And in totally random posts.. on cats, mice and the canonization

It's just about time to go to sleep.  I've finished up my sewing for the night, and have actually checked a surprising number of things off of my to do list, like printing out the city tax information to send in on Monday to beat the deadline next week, and I have even opened the bedroom door, because I'm pretty sure that Kitty has already met his mouse quota for the night and is hopefully not going to try to force any more mice on me.

If he wasn't a mouser when we first brought him home, he's most definitely a mouser now and we're developing a nightly routine where I sit down to sew and he trots up the stairs yowling loudly to let me know that he's bringing me a present, and I quickly go over to the door and tell him "thank you ever so much Kitty, but I think I'm going to close the door now!" and he proceeds to spend the next ten minutes trying to batter down the door, while yelling at me to let me know that he has something for me, because he really wants to share (and I suspect that he thinks that I'm the worst hunter in the world and can't feed myself... or something along those lines by the sense of urgency with which he brings me these gifts...).

Still, I can't help but wonder, if the mouse population in the house was already quite large when he arrived, even if he brings me one mouse a day, every day, are we really putting a dent in the number of mice around at all?  Or maybe they'll be encouraged to search out a new cat-less home now that the weather has improved?

Because the look she gets
on her little face is totally similar to the look
in this picture, every time she
sees a picture of him!

In other totally random news, I find myself feeling all warm and happy every time I see a picture or or post about soon to be declared Saint Pope John XXIII (well almost, but I'll get to that in a second).  The reason is kind of funny.

Before the recent canonization I hadn't given him all that much thought.  But lately there have been pictures of him everywhere.  And for some reason Maggie is extremely, extremely fond of him. Lask week I found her clutching a prayer card with his picture smiling happily and when we were at Mass on Easter she sat, beaming when she saw a massive poster of him in the narthex (I think it bought me an extra five minutes before the wildness set in).

One of the things I've definitely learned in the last few years is that when one of the kids develops an attachment to a certain saint, I instantly find myself thinking of them much, and am much more likely to find myself asking for their intercession during my prayers and randomly throughout the day.

Now on to the one thing that I did find slightly annoying this morning.  I was watching the morning news show that I sometimes watch online and a segment came up on the "controversy of the beatification of Pope John Paul II" and it was, unsurprisingly, the sort of coverage that made me want to bury my head under the covers and go back to sleep (if I hadn't already been up and out of bed) when suddenly they were interviewing a man in a collar and I thought, here we go, maybe this is actually going to be worth watching.

Instead he said something along the lines of "Well, being a saint doesn't mean a person is perfect.  It simply means they lived a very good and virtuous life." and I couldn't help but wish he'd thrown in something like "being declared a saint means that the Church recognizes that that person is in heaven" because somehow that was left out of the entire report, and let's face it, being declared a saint means a lot more than that a person lived a good life (although who knows, maybe he did say that and the interview was heavily edited for that particular sound bite).

And that is my mini-almost-rant for the day (I just shouldn't watch the news really...).

I think I'll get some sleep before it's tomorrow and hope that everybody in our house "sleeps in" until at least 6:30.

Mae's Super Cat

Okay, I'm may be the only one in the world who found Patch and Maggie playing with their stuffed cats funny, but I just had to post these pictures I snapped yesterday.

As you can probably imagine, since Kitty Fish arrived in our house, Kitty stuffed animals have become pretty popular.  

In fact, as a side story, that just may make this post worth reading, two nights ago Maggie was having a really, really rough time.  It was 5 pm and she was already over tired and melting down.  Usually she runs up to her room on her own and is excited at bedtime, but we'd missed the boat on that point in the night (because it came so early) and it had turned into a complete meltdown.  

Paul was at school, and would be for many hours, and so I scooped her up (something I've been avoiding since the ultrasound but... it's really impossible to avoid it altogether, or even for an entire day, around here) and carried her up to bed.  

Usually going into her room calms her down instantly, but instead she was still crying as if her little heart was broken.  Then Kitty walked into the room.

