Another Year and Re-evaluations

I've been gone a while. Partly because Blogger is now blocked on my work server and I don't have the time to log on at home, and partly because things have been changing so fast that I don't seem to know what's happening from one month to the next.

For starters, both Whiz Kid and Little Bear are no longer kids or little. Both are bigger than me now, by a noticeable amount. Whiz Kid reminds me so much of his dad in good ways, and other family members have remarked how much he looks like that side of his family. His voice changed almost overnight and he's developed a remarkable singing voice; he took vocal lessons over the summer and has stuck with chorus into high school, where he's currently a freshman. He's discovered Dungeons and Dragons, and it's nice that he's now old enough to hang out after school with his friends and be picked up on my way home, instead of being unable to participate in after-school clubs due to transportation issues. He's writing their next campaign, admins a few online servers and is working on writing music. I'm very proud of him in general; if only he could get his language more civil, I'd be ecstatic. He also had his first real date a few weeks ago.

Formerly "Little" Bear has been much less depressed this year than last, and although his grades have suffered tremendously from lack of follow-through on homework, he's making some improvements and remains the funny kid in his social circle. He tends to gravitate toward the class clowns and spends a lot of time on the Xbox; the main impact on his grades came when I started taking the controller to work with me so he couldn't get on until I was home. Neither of the boys talk about their dad any more. He's just a non-topic for them; they're moving on with their lives without him, which is painful to see but healthier for them under the circumstances.

I split up with the guy I was dating just before Thanksgiving last year, and that was for the better all around. He was fun to be with, but that's all there was to the relationship; and when it became obvious he was cheating on and lying to me, I decided to end it rather than confront him. The fact that he didn't protest at all confirmed my suspicions. For a short time I tried to find someone else, but the Princess was starting to show some concerning behaviors and I decided there wasn't room in my life for another person. It was a good choice. Her issues have turned out to be much more serious than I expected, and that has consumed most of the year.

It started with our last visit to their dad at the end of August 2018. He told me he was being transferred to another facility farther away, so I decided to take the kids one more time while he was still close enough for a day trip. His manner and behavior that day was very bizarre, and towards the end of the visit when the boys asked him about writing to them (his letters and cards had stopped the previous year), he told them he couldn't write because he'd been banned from pencils and pens due to sharpening them and stabbing the pedophiles. I was angry with him for saying this in front of the kids (plus I didn't believe it), and told him he should worry about the mote in his own eye before going after the beam in someone else's. He replied casually, "You mean like my schizophrenia and the fact that I hallucinate about smashing my daughter's head with a hammer?"

Everything seemed to slow down suddenly and I felt like my breath stopped; I just stared and then said that no, I was referring to all the people he had hurt and it was hypocritical for him to get righteous about the crimes of others. I didn't bother with the additional thoughts rushing through my head, about how he was supposed to have gotten effing fixed in prison and be taking his effing meds and not have these hallucinations any more; it had been six effing years and all this time I had been keeping the kids in contact with him hoping he would be at least medicated enough to have some small relationship with them when he got out. But no; evidently his frequent claims to be trading his medications for drugs were actually true, and all my commitment and support up to this point had been for nothing. I silently debated whether to tell the guards about his comment, but it was nearly the end of our visiting time and I knew that we would not be coming back. I decided I didn't want the kids' last memory of him to be having him dragged out fighting.

I called Little Bear's counselor as soon as we got home and asked her if she would object to my not taking the kids to visit any more. I'm not sure why I thought she might object; I guess I hadn't fully let go yet of the belief that the boys needed him in their lives even if he wasn't a positive influence. Of course she said that I should absolutely NOT take them back and made sure I was planning to report him to the prison authorities, which I did the next morning. Not long afterward the prison went on lockdown for a while, and it seems that during this time he had his parole hearing and was GRANTED PAROLE despite his threat, which I can only assume never made it to the relevant authorities. They did talk to his psychiatrist, however, because when he called me the following weekend just before the lockdown, he was furious that I had reported him and said that I shouldn't make him out to be someone who was dangerous to children, because that would make him a target there. He also accused me of overreacting by ending the visits, and didn't seem to believe I was actually going to do so. He explained that he had told me about his hallucinations (as if his remark had been purposeful rather than conversational) so that I would have the information I needed to protect her; otherwise he might, quote, "start choking her in the visiting room one day."

