Joy

I miss my cats. I miss Eli and I miss Gus terribly. They kept my feet and my hands warm and welcomed me at the door. They are the ones, both of them, who passed away in my closet, one of them in my arms and the other who refused to pass away in front of me and avoided it at all costs. Within a year of each other.
  

So when Adam started saying to me, "Mommy, please. Please, I'd really like a kitty." I was skeptical. Did he really? Was he ready? The bigger question was: Was I?

Adam has always been a cat person. I got Eli years ago for a boyfriend. When we broke up (within the year after adopting him), I took him back without a question or a second's guess, because he really didn't want or need him, and I did. Eli was 9 years old when Adam was born, and immediately, Eli was Adam's cat. He sat with him, loved him and was always, always, just perfect for a tiny kid. And Adam was never cruel or overly aggressive with him, ever.

Eli passed away two days before Christmas in 2012, When Adam was 2 and a half. Two months ago, (a year later) when Aunt Ra Ra was showing Adam pictures of her cat, Rocco, on her phone, Adam ran to the computer desk and whipped out a picture of Eli. He said, "This is my cat, Eli." Gus passed away on November 15, 2013. Gus had always been and will always be my cat. He was 14 years old and I watched him deteriorate with no ability to do anything for him. Gus had a thyroid condition that mysteriously was exaggerated immediately after Eli's death, and though the medicine was supposed to help, it also aggravated a liver condition that apparently had been there for a while. Gus rode it out as long as he could, and though I question it daily, I know there was no way I could let him be put down in a cold veterinarian's office that he didn't know. Many people have to and that's the right thing. I couldn't. He tried his best to be "okay," until the day he died.

I broke down that day, but I didn't know it. The next day was the first day that I ventured out to try to be a "professional" photographer, or at least to try to see if I liked it or was good enough to give it a shot. I immersed myself in that, hoping that I'd be okay. And I was. That day. And for the two weeks after where I stayed so busy I could barely concentrate on brushing my teeth, let alone the fact that I'd lost my best friend. But my stress level has been through the roof since then and the house still feels lonely.


So, two months after Gus passed away, when I was helping Adam search for "his cat," I felt... guilty. And really, really good for him. I knew what to look for and I knew what he needed, and I wanted him to pick out "his" cat all on his own.

"Mommy, please. I want a kitty cat." No tears. No fits. No screaming bratty screams. Just clear: "Yes. Please, please. I want a cat for me."

I love, absolutely adore, our dog Caley. She is literally the best dog that could ever walk this planet. I would argue with anyone about that. Anyone. But I get it, Adam's pleas for a cat. I did understand, as a cat person.

So Adam and I went to one rescue shelter, and they showed us this adorable little orange cat named Ariel. They bonded, but it wasn't... I don't know, it wasn't a real bond. She liked toys, he liked cats and waving toys around, and rescue shelter wanted us to take both her and her sister. Who was also wonderful. But it was the first place we went, so after we stopped by the Plano animal shelter and found Pumpkin. A six year old very chill cat who was declawed, good with dogs, kids, the whole works. We decided. Adam called him "Yogi" immediately, and it was written... "Yogi" was our cat. I called them within 30 minutes and told them we were coming back to get him. We were there within the hour and they were already adopting him to another couple. Adam was confused, and sad, and kept asking where "Yogi" was... and I was fighting back tears. I get it, the cat got adopted even though we claimed him already and knew we were coming for him. But I had to handle a very sad three year old in the middle of a very busy animal shelter, asking very loudly why we weren't able to take our cat home. I was angry. Not that "Pumpkin" was getting adopted, but because I had made it clear we would be there in thirty minutes and it hadn't registered to that person that it meant anything in our lives. I explained it to Adam, and we left after looking at another cat who clearly did not want to have anything to do with children. Great cat... not our cat.


