We started off the day at the gym, of course. (I will go hungry before voluntarily consuming almost anything healthy, yet I am religious about my workouts. Go figure, huh?) The weather was nasty this morning - dark clouds, gusty winds, sporadic rain. Emma feared a tornado was on the way. I assured her it was highly unlikely, but she wanted to know exactly what would happen if one was spotted. After walking her through the safety procedures for a tornado, we entered the gym. Like always, the front desk employee greeted us with a smile and a friendly hello. Emma immediately demanded, "Do you have a basement in here? Because a tornado is coming." After multiple reassurances that we were not, in fact, psychic meteorologists and the building did not need to be put on tornado alert, I dropped the kids at the nursery and hit my spin class. The next hour passed by in a sweaty haze of me failing to get my RPMs up to 128 (128! What do I look like, The Terminator?) while the girls built playdoh castles. No sirens, no tornadoes, all safe.
Then we were off to feed our friends' cat Marge. Hmmm. Cats. Cats, cats, cats. [Sigh.] I don't know...I just don't get them. It literally took me 20 minutes to get inside the apartment because the lock loves messing with me, and poor Marge was meowing behind the door like a madman the entire time. Yet the minute we stepped inside, Marge played all cool and wanted nothing to do with us. Sophie just wanted to pet and kiss and snuggle and squeeze and LOVE that cat, and you'd think after being alone for five days that the cat would want at least a tiny bit of affection...but, you'd think wrong. Marge just stared at me, stoically enduring Sophie's ministrations, willing me with his eyes to FEED HIM. NOW. (Btw, I'm not confusing my pronouns. Marge is indeed a boy.) As soon as I put food on the plate, we were all promptly dismissed. I tried to brush his fur, but he gave me such a scathing "Are you kidding me?" look that I immediately stopped. Sophie was determined to get that cat to love her, but after a couple of unmistakable "back OFF" feline hisses, I pried Sophie away. We hung out a few minutes to see if Marge might feel more social after eating, but with a flick of his tail he jumped on the couch and proceeded to bare his teeth whenever we approached. So, as Sophie wailed "Why da kitty not like me Mama? WHYYYYYYYY?", we skedaddled out the back door.
Next we hit the grocery to stock up on a few provisions. We only needed three things, so I decided to skip the cart and let the girls walk with me. BIG mistake. "Dancing Queen" was playing over the loudspeaker, and the girls took the song to heart, boogieing up and down the aisles. They were clearly having fun, which was fun to for me to watch. But the people they kept running into didn't seem to be having quite as much fun as we were. One lady curled up her lip and practically hissed at me, "Please control your children." She reminded me quite a lot of Marge, actually. We only had one item at that point, but I figured that was our cue to leave.
Once home, we had lunch and watched Cinderella. The girls only engaged in six fights, with less than half ending in tears. Honestly? That's a successful couple of hours in our house. The girls love the part of the movie when the fairy godmother sings "Bibbity Bobbity Boo." They danced all over the living room. Also, Sophie is obsessed with the stepsisters' mean cat. Even though the cat is clearly evil, every time he appears on the screen she coos, "Aw, he cute. Cute kitty!" As the end credits rolled, the girls erupted in applause. (Princesses are VERY big around here.)
Next: Naptime. Emma crashed with me, Sophie in her room. I had a hard time getting Sophie to settle down because she kept asking me when we were going back to visit the cat. (If you are into drinking games, I suggest you take a shot every time the word "cat" appears in this blog post. And then don't drive. Because you are now very drunk.) Emma rarely naps anymore, but sometimes she likes to snuggle and sleep with Chris or me. She wrapped her hands around my arm and drooled on my shoulder, just like she used to do as a baby. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
We didn't wake up until almost 4 o'clock. Oh, Glorious Nap, how I worship you! Both girls were clingy and disoriented from so much sleep, so the three of us burrowed into the couch together and watched Powerpuff Girls until Daddy came home.
We didn't go to the zoo or the museum or the nature center - all ideas I had tossed around as a means of filling the day. I got exactly nothing accomplished around the house and my to-do list remains untouched. But after lunch, Emma climbed onto my lap and said, "Mama, I love spending time with you at home. I miss you when I'm at school." That, to me, is a successful day. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill Friday with my beauties.
1 comment:
I love the name Marge for a male cat --- can't wait to tell the story to some friends!
OK - here's the scoop on cats - dogs have owners and cats have staff. That is precisely how Marge viewed you. Your job was to feed him - you are staff. Therefore, he will do anything to get that process started - i.e., crying at the door like he'll be really glad you got in.
But once the process is started - you were in and getting his food - then it's not worth any more effort on his part. In fact you then started to annoy him. Plus since his owners were not there to be punished (and someone had to be punished for neglecting him for 5 days), you and the girls had to bear the brunt of his wrath.
Cats do not like being neglected by staff - and do not regard substitute staff as acceptable. When we have been gone on trips, we usually get 'the back' from Mew for the first few hours after our return. The only exception has been with our 2 zany 'torties' - Pidgie and Snickers. For some reason they act more like dogs when we come home and are really glad to see us. Mew, on the other hand, reacts like a typical cat.
G Kitty
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