I realized in that moment that there was no point in saying anything else. He is more than just not normal. He's permanently, fundamentally irrational on a level that I have no power to address or mitigate, and it goes far beyond drug addiction. The reality of the term mental illness began to sink in. He ceased to be my children's troubled father and became the psycho who wants to hurt my child.

I reported those statements to the prison as well, and when I heard that he had been approved for parole, wrote a long letter to his prison counselor after making several unsuccessful attempts to reach her by phone. Nothing was ever acknowledged. I went back to court and had my custody paperwork changed to say that I have sole legal AND physical custody, instead of the previous arrangement where physical custody would be as agreed upon between ourselves. He was angry about that too. His home plan was to live at his father's house on the other side of our school district. It was inspected by the parole office and denied. His dad made some changes and asked them to reconsider. They were vague and noncommittal. His mother started raising hell with them and hounding his parole agent to re-inspect the house. I started getting very, very frightened that they might actually allow him to come and live within walking distance of us; we live in a house that is surrounded by darkness at night, and where he visited weekly as a teenager and lived with us for two years prior to our separation. I asked his dad what precautions they would be taking to ensure that he stayed where he was supposed to, since his dad works 2nd shift and would not be home at curfew. He wasn't aware of any. I spoke to the State Police; they suggested I file for a PFA and ask to have it include our whole township, although everyone seemed in doubt whether I could get a PFA prior to his release. But the feeling was that it couldn't hurt to try, so I did. Previously someone had told me I could sign up with the Office of Victim Advocates to get more information. I signed up. I spoke with someone there a couple of times, and then the 3rd time - around the same date I filed for the PFA - I got someone who had been there for a while and knew more about the system than my previous contact. This person told me I could write to the Parole Board and request a geographical restriction to forbid him from residing in our school district. I did so immediately. It was approved so fast that they must have just been waiting for a reason to say so. Not only did they ban him from residence in the district, they also banned him from being in our township at all. So he had to wait for acceptance into a halfway house, which was approved in June and he was released at the end of July. He's still out despite continued drug use and being absent from roll count one morning, although they did put him on an ankle monitor for that.

Meanwhile, as the 2018 holiday season approached and the kids had gone a few months without seeing him, the Princess started asking questions. I tried explaining that he wasn't safe and wasn't doing what he was supposed to do, and we wouldn't be seeing him any more for now. She became increasingly agitated and depressed even as Little Bear was coming out of his depression; I think the situation had opposite effects for them. In January she talked to her dad on the phone for the last time, something I regret having allowed even with my supervision on speakerphone. His self-pitying BS was completely inappropriate for a 7-year-old to deal with. Her behavior deteriorated throughout the day and culminated in destroying her glasses with a pair of scissors. I had been taking her to Little Bear's counselor, but I decided to switch her to an EMDR therapist. That therapist recommended we get a psychiatric evaluation; we had one in March without significant results. Her therapist continued to express concern, and the sessions were not progressing well. The last week of the school year, she told a classmate that she wanted to kill herself. I took her to the ER and they referred her to a two-week outpatient program.

She spent the summer under the closest supervision my parents and I could give. I had given up the child care subsidy the previous year because the only covered summer camp program in our area had deteriorated substantially, and with Whiz Kid being old enough to legally supervise, I had decided it wasn't worth it, not knowing the future. Too late to change that now. She did karate for a few months, paid for by my godmother. I searched extensively for a group program for kids in her position. The grief groups didn't feel they were the right fit for a child whose parent was still living. The groups for kids with incarcerated parents were focused on facilitating communication, which wouldn't help her situation. The groups for kids with addicted parents focused on teaching them coping skills and recognizing the signs of a parent acting out on drugs. This last led me to search for Nar-Anon groups that allowed kids. I found one at a church not far away where child care was provided and an NA meeting would run at the same time. We decided to try it out, and it's been wonderful. She loves going and I've been able to find support and a place to vent about things I really can't talk about to anyone else. I wish I had started years ago.

