Bored Cat Syndrome

I woke up to find my two relaxed and rather lazy cats sleeping in with me last Sunday morning. It was so peaceful. Jet was hard at rest and Ray was content not being lavished with love.

This is not always the case, as Jet likes to make his boredom well known to me and Ray figures if I'm sitting down, doing nothing but staring at a computer screen, he may as well place his entire being in between me and the computer so I can put my hands and attention to better use and pet & adore him. And Jet? He is a piece of work. I wake up and it is as if he is one of my bored daycare charges. I've never lived with a bored cat before. They are something to behold.

Sunday morning, I left my bed unmade and the TV on to try and trick the cats into thinking I'd be right back so they wouldn't follow me upstairs and "need me".

Jet's antics of late have included figuring his way past the child locks on a few of our lower kitchen cupboards. He climbed into the cupboard where I keep the tea towels and stopped for a little rest one day. Another day, he climbed into the corner cupboard where I keep the canned goods and other sealed products. I hate to admit it but it was easier to just let him "play" for a while and come out in his own time, so I left the door open so he had an exit strategy. Turns out it wasn't needed because he popped out the cupboard door beside it, where I keep the spare toaster.

Speaking of toasters (again, I hate to admit this but it is true), I have started letting the cats gaze out the kitchen window beside the microwave. It is the window that opens, so they can get a breath of fresh air, while they listen to and watch the birds at play in our neighbor's tree. Food isn't prepared on that cupboard and it's just "easier" to let them get away with this than it is to constantly fight them (yes, it is a good thing I am done raising my own children because this is a very bad habit to get into - picking the easiest way of disciplining or not disciplining them at all and stopping to take a picture while they are doing bad things). Anyway, you give them an inch and they take a mile. Not only is Jet insistent on looking out the OTHER window, with the blinds closed and impeded by the toaster that is in his way, he steps onto the toaster and forces his head through the blinds as if to say "Open this one too!!" (even his body language is rude and full of attitude) and is not learning very quickly, that he is only allowed to stand on and look out ONE of the windows.

Jet picks at the door sweep on our new door when it is locked and he isn't able to open it. Then when I open the inside door, he eats our brand new weather stripping. So I close the sliding door into the kitchen to keep him upstairs with me so he doesn't destroy the door, then I open the drawer where I keep the cat toys. But he's getting bored of those and only plays with them for a few bats around the kitchen & living room and is back to opening cupboard doors and breaking all the house rules. I told my youngest I want to just give Jet away (I'm kidding) and get a new cat because I broke this one and want to start over. ANYWAY ... I came upstairs one night and I noticed something "different" in my peripheral vision. I stopped, backed up and saw this:

 Yup. It is no wonder I'm having trouble taking care of other people's children. Apparently I am not even qualified to raise a well behaved cat these days. Something has happened here. I'm not so sure I can blame anyone but me.

At Least I Like My Hair

I feel like I've been doing an awful lot of belly aching about nothing lately. The thing about complaining is, that I believe it does become a habit. I whine and complain so much that people ask me about what I've been grumbling about as an act of consideration. So I talk about it some more even when I know I shouldn't. My troubles aren't growing, only my perception of them is.

Mom called last night to see how I was doing. She takes on my worries like her own and I have been harping on my dissatisfaction and frustrations far too much lately. She called at the end of one of my better daycare days so I was full of joy and optimism about the day, explaining the day prior was the worst daycare day ever, so "this" was good. She replied, "I thought you said that before", to which I happily replied, "Yes I did, and they keep getting worse!" with joy in my voice and a smile on my face. She asked if I was going to quit this job and I said I really didn't have a choice. That is, unless I moved in with her. She laughed and said, "You may as well..." then went on to talk of her friends who have their 50-something children living back at home.

As Mom and I chatted, I was well aware that she had recently had a few "bad days" and wasn't feeling on top of her game all day, every day. She doesn't like talking about "stuff like that" so I didn't prod but eventually she told me everything I had heard from my siblings. Perhaps with the emphasis being more on too much coffee and too much heat. But she did tell me that "I" need to be around people more then went on to tell me she had called my brother at work and he dropped by on his way home. "Sometimes you just need to talk with somebody you know?" The value of that visit, my brother's ability to stop by on a moment's notice and the feeling of knowing someone was "there" to talk with and be heard was huge.

Mom doesn't complain. She may harp on some things more than is necessary but she doesn't complain about her lot in life, her health, her circumstances, feeling lonely or any number of things she has every right to feel.

I have much to learn yet from my mom:

• Stop complaining
• Just "do", accept and be content with all I have right in this moment
• Be around people, "everyone needs that" (she said from a deep sense of knowing)

Yes, I have much to be grateful for. Have I mentioned lately that my last haircut was a life changer for me? I have a "scrunch and go" look going on right now. Perfect for those mornings when I wake up and can't believe my hair didn't survive last night's shower better. I quickly washed my hair and carried on with my morning routines. No big deal.

Life is good. I not only have a head of hair, I have a style I can manage with ease. My hair is no longer dictating my life. And this is good.

Too Much Daycare

I have taken this week (the week before the long weekend in August) as a vacation for the past sixteen years. I didn't correlate it at first but there is an exhaustion that has seeped into the very core of my being. I am calling it my body, mind and soul's desperate need for a vacation.

I have little planned for my two week vacation this year. I have two days of appointments booked, the opportunity for a weekend mountain retreat and I will spend some time to spend at Mom's with time to see some friends while I'm there. I'm already concerned that sixteen days will not be enough.

I am craving a "one year leave of absence" from all responsibilities and duties. One year. What could I do with a year off that I can't fit into my regularly scheduled life?

I would tackle this house one room at a time. No puttering through and just glossing over the top of things. I would empty a room in its entirety, paint it, decide what that room's specific purpose is meant to be and critically cull everything that does not fit.

Our house is having an identity crisis. Maybe it's not. Maybe its identity is "Daycare" because everything I use for my daycare is sprinkled generously throughout the house. This daycare identity is stripping the identity of "home" from our house. The minute I wrote the words, I related this to how I felt when my bookkeeping job overtook all of the living areas of our home. I felt depleted because my work was everywhere. This is exactly where my daycare is at right now.

The kitchen is completely daycare oriented. From the totally uncomfortable bench seating to the booster chair and two high chairs, accessorized with baby wipes, kid's wash clothes and the present collection of toys that are driving me crazy sitting atop the fridge.

Let's move onto the living room. The ball house, Little Tykes kitchen, toy cupboard, "princess corner" and various Rubbermaid containers and small chairs my son suggested we add to the already overrun room to encourage imaginative play and "sharing". This is adorned by baby gates everywhere, to keep my busy one-year-old within the kid approved areas to play.

Each and every upstairs bedroom has at least one playpen set up and used daily. The "quiet room" has an additional set of three cots for my older nappers.

This is my "office", presently taken over by my new little one-year-old, filled with his soothing music making CD player and car seat which seems to calm him when he is restless and fussy (I should have tried that yesterday)

My guest room comes complete with a playpen, this shot doesn't include the extra booster chair and pile of excess that must be sold or given away.

This is our "quiet room" - supposedly for quiet computer time, book reading and movie watching. Presently this area is used to accommodate my 2 to 3 year olds at nap time.

The bathroom is lined with diapers, wipes and a change of clothing for each child so we don't bring the sandbox back inside with us at the end of our morning's play.

The downstairs? Don't even get me started. It looks like a junk heap or a daycare hoarder's nightmare.

This view doesn't capture the half of it - there are toys hidden behind the dresser; Rubbermaid containers filled with toys to the right and a storage area within the laundry room filled with toys.

I wandered through the house, snapping pictures to illustrate my story here and I found the source of my depleted state. I live in a daycare centre. There are few to no adult areas within our home. It is no wonder I can't wait to run downstairs to my never-been-touched-by-daycare bedroom which is my oasis. The reason I live to sleep.

Yes. This house needs a makeover. Badly. I would love the HGTV crew to move in and create "convertible spaces" for me. Storage and seating that would slide out of sight with a flick of a wrist. Then while they are at it, maybe they could accommodate any renovations so I can easily transition into renting out the main floor of our house (and we would live downstairs) when I move out of the daycare business altogether.

I need a little less "daycare" and a little more "generic, no-name me" sprinkled around this place. Less is more. And in this case, less "stuff" will equate to more energy and enthusiasm as I walk through these days of mine.

A Few of My Favorite Sounds

One of the first things I decided I liked about "Windows 10" was the notification sound when an incoming email arrived. I perked up, it was pleasing to the ear and when I looked to see what had caused it I found an email. Incoming mail is one of my favorite things.

My new little daycare baby falls asleep to the sound of music. Rather than have his mom worry about toting his own musical devise back and forth every day, I found a lullaby CD a friend had given to me. I had to buy a new (used) CD player since the ones I have stopped working long ago. The combination of the quality of sound this CD player produces along with the lullaby music is very palatable to the ear. I can feel myself calming down the moment I press play.

There is a song on the radio that grabs and holds me each and every time I hear it. "A Better Place" by Rachel Platten. Just listen. Doesn't it make you swoon, make you feel a little better and crave to surround yourself with those who make your world feel like a better place?

There are the sounds of contented children at play. It actually happens on a fairly regular basis around here. I need to learn to stop and appreciate that "music" when it happens more often.

Then there are the sounds of silence. My holidays are upcoming and I do believe my primary goal will be to follow the music, the silence and the sounds that bring the greatest enjoyment to my ears.

Rolling With the Times

I'm trying to roll with the times after a little bout of kicking, screaming and whining. I downloaded "Windows 10" last night and after waiting for the system to accept my settings and reboot itself this morning, I don't think I will regret the decision.

The computer at my bookkeeping job was updated to Windows 10. Because it wasn't my computer, I didn't wake up to the prompts to guide and assist me to the settings I needed to change, to make it operate as it had done in the past. I navigated it the best I could, instantly took a disliking to it and never gave it another chance.

Then I woke up one morning and my very own computer had decided to update its system to "Windows 10" while I was asleep. Apparently it was part of an automatic Windows update but I was aghast to find this change take place without my permission. I restored the computer to a previous date to undo this intrusive activity and felt like I had beaten the system.

I googled this travesty and (as it is when you wade through the world of Planet Google) I found many others who shared my frustration over this unasked for and unwanted change. It felt like my computer had been hacked and a change I didn't ask for was being forced upon me. My back was up and I was going to put up a fight. I don't like change. I especially don't like to wake up to discover my computer is fraternising with the enemy.

During my google search, I did read that Windows 10 was actually a good system and there was really nothing to fear or stand up and revolt about. But as these experts in the field dealt with users just like me who did not ask for, want or feel the need for change the discussions, were answering the concerns of those who were of a like mind. And I was one of them.

Then my youngest son rebuilt his computer and took Windows up on their offer of a free upgrade to Windows 10. I waited until he had a chance to use it for several days before I asked his opinion again. Should I update the computer after all?

My son assured me that everything worked as it had in the past. There were a few minor modifications, one of them being able to ask questions. "Something like Siri on the iPad", he explained. Well, Windows 10's "Siri" is named "Cortana". I have been asking Cortana everything on my bookkeeping computer because it was the only search engine I could find on her newly reconfigured computer. Apparently Cortana is pretty smart because I had no idea who he/she was and she directed me down the right path anyway. I guess she doesn't hold grudges against the uninformed and those unwilling to accept change.

Change is inevitable. It is part of living and growing and evolving. When we buck the idea of change, for "change's" sake, I suppose we are opposing the opportunity to grow. The older I get, the faster this world is starting to spin and technology is taking the idea of remaining stagnant out of our hands. Especially when our computers start making decisions on their own while our backs are turned!

Thankfully some things stay the same. My favorite two year old pillow is not working its magic the way it did in its prime. Last night, I was driving by the store where I bought it. I walked in and was immediately greeted by a sales person. The same salesman who helped me out in 2012. Yay! I did not want to waste any time looking. I just wanted "one more of what I had bought in the past". My wish was his command. He typed in my phone number, found a copy of my sales purchase from May 10, 2012 and confirmed that "Yes!" they still have those pillows and how many would I like.

THAT is service, my friend!! Unfortunately the price of the pillows have increased substantially due to the rising cost of the U.S. dollar. My chin dropped to the floor when he quoted the new price. It was crazy. I was about to abandon ship when he offered me the same pillow I had bought two years ago for the same price I bought it for then. Sold!

Now if only that store sold jeans, undergarments and my favorite pajamas. I would love to walk into a store that knew my brand, kept it in stock and honored a two year old price. Oh, to walk into a jean store and say "The usual, please! Make it two!!" It is what my dreams are made of.

We Are Not Alone (just Google it!)

I have a feeling you have the ability to find whatever answer you may be looking for in the land of Planet Google. I can think "I'm the only one questioning this". Then I google my query and find pages upon pages of others who are experiencing the same phenomenon.

Yesterday, I finally remembered to google my hypothesis about my sore wrist. I not only found hundreds of others who came to the same conclusion but I will soon regain about $160 I spent almost six months ago.

I bought a Fitbit to encourage, motivate and cajole me into moving more. For the most part, it placated me and convinced me that my daycare does keep me active enough. I move an average of 10,000 steps a day throughout my weeks and my daycare responsibilities involve lifting "weights" (children). I quickly discovered I did not move enough to justify or burn up the food I ate but that is another story for another day.

A few months ago, I talked with a friend who is also a personal trainer. She set out a challenge for me to walk without children at least three times a week. I decided to do better than that when I consciously decided to make the effort to take better care of the body I live in and took it out for a walk every morning. Until walking started bothering my hands (because I had let them dangle at my sides when I walked for the first few days) and most especially my thumbs. Crazy! Isn't it? Yes, I came home with tingling hands which (I assume) irritated the arthritis I have in my thumbs. My thumbs have not quite recovered from those five days of walking. That was about seven weeks ago.

Every morning, it seemed my thumbs were becoming more tender than the days before. Then my left thumb soon overtook my right thumb and the pain started shooting up my wrist. "What in the world am I doing with my left hand that I am not doing with my right?!" I wondered for at least a week. It got to the point where I couldn't use my left hand to turn off the water faucet. Nor could I lift a cookie sheet full of  fries at the day's end (usually my aches and pains disappear throughout the day). What in the world was going on?

Then one night, I rolled over in bed and a pain shot up my left wrist again. My Fitbit! I took it off and tossed it on my night table and that is where it has stayed ever since. My wrist pain was noticeably better that very same morning. It has to be the Fitbit, I concluded. There must be something within that electronic gadget that communicates with other computer devices that is causing this pain in my wrist.

Then I went about my days and forgot about it. Until I remembered. I googled this phenomenon late yesterday afternoon only to find several forums and discussions about this exact same thing. I was NOT alone! I made a phone call to Fitbit's customer service department and told them my tale. A few hours later, I received an email from Fitbit support and they are going to send a FedEx label so I can return my "problematic tracker" to them for investigation. AND they are going to give me a full refund.

Do you know what is even weirder? Apparently I am not the only one in the world who feels a phantom piece of tape stuck to the bottom of my big toe either. I am either becoming a hypochondriac or else I'm helping my doctor solve my own medical mysteries before they become a bigger problem than they need to be.

It's nice to know I'm not alone in the world and when I start to doubt that, I can just go Google it and find so many others thinking the same. Then again, perhaps my attachment to this electronic gadget called a computer is my biggest problem of all. Maybe I should google that ...

P.S. I had barely pressed the "Publish" button on this post when I went to "quickly" vacuum the carpet before my daycare day got busy. I realized I needed to change the vacuum cleaner bag and then the cover to the vacuum got stuck in the open position. It took almost a half hour of jiggling, wiggling and google searching before I finally found my answer via my best pal "Google". I had to open the lid to the attachment cover which is on top of the vacuum bag cover. And it worked like a charm. Google saved the day. Again!

A Moment at a Time

The week has tuckered me out. I'm ready for my holidays but those will have to wait two more weeks. Am I up to the challenge? I guess I have to be because there is really no other option.

The transition into daycare for a one year old is hard. I keep forgetting this. It's a little bit like labor. While my second son was being born, I sighed, "I forgot it hurt this much!" My doctor replied, "I do this for a living and I forgot too".

Yes, we forget the "hard" and remember the "present" so much in life.

Learning the ropes at a new job. It is one of my least favorite places in the world to be, but once I learn that job and it starts to come naturally and eventually I'm the one helping others, I tend to forget how hard it felt to get from "Point A" to "Point B".

I like being in a role where it feels like I do a decent job, help others along the way and make a small difference within my world. I love the feeling of putting in a good day's work and the reward is in the accomplishment, how I may have made another person feel and has nothing to do with the financial payback.

I love watching people doing a job they love to do. The job itself isn't important, it is the role that person is playing while doing their job. They light up their little corner of the universe and spread the light to those they touch. It is a beautiful sight.

I cringe at the thought of looking down upon my day and watching me do my work. I am not spreading joy. I am not lighting up my little people's day. I am not sparkling and shining and at the end of the day I always feel like I could have done better, done more and done something differently.

Whenever I take my young friends out for a walk, the two youngest get to ride in the double stroller and there is a place for everyone else to hold onto the stroller so I know everyone is safe and we are all walking together. I am pushing the weight of the two youngest and pulling the weight of whoever is holding onto the stroller. It is hard work and it simulates my day. The constant pushing and pulling of various needs, wants and personalities is just as hard or harder than pushing that stroller.

I guess I need to find a way to make the journey a little more enjoyable so everyone wants to pull their own weight and perhaps even help propel us in a forward direction. Or maybe we don't need to GO anywhere at all. Maybe all we need is right here at our fingertips and we just need to reshuffle, relook and rebuild what we have right here at home so we can see the fun in being "just where we are".

Today's crew consists of a one year old who is teething and not loving a lot of the moments he is "in". He is accompanied by his 3-1/2 year old brother who wants to be anywhere but where he is at. Add to that, a happy-go-lucky little 1-1/2 year old who loves every moment and latches onto them with a sense of joy I wish I could bottle up so I could "buy" some of what she has when I need it the most. And lastly, a little 2-1/2 year old little guy who is joyful but does not have a strong sense of his own personality, so adopts and inhabits the personalities of his playmates.

I think I want "Joy" to take the lead today. I want to turn today into one of those "hard mornings" that I forget I even had by the end of a day that turns into a "gift".

One moment at a time. That is all we are truly given so that is really the only way to live these days. I need to stay in the moment and focus. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Sure! Let's all do this. One. Moment. At. A. Time.