Mike’s Indian name- “He Who Sleeps With Cats”

It is Sunday morning.  I had a restful night, a peaceful breakfast, and a productive morning!

I’m sure the fact that Matthew and both twins spent last night at Grammy and Grampa’s house has nothing to do with that.  (Thank you, Grammy and Grampa!  You can bring them home Thursday night!)  (Why are you laughing?)

Although the twins have been driving me as insane as ever, I have been trying to have a new perspective lately.  (On and off.  When I remember.)  Last week Mike was late getting home from work one evening, because one of the main roads near our house was shut down.  It turns out there was an accident- a Jeep crossed over the line and hit a minivan head on.  The 31-year-old mother and 8-year-old son died instantly, the father is in critical condition at shock trauma, and the 2-year old boy was released from the hospital, although released to who I don’t know, seeing as his entire family had been decimated in mere seconds.  I have a minivan, we are on that road all of the time, that could have SO EASILY been Michael and me.  So when the twins are mauling each other and I’m mentally bemoaning the fact that I can’t even pee without them destroying something I try to remember that I am lucky to be here.

Wow!  That was so inspiring and uplifting, I think I may need to consume half a carton of Edy’s Limited Edition Girl Scout Cookie Somoa Ice Cream.  Even though it is only 7:51 am.  (Life is short, people.)

Quick- we need some cheering up.  Let me browse the photo archives and see what I can come up with.

Brief backstory:  Mike loves cats.   He may PRETEND that he wishes they lived outside, because he gets irritated when they upchuck on the floor (even though he leaves it for me to clean up), but WE KNOW BETTER.

This is Puss-In-Boots, although we call her “Pibby” for short.  (We adopted her from a shelter, and she came with the name.)  We got her when I was pregnant with Matthew, almost eight years ago (!)  She is fat and friendly, and very tolerant of kids.  And Mike.

This is Midnight.  She is roughly 127 years old.  Mike says she looks like a mangy rat, and calls her “Master Splinter”.  She is SO SWEET, and smart enough to hide from the twins.

Now I know what you are thinking.  “Jeez, Jennifer, does Mike do anything but sleep?”  How many times do I have to tell you HE ALSO PLAYS SUDOKU.

Our third cat is Dumbledore.  Someone found her alone outside when she was only a few days old, so we bottlefed her and now she is the coolest cat ever.  She sleeps with Michael every single night, and loves Mike, who says she is “not too bad, for a cat.”  (Which means he ADORES her.)

She did not come from Kohl’s.

Nor is she a foam block. 

I LOVE cats.  After the kids grow up and move out, I am going to rescue scads of them and be one of those crazy cat ladies.  Mike can’t wait

So now I have depressed you, and acquainted you with my cats.  DON’T WORRY- just because I have a new enlightened outlook on life does not mean I will be complaining about the children any less.  Just that I will be eating more ice cream.


November 16, 2008. Uncategorized.


  1. Mike replied:

    I can see the headlines now…

    “Woman Smothered by Sea of Cats”

    An elderly woman, who claimed to be 27 for the last 20 years, was suffocated by her fat, furry, feline friends. Her husband escaped fuzzy death by living in the shed behind their house. He is quoted as saying “I always knew cats were evil.”

  2. Emily replied:

    Hey – can I ship you mine? Forget anything derogatory I might have written about her. She’s truly a gem!

    ACK – even I can’t pull off that lie!

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