I had taken the week off of work, Shannon was out of town, and the kids all went to school. I ran some errands and did some chores and picked Adam up to take him to lunch and then a trip downtown to the Dallas SPCA, intending to follow through with our quest. We looked at one orange young cat, who was terrified, and knew that our house was only going to make her more terrified. We looked at a little, black, tailless kitten who had more energy than Adam and I knew that would probably not end well. Adam kept telling me the kitten looked "scared," and I whispered, "is it really you who's scared?" "yes."

Then we looked at "Beth." She was energetic, fearless, cuddly and sweet, and he liked her. She didn't come at him with her claws, and in the final test, I asked him to hold her. When he did, she went limp.

I said, "do you like her?"
"Yes, Mommy, let's take her home."

We did. It was a long wait in the adoption center for her to get the final check out, and I ask what we should name her.

"Joy Like A Fountain."
"Can we call her 'Joy' for short?"
"Yeah!"

She sat next to him the entire way home and cried and reach for him. He kept asking if she had claws and I told him yes, but it didn't seem like she liked to use them.

When we brought her home, they encouraged us to keep her in "her room" (Adam's room) for 10 days. She cried after 10 minutes and happily faced all three kids and Caley without a whimper, and didn't even hide. So I didn't. She was determined to not only fit in but be a presence in the house. In fact, on day 3 I found her on the kitchen table "inspecting" Colin's dinner. She quickly learned to stand next to Caley and wait for dinner to be eagerly showered down... and to move fast, because Caley has seniority.

It took her about 5 days to realize that Caley was the safest person in the entire house, and now they are buddies.

That first night, as I was putting Adam to sleep, I made sure she knew that he was hers. This was her person. And from that moment on, she looked for him, let him carry her around the house, purred when he walked into a room. She's like a cat version of Adam - cute, brave, spunky, sweet to everyone, and a bit of a spaz. And they just click.

Claire spends lots of time lying on the floor talking to her and trying to share her stuffed animals. I think Claire adores her and wants a kitten of her own.

Colin spends a lot of time chasing her around the house, pulling her tail, meowing at her and hitting her with his lovies. She is very wary of Colin, but I think he'll get the idea eventually -- he just OVERLY loves her and likes the way he gets to play with Caley. ROUGH. However, she just takes it. And she comes back for more. Maybe she likes the abuse, or really doesn't mind giving second (or 50th) chances.
 

 

"Is this the right way to hug a cat?"

I had hopes that Adam's frequent nightmares would be better if he had a "buddy" with him to help him feel safe. But now we just have him and a kitten curled up in our bed at 3 am every night. Oh well. At least they are happy together.

About two weeks later, Joy ate holes in Adam's baby blanket. I have no idea why she did it - she doesn't do it to other blankets and it's very random. Adam was sad, and was mad at her for a few hours, but got over it. (Of course, he asked for a new one, and I knew it was discontinued but was able to find a new one on ebay. I also found a used one that they were selling for more than I originally spent.) We're going to patch up his old one but have a back up on it's way just in case.

Joy is going to Show and Tell to meet Adam's class tomorrow. I know she'll do great.

"Hilarity."

This is my 409th post, and therefore I fear I have hit writer's block on what the title of this little gem is... I also spend so much time editing my pictures sometimes that I end up slapping some words on a page after it's all done, and am fairly certain I am cheating the writer in me. So this time... write first, slip in some adorable pictures after. The ones in this post were from a gorgeous Saturday evening before dinner, where I finally broke down and gave my 50mm 1.8f lens a second chance at candid photos with my crazy children. (So forgive the glaring imperfections, but there are some pictures of my own kids that I can't just throw away.)

Let's face it... I'm exhausted. I knew from the moment that we found out we were having twins that the hard part wouldn't be when they are newborns and Adam was two, and we were up all night... but now, when they are a year and a half, feeling pretty certain they are justified in throwing their two year old tantrums, and while Adam is three and a half and feeling very three and a half. And we're up all night. Fortunately I feel like my parents are always on speed dial for emergency bail out and I have wonderful friends who take care of me.