Now to understand Kitty and Mae's relationship, you'd have to understand that it doesn't really exist at all.  Kitty spends his whole life making sure he doesn't go anywhere near Mae or Patch.  During the day he either stays upstairs or in the basement. He lives to keep a baby gate between himself and the little kids.  And it works well for him.  He's totally stayed clear of grabby little toddler and preschooler hands, the entire time he's lived here.

Earlier this week though, he showed that he's more than just a mouser, when he strolled into the room when he heard her crying and let her pet him, not once, but twice.  She immediately stopped crying.  Her whole face was transformed and she lay on her side, staring into his face, glowing at him.  Then he turned and walked out of the room and she lay there, still smiling, cuddling her bear while I tucked her in.  

A few minutes later when I brought Patch up to bed she was already fast asleep.  

Yes, these two kitties are definitely the toys of the moment in our house... but don't think that any old kitty is okay for Mae to cuddle with.  The orange kitty is definitely "her kitty."  

And in totally unrelated news, last night after I finished my work for the night I quickly sewed this for Mae's therapy (or any other time she wants to use it). It's weighted with plastic pellets and I have a feeling she's going to love it, since she loves all things weighted.  

Now to make a weighted blanket!

A Good Day

Kitty Fish nearly fell out of my favor tonight.  You see, it started when I forget, yet again, that if I attempt to plug in the iron while the heater is on, the upstairs will almost instantly be cloaked in darkness.  So I stumbled down to the basement with Kitty following close behind me and then headed back upstairs where the lights were on but an unusual silence had filled the three small bedrooms. I knew what that meant.  Both the heater and the white noise machine in Patrick's room hadn't turned back on when the power came back on.

So I tiptoed into the room and decided to turn on the noise machine first and then attempt to turn the heater back on without waking him (turning the heater to the correct setting involves it beeping loudly four times).  His little head jerked up at the final beep and I rushed over to rub his back as he dropped back onto the mattress and closed his eyes.  Weaning him has been remarkable pain free for both of us, but I still didn't want to risk an unneeded night wakening.

And then I heard it. Kitty had followed me in and was telling a horrible lie about how he had a mouse and he wanted me to look at it.  I glanced at him to make sure that this wasn't in fact the case (it wasn't) and attempted to gesture for him to leave while Patch's eyes flickered open again and I continued to make hushing noises while patting his back.

Thankfully I escaped, he went back to sleep without a peep, and Kitty fish was left to his dreams of mouse catching.

In totally unrelated news Maggie had an awesome day today.  She sang twinkle, twinkle little star over and over again.  She said 38 spontaneous words plus a bunch more that she was prompted to say during her three hours of therapy this morning.

The day got off to a promising start when she woke up and started calling "I go now!  I go now!" down to Paul who was already downstairs with Patrick.  Remember this is a child who had maybe a half dozen words six months ago.

At the start of therapy she was clingy.  She kept coming over to sit by me and climbing up into my lap and holding my hand. Her therapist stuck with her and after about an hour she really started to warm up.

We've had a tough couple of months where she went from loving therapy to becoming an expert at avoiding having to do anything, and while a discussion about goals and communication let Paul and I know we were on the same page about where we were headed with therapy (and also led to staffing changes at our request), the last couple weeks have been better, but still a struggle.  Mae had developed an aversion to therapy and that isn't going to disappear overnight.

Since the two week point of our playdough-gluten discovery we've had a dramatic improvement, with her smiling and laughing pretty much all day long, but I was still waiting and hoping that therapy would get back on track and that Maggie would start enjoying it again.  The past two days we really began to see that happen.

Perhaps the best part of the last couple months is seeing her relationship with her siblings grow stronger and stronger.

In the middle of the night earlier this week I heard Maggie wake up and get out of bed.  I lay listening, knowing that my getting up would only do what it always does, that is, make her incredibly hyper and ready to play.  Then I heard Sadie's little voice singing a song from the Little Mermaid and my heart just about burst.

