Jen is one of the most fabulous women I know, and I’m proud to say, one of my very best friends. Last week I told her about a new blog I’d discovered called http://www.dooce.com/ . I think my exact words were, ‘Go there RIGHT NOW and start reading!’ So of course she did.
The next day she told me she’s about to get fired because she can’t tear herself away from the internet. We both agreed that Heather B. Armstrong, the author of Dooce, should be our own personal friend.
KK: Jen, are you teaching summer school?
Jen: Hell no.
KK: Good, then you’ll have time to blog. I think you owe it to yourself [read us] to explore your fascination with Picaso and how it could ruin your marriage.
Jen: I don’t think I’m strong enough. I mean, I couldn’t handle getting hate-mail like Dooce does.
KK: Oh please, I DREAM of getting hate-mail. That would mean that more than six people read what I write and even cared enough to comment. Why can’t I get hate-mail?
Jen: I think you have to be more controversial.
So here goes:
This House of Love is Built for Five
Not too long after John and I moved in together, we started calling our little apartment the House of Love. It was because of the way we made each other feel, each having so much faith in and support for the other. We made a home together where we were safe from whatever craziness life brought, where we would always find love, support, warmth and happiness.
One day a couple of years ago while I was visiting my friend Jen in Texas, we spotted a stray kitten scampering through the yard. We chased it down, which was no easy task even though it had a broken leg, brought it inside and fed it milk and tuna. That night Jen provisioned me with a make-shift litter box, food dishes and more tuna and dropped me off at the motel where my mom and I were staying. I called John the next day and said, ‘I’ve got a kitten in my purse,’ and without missing a beat he asked, ‘Is she cute?’ Piper was three weeks old then, now she’s a glorious, graceful big cat.
Next came Annie. She was a little gray mass hiding under my neighbor’s car after being attacked by a coyote. We took Annie to the vet, who operated on her, and brought home a shy and weary little creature. That same night Annie started following me wherever I went. John faithfully cleaned Annie’s wounds three times a day, while I petted her head and tried not to look at the blood. Nowadays Annie still follows me around the house and I follow her when she takes me for brisk three mile walks.
Then came Sunny, and you know all about him. The vet’s report is in: he shall live to poop another day. It turns out that he has a rather bad case of a rather ordinary parasite. We increased the dosage of the medicine he’s already on, and we’re hoping to have this resolved in a week.
None of these kiddoes was expected, and each one has brought an unimaginable amount of joy. Each time I think my heart can’t getting any bigger, that I couldn’t love any more, it does, and I do. I love these creatures, and their odd proclivities, dearly, and I feel very, very lucky to have them. I know this probably sounds silly to those of you with real, human babies. But this is as close as it gets for me. I’m not all that interested in being a mom to the human variety.
I do, though, relish my role as fairy god mother to two gorgeous little girls. I like to play with them, spoil them, buy them presents, and then be able to hand them back to mom when they start to cry. Just the other day I bought my two-year-old a new book. It’s of the small, three by five variety, with chew-proof cardboard pages. It’s called Baby, Mix Me a Drink, and each page contains a full color illustration of how to make the perfect mixed drink for each family member – martini for Mommy, pina-colada for Daddy, hot toddy for Granny, and so on. So you see, my gifts are both educational and practical. Soon, my little munchkin will be adorable AND handy behind the bar. I hope she’s practicing, because I’m coming to visit in June!
KK: How was that? Was that better?