Cats and Their Toys

Jet is a cat who always seems to be thinking. You can almost see the wheels turning as he navigates the human world he resides in and makes the best of his indoor-cat existence.

Jet's newest discovery -
resting in the recycling box due to some packaging paper remnants which attracted his attention this morning

He seems to teeter on the brink of boredom verses contentment. My guess is he finds his happiness somewhere in between the two. "What can I do to make this moment more interesting?" may be the human thought equivalent between what I assume is on his mind and his actions.

When he starts picking on Ray (our second cat in residence), I sometimes go on a toy hunt to distract Jet from being a pest. As much as I try to model putting the cat toys away in a small wicker box I have set out for their toys, I have never seen either cat put their toys away when they are done. Their toys are usually under the stove, fridge, couches or within sight but not within reach. 

When I hear a closet door opening without a human in sight, I can almost be certain it is Jet opening the closet to retrieve a lost toy. He hasn't managed to figure out how to open the bedroom doors due to the fact they are not lever door handles but he has mastered opening the folding closet doors like a pro. 

As much as I try to convince the cats to put their toys away when they are done, it isn't a lesson either cat is interested in learning. But this has been happening far too often to be considered a coincidence:

We have two "stuffed mice". These used to be Ray's favorite toys due to the cat nip which has lost its effect. Jet seems to have adopted these toys as his own . More often than not, I will find them carefully put to rest on my bed. I smile each and every time I find these "stuffed animals" on my bed, thinking that Jet likes to sleep with his stuffed toys and he's got them ready and waiting for cat-nap time.

Every time I see these mice waiting for me in my bed, I am just grateful Jet is not an outdoor cat. I can only imagine the "toys" he would bring home.

Life is in the Re-Telling

I visit my aunt on a regular basis. She has reached a stage in her life where her stories and recollections are on "repeat". A story will start with one memory which triggers her narrative in a predictable fashion. When she forgets a detail, I can nudge her memory to help her recall and she is off and running again.

The stories are comfortably repetitive. A few of the details are slipping. I can sense the fight within her to hold on tight to what she remembers. I am grateful when I can fill in the blank as needed.

Our conversations are not one way. She asks me about my life, my choices and we ponder parenting, our choice in careers, our past, lessons learned and our general take on life-as-we-know-it.

My story isn't one of a predictable nature. My on again, off again marriage triggers so many questions from my aunt. "Why did you keep going back?" "You came from such a different life - how could you have made that choice?"

My career wasn't one I sat and pondered. I got a job out of necessity. I honestly believe the job I had was the one best suited for me. "You should have become a teacher" she tells me on a regular basis.

The twists and turns in my story brought me to a point when I opted to walk away from the stability of a job with benefits and a pension and opened my daycare, so I could be a stay at home mom. "You are the same age as [my son] - why aren't you retired?" "You should have been a teacher" ...

Our mutual story telling goes back and forth. We have come to expect each other's responses. My aunt's theories on life become stronger with each telling. My conviction that the choices I made as I lived my life forward also become more convincing each time I re-tell my story.

My aunt reflects on her life and her take-away from life-as-she-lived it is you should enjoy life while you are young. Having fun, being physically active, being home for your children are the lessons I hear. There is an appreciation for her stable marriage and parenthood as she compares and contrasts her story to my own.

She recently told me "You have led an interesting life". The inner thoughts that run rampant through my mind as we retell our stories was silenced. Within the silence I heard the voice of my middle son once telling me, "Go on that holiday! When you start repeating your stories when you get old, I want them to be interesting ones."

Yes. I have led an interesting life. It is a life that has taught me what I needed to know. This particular path has built my character. I wouldn't be who I am today if life had been any other way.

When I start retelling my stories, I hope I remember the lessons. I hope I focus on the happy endings. I hope I tell the other side of my stories with compassion and empathy for the other party(s).