As the school year approached again, the district made arrangements for a reentry evaluation during the first month that would be used to establish an IEP for her. The reentry specialist was able to get us a second evaluation with the psychiatrist, who I'd been trying to reach unsuccessfully. We went for the evaluation on a Wednesday after being seen by mobile crisis twice in the previous few days. It didn't go well; the psychiatrist and the Princess were both irritable and confrontational to each other, and the psychiatrist infuriated me by telling her that if her dad ever did get better, she wouldn't be able to see him anyway unless she could get her behavior under control. !!WTH? They offered to give us an inpatient referral then, but I was afraid to send her away in case something bad happened to her; I was hoping to manage it with medication and outpatient therapy. They wrote me a prescription for pre-med lab work but made no promises about medication. When we left, the Princess was angry with me for not allowing her to go to "the sleepover place." I tried to explain that it wasn't a fun place and I was afraid of something happening to her. She responded with: "Mom. I have had to deal with a lot of problems in my life without you. I can handle this."

Well, I thought to myself, she is just as different from me as I am from my mother; and just like my mother with me, I've realized that I don't actually have a clear concept of what she needs in many ways. I decided that if something happened again in the meantime, I would let her go. It happened the next day. The school called me; I took her to the ER again, she was admitted and was transferred to an inpatient psychiatric facility the following day.

I think the week she spent there is probably the hardest week of my life so far. I'm fortunate to work for a company that had both the ability and the willingness to let me leave early every afternoon that week to beat rush-hour traffic for the hour drive to the facility so I could make the visiting time each evening. They started her on meds, and after a week she was released and referred back to the outpatient program for another two weeks. When she returned to school, the reentry evaluation was started again and we were referred for another evaluation for wraparound services and medication management outside the school. That is still in progress.

Meanwhile the meds are working well, and she's returned to interim family therapy sessions with Little Bear's counselor until the wraparound services kick in. With the medication to help break through the barriers she has had against talking about her dad, it's become clear that she has inherited some of the biological components of the mental illness that he and his mother both display.

Everything looks different in my life through the lens of these two realizations: that their dad is never again going to be a part of their lives in any way, however minor; and that my daughter's emotional struggles go well beyond a temporary depressive episode triggered by this fact. This is something she will be dealing with for the rest of her life. This is something that will keep us here in this town, in our school district, living in this apartment next door to my parents, where she has the support and the supervision and the services necessary to get her safely from this point to adulthood - and hopefully beyond.

Every evaluation/intervention/medical person that we've encountered on this journey has prefaced their comments upon meeting me with a little spiel about how smart she is and what a good mother I am. At some point it just makes me want to scream. I know that they mean well; I know they want to encourage me with the positive things they see before we discuss the negative things; I know that they want me to keep my hopes up and not feel discouraged. But I know by now that I'm a good mother and that my daughter is smart and amazing. What I want to hear is whether that will be enough to guarantee a good outcome; and of course, no one can speak to that. The future is yet to be revealed. Her intelligence and beauty, and my commitment to getting her all the help that's available, will stack the deck in her favor as much as it can be stacked; but this isn't a game I can rig. Smart and beautiful kids with good parents still succumb to mental illness, to addiction, to crime or depression or suicide. There's nothing I can do to ensure that she doesn't. All I can do is pray and keep doing everything within my power to minimize the chances.

For 2020, I'm just hoping for a bit of smooth sailing and that we find the right services to give our lives some stability for a while. I know it won't last, but a year of relative calm would be nice.

Cats, Dating, and Teenagers

Cat Update: Kanga is doing much better. She seems to have stopped peeing on the carpets as of about 2.5 months ago; I put the litterboxes in different places and she apparently likes them where they are, and I also learned she is suffering from tooth resorption :( poor baby, so she will be having dental surgery soon.  

Soooo... I have a boyfriend. It feels weird to call him a boyfriend, since he's certainly not a "boy," but that's the social term so we'll stick to that. I've used eHarmony and a couple of dating apps and gone out on a few dates over the past 18 months, but I was pretty much convinced that I would never find a man who met simultaneously my criteria for someone I'd introduce to the kids AND my criteria for sexually attractive. Because there are some conflicts there. I like sexually aggressive men, but not disrespectful men, and not just simply aggressive overall. I need a man who will take the lead in intimacy, since no matter how much I tell myself that the psychotic nonsense I was raised with is BS, it was beaten into me often and early and it still affects my behavior strongly. But I don't want a man who thinks he's in charge of everything I do. I'm a grown woman who has been looking after myself a long dang time; I don't need a daddy or a babysitter. Just a grown man who likes to own me in bed and knows how to do it without being a bully. 

