In honor of Mother’s Day I will be writing all about being a mom this week.
As a mom I cannot get enough of my babies crawling into my lap for a little snuggle. Stroking the soft fuzziness of the hair on their little heads as they nod off to sleep is one of the great perks of being a mom. Sleeping babies are so precious. As a mom we take these special moments and savor them. If I had known how quickly they were going to grow up I think I would have spent an extra minute watching them snooze, or spent a few moments longer in bed reading with them.
I often wonder what I laughed at before the entered my life. What a boring life it was before them.
I will admit that sometimes I do remember the quiet peaceful times. There are negatives to being a mom. For one, I do not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. I wish they could clean up after themselves. I do not like bruising my foot on some small toy left (purposely?) in my path. Sullen expressions while I’m talking to them. Ignoring me when I am calling them for dinner, or snack. I’d like to be able to read their minds. To know what makes them do the things they do.
One minute they are affectionate. The next they are snapping at me. I can never predict their moods. Begging for attention or stalking away with indignation. This moment angry with me for a crime I do not yet know that I have committed, the next moment they are bestowing me with affection, following me around the house, begging me to stop and spend just one minute with them.
They act like they don’t really need me. And yet when I get home they are right there talking my ear off, trying to tell me about their day while asking me to make them dinner. Their desire to spend time with me at all, however few and far between these moments are, is what lets me know that they do love me. I just wish their timing on when they loved me would line up with my agenda. But that is not a luxury for moms. When it finally does become a reality, when we finally get some time to ourselves, ironically we wish they were young and demanding again.
It never fails. As soon as I sit down to get something done on the computer they come in and plop right down. Ready for some quality time. Interrupting my ability to do what I want in order to give them what they want. I sometimes think they have radar and know when I have shut a door to get some privacy. No sooner does the latch click when I hear the pitter patter of little feet and a shadow appears under the door and they wait. As if by shutting the door I have offended them. Hurt their feelings. Abandoned them. They bang on the door impatiently expecting me to invite them in for some quality time together. And I usually do.
Now let’s turn that around. What happens when I want some quality time with them? They have something better to do. I can call out to them but my voice echoes in the empty rooms. They are no where to be found. They have abandoned me.
I occasionally get upset with the callous way they treat me but in the end an affectionate leg rub, a meow of gratitude, a purr because I’ve scratched in just the right place, seems to wash away my hurt feelings. Hacked up fur balls, destroyed curtains and dirty litter boxes are forgotten. Forgotten because I can think of nothing else but the numbness in my legs from sitting in this position for so long. Sitting for so long that I can’t feel my toes but I won’t move. I don’t want to disturb their peaceful slumber.
Such is the fate of being a cat mom.