There is a benefit to repeating the same conversations on a regular basis. I have the opportunity to revise and refine my responses as time progresses.

When I start repeating my stories when I get old, I hope they are interesting ones.

I can almost hear the voice of my son saying (half serious, half in jest), "You aren't all that interesting now so why would you think anything will change?" 

Good Morning!

I woke up this morning, opened the blinds and windows and sat in this spot:

Writing

Setting goals

Savoring a cup of coffee 

And it was enough.

Rebirth

Today is my youngest son's twenty second birthday. It is no wonder when I sat down with an empty page, pen in one hand and coffee in the other this morning, that my pen started to ramble on birth and rebirth. My thoughts took me down memory lane as I thought of the birth of each of my sons and how I was reborn each time.

My firstborn son was born in August. By January, I was separated from my husband and the need to become a self-supporting parent of one was my guiding light. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Thankfully we had my parent's home and support to weather the storm. I not only found one job, but two. In short order, due to a subsidized mortgage offering, I was able to qualify to purchase a townhouse for us to move into.

1978 My First Time Reborn - Baby. Divorce. Start a job. Buy a house.

My second son was born in September. By December, I left my on-again-off-again marriage for the third and final time. Dad died three days later. His funeral was back "home"- where our family originated and my first home. One off hand comment to the effect of "You should move back 'home'..." was all I needed to set the wheels in motion. That is exactly what we did.

1987 My Second Rebirth - Baby. Divorce. Find a new job. Move to a new province. Create new life.

My third and final child was born in June. By December, I had applied for a year's leave of absence from my employer to test the waters to see if I could open a daycare from my home. I did exactly that and I've never looked back.

1998 My Third Time Reborn - Baby. Leave job. Strike out on my own. Work from home. Become a full-time parent for the third and final time.

The birth of each of my children changed my life, changed me and redirected me towards a better path. My children were an average of ten years apart in age so perhaps my life was in need of a major change at each of these pivotal decades.

It often feels easiest to just keep doing what we are doing and not shake up our world too much, too often. Once every ten years or so worked for me. In fact, as I wrote those words I quietly wondered if I reinvented myself ten years after my youngest child was born. And I did.

My youngest son's father and I broke up late spring. The life I had imagined myself living evaporated into thin air. I was lost. I spent the summer painting and maintaining our home. When winter set in, I started down the road to collecting family memories and binding them together in the form of a book. The following spring, the first book of a series of two was almost complete.

2008 An Unexpected Rebirth - Separation. Ambition. Motivation. Finding myself and my place within our extended family. The birth of two books of Family Memories.

The last decade's transition was less about birth and more focused on loss. Mom's last year was life changing. In September, the wheels were set in motion to create a life where I could be exactly where I wanted to be. Mom's health situation was diagnosed in February. She focused on her continued independence and did not want us to worry. To be able to go out to Mom's on a whim, in good times and in bad was exactly where I wanted and needed to be. She died in September. It was my final year of being a daughter. It is a year I will never regret.

2017 Focus on Being a Daughter - A diagnosis. Moving through. Being there. Loss. Moving on.

I'm in between major decade transitions at the moment. I sense another transition is in the air. I am reminding myself to focus on the moment. Moving through the challenges. Being there. In the midst of the seriousness, our home is going through its own transitions and re-inventing its purpose which is a delightful diversion to all that is going on in the world around us.

Focus on the moment. Be grateful for what "is". Be there. Be motivated. Keep reinventing yourself as the world moves on. One forward step in front of another.

It is truly no wonder they call the birthing process "labor". It is a labor of love but well worth the effort.

Creating a Work Space

I woke up bright and early this morning with pep in my step and a peaceful easy feeling in my heart. I have the privilege of working from home, setting my own pace, getting the work done within the parameters required but doing it in a space that is my own. My office. I love it.

