Is that…CAT PEE?!

I cannot keep my eyes open this morning, which is bad, because I’m a teacher and I can’t exactly crawl under my desk or hide in my cubicle until I feel like adulting. All the Red Bull Cranberry in the world isn’t going to keep me awake today. It will take Jedi mind tricks… if that even works! (Side note: I basically turn into a tallish three year old without sleep.)

Last night, in addition to my day job, I taught my night class and went over to my man’s house after. (He has the kids this week, so I usually stay there when he does, and help when I can.) I also took the two newest furries (the cats), Jethro and Severus, with me this week to help acclimate them to his house full of dogs. It took me several loads of crap to get everyone there and situated on Sunday, only to discover that the cats would prefer to hide under the bed and hiss wildly at anything else on four legs. Alas.

They were fine the first night as far as sleeping. I vaguely recall one of them coming up on the bed during the night on Sunday, but it didn’t bother me. The four year old boy child also came into the bed, and he and his father proceeded to steal most of the covers, but I’m used to that. I’m embracing the chaos. (My daughter rarely slept with me, ever, and now she’s too big to share my bed and prefers alternate sleeping arrangements when she’s with me anyway!)

Last night did not go too well. It was close to 11 when I finally fell asleep after a long day of teaching. Around 1:30, my guy shook me awake and said, “I think the cat peed in the bed.”

Well, I’d never heard of such a thing. Were they stressed out? Probably; the dogs had been accosting them for a day and a half. But SURELY they could make it to the litter box, especially because the dogs are locked up at night and while everyone is at work. SURELY THEY DID NOT PEE IN THE FREAKING BED.

Surely they did. One -thirty am meant stripping the bed and the comforter and waterproof mattress pad (thank God for that!), changing the sheets, and re-depositing the four year old in the bed. It was after two before I fell back asleep, once again without the benefit of covers.

Around 3:30 or so, the cats decided that it was time to cat– that is, scratch, frolic, jump on the bed, and insist upon belly rubs (which they got, albeit only to keep them still for a few moments). Obviously this woke us all up again, and it took me another 30 minutes or so to fall back asleep (I think it was sleep, anyway. At this point, I’m not so sure). All the while, I was writing this post in my head. True story.

My Fitbit alarm vibrated FAR too early this morning. I drug myself from the bed and woke M. up to have him help me get the cats into their carrier (they hate it— they meow and growl pitifully while inside), got their food and litter box, and hauled them back to the apartment. It was ALL I could do not to curl up on the quilt and fall asleep at that point, and needless to say, the cats immediately came in to the apartment and lounged around, watching me get ready and, I’m certain, laughing their little evil cat laughs on the inside. 10985889_10152816637831491_4891704157345699344_n

 

 

Welcome to the zoo!

If someone had asked me fifteen years ago where I’d be today, I probably never would have said, “twice divorced and dating another divorced parent” or “attempting to re-define myself and my career” or “living in the coolest neighborhood in town and training for a half-marathon.”

Yet here I am, and all those things are true of me, in my late 30s. Welcome to the zoo– or, my life, in short. In an attempt to share the Wisdom of My Age, as well as the Hilarious Things Children Say, Some Amazing Recipes, Other Hilarious Stories, and General Good Times (and to  generally write myself into sanity, some days), I have for you, dear reader, a new blog: Me, You, & the Zoo.

I should perhaps provide some context. In 2000, I was graduating from undergrad and fell in love with a boy. We got married in 2001, but in 2011, divorced. My daughter is now 11 and a sassy, brilliant combination of both her dad and me. In 2013, I remarried– a younger guy who I began dating after my separation from Hubs #1 but before our divorce was completely final (don’t judge me). This turned out to be a Phenomenally Horrible Idea, and we divorced just last year. I guess some statistics are right. He was Mr. Always Right and Determined that Everyone in the Free World Should Know That. That didn’t last too long.

Now, at closer to 40 than 30, and with more than a few life tips and mistakes to my name, I am starting over again. I am dating a wonderful man who is himself freshly divorced with two young sons. Between us, if you’re counting, we have:

  • three kids
  • three dogs
  • two cats
  • two households
  • three failed marriages and a called-off engagement
  • complete and utter chaos most of the time.

So that’s where I am– learning to embrace the chaos, the mess, the strategizing that goes into the simplest and most basic of tasks. I’m a pretty organized person. I’m a planner. The last few months have been a struggle for me, just learning to be okay with a different kind of life. But I love it, and here I am to share it with you, dear reader.