New. Words. Every. Day.

Christmas, Cats, Panic Attacks, Etc

We are so far beyond where and when I started writing this particular blog. 

We spent quarantine Christmas in Mountain View with my sister, brother in law and new (7 months) baby niece. It was nice to be in a place that isn't our 1.5 bedrooms, where the leaves are different so the walks are different and there's opportunity to interact. Des was still mostly so quiet. Requiring more snuggles. Especially before bed and naps. It's fine. Comfort is a need, I understand that. He fits so perfectly into my left shoulder. I can tell when he's truly asleep, when his breathing changes. 

He's had three bad tantrums now, and I know the fact that we can count them is still saying something. But man, I wanna Groot him when he spirals like that. I know he needs to experience those emotions, work through them. SIT WITH THEM, as a therapist I really didn't take to once recommended. 

I had a gummy-induced panic attack during the trip. A bad trip during the good trip. I misjudged the MG and ended up on our air mattress, with my arms tucked underneath me, asking Tim to reassure me that I would NOT DIE. I didn't brush my teeth. My chest was tight and cold and my brain was pinballing ping ping ping plod. Probably didn't help that I was reading a book where the mom experiences psychotic breaks. I didn't want that to be mine. I like my life, love my son, have so much more to adventure with my husband. I want to hear my cats purr and do a handstand and write and make art. Teach words and empathy. Anyway, I'm fine. But I think I'll stick to my CBD oil that has less than .03 mg of THC, TYVM.

We came home a full day early because I was so worried about Archie. He was hiding from our neighbors, hiding from the cameras. I checked the baby cams every 2 hours (or 20 min?) and I couldn't even catch a glimpse of his floof tail. I was crying, thinking he was hurt and hiding. I was also feeling guilty about missing our cat adoption anniversary, which happens to be New Year's Eve. I felt panicked and torn about leaving early, before we planned but my baby my baby my baby. Archie isn't even MY baby. He chose Tim and loves Tim and tolerates me. But there have been times I would've laid myself on hot coals to ensure his wellbeing. Once, when I was pregnant, he sprained his leg or ankle (IDK, do cats have those?) and was hiding in the closet and I called Tim at work, sobbing, scared for Archie. He is fine. He is always fine, given a little more TLC. But I never regret the extra effort. Archie is our baby bear, our family. He was mad at me for being gone, for taking us away, but he forgave me at 3:15AM, and he did it for an hour. Strong boops, nuzzles, mews, the warmth and rhythm of his purrrrrrr. 

Yes, it feels strange to be writing about my cats when our democracy is being held hostage. I'm so so happy Georgia flipped and it feels a little bit like maybe some of the postcards I wrote helped? IDK. Since this is more for personal record than anything else, nts: Google siege on D.C. 2021. And we'll leave it there for now.

You can’t snooze a baby

We are a house full of sickes. Archie (cat) has been sick since last week. Aunt Jen sent a bunch of immunity stuff, recovery food and even nasal spray, but he’s not a willing recipient—and he’s not eating, so we took him to the vet today. He’s on antibiotics. 

Desmond has his first cold. He woke up Wednesday all snotty and just wanted to snuggle. It was very hard to take him to daycare, especially knowing he cried all day Tuesday. He immediately cried when I handed him off Wednesday, but so far Tuesday was his only “bad” day.   

He technically slept through the night last night—he had several coughing fits, but did wake up to eat past 9pm! Of course, I couldn’t enjoy it because I was in the process of coming down with a cold myself. Ugh. My throat is killing me. Tim is home sick today, too, and Oli just started sneezing yesterday. He will probs get all the immunity stuff Jen sent. He IS a willing recipient.

My daycare—>workout—> work dry run went OK. Corepower was a bust, because I don’t suddenly love hot yoga. I feel like the amount of sweat produced is just not… deserved? I feel yoga-ed afterward, but more than that, I feel GROSS. I did a Crunch session via Classpass, that was pretty seamless. But, ideally, I would be able to just pop in 5 minutes after I drop Des off, and with CP, you have to reserve the slots in advance. Crunch is a pricey gym, or else I would re-join, no question. Today I did Runyon in under an hour and managed to kitty shower and change in the work bathroom. I think I’m willing to try LA Fitness next, since it’s the closest gym to work. I have 12-14 more lbs to lose. I think I can get it done by the end of the year. 

I am certifiably an early riser now. Des wakes up between 6:20 and 6:45 (5:57am today, ahem) so I wake up at 6 to get ahead of him. What else can I do? You can’t snooze a baby. 

