knew that I had done it. After giving up on reading the terms and conditions this morning I (almost) immediately found my way back to last night's post. What in the world did I write? Did it make any sense?

I've left it up. It is not life changing. I am not embarrassed by it. But hopefully it will serve as a reminder the next time I go through this procedure. Believe what you are told! Your judgement is severely impaired after this sedation! Do not agree to take care of anyone but yourself when you come home. In fact, the bright yellow sheet of paper that I found this morning states that it is a good idea to have a responsible adult stay with you for the night (I vaguely remember them telling me this and I knew that I had my Youngest Son here if anything unforeseen was to occur).

Most of my memories are like remembering a dream the next day, little recollections were triggered by something that happened later in the day. Then I wondered what was a dream and what was real.

Last night, in all of my blurry wisdom I thought to myself "They should not trust a person to remember what the doctor tells you after this procedure. They should write it down and send it home with the patient."

Then I found it. This morning. The paper was bright yellow. It contained all that I thought that I was told from yesterday (but did not really know for certain).

Yes, I did get the all is clear from the doctor. No, I did not have any suspicious growths or biopsies. Yes, I am scheduled to go back for my next colonoscopy in five years.

It was all meticulously noted on this sheet of paper that they trusted me with, as they sent me on my way.

I feel like an inept kindergarten student. They should have pinned it to my lapel and escorted me to my cab driver who would ensure that a responsible adult was at home, to hover in the background of my day and make sure I didn't sell my soul by signing a legal document within the next 24 hour time period.

It has been 21 hours. I am still legally impaired. The fog is lifting and I see blue sky up ahead.

Just a word of advice to anyone going through a medical procedure which impairs your judgement afterwards. Believe what they tell you and follow their precautions. This is the fifth time that I have been through this and I forget each and every time.

I must print this off and diarize it for five years in my future. Because now that I am coming out the other side of this haze, I think I remember feeling this way the last time too...

My Day, as I Remember It

A day like today doesn't lend itself to a lot of story telling. Yesterday was a day of 'cleansing' and today was a day of rest.

As luck would have it, none of my daycare family needed my services today when I told them I would not be available for the first few hours of the day. It simply could not have worked out any better.

I had an early morning colonoscopy today. I had no worries going in and my instincts served me well. I got the 'all clear' for another five years and they sent me on my way. I think...

I had quite a nice little cocktail of drugs which created a period of amnesia for me. I remember the coldness of the mixture of whatever mixture of drugs they used which created a state of semiconscious unconciousness. I looked at the clock and it was sometime between 8:10 and 8:15. I wanted to remember this time because I wanted to know how long it was until it was all over.

Well? I remember looking at the clock when I woke up again. I don't remember what time it said. I remember that they gave me something to eat. I know it wasn't toast. Why do I think it was digestive cookies? That is just plain weird. I remember dropping the foil lid of my orange juice on the floor and picking it up when I was given the go ahead to go home. I remember the doctor talking to me. I am 99.999% certain that he said all was fine and he'd see me again in five years. But why does it all feel like a dream now?

I got home and texted the one daycare family that I thought may be coming today. I just looked at the time of said text. It was 10:02 a.m. (thankfully they contacted me minutes later, telling me that 'grandma' was taking care of the child minding today).

My awareness of time is pretty fuzzy. A friend called at 10:20 a.m.; I remember talking with her. I vaguely remember what we talked about. I was pretty woozy when I said good bye. I remember waking up and seeing that it was somewhere in and around 11:30.

It is a very, very (very) good thing that none of my daycare family needed me today. I was fully prepared to take care of them. In fact, when I was making today's appointment I specifically mentioned that I would be coming home to take care of my daycare family, thus I asked for an appointment first thing in the morning. Then when I went to sign the consent documents before my 'procedure', it specifically mentioned no driving, no handling heavy machinery, no signing of legal documents or providing childcare for 24 hours.

Thankfully I did have my sixteen year old son to call on, had my daycare families descended upon me today. Chances are that I would not have called on him because one can do whatever has to be done. But looking back on the fuzziness of everything after my appointment, I am very grateful for the way the day turned out.

Sometimes I feel like I have an angel on my shoulder who helps make these little things happen. I'm grateful for many things today. One of which, was not having to watch over little people. Secondly, our healthcare system that took care of me and deemed me healthy and fit for another five years. At least that is what I think I remember...

Writing on Empty

I am not certain if I have words in me tonight or not. I seem to need to sleep on things before I wake up with an excess of words.

It has been a very quiet weekend. I have been enjoying it. A lot.

I have also been on a clear liquid diet for two days and let say just how good Pizza Pops and frozen waffles smell when you haven't chewed on solid food for two days. Pretty divine.

The other thing I have learned is that the second day without food is easier than the first. Then again, perhaps that is because the second day is a little less pleasant to endure for other reasons.

