Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Not Quite An American Tale

Our cat Wesley is a killer. When we first brought him home from the Humane Society we pretended he was a lazy house cat and kept him indoors for about a year. But once we moved from an apartment to our house and Wesley could see the outdoors, he started to dart outside faster than we could try to stop him (which was usually by wedging his head against the door frame with our leg while carrying 10 shopping bags. )We finally gave up and he's now an outdoor cat. He loves to be outside at night tormenting the birds and mice. I don't like it, but I have come to terms with Wesley's dual nature...part ruthless killer, part sweet lap cat who loves to snuggle up to the kids and eat his Friskies from a china bowl.

Last year there was a veritable Caribana-esque parade of dead mice and birds that wound up on our doorstep and driveway, but this year has been quite a bit less. Well, except for that harrowing incident where we were moving a wooden playhouse that was sitting in our carport to our yard. When we picked up the the playhouse, lo and behold, there was a veritable graveyard of mice carcasses inside where it would appear the mice were able to crawl in and die in peace while Wesley was too big to get inside.

Since then, the dead animal parade has been a bit less. Not sure why...but it's good. No evidence of bird killing and only a couple of mice have turned up in the driveway but were quickly disposed of before Kieran could see them. Until, that is, the other day...

We were heading out and loading the kids into the van. Kieran is lingering at the edge of the driveway while I buckle Kaya into the seat. I tell him to hurry up and then I realize what he is so enamoured with....the large dead mouse practically at his feet.

"Look Mommy!" he squeals excitedly.

I am, of course, instinctively grossed out and cannot hide my disgust. "Yuck! Don't touch it!!!"

Kieran looks up at me quite surprised. Clearly, he doesn't understand why I sound so...afraid. After all, mice in his world are quite removed from reality. To him, they all take ballet class, or are detectives, or have Grandma's who bake them chocolate chip cookies. They are not disease carrying vermin that make your mother scream in terror nor are they murdered by your own beloved house pet.

He doesn't really know what to do, but he looks at me sadly and says: "I think he wants his Mommy."

Seizing the opportunity to avoid any sort of discussion about death, I say quite loudly so Eric can hear. "Yes! He wants his mommy and when we get back from the store, I'm sure your DADDY will MAKE SURE that the mousey gets back to his MOTHER so he can go to his bed and sleep THERE. "

Kieran was satisfied with this and climbed happily into the van. He mentioned several times at the store that he wanted to go home and see the "mousey" (which suddenly turned into going home to see the "bunny" but I can see how he would be confused. They all dress the same and go to the same school).

Anyway, Daddy did help the mouse find his mommy (well, as long as his mommy lives under the hedges 10 feet away) and Kieran is none the wiser.

Crisis averted. For now.

Monday, July 6, 2009

It's Summer!!

Summertime is the official reason I am giving to explain my longish absence from this space. I'm outside living the dream, folks. (Does that sound better than the reality, which may or may not be that I spent my computer time - some call it a workday - reading recaps of The Bachelorette?)

June flew by. Kieran turned three and we had an excellent party (by three year old standards at least). I prefer my parties to have considerably more beer and less escorting of three year olds to the bathroom. Anyway, he received a trampoline as a birthday gift, which he loves. I quickly realized that the trampoline, since it is completely enclosed by a large safety net, should really be marketed for its other latent purpose...a huge bouncing playpen. I can zip both kids up inside and putter around the yard and neither of them is aware that they are safely caged. (Kieran, who weighs all of 27 pounds doesn't have enough weight on him for his jumps to do more than lightly jiggle his little sister and even that light bouncing is enough to make her giggle uncontrollably.) We now call it the Trapoline (TM) and my garden is practically weed-free! Talk about a gift that keeps on giving.

We also just returned yesterday from a lovely week-long vacation in Massachusetts. The week started off with rain and more rain. Crazy downpours and nonstop drizzle. And just when we thought we had exhausted all rainy-day activities (otherwise known as shopping and eating and a semi-disastrous trip to the Boston Aquarium along with the entire population of the Eastern Seaboard), the rain cleared and we had nothing but heat and sun. Perfect really.

My children, as it turns out, are fantastic road-trippers. Not to sound like a broken record on the Kaya front, but the kid was happy as a sunny little clam during our 11 hour drive (both ways). Kieran is more demanding, but still really good. Just usual requests for juice or snacks and the occasional urgent need to pee, which necessitated one illegal roadside pullover and an Austin Power's comedy-length stream of urine.

I do want to take a moment to comment on my three year old. Maybe this is common and I have just been oblivious to this in other children, but I swear when he turned three he turned into a new kid. For the vast majority of his short life (certainly much longer than the terrible twos), he has been predictably awful around people. Not necessarily just new people or strangers, but pretty much anyone who wasn't Eric or I. He had a tendency to be whiny and difficult and I often felt like I was making excuses for him. (He's tired, he's hungry, etc. etc). But that kid seems to be more or less gone. Sure he has moments (you know, when he's ACTUALLY hungry or tired) but he's a lot happier these days. I am happy with the trajectory and am totally OK with it continuing on this way until he is nothing but charming and joyful all the time.

I do hate returning from vacation though. Our house, small as it is, always seems five times as cramped when we get back and have bags and coolers strewn everywhere waiting to be unpacked. Blech. That more or less what I have too look forward to tonight.

Although, more likely, if you need me, I'll be out on the Trapoline.