Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Birthdays and French Cats

Another birthday yesterday (Brian's), and our first one of the calendar year - thus starts what we call our birthday season, which runs from April through November.  That means it is time for me to start turning the numbers over in the sidebar there, where I list the kids and their ages.  I swear, nothing has made the passage of time more apparent to me than seeing those numbers change.  5 years ago, when I started this blog, I had an amusing toddler in the house, and Rachel was still wreaking her particular brand of 4-year-old havoc, and little 9-year-old David didn't even know how to cook.  I was still changing diapers, navigating naps, and reading nursery rhymes.  Now, everywhere I turn, I see teens and tweens, people as tall as me or taller, and there is nary a diaper in sight.  5 short years, and our entire family has changed...

And, yes, I AM wanting to sing "The Circle Game" just about now - if I could just stop weeping long enough to remember the darn words.

Auntie Kate, before her 2-week ordeal
So it's been a pensive day for me.  And Auntie Kate left this morning, leaving behind her blessing of new window treatments; and I pretty much collapsed on the couch, because having even an easy house guest for 2 weeks is a bit of a challenge for any introvert.  I glanced around the house after her departure and, realizing that we had descended into our typical slovenliness over the past week, suffered sharp pangs of retroactive embarrassment. 

Believe me, the retroactive kind?  Is the most painful.  

To give myself time to recover, I gave the kids a bag of jelly beans and the leftover plastic eggs -- they played Easter Egg Hunt for hours.  I wonder why I never thought of that before?

Larry left me for another  (say it all together now) management retreat.  Yeah, we've been here before. But that's okay - I still have the Internet to keep me company, and tonight it did not disappoint.  May I share with you the existentialist antidote to Can I Haz Cheezburger?  Herewith, a French cat articulates the pain of existence...



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11 comments:

  1. I am sharing your quandary as 1) my baby turns 16 next week. How dare he? 2 )My husband is in Mexico City but he has had enough tacos and tequila to make him not worry about today's earthquake and 3) that cat...my Fifi does not have the ennui but she does have the white idiot writhing nearby.

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  2. The whole growing and changing thing with kids has gotten me weepy lately, too. I don't miss diapers but I do miss snuggling with little ones.
    As I am suffering insomnia while the rest of the house sleeps, the video will have to wait.

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  3. Oh, I died when the cat ran into the cat door. That was just what I needed today.

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    1. I particularly liked, "The whipped cream in the bathroom? Ce n'est pas whipped cream." And why did the whole thing sound even funnier in French? That language has existential despair embedded in it, I'm thinking.

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  4. I only have one that is taller than me, but he towers, so it has the same effect. My 10-yr old will still snuggle (as will my 14yr old daughter! Miracle!) so that does help. And that existential cat is brilliant. I love that he looks so bored and jaded. Sometimes my cats have the ennui, and sometimes they ARE the white idiot writhing nearby.

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  5. You are so right---retroactive embarrassment is The Worst. (I feel like I'm continually suffering from it, too.)

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  6. I speak French and that man narrating is speaking the worst French I've ever heard. I had to read the subtitles to know what he was saying!

    MY EARS MY EARS MY EARS

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    1. Yes, I noticed that. I figured it may have been a Canadian speaking.

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  7. You are a much nicer person than I am. There's no way I could have a house guest for two weeks, I don't care if she made curtains for every window in my house. Three or four days would be my max and it would have to be someone very special for me to agree to even that. Heck, I sometimes have problems with just two or three hours. Actually, my record was five minutes -- five minutes after that person walked into my door, I was ready to commit murder and accept my jail time.

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    1. I hope mrs. g doesn't read this! She'll be scared to show up this summer.

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  8. I am relating to this cat a little too much today. The mama door? Is always closed. There is no escape...

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