Then there was the moment in therapy after Sadie had finished her school work when Mae's therapist told her she could ask Mae if she could play with her too.  Without missing a beat Mae glanced at Sadie and then sat down on her lap while they continued to play with the toy food together.  A short while later Maggie was sitting on the floor playing with a Mr. Potato Head.  As she put in his ears she studied him and said "mu-eeeehh, mu-eeeeh, mu-eeeeh."

"Do you know what she's saying?" Mae's therapist asked.  I shook my head and then we both heard Sadie say "monkey," softly to herself.  "Do you know what Maggie is saying, Sadie," she asked.

"Monkey, she's saying monkey."  And sure enough the word suddenly seemed clear as Mae repeated it softly to herself over and over again and she played.

From start to finish today was a good day.  Here's hoping for many more like it to come.

Introducing Kitty Fish

I don't see many mice in my near future.  At least not scampering free.

Our cat search yesterday afternoon was a success, which is amazing considering there was one type of cat that we were looking for that we thought might work with Sadie's allergy (and that we might actually find in a shelter).  We were searching shelters for a Russian Blue, because Russian Blue's produce much less of the enzyme in their spit that most people with cat allergies are allergic to (or something like that, I just could not find the article I was reading a few months ago that talked about it), but after driving an hour to see a Russian Blue that was supposed to be in a not-so-nearby shelter and finding him gone, we were discouraged.

We went by Petsmart and a worker there gave us directions to another shelter where we found not only a Russian Blue, but a Russian Blue who jumped up on Sadie's lap and cuddled with her while she didn't have her typical non-stop-sneezing-watery-eyes-can-hardly-breath-through-her-sniffles-reaction.  So Paul quickly paid the adoption fee and we whisked "Kat Fish" home.

He came with the name and Sadie loved it, although she almost immediately began calling him "Kitty Fish" and "Fishy" as she rambled on non-stop about him.

He explored the house for hours after Maggie and Patrick were tucked in bed and any questions I had about whether or not he'd be interested in chasing mice have vanished.  He's does regular checks on all the vents (which I've thought is the mouse super highway) and even squeezed under the couch to check and make sure they weren't under there.  He can definitely smell them and has done some stalking and holding very still, although he hasn't gotten any yet.

But I also stayed downstairs much, much later than I've dared do in a while, and I didn't see or even hear a mouse last night so... our first night was a success.

I'm not too worried about any mousy presents.  After all, we've tried various traps (including super expensive poison) and I've been tripping over dead mice for three months...  although apparently they reproduce so quickly there are always more.

Up until the last few years I've had cats my entire life (I believe Kitty Fish is #13), so I actually have received plenty of Kitty Gifts (they were indoor-outdoor cats, although Kitty Fish won't be, so the gifts I received growing up included bats, snakes, mice, birds and an insane number of extremely ill tempered alligator lizards who almost always crawled up into couches to die), and have a fairly good idea of what we're getting into.

I'd hoped to postpone getting a cat until we owned our own place but... the mice... they've declared war.

Before Sadie went to bed she and Kitty Fish tore around the house together with him following her closely, practically attached to her heel.  They even played on the ground together, which was hilarious to watch.  I'm not sure I've ever met such a good natured cat.

And when Patrick started to cry Kitty Fish tore upstairs and stood by his door until I got there and then followed me downstairs and sat next to Patch while he nursed.

He wouldn't even eat the food I gave him until I brought it into the room so he could eat it next to me after I realized that he stopped eating and followed me every time I left the room.  During the night when I'd get up with Patrick he'd come running from whatever he'd been doing and walk with me to and from Patrick's room and lay in the bed while Patrick nursed and then walked back with me while I put him in his crib.  It's like having a little furry guard cat keeping me company wherever I go.

And who knows?  Even if he isn't great at catching mice I'm sure his presence as he runs from room to room with be a deterrent!  I have a feeling I won't be running into them over and over again anymore and at very least they shouldn't be strolling into the room in the middle of the day anytime soon!