I hope this cold is gone by Monday otherwise WOW, what a grand way to re-enter the workforce. 

Despite feeling like crud, I’m excited for the weekend. Babies change SO much day to day. And soon he can have STAGE TWO baby food. It’s the little things.

Archie’s Baby

Months ago — I can’t remember exactly when, but I think it was during the first part of my pregnancy — our cat Archie started crying at night. I discovered it first, because Tim falls asleep like 2 minutes after his head hits the pillow. I can be up from 20 minutes to an hour. So about an hour after we went to bed, Archie would start crying out in the living room and make his way into our bedroom. I didn’t know what was going on for awhile, he’s a very discreet cat. But one night I was able to flip on my phone flashlight fast enough to discover he was crying while carrying around a plush heart pillow.

You read that right, our cat has a LOVEY. It’s a tiny pink heart pillow, one my mom sent me in a package for Valentine’s day years ago. When the cats were smaller we thought it was cute to wedge it under their heads when they were napping because it was so perfectly cat-head-sized. Over time it made its way into their toy box. And then, at some point, Archie claimed it as his own.

He makes this weeping meows while carrying the pillow in his mouth. I would love to know what is going on in his cat brain. Like, is he singing baby to sleep? Is he mimicking a baby crying and he’s soothing baby? It was initially really hard to catch him because once he entered our room, he would immediately retreat to the corner. That’s right—nobody puts baby in the corner… except Archie. That’s where he put him every night for weeks. Then he started branching out a bit. Now baby usually ends up at the foot of our bed. He’s graduated, I guess. During the day Archie brings baby out in the living room. They have a couple boxes that are “theirs” and baby often gets put in one of those. This week, for the first time, we found baby in the kitchen, right beside the water dish. I guess he was thirsty.   

He also “grooms” baby, licking and pawing at it. The thing is FILTHY though, let me tell you. We’ve contemplated washing it, but do you remember how upset you got when your parents tried to wash your most beloved stuffed animal? It’s like ‘would you send my sibling through a car wash?!’ Inhumane! It would lose his scent, too, which I think is important to animals. Of course, anytime baby turns up on my PILLOW, I strongly reconsider all of this.   

I know this is something better witnessed than explained, but I think I’d have to hire a crew or set up night vision cameras because I’VE TRIED. Archie knows when you’re watching, and he knows when he’s being recorded. These moments are better experienced in their pure form, and cannot, apparently, be captured digitally. 

It’s the cutest effing thing you’ve never seen.

I know that I'm a handful, baby, uh

The moments after my C-section were not my finest. Everything aside from my head was numb. My nose was stuffy and I was trying not to cry. And once baby was out, safe, limbs accounted for and I saw his tiny face… all 7lbs, 8 oz of him… I deflated. It’s like I was holding my breath for 24 hours. I was loopy as all hell. Once they stitched me up and rolled me back to the L&D room, they were like, “Here, hold your baby!” And I was like, uh I can’t completely feel my arms yet. Then they tried with the breastfeeding right away? Holy overwhelm.   

Turns out I have inverted nipples and needed a SHIELD. I sweated so much whenever I slept because hormones? Because of the C-section, I was set to be in recovery until Friday. A few meals were just ice chips. Then clear liquids. Which I promptly threw up. I had an ambitious plan to get Poke from the 4.5-star place just across the street from the hospital. But I hardly had an appetite. My first real meal post-birth was actually pancakes.   

One other reason I didn’t want a C-section was being in recovery in the hospital days afterward. Turns out it was totally necessary. Between the nurses helping with the baby, me being dosed with pain meds and not being able to even WALK for awhile, yeah….

I’ll go ahead and say the beds were NICE. We know from our lamaze classes that they’d just got an upgrade. Glad to be one of the first to test them out. Not a fan of those rhythmic squeezing socks to prevent blood clots, but I get it. I'm grateful that I brought my own hospital gown and slippers. That I brought shower towelettes that I originally bought for post-gym activities. That we brought our white noise machine. And our own swaddle blanket. But the hospital really had everything else. 

Hormones caused a whole lot of sweating in my sleep. Or should I say… naps. Little did I know naps as opposed to SLEEP would be my life as I know it beyond that day.   

I’ve been writing this blog for like 3 weeks so I think I’m going to go ahead and call it quits. 

Other notes, at one month post-partum: -Most days I rarely make it out of my pajamas. Between the healing scar and a rigorous pumping schedule, it’s hard to make an argument for an actual ENSEMBLE at any point. 