In our house, everyone is opinionated and everyone is loud, no one wants to do what they are told and when you do get onto them, they giggle as if they are the most hilarious human being to ever walk the planet. (Or in Adam's case, cry and scream uncontrollably because he knows best, has always known best, and will not give up or breathe until he can be talked off the ledge or appeased with either what he wanted in the first place or an acceptable alternative.) And they may be the most hilarious people on Earth... but not so much when I've told them 4 times in a day to stop unrolling the toilet paper into the potty or begged them not to push the speakers over... or to stop eating the dog food... to stop feeding the Caley their food... that the lunch prepared was perfect for one of them and completely unacceptable for the other two. (Those who say they make their kids "go without" must not have to listen to them scream in hunger for two hours while they should be napping but are too hungry to do so. If they refuse lunch, they can have an apple or a banana, I'm not a restaurant or anything. (Obviously. The food isn't that good.)

But let's start with their charms, and work our way down from there as I lightly scatter in their flaws (what? I mean... their "hilarity.")

Let's start with Colin, because his charms are so extensive.

The twins' teacher told me earlier this week that she wished they were allowed to take video of the kids (it's a very traditional Montessori), because Colin is "hilarious." She said he knows how to push all of Claire's buttons and he's good at it. The story this time: at naptime they sleep on cots next to each other, because they insist on it. But as they are trying to go to sleep...

Colin casually puts his leg on Claire's cot.
She grunts and yells at him to stop.
He retracts his foot, grinning, but acting like he did nothing.
A few seconds later, he does it again. Repeat interaction a few times.

(Sorry Claire, but that's pretty funny.)

Colin is a hugger, a lover, a sweetie pie... when I pick him up from school, he yells, "Mama!" and comes to give me a hug around the face and a big wet kiss. (Claire, alternatively, sees me, jumps up and runs for her jacket, all the while sternly screaming at me that I took too long. She retrieves her jacket, rejects a hug, and storms out of the room. She's happy. But she's ready to go home.) Colin is very clever, witty,  and a practiced clown. When he's got enough attention (one person), he'll spice things up... meow like a cat, bark like a dog, grab fistfuls of food like a maniac and stuff it in his face for comedic effect, the list is endless. Colin is the best sleeper and the most still cuddler of all. He's a morning person, but when he's ready for bed, he will tell you. (Claire is not a morning person and will fight sleep as long as she possibly can.) Let's be brutally honest though... Colin is a biter and a hitter. Not when he's mad, but when he's mad, happy, excited, bored, playful, mean... just always. Whenever you're around Colin, cuddle him all you can. But keep one eye open. That's all I'm saying.

Colin is great with puzzles, is an excellent stacker of all things "stackable" and is awesome with his speech. His favorite words are "Bapple," (which substitutes for several fruits such as apples, bananas, grapes...) "Mama," "Dada," "Dog," "kitty," "March, March, March," "juice," "NO, NO!" "Stop!" and "Shhhhhhh...." which is the most adorable little thing I've ever seen. Ever. (Well, it's up there, okay?)

One of my favorite recent Colin stories:
The way Colin pronounces "apple" is so cute I almost encourage it: "Bap-apple."

Tonight he was banging an empty cup against the refrigerator door, so I tried to hand him his cup of milk. He swatted it out of my hand. I asked if he wanted water instead and held up his cup of water. He melted to the floor, crying in complete agony.
"Colin, Buddy. I don't know what you want!"
(sob) "BAP-APPLE JUICE!"

I laughed probably a little too hard and poured him a small glass - he earned it, since that was the first time he has put two words together. He literally strutted, chest out and dimples first, into the living room, waving his cup victoriously in the air so his siblings could see his triumph. Language rules.

Colin loves to wash dishes at the sink (now Claire does too), and he is a fish in the bathtub, a natural swimmer from the beginning with no fear (Claire is a fish as well, but has some fear. A healthy dose.)

