"I once complained to my father that I didn't seem to be able to do things the same way other people did. Dad's advice? 'Margo, don't be a sheep. People hate sheep. They eat sheep.'"
my stomach is large now. when i open the refrigerator door, it bumps into my bump. it takes me a moment, but then i remember that i'm expanding rapidly and must take a step back. ava is also having a hard time fitting in to my lap. she is dealing with this problem with her best denial yet. she just figures she should lean back harder, sometimes bracing her feet on the floor and pushing to make more room. seth pushes back and i say to ryan, "look, they're fighting already. isn't that cute?"
ava, too, is growing. she's stringing words together to create miniature sentences that are just as good as those miniature cadbury easter eggs. she's saying "yes" which, i have to say, i wasn't quite sure she was capable of saying. for awhile i thought she might have some sort of rare speech impediment that kept her from answering in the affirmative. if the answer was an obvious yes (for example, "would you like a pony?") instead of saying no, she merely screamed, "DON'T!" as if being held against her will against the pony's backside. such strong vocal chords in that little girl. how sweet.
and of course, my favorite: she says thank you. she's actually very dedicated to this little phrase, it is absolutely said every time she is handed something. and you must say "you're welcome" afterwards. YOU MUST. otherwise she'll just repeat the thank you. over and over and over again. and sometimes she'll throw a MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMY in front so you know to pay attention. that one makes my hair stand on end.
yesterday, while witnessing me on the toilet and sticking around in case i started singing (why else would she demand to be present every time i use the ladies room?), she handed me my toilet paper. i said, "thank you." to which she smiled sweetly and said, "welcome." then i died. right there on the toilet. that was the moment that made up for every bit of labor i experienced. she has returned the favor. and i am more in love with her than ever.
sitting there in quiet, feeling comfortable and feeling that new little life wiggle about. it is just so . . .lovely.
i don't write much about the little cat that lives in my apartment, but i sure do think about her a lot. she's the perfect cat in almost every way. she's sweet, she's silent, she's friendly in a want-to-be-in-the-room-but-not-on-you sort of way, she eats properly and poops properly. . .my small problem with madeline the french kitten? she's rather unaffecionate. this is rather sad because i like to have animals around for the snuggling factor. not the starved-for-attention kind of snuggling factor (that leads to guilt and then, later, to resentment), but the while-you-watch-tv-would-you-mind-rubbing-my-head snuggling factor. if i'm lucky, madeline might deign to sit so close to my feet the edge of her might brush me. however, if i even twitch the smallest muscle in my right ear, she'll immediately glare, get up and sit rather hotly elsewhere, obviously disgusted with how inconsiderate i am.
as time has moved on, we've all kind of grown accustomed to the no-touching madeline rule (ryan loves it) so you'd have to imagine my surprise when, in the middle of the night last night, madeline came and sat right next to me and slept there. and by right next to me, i mean that a great deal of her body was touching mine. unfortunately, she was purring, so while i was soaking in all of this cat affection, ryan grumbled something, scooped her up and tossed her on the floor.
my cat may never touch me again.