-Desmond is adorable. I know I’m his mom but I think I can also say that objectively. 

-I think Tim takes a lot of his crying very personally. Actually, I know he does. As if babies have some other way to communicate? -Wow it kind of blows not having family close. Next week it’ll be me and baby, 12 hours a day. 

-Yesterday we went for our first WALK, like OUTSIDE. With the stroller. I wore actual shoes. 

-Also we got an infant insert for the Graco swing that Ellina gave us so Desmond had his first pleasant go-round in it, along with the baby shusher and a paci—a holy trinity of baby soothing. 

-I was one of those people who used to say “breastfeeding is free” (which is why I was willing to give it go, along with the promised weight loss) but never again. I’m exclusively pumping and between equipment and TIME—no, absolutely it is not free. Also, pumping is still breastfeeding, it’s just not nursing. 

-Wow, there are a whole lot of abbreviations just pertinent to the MOM/Pumping communities. MOTN. PPD. OPD. FTM. EP. EBF. 

-Our cats are truly providing emotional support. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been up pumping in the middle of the night and Oli will join me on the couch and just put a paw on my foot for the duration. It also feels good to hear strong purrs after baby goes down following an especially fussy bout. It’s like the cat way of saying, “you are doing a good job."

The Wildecats

I only wanted one cat. One kitten. That was my new year’s eve goal. 

  A few days before I was to accomplish said goal, I attended an Ugly Sweater Kitten party at Crumbs & Whiskers. I like this cat cafe idea, because you get to meet the cats, interact with them, observe their behavior. Oliver’s birth name was Matthew. Matthew was a goddamn lovebug. He gave out kisses liberally. We looked into each others eyes and it was love. 

So I put in an application for MATTHEW the same night I met his foster mom, post-sweater party. The next day the adoption coordinator called me and said, “Well, he needs a buddy.” 

What? I didn’t intend on adopting two cats. BUT MATTHEW AND I WERE SOULMATES. SO I agonized for like a full 24 hours. And then I got ON THE EMAIL and said, “How does this work? Does Matthew have a bff?” I was now determined to take Matthew home. The next morning, we visited Matthew at his foster mom’s home so Tim could meet him. While we were there, we got a text about a new batch of kittens at Crumbs & Whiskers, and they thought one named Archie would be a great match for our “Matthew.”   

When we got to C&W we were ushered into the back area like some VIPs and we met Archie, Betty and Veronica. Archie took a liking to Tim immediately. HEAD BOOPS LIKE NO OTHER. 

We felt the love, so we said: We will adopt Archie. 

It was a fucking whirlwind after that. I bought cushy carriers, filled out online forms faster than the speed of light and basically did backflips to have these kittens home on new years eve. Archie and Oliver (AKA Matthew). I almost died of cuteness those first few days. Oli slept in the crevice between my head and the memory foam pillow, kitten mouth half open. He would literally let me spoon him. It was almost too much. 

  Archie, then and now, is still Tim’s little buddy. He is 7 months old, 3 months older than my baby Oli. I get a head boop maybe once a week. I can’t want it too much. 

  Living with kittens is so interesting. Was I so bored before this? I like to snuggle Oli while he watches Tim cook. I like it when I call for him and he mews. I like when they I know I need comforting, and they give kisses. I like to watch them sleep, knowing I’ve provided them a safe, comfortable space. 

Their nicknames are “bugs” because they are such lovebugs. Oli runs up to the door when I come home and mews until I pick him up and hold him. Sometimes I am so stealthy and he’s still right there when I punch in the code. It’s adorable. Anyway, it’s fun to watch these kittens grow and explore and interact. It’s unusual to feel my heart expand, to feel it seize when they might be in pain. To try to decipher the different kind of meows and trills. 

I know it’s nothing revolutionary. I’m not the first kitten-parent. But man, is it exciting to make those tiny discoveries. Is it rewarding to have a floof purring, at full volume, on your sternum. It’s life-altering to have those moments of sheer delight, when you witness something that’ll never happen again, not exactly. The squeezes and the noises and the warmth and the looks. Who knew this would mean so much?

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The Cats of 1221

Nap cat: Snugs

Kitchen cat: Catatouille 

Makeup cat: Nars

Wardrobe cat: Betsey

Travel cat: Muir

Office cat: Pam

Library cat: Giles

Yoga cat: Caturanga 

Writing cat: UNNAMED

Suggestions?

Happy #nationalcatday @pygmyhipposhoppe