Noel

At the end of my pregnancy, Noel, my eight-year-old cat, had a small lump on her side.  I figured it was a fatty tumor since her behavior hadn't changed.  She was her usual self - tinkling in corners, begging for ice cream, and knocking glasses of water off of my bedside table and onto me in the middle of the night. 

When I feed Baby Ethan, Noel comes and sits on my lap.  During Ethan's Wednesday morning breakfast, I pet her and realized that the one lump had turned into many lumps (one of them was the size of a grape).  By that afternoon, I was sitting in the vet with Noel, listening to the vet explain the three different cancers that she may have.  As I tried not to burst into tears, the vet said things like, "It's unfortunate that the lumps are not in one of her legs, then we could just remove the leg".  After explaining that surgery may not even work, the vet told me a "nurse" would bring me a quote for the lumpectomy and that I should schedule the surgery with the receptionist.

So, I am now left with a difficult decision.  Logically, I should not be spending money on surgery for my eight year old cat.  I have a new baby.  I have a house.  I have expenses.  She is a cat.  She is a cat who I love.  I have known her for as long as I have known my husband.  It was just the two of us until we decided to add Blue, then Ethan, then Fiona, and now Baby Ethan.  We have been through a lot together in the past eight years.  She instinctively knows when I need comforting and is always there for me. She is not just a cat. She is my friend and the first member of my family.

On Monday, I am talking to a vet and family friend, who is going to give me his opinion.  Until then, I am stuck repeating this in my head: "She is a cat.  How can I put a price on a best friend and family member?  She is a cat...".

An Apology to Geese

As I drove to meet two friends for lunch with Baby Ethan crying in the backseat, I multi-tasked.  I had gotten myself and the baby out of the house in fifteen minutes.  The baby looked cute in his giraffe overalls and lime green shirt.  I hadn't showered and felt a sense of accomplishment for remembering to brush my teeth.

As Ethan quited down, I reached for my blush and started to apply my make-up.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bunch (a gaggle!) of geese by the side of the road.  There were tons of goose babies (goslings!) too.  I was instantly afraid that someone would hit them and wondered what kind of mother goose would take her babies by the side of the road.  As I judged the mother geese, I realized the irony.  I was putting on make-up while driving with my baby in the backseat.  What kind of person mother would take her eyes off the road to put on make-up?

I would like to formally apologize to geesekind for being so quick to judge and thank them for teaching me a lesson.

Why a blog?

I hate giving into to trends, but I have decided to start a blog.  In college, I majored in English Literature and considered doing a double concentration - Literature and Creative Writing.  I drank beer instead of taking the extra class.  Yum, Nattie!  I think it was a good choice considering an extra Creative Writing class wasn't going to help me bring in the big bucks (because English Majors typically bring in the big bucks).

Anyway, I have always loved to write and now seems like a good time in my life to pick it up again.  I am a mommy to a hilarious three month old, who I love.  I have recently gone from working 40 hours a week to 10 hours a week at a job that has been my primary focus and sense of accomplishment for the past 5 years.  With all this change, I think it will be nice to set aside some time to reflect and do something I enjoy.

I will be writing about anything that strikes me as funny.  Over the past few years, I have said, "I wish I had a blog so I could write about this" multiple times - like the day I drove to the ENT for vertigo and my GPS took me on the exit, then off the exit, then on the exit, then off the exit....you can see how helpful that was.  When I finally got the office, I stepped out of my car, only to be greeted by a soggy used Elmo diaper under my foot.  When I walked in, my doctor had a surgery that ran late and I had to reschedule.  I need a blog so I can write about these dirty diaper days!