Love Cats

The other night our littlest kitten, who is no longer little, was ill. He must have eaten a plant or something when out on the porch all afternoon. He was listless, vomiting, breathing shallowly and his heartbeat was rapid. Pretty scary stuff. And he didn't want to be touched at all. To avoid dehydration, I kept dipping my finger in his bowl and he would lick the water off.

Yesterday morning he was still not well but I got a call later from the hubby that the kitten was regaining strength, had eaten some canned food and was drinking from his water bowl. Phew.

Last night, I walked in the door and he ran over to me, climbed straight up my pant leg and clung to my sweater until I held him. Then he began rubbing his head all over my face and suckling on my lips. Frantic for love.

Loosely translated, he was saying "omgiwassoooosickanddidntknowwhattodoandandandandicouldbarelyliftmyheadorbreatheandiwassoscaredandthenyouleftandicouldntfindyouanywhereyouweregoneforpossiblyyearsandiwassoscaredandnowyourehomeanditfeltlikeyouwerenevercominghomeimissedyousoooomuchandandandandimsogladyourebackthatimnevergoingtoletyougo"

It feels good to be loved. Thank God he's okay.

Redemption is Sweet

When I was in elementary school, a traveling pianist came to play at our school auditorium. I was seated in the front row and, much like Bruce Springsteen pulling Courtney Cox to the stage (or maybe just kinda), he brought me up on stage and kissed me. And not in a good way.

For at least a week, until I felt like he was safely somewhere else, I rode in the back seat of our station wagon lying down so that he couldn't see/find me. I was terrified, ashamed, embarrassed, disgusted (and so on).

Roughly 25 years later, in the late 90s, the hubby and I went to see David "Honeyboy" Edwards -- a blues legend who won a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award this week. After an amazing show, we went up to shake his hand and he surprisingly kissed me. But, unlike the original vile kiss of my childhood, this was an unexpected, kind gesture from a living legend.

So today I send out a warm, heartfelt congratulations to Honeyboy. I feel honored and privileged to have seen him live and grateful for the redemptive kiss.

Extreme Sex

Conversation while putting the kids to bed last night.

Son #1: Mama, did you ever date any guys between that guy you married in the pool when you were five and daddy?

Me: I had dates but nothing serious.

Son #1: Did you ever play spin-the-bottle?

Me: Yes, but I never wanted to.

Son #2: Why not?

Me: Because I never wanted to kiss any of the guys we were playing with. It grossed me out.

Son #1: Did you have sex with them?

Me: Uh, no, but do you even know what "sex" is?

Son #1: It's when a boy and a girl lie in bed and kiss. It's different than "extreme sex."

Me: What is "extreme sex"?

Son #1: When they roll around in bed and kiss for like four hours.

Me: Where did you hear this?

Son #1: It's just a rumor going around school.

Le Love

I just added another site to my favorites on the left. Check it out!

Is it . . .

better to blow kisses to someone or receive kisses that someone else has blown to you?

There are a lot of kisses flying through the air when I leave the house almost every morning.

When I get home at night, there is often a rush to hug me, as well. But lately, Son #1 is on the computer and cannot be bothered to come up to greet me.

And this morning, he kissed his hands and threw the kisses at me over his shoulder without even looking away from his bowl of cereal. It was still really sweet, a bit of a surprise ambush that I didn't see coming until it hit, but the writing is on the wall.

I need to savor these moments because someday soon they'll be over.

I already got the "Please don't call me Scootchie in public" request recently (although it's still allowed at home) and the "You embarrass me sometimes" statement after I asked a "Who wants ice cream?" question to a group of kids at our house and then snapped my fingers, pointed my thumbs at myself and responded, "This girl."

So, for now, when Son #2 wants me to leave work in the middle of the day to have lunch with him in the cafeteria and play during recess, if I can, I will. In a few years, it will no longer be an option.