I have not been utilizing eating as a leisure activity lately and I have been driven to eat out of hunger instead of habit (for the most part). I thought this would help me out during this two day fast. Not so much. I have grown quite accustomed to feeding my stomach when it growls at me. It has been quite disappointing to let my vacant stomach down.

I do still use food as my reward though. While working on my Book Project, healthy food choices are part of the routine. I have still been puttering with The Book all weekend but let me tell you - clear soup broth and Jello don't hold a candle to eggs on toast or toasted tuna sandwiches to keep my brain firing on all cylinders.

Apparently I am hungrier than I thought. I can't seem to stop writing about the foods which are high on the list of things-I-will-eat-first when I return home tomorrow. I can already taste the toast that is usually part of my reward after this test is behind me.

I have read and heard talk of the excessive medical testing that we are undergoing these days. I know that some people choose not to go through this preventative testing for their own reasons. I listened and read the arguments and they make a lot of sense to me. I wavered and wondered  - what is my right choice?

I recalled three separate times when benign growths or spots or moles were removed "because they could become cancerous". There was no worry, no fuss. It could become cancerous, so let's get rid of it. Easy.

It is for that very reason that I continue to follow this preventative route. I have no symptoms, I am not in the slightest bit concerned but my own history has proven that a slight inconvenience in the early stages could prevent anything from progressing.

I am not feeding fear here. I am simply going through the paces, just like I get my teeth and eyes routinely checked. It just makes good sense to me to take care of what I have. My body has been serving me very well and I hope that it stays that way if I just keep atop of this preventative maintenance.

Now, if it was only this easy (and affordable) to keep the house and car in tip-top shape ... we all just may live 'forever'.

It is Good to Have a Bad Day

Yesterday was 'one of those days'. I was very disappointed in myself because one should not be having one of those particular kind of days on their fourth day back to work, after a two week vacation. But I did. And there is no going back now.

While we are living those days (that I am so afraid are going to be on the reel of highlights when my life flashes before my eyes one day), we can't see beyond that moment. "I feel this way and I am justified in feeling this right now! Just let me be this way and act in this manner right now because I just need to ride the wave..." are the gist of the thoughts that I am thinking when I am at my worst.

I replay the moment later in the day and chide myself for being so immature and wrong and short sighted and unrelenting in simply letting things slide.

Then comes the part where I replay those moments out loud, with another human being (that is older than three years of age) and I hear the whole story. My side, the other side, the outside-looking-in-side.

I am very fortunate. My Youngest Son is my biggest fan, critic, advocate and teller-of-what-he-sees-and-feels. He sits quietly among many hours of my Daycare Days and says very little at times but whenever he acts and reacts to the kids, it is with a complete sense of calm, control and modulated tones. One would never tell from the outside, looking in if he was upset in that moment. Me? Not so much.

When you spend your day in a one-to-three-year-old world, without adult intervention, there are moments that are simply ... hard.

Yesterday, I was craving adult conversation and intervention. A perfect moment in time presented itself and the opportunity to speak adultese to a person who understood multi-layered conversation was at my fingertips. But I lost it all in a moment. A child started crying and quietly sobbed, "I want to go home..."

Everything stopped. I think the world even stood still for a second. It was a plea for help and I was the only one who could walk through the anguish with my little girl.

One would imagine that in the world-of-daycare, that I have heard this plea often. I haven't. Children may think and feel these thoughts at the onset of their day or if they are sick or simply missing their parent. But it has been the very, very rare occasion where the actual words are uttered (welcome to my world of one-year-olds).

As a rule, there is a sense of fun, play, activity and friendship which overrules homesickness within our days. Yesterday was not one of those days.

One of our friends was missing. She is going to be gone for (almost) three weeks. This was her friend's first day with out her. Sometimes, one never quite realizes the impact of one person until they are missing. Yesterday was that day.

My little homesick girl was not feeling well. She was missing her friend. It was hot outside. It was close to lunch time. Her mom had told me to call if her daughter didn't seem to be feeling well. My instinct was to call her immediately. My head told me to take care of the basics first. Lunch. Go inside and cool off. Modulated voice, kindness, empathy, caring and trying to put myself in her shoes came immediately into action (hey! I just realized I am not so terrible after all).

We got through that moment but there were simply so many more. There was crying. There was unkindness. There was boredom. There was bickering and arguing. There was more crying. I didn't get my adult-fix and I was wearing thin.

I simply could not wait for the day to end. Then as it ended, my Real Life walked in the door, at the same moment my Daycare Day walked out. There was no time for transition. I wasn't grounded when a friend called and simply needed an ear. She only had one of my ears because the other one was full of the 'chatter' of a parent returning, looking for a missing hat; followed by my Youngest Son's update from his day out with friends at The Ex (and soon needing a pick-up).

One moment segued into the next and I never regained my bearings until my head hit the pillow. I wasn't even busy. I was simply 'in demand' by the over-three-year-old crowd that I had been craving - the companionship that I had wanted all day.

Before my head hit the pillow last night, my Youngest Son and I talked about 'my day'. His sense of seeing and feeling things, comes from a place of 'being there'. He has been one of my daycare crowd. And he never forgets what that feels like. He brings the voice of his childhood (translated into the children presently in my care) and he gives me a very good sense of what it is like from where my children stand. He is the voice of reason.

We volleyed words back and forth. I felt like a total schmuck because I lost my cool resolve and became frustrated in the moment. The moment passed very quickly and within a few minutes we were all sitting and reading and singing and all was ever-so-much-better. But (in my mind) I should not have had 'that moment' at all. 

I am very good at beating myself up. Please don't help me...

Then I woke up this morning. I was greeted by one of my daycare-promoting-sites needing an update. This always results in a general overhaul over everything promotional concerning my daycare. I update my sites and start selling myself again.

As I went through the process of 'selling myself' this morning, I could see what yesterday brought to light. I was seeing the value of my 'bad day'. It promoted a conversation with my son that helped me see what I needed to see. An encounter with a daycare-child-of-my-past (now in her second year of university) opened my eyes to see a direction that I would like to go (I think we need some older children in our midst!).

Looking at the day in the light of a new morning with only the shadow of the 'mistakes of the past' behind me I realized that if I thought every day was a great day, there would be no room for improvement. There is always room for improvement.

That is the value of a bad day. The contrasts in life center us and bring us to the place where we most-want-to-be. That very same bad day could have sent me packing and looking for a different career. But it didn't. It was truly not that bad. It was simply not the day I want to have flash before me in my 'This is Your Life' movie reel. It is a day that will make that very same movie, the movie that I most want to see one day.

Bad days can help us to become better. Or not. It is truly our choice. But it is a choice. I choose to find the value in a day that felt bad-at-the-time and turn it into a tool to make tomorrow a better day. And to be willing to do it all over again when it happens again. Because it will. It always does. Hopefully I will evolve to a new level of learning as the lessons of life keep repeating themselves. Sadly, I recognize this lesson from one I did not learn before.

Life is generous. It keeps giving you the same lesson over and over again until you learn. Unfortunately I must be a slow learner.

Today is a new day. Take your lessons learned and run with them!

Little Thoughts on a Day (that felt like most any other)

Here I sit, with thoughts of yesterday echoing in my mind.

Were they deep and insightful thoughts? Not a bit. They were more like "Man! I'm hot!!" (I was pushing a double stroller as we walked an 'uphill both ways' marathon to the Fun Factory forty five minutes away). And "Boy, I hope these guys sleep good this afternoon!" as I cooled down and re-hydrated in the hour that followed. Followed by "Let's just stay inside and be 'cool'!" after my two little-ones inevitably woke up soon thereafter.

These thoughts were preceded by light and easy thoughts of a short interaction with one of my previous daycare family from yesteryear. I started taking care of her and her brother when they were in pre-school. She is now (soon to be) starting her second year of university. She works at the indoor playground that we went to yesterday. It was so light and easy to touch base with someone that I have known that has grown in and out and beyond my daycare. And she is going to become a teacher! I'm so pleased for her.

After my daycare day ended, it was all about going through the paces of doing-what-had-to-be-done around here. Clean the cat litter - check! Make supper - check! Update our daycare blog - check! Have a refreshing and cooling bath and 'wash off the day' - check!! That about covered it.

Except I talked with my mom in between the time my daycare day ended and I started checking off the boxes of that-which-I-do-before-I-go-to-sleep.

There is concern in her voice when she talks of her sister. That sentence is loaded. Thankfully she was able to talk with her sister several times yesterday. I think these conversations concern and reassure her at the same time. My heart is heavy when I try to put myself in Mom's shoes.

There has quite simply been so much loss in and around our lives lately. I cannot seem to stray too far from that thought before it comes up from behind me again. And again.

Our little thoughts from our day-to-day living seem so trite and meaningless sometimes. But within those small, predictable and trivial thoughts there is deepness.

• I was hot - because my body had the ability to go on a 'marathon walk' with my two little ones.
• I appreciated the quiet time - because we had a busy, fun-filled morning.
• We savored the coolness within the house thereafter - because I just happen to be fortunate enough to have air conditioning (and a house to shelter us from the elements).
• I had a short but meaningful exchange with a girl I once babysat - I am making a small difference in the world - simply by showing up every day and doing what I do.
• I have a small list of things-to-do before I feel ready to call it a day - my life has direction and purpose.
• I talked with my mom - and I know her well enough to have heard (a little) of all that she was not saying.
• There has been such a great deal of illness and loss in and around those who touch my life lately - I consider it a gift to know people well enough to walk by their side during a time when they simply need a friendly ear.

Even the days that are filled with nothing special, are really quite special when you think about it.