But the cool thing about Colin is that he is super social and will try anything. Go headfirst down a slide, free fall off the back of the couch, tackle a moving dog and pull on a wiry and fearless kitten's tail, and even dare to wrestle his sister over a towel because they couldn't decide who should mop up the spilled (on purpose) ice water in the middle of the kitchen floor. His bravery is legendary and terrifying.

Let's move on to his younger sister and total opposite.

Claire is extremely bright and excellent with her non-verbal skills. She doesn't have to talk, because her pointing, nodding, and made up sign language are quite amazing. She probably understands everything we say, and if she doesn't, she gives it a good guess:

"Do you want milk, Claire?"
(shakes head no.)
"Do you want water?"
(shakes head yes.)
The "guess what I'm thinking" game is always fun. But only when you guess right.

"Claire, do you like the Kirkland brand diapers better than the Target brand?"
Assertive head nod. "Yeah."

Good to know.

I believe Claire knows her colors, or is beginning to. She repeated the word Purple when I pointed out something purple. She can point out and name the colors "red" and "yellow." She is great with puzzles and stacking as well and is a wiz with the shape ball, with no help required (or wanted). Claire knows exactly what she wants and when she wants it, and will fight to the death to get it. The girl's timing for knowing when to feign injury and when to go in for the kill is pretty spot on. However, she grins while she does it so I imagine 95% of the time she gets away with it.

When Colin tries to bite her she shrugs him off. I can't even get him to stop biting me. But apparently she knows the trick.

Somehow she managed to push him off the table without anyone seeing. Looks like one of my old soccer moves.

The other day, and I'm not quite sure what Claire did first (if anything), but Colin came running in the kitchen after her and punched her in the forehead as she was turning back around. She turned the rest of the way around and punched him in the forehead without even dropping her cookie (Colin's cookie?). Then nothing happened. No one cried. Claire looked up at me and grinned. I said, "uh... Okay?" And then they walked into the playroom together. Weirdos.

And the one that makes me laugh...

Colin found a long lost toy light saber that is a favorite among all. He ran into the living room, waving it over his head victoriously (a pattern with him). I turned to put something on the kitchen counter and when I turned back around he was yelling, pinned on his stomach to the carpet. Claire had him pinned, had her left hand wrapped around his neck and her right had had wrenched the light saber from his hand and now she was waving it over her head.

I said, "Guys. Seriously?" And she got up. She didn't give the light saber back though.

(I know sometimes it sounds like I'm making Colin out to be the wimp... the truth is, he's often the instigator and knows how to play dirty. And most of the time, they get along just "fine." But I often warn both Adam and Colin that if they antagonize her enough, Claire will finish it.)

Claire is incredibly aware and mature for her age. She is ready to potty train and would be there if A) she could physically do it (be tall enough to get on the potty and pull her pants down), B) if she wasn't terrified to sit on the potty, and C) if I hadn't banished her from the bathrooms because she sneaks in there to put toilet paper in the potty and dip pieces in to run out and use the wet pieces to "clean" the rest of the house. She loves to wipe things down (the table, herself). She can blow her nose and has been able to since she was 13 months old. When I picked them up one day, she was pretending to be a puppy with two three year old boys while Colin was being hilarious and rolling around on the carpet with his shirt pulled over his head... on purpose.

Claire's favorite words are "Daddy," "Budda," "Adam," "Look!" and "Apple." She's really starting to speak much more in the last week or so, but really relies heavily on her non-verbal, and responds better to me when I am non-verbal as well. She's the best shopper, extremely opinionated about the way her clothes fit and her shoes (I bought her three pairs of boots for Chrismas and one pair of athletic shoes. She rejected the boots, mostly because they hug her calves to tightly. I have the same problem so I completely understand.)

Adam.

Adam, Adam, Adam... he, like the other two, never ceases to challenge and astound me.