I wasn't sure such a man actually existed, but he found me! On Plenty of Fish, no less, although I told my parents and the kids we met through a Meetup group. Right about the time he messaged me, I had joined several local Meetups with the idea that since dating wasn't working out, I might as well work on my social life in general. And some of them were great, but I haven't done much with them because of meeting Awesome Guy. When he first contacted me, I was all "No, sorry, you live too far away." Our houses are about 40 minutes apart without heavy traffic - and heavy traffic is common. I'd been hoping to meet someone local I could get to know on lunch breaks without making the kids suspicious. But he said I should give him a chance, and I'm SO glad I did!! We're on the same wavelength with so many important things, both in and out of the bedroom. 

After a couple of months I decided to broach the subject to the boys (Princess is too young to be overly concerned one way or the other). 

Whiz Kid is 13 now and he doesn't need Mom (hahaha). He basically said "Whatever, it's your life, I don't see what that has to do with me." Lol okay buddy, you're not THAT independent yet! Yes, this affects you. But thanks for not freaking out.

Little Bear was a completely different story. I held off longer bringing it up with him, due to the emotional turmoil he'd been dealing with after our March visit to their dad. When he seemed to be on the upswing again, I mentioned to him on the way to his weekly counselor visit (seemed like the best time to do it) that I might start dating someone. He lost it. The protective, sweet boy who worries way too much about me suddenly turned into an angry, tyrannical little man and went off about HIS family and HIS brother and sister and HIS mom and OUR apartment and how we didn't need ANYONE else coming along and messing everything up and thinking they could just be part of our family and I was absolutely NOT allowed to date! EVER!! Oh and I was totally CHEATING on Papa! 

What was supposed to have been a conversation turned into a yelling match instantly so it didn't last long. We were silent the rest of the way to his appointment and it was a rather emotional one. He talked about his fears that having his dad leave prison and not come to live with us would feel like he was still in prison, and another man in my life would be jealous and try to keep them from visiting their dad (we didn't get into the many reasons why visiting their dad might not be safe anyway, that's a different discussion), and his confusion as to why I would need anyone else since we seem to be doing just fine from his point of view.

My poor Little Bear. I had no idea he was so committed to the view that his dad and I were still a team somehow. 

The next two weeks were a bit rough. I didn't say anything else directly about Awesome Guy, but I did let them know when I was going on a date. Little Bear insisted that he had a right to know; not sure I agree, but it was a request demand I was willing to accommodate. Whiz Kid couldn't care less, and the Princess just said it was weird and wanted to know how I could have two boyfriends?! Which led to a brief and painful explanation of how their dad isn't my "boyfriend" anymore and that's what divorced means. She seemed a little confused and has been talking more about her dad since, and is seeing Little Bear's counselor for a few appointments.

Meanwhile, Little Bear had expressed an interest in woodcarving a few months back, and I found out there was a festival coming up this past weekend that featured woodcarving demonstrations. It wasn't far from Awesome Guy's house, so we went to the festival and on the way back, I told them we were stopping at his place to say hello. I figured if Little Bear didn't want to get out of the car, that would be okay, but I wasn't comfortable introducing the other two without him around, and this isn't a relationship that's going away any time soon. It's here to stay, and postponing things won't change the ultimate outcome. 

I expected him to be the one who flipped out, but it was Whiz Kid who started griping about all HIS time that I was wasting on a stupid festival and now making him see someone he didn't give a crap about and I should just leave him out of it. Of course this is at least a weekly conversation with him these days, nothing new. He resents everything we do that takes him away from his computer screen. Too bad. I wasn't particularly sympathetic to his cause, and when he vowed to stay in the car and be angry and miserable, I was like "That's fine. Awesome Guy deals with angry, miserable kids all day." They both perked up at that ans wanted to know what that meant, so I explained that he's a child and adolescent counselor. Little Bear's eyes were wide open and he said, "Wow that's actually very interesting!" They both seemed more curious after that. When we arrived they all got out of the car, and of course when he opened the door the Princess marched right in and made herself at home lol. She hopped up on the couch and was all excited about the butterfly pillow and the other pillow that was a perfect size that she always wanted and the big TV and could she watch Spongebob please? And swing on the swing out front? And how did he get such a cozy couch that is so much better than our couch? ROFL she makes a great icebreaker!!

