Thinking about a cat whilst drunk on NYE.

It's December 31st. I am sitting on my couch at 10:36 pm, sufficiently inebriated. The baby (toddler) is sleeping. My husband (still not totally used to that word) is sleeping, and has been since before 8:30. I am watching times square on abc. It's weird, I feel old. It's been a year, for sure. I got married. My daughter turned one. My sister had brain surgery. Trever's dear uncle passed away. Lots of feelings. Lots of adjusting. We are all just doing the best we can, I'm sure of that.

(this country music is fucking terrrrrrible)

But what is prompting me to type tonight is Kiki. She is sitting next at this moment, seemingly happy, but there has been considerable meowing recently. She's always been loud and talkative (my AIM name was/is kikimeowstoomuch) but lately I feel like she is yelling at me. She wakes Hazel up during the day. At night, it's incessant. Sometimes she sneaks up behind me. Sometimes she stares at the cat pan. Maybe her kidneys are starting to fail? That's common in felines at a certain age. She is 17. Let's face it: she is not going to live forever. I know this. I've done this before.

But tonight, she's driving me crazy with meowing. I clench my jaw. I pet her forcefully. Just please, shut up, stop meowing at the top of your lungs for ten minutes straight (right now she is all fluffy belly exposed, front paws tucked, purring so loud) because I don't know if you are in pain or you are just being a demanding queen, and you will meow either way.

And now that she's quiet and purring (and Trever is standing here in his long johns commenting on the NYE program) I just want to press pause. Look at her pretty face and stare into her eyes. AND JUST AS I TYPED THAT, THE MONITOR GOES OFF and Hazel is making sounds.

SO I'm going to eat a popsicle. And love my family.

Happy New Years. 

I had genuine happy feelings tonight.

Let's be real here. I'm a negative pessimist. Misanthropic. I keep a few close. The rest are people that exist in the ether. If we lived near each other, maybe we'd hang out. Hopefully. I'm not that great at keeping up with relationships in general. I get lazy with my friendships and then.. Well. The ones that stick, you know they count. Anyways.  The point is not about that. It's about tonight.

We took Hazel to the Edaville Railroad. It was magic. So many christmas lights. I loved it. I cried happy tears at the lights. I felt feelings that I couldn't control. It was awesome.

It's not that I don't feel things. But I'm a cold New Englander. I keep my feelings close. I keep my walls up. I'm loving in a practical way. I'll make sure you've got clean socks and a warm dinner. I'll make you a sandwich. I'm not mushy... maybe as a girl I was, but not as a lady. Not as a mother.

It catches me, though. Nostalgia is powerful. Add Christmas, and forget it. I can't control that shit. We pulled into the parking lot, and I saw all the lights, and I was done. Warm goo. Mush and heart eyes and fucking twinkly stars. All of it. We rode that slow train around in a loop and it was just magic. Hazel loved it. The whole thing. She walked around, smiled, pointed, wowweed. We took her to the gift shop and bought her some presents from Santa. We took her in the candy store and bought treats (for the car ride home, for mom & dad). We took goofy pictures.

It was all so good. So so good. I was overwhelmed by love and magic and feeling so fucking lucky that we were able to do this tonight. That we can create this cool memories for our daughter. To give her the warm feelings now that will make her nostalgic as an adult.

It's nice to feel those feelings. To feel so happy that I can't keep it at a distant from myself. I'm thankful.

Lots of cliches about time passing

I won't write them, but please know that I am feeling them.

My family is going through some big things right now that I don't feel like I can share publicly, as they are not happening directly to me, but certainly they impact my life, so hence the vagueness. If you, stranger on the internet, are reading this, please shoot good vibes through the ether or say a couple prayers for us, if that's your thing.

Currently, on this monday afternoon, I am listening to my baby cry & cough through her afternoon nap. First bad cold and this is just no fun. Ugh. It would be much easier if I didn't have this shitty mom elbow and a sore throat myself. Every time Hazel wails, Kiki howls. WHY?

I would love a night off..
but I will settle for a microwaved cup of coffee and a grocery store cookie before I go back in and rock my miserable baby back to sleep.

UPDATE: There are actually no cookies left. Trever finished them. ALL I WANTED WAS A COOKIE, MAN.

Wow.

My baby is eight month olds now. She is big. She is funny. She wears sunglasses outside. She eats cheese. So many things. It's amazing to watch her grow and change each day. Her little brain is processing so much. I wonder how she will be when she is one, two, eight, twelve, but at that same time, I wish she was still that tiny little bundle that slept on me. Being a parent is the weirdest thing I have ever done. I feel every feeling all the time. I am the same person I was but I am totally different. I am lonely often but I want to be alone alone which I never am. I want to be more than just a mom but right now all I want is to be a mom. Walking contradiction, always and forever. 

Kiki is seeming older and older each day, too. My poor kitty has tender hips. We have stairs for her to get on the couch and onto the bed. She has a food bowl in each room so she doesn't need to go far if she doesn't feel like it. Her food was discontinued (Canyon River Creek, WHY?) so we've been sampling various foods, trying to find the ones she will eat with her arthritis pills mixed in. Her meowing is out of control, she is SO LOUD. It's so frustrating sometimes, when it's 3 am, or when she manages to wake up Hazel just as she finally goes down for a nap, but I have to remind myself that my beautiful loud cat will not live forever and I need to appreciate every moment with her that I have left. She is seventeen years old now. SEVENTEEN. She has been with through every important moment of my adult life. No cats will ever mean as much to as Kiki and Roo (I miss you, every day, sweet girl), no chance. And of course, there will be other cats in my life, I am sure of that, but these girls have meant the world to me, have been my best friends and confidants, my pillows, my blankets, my babies. So I will do whatever I can to make Kiki's twilight years as comfortable as possible. Great. Now I am crying.