Without exaggeration he could have started Kindergarten this year (a few months after turning three). We started abcmouse.com a few months ago and he needed to start on Level 5 (of 6), and it's still too boring for him, but helpful for practice.

He can do 50 piece puzzles without help, and after the first time he has the location of each piece memorized. Right now he's working on reading, spelling, phonics and learning the geography of the 50 states. He still thinks coloring is the most boring thing in the world, but puzzles are a neverending pleasure. Mazes are as well but I'm having trouble finding ones that give him the right challenge. He can spell and read many words, but most recently surprised me with the quick spelling (when prompted), of "Red," and "Dad."

Adam is still extremely intense in everything he does... not going to sleep, waking up, getting dressed, not getting dressed, putting together puzzles. Doing something he doesn't want to do. Doing something he does want to do. Eating. Not eating. He's so preoccupied with what he's doing that often he's looking straight at me and still isn't listening. He's a perfectionist.

His anxiety causes us to be constantly challenged from morning until night, and he's having such awful nightmares of a gruesome and disturbing variety (of which I can't determine the cause, since he barely watches TV and when he does, it's PAW Patrol or Doc McStuffins or other very harmless and not scary subject matter). So nearly every night when he finds he's in his room alone, he panics and ends up in our bed. His fear is very, very real and not made up to get attention, so often we are spending a lot of time convincing him it's okay to be alone. In the bathroom, in his room, during broad daylight... we often have to comfort a panic attack after he hears the front door security alarm beep to indicate that it was opened and explain to him that no one came in, we just went out to check the mail.

So we got him a kitten to help him calm down and feel safer, since he'd been asking (but I'll elaborate more about that in a different post). I figured, maybe, if he had company in his room that he'd feel safer. Now at about 3 am every morning we have him in bed plus a kitten who follows him around like she's his twin.

I try desperately to understand what his triggers are, but there are times when everything is a trigger. And there are times when he's very clear about why he has a hard time in his world:

I asked Adam this a few weeks ago:
"Why do you sometimes get so upset when I drop you off at school?"
"Because I just want you. And the work is boring."
"The work is or the toys are?"
"The work. And sometimes my friends are nice and sometimes my friends are mean. And I never know which it will be."

All I could say was, "I want to be with you too, and tell me which friends are mean to you!" I thought it inappropriate to say, "punch the mean ones in the face" and it depressed me too much to say, "welcome to adulthood, Kid, you just about summed up my days too."

I took Adam to watch my indoor game. Afterwards:
"Adam, do you think I'm good at soccer?"
"Well, you need to practice."
"I do?"
"Yes. Because when you hit the glass, you'll break it. And you want to put it on the net... Maybe... The goal. And sometimes it hits you in the head. That's why you need practice."
"Okay I'll work on those things."
"You just need practice."

He has apparently has learned the art of constructive criticism. He also hates the buzzer (it is really loud, now that I think about it), and says it goes... "EEEEEEEEEEEREDEEEEE!" And he doesn't like it. 

But even through all of this, he's incredibly kind and always looking to help and be loving...

Colin and Claire both have terrible colds. Colin coughed...
Me: "Colin, that cough is terrible! You poor thing."
Adam: "Don't worry, Mommy. I will take care of him."

And another time...
 
Adam: "Mommy, I'm going to make you some soup in my kitchen. It will be ready in five minutes."
Me: "Yummmm! What kind of soup?"
Adam: "Uhhhh... (Flourishes his hand in the air).... FRESH!"

After 6 bowls of the delicious stuff he told me it was a secret recipe but that it would turn me into a frog and make my hair grow longer. I hope that means I'm a pretty frog.

But in the end, this last story best summarizes my life at home. I am not perfect and am constantly trying to readjust my strategy, but I've never felt more outnumbered than I have in the last few months:

In the car, unloading after school:
Adam: (at the top of his lungs, for no reason) "AHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Me: "Adam stop screaming please, it hurts my ears."
Claire (grinning): "AHH! AHHHH! AAHHH!"
"You too, Claire, I mean it!"
Colin giggles: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Tee hee hee hee."
"EVERYONE STOP YELLING!"

Laughter.

They win again. One day I will be victorious.

 

New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve morning, Shannon went to work, I made the kids pancakes and then they spent an hour doing this... (washing dishes for fun):

 

As you can see, they look pretty happy. The twins were finally feeling GOOD that day. Adam ate 5 pancakes and was smiling away. And then, he disappeared...

And I found him here... on the couch, not moving, not smiling, not talking at 9:30 am in the morning, which is completely not like him.

But I went on, in the back of my mind thinking that something wasn't right, but there was nothing really I could do. He had a fever but nothing scary, and decided that when Shannon got home from work at noon I'd take him to urgent care since our pediatrician's office was closed that day. I tried to enjoy Colin and Claire's new found happiness in feeling "pretty good" for the first time in a long time.

But Adam's fever soared. His breathing was very labored and he refused to move... drink... interact, and was just miserable. When Adam is visibly miserable, something is very wrong. So when Shannon got home I wasted no time in putting both Adam and Colin in the car to speed off to urgent care (Colin still wasn't breathing quite right after the RSV, and that concerned me since he'd been sick for over two weeks at that point).

But once I got out of the driveway I knew I should have left Colin at home and very seriously contemplated detouring to the ER instead of just urgent care. Adam moaned, looked pale, couldn't breathe... and I feared that I was going the wrong direction. But urgent care was closer and I'd already decided to take Colin, so I kept going. By the time I parked, got Colin into the stroller and went for Adam, he was choking and vomited all over himself, the car seat, and nearly every possible corner of the van. I stripped off his sweatshirt, wiped off his pants with his almost completely soaked blanket, and picked him up. We walked in smelling of vomit and they could see the panic in my eyes, so when I said, "he needs to be seen as near to immediately as possible," they took us back right away.

They ran the RSV test and since we knew strep was in the house (despite the "unlikely" but very possible chance he could get strep with no tonsils), ran the strep test too. Then they gave him a breathing treatment as he tried to maintain consciousness in my lap before the results came back. The RSV came back negative (I know he had it but it had been a while since he first showed signs), but the strep came back positive and they said that strep can cause his throat to swell up so much that it was causing an obstruction. They tried to prescribe oral antibiotics but I insisted they give him a shot instead, because I knew there was no way I would be able to get it down and he clearly needed relief immediately. The doctor, without hesitation, agreed to do as I asked.

So they brought in two nurses, one man to help me hold him still and a woman to give the shots. I held my end of the bargain, but the nurses really struggled to hold him down, as they all do, because even barely conscious, the kid is freaking strong.

All the while I had asked my dad to come up and stay with Claire while she napped so Shannon could come get Colin (Colin was very good and just stood in the corner while we held Adam down and made him miserable). Right after it was over, Shannon came in, got Colin and started to take care of the mess in the van while I took Adam home in the truck and put him to bed... and he slept for 4 hours until about 5:30 pm. During that time, I went to Primacare for a strep test just in case I could get ahead of it (I didn't really think I had strep, but the way things were going...) It came back negative, thankfully.

When Adam woke up he was feeling much better, not nearly himself but his fever was manageable again and he was breathing okay.

Shannon and I had contemplated taking a break and doing something together for New Year's Eve just to take a break from the sickness, but we didn't feel comfortable leaving. So we let Adam have a quiet night while Shannon played with the twins. Adam was wide awake from his long, late nap, so we rang in the New Year together while he said, "Mommy? .... I love you." every three minutes. I think he knew I had his back even though the last thing he wanted was a wretched shot.

In all honesty, our New Year's Eve turned out just fine. Maybe even better than some I've had in the past.

Parties are exhausting.

Enjoying a puzzle.