Whiz Kid stomped in and growled a few grumpy answers including that he wanted to be home playing his video games. So Awesome Guy asked him what he plays, and he also plays that game, and then his roommate started talking to Whiz Kid about video games, and about making money, and Awesome Guy told him he can mow their lawn to earn some money because none of the other guys in the house want to do it, so Whiz Kid was pretty stoked about that.

Little Bear was quiet and reserved, but he sat down in the recliner and wrapped up in the blanket from the back of the couch and seemed really happy to be in a comfortable chair, something we don't really have at our place. After we chatted a little and then went outside to push the Princess on the swing, he came out and sat on the swing too. Awesome Guy offered to take us for ice cream but Whiz Kid complained about his day being wasted lol, and Little Bear was mad about that but I promised him we'd go out for ice cream another time soon. I know how good Whiz Kid is at turning fun times into misery, and I didn't want him ruining their first impression. Plus we now have a good excuse to see Awesome Guy again soon. 

It really couldn't have gone better, in the end. I'm so, so happy!!!

Update on the kids' father

It's been a while since I mentioned my ex. We've visited him several times this past year, which the kids have enjoyed. He looks profoundly unhealthy and still tries to tell his imaginary stories. This coming July is the earliest he'd be eligible for parole, and I have been hoping that he would stay on his medication and off the narcotics long enough to have at least a few months of normal interaction with them.

Yesterday, I lost that hope.

The last weekend in December, he called me on a Friday evening and told me that I needed to keep the Princess out of school for a few more days when the winter break ended. He told a wild story about some other inmate from a previous prison having stolen her picture from him, and how he'd put the guy in the infirmary for weeks needing reconstructive facial surgery, and now the guy was out and had sent him a letter telling him that she would be disappearing from school one of these days.

I suspected he was mostly or all inventing this, but it was far too serious a threat to blow off. My greatest concern wasn't for the Princess, who gets dropped off and picked up at school by me, where all the staff know me and our routine well, after having two previous kids go through. A stranger showing up unannounced to take her home would definitely set off red flags and would be against policy anyway. I was more concerned about the boys, who ride the buses and get home before I do. So I talked to my parents, who promised to be home at dropoff time every afternoon for the coming week and let the boys in downstairs through their house. I planned to give the school a heads-up, and my Dad said I should file a police report.

When my ex called the next evening "to check on us," I tried to get some more information about this mysterious person. Then I told him I was going to file a police report. He immediately became irritated and said, "I'm just asking you to keep our daughter safe while I deal with this! This guy's a dead man, he's never gonna know what happened..." blah blah blah. I knew then for sure that he was lying, but without proof I couldn't afford to operate on that assumption.

The next morning (Sunday) he called to say that everything was fine, he'd "taken care of it," we had nothing to worry about.

Note here: I wrote up to this point back in January, never finished it, and am just now returning to it. A lot has happened since then, but that will fill another post. Suffice it to say that in the end, Little Bear ended up with some pretty severe anxiety and increased depression over the whole thing; and after a trip in March to see their dad again, where he confronted his dad about lying and scaring everyone (which actually resulted in a real apology!!), he had a bit of a breakdown when he realized that I still wasn't getting back together with their dad no matter what. This led to spending a day at the pediatric hospital talking to the crisis team, and another day doing an intake at the child guidance center to be set up with a psychiatrist. They still haven't called me and it's been a month. Ugh. However, he is doing much better. Don't worry, I'm still going to follow up with them and he still sees his regular counselor weekly.

And then there's the other stuff... (to be continued)

What to do for Kanga?

Kanga has been peeing outside of the litter box for months. A lot. As in, destroyed a carpet and will soon destroy another if we can't solve this. I've tried every solution I could find on the internet, from Jackson Galaxy, and my own imagination. I've been convinced it's an anxiety issue and most of my focus has been on trying to solve it that way.

The biggest problem is that her special needs put the nix on most of the proven solutions, such as giving her places to climb up out of the way. She can climb up, but not down, which is a major safety concern and means that for her, part of "catifying" means making sure she CAN'T get up higher than a couple of feet anywhere. Add to that the fact that the many limitations of our cramped apartment are frustrating even for the humans, and we have a bit of a