Feb
6
It’s unseasonably warm and sunny here. So there’s that! Unless you think too long about the downsides of it being so warm and sunny. I try not to do that!
I remembered to take the trash out on Monday night. I have almost always been able to remember to do this ever since this became my very important sole responsibility, except once when I had to go flying out there early Tuesday morning in full Oh Shit mode, v embarrassing because my house is kind of super visible to a lot of neighbors since it’s on a cross street, and then I put a reminder in my phone and we’ve been solid ever since. Small wins, I will take them.
Billy is so big now, even though he is still *silly voice* just a baby! Apparently Maine Coons grow for 3-5 years, so their kittenhood is elongated much like their big old fluffy rabbit feet. We have this ongoing game where I catch his eye and gaze at him intently — this is how we know The Game is On — and then go inching around a corner so I can only see him a little bit, while he simultaneously flattens out or slinks behind something, then we carefully peek at each other while his butt starts to waggle then RARGH! He comes flying at me with paws raised! And sometimes even though I am very much aware that he is incoming he still manages to startle me!
My house really feels like my home to me now, which is such a good feeling. Sometimes I get back after being out and about for a while and it’s just like: ahhhh. It feels so good to walk in the door. It feels like slipping into a warm robe.
I have absolutely become the older lady that tells young moms to cherish the precioussssness and I can’t believe it, I know FIRSTHAND how annoying that was, and yet. I was talking to someone recently who was sharing about how in the weeds she felt with parenting lately, her son had just given the whole family some tragic barfing sickness and she was telling me about all the grim loads of laundry, the panicky E.R. visit for dehydration, all the things, and even though I can very specifically imagine the hellishness and even have my own terrible E.R.-for-barfing memory (the oily panic, followed by the relief/exhaustion of seeing a scary-pale child being revived, the lingering feeing of being in WAY over my head) I still found myself saying something like “Oh but you won’t realize how much dopamine they give you on the daily until they’re grown,” what in the absolute sam shit, self.
Speaking of the relentless and surreal passing of time, Dylan turned 18 this week. I have a whole entire piping-hot gumbo of feelings about that, but I will limit myself to saying that he sure is turning into a fine young man. Like Riley, he really is his own unique dude and I love them both so very dang much. 18, can you believe it! I spent some good time with him here and one of my gifts to him was a metric crap-ton of Big League Chew, Original Flavor, because we’ve been noticing that it’s hard to find plain bubble gum flavor in the stores. What, you’re going to stuff in a wad of fake chew and it’s strawberry? Fughettaboutit.
(It goes by so fast.)
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