I didn't take those thoughts and immediately step into my work day. Instead, I sat and had coffee with them. I read the archives of my blog and found the recurrent theme I have been writing about ever since I started writing here. Home is where my heart is. Finding a way to work from home and making our house work for me has been my guiding light ever since my youngest was born.

My ventures of working-out-of-our-home since that time have been filled with angst. Opening my daycare and learning how to set boundaries, creating a space conducive to the job at hand and feeling in control of my environment has been my recipe for contentment.

I can go back to my days as a teller at the beginning of my work-life. The year was 1988. The lesson was "your work space mirrors how you think". Create a work space you are comfortable with, have everything you need at hand, keep it organized, free of clutter and you can do your job better. 

That has been my credo since the beginning of my work life. I kept a meticulous teller wicket. I remember the angst I felt when I had to work from someone else's work space. I haven't changed a bit.

When I opened my daycare, I followed the guidelines set out for me as a teller: Create a work space you are comfortable with, have everything you need at hand, keep it organized and free of clutter and you can do your job better. 

This worked like a charm. I organized my house like I organized my teller wicket. I created a space my daycare family was comfortable in, everything I needed to do my job was close at hand, my daycare family assisted in keeping things organized as they soon learned everything had its spot and if we all worked together on it, they would know exactly where to find the toy they were looking for. It was a team effort. And it worked. 

Any time I worked out of the house after that point, I felt like a fish out of water. Working in the attic space doing the book work I had been hired to do out of my home was probably the best scenario of all. I was still in control of my work space. But I lost control of everything else. 

Now, working from home, setting up my work space and creating a place I am comfortable with, having everything I need at hand, organizing it and keeping the clutter to a minimum has reinstated a sense of calm within me. I'm home again.

When working in someone else's work space, I respected the environment they had created. "This is what works for them" was my constant thought. I wouldn't want someone coming in and changing my space. So I respected the boundaries and tried to adapt.

Adapting and making something work depletes me. I did my best. Over and over again. I was doing my best but it wasn't the best I could be. Until now. 

My office space is simply that. An office. It isn't convertible to a guest room. It is a work space with all the tools I need to make that space work for me. It feels as heavenly as a work place can feel. It is awesome.

I must step into my work day and it will be a day filled with things that must be done. The work table is filled to capacity with projects I must tend to. And there is an overflow on my desk. Priorities are in order. There is time and space to do what has to be done. There is SO much to be done. Yet I don't feel overwhelmed. 

I have created a work space I am comfortable with, I have everything I need at hand, it is organized and free of clutter. Now I can do my job better. 

Onward!

My work day awaits

Living the Good Life

I wandered into the living room and found our senior cat in residence laying down in front of the door, just taking in the view.

Bird watching, rabbit spotting, just savoring the moment. 

I looked at him and felt my heart beat in unison with his.

We are living the good life. 

We know it and appreciate it. 

Before and After

My office is coming along very nicely after a day of reshuffling the contents of our home.

I thought this worked well for me:

Before

But THIS!? This is so much better:

After

I was so proud of utilizing what we had and making it work for me:

Before

But NOW?! Perfection!! I could work all night here (and almost did):

After

Our home and the rooms within it keep "reinventing itself". Here are some of the many identities of what is currently known as "The Office":

The Daycare Days:

 Holiday Makeover During the Daycare Days:

Post Daycare; Pre-Renovation:

Post Renovation:

 Post-Post Renovation (making room for a sibling sleepover)

To the current look:

It seems I have been creating office space a lot over the course of time. 

This time, in "Mom's Room":

Makeshift Office Space in the Kitchen:

 What in the world will I do if we have guests? Heaven knows we have the beds. But now that the bedrooms have taken on new identities, our spare bedroom quarters look a little bit like this:

The cats really love this new sleeping spot:

Our spare bedroom is large enough to set up all three beds ... but is it practical?

All I can say is ... thanks to the COVID travel restrictions, I am not expecting guests any time soon. But when the day comes, you can be sure I'll find a way to make it work.