I have full grocery bags sitting on the kitchen floor, an unmade bed staring me in the face, and three kittens scampering around my living room. Yet here I sit. Blogging. I love it.
You know, when I told Emma she could bring a kitten in to the house, I was anticiapting that we'd be moving in to the new house THAT weekend. Now I find myself changing "glitter" boxes, picking bits of dry catfood off the bottoms of my feet when I step out of the shower and peeling the little claws of dangling kittens off my window screens. The kittens have taken over our bathroom and are slowly taking over the house. Their "house" is in the bathroom–the bathroom that is already a step-sideways-if-more-than-one-person-is-in-there kind of bathroom. The bathroom where the sink sits tenderly on brackets on the wall…brackets that are expecting a set of metal legs to help hold up some of the weight. Metal legs that are no longer there. And when you bump a little too hard into the sink you find you're holding it in your hands and scrambling to turn off the water before it leaks all over your bathroom floor. So adding three kittens, a litter box, a water and food bowl in that bathroom? It makes things a little tight and a little tricky.
Sometimes the chaos I endure for my children is mind-boggling.
And when did our one kitten become three? Well, when Mary had a fit of jealousy over Emma having Rosie and her having nothing. Which dredged up all kinds of memories of her "Springy", last year's kitten that got hit by a car and now lives with Jesus. The one that makes her announce out of the blue, "I want to get flattened like Springy so I can go to heaven and be with him and Jesus." oy.
So, the orange kitten, "Orange Juicy", then "Juicy", now "Juice", came to live in our bathroom. And then that left Juice's brother all by himself in the big scary outdoors and "wouldn't he miss his brother and be lonely?" Tears. Tears. More tears. A weak mother. And now there are three…Rosie. Juice. And, Prancer.
As I said before…the chaos I endure….
And what do these pictures have to do with kittens taking over the house? Nothing, really. Except that maybe you could say they are symbolic of some of the chaos that has been reigning in these parts lately. Bed-jumping is generally frowned upon in this house. As my mother said to me, and I now say to my own children, "this always ends in tears." But yesterday, Emma cleaned her room, made both beds and pushed them together, all of her own doing. I figured a good bed-jumping episode could be overlooked (and photographed).
Some days we could all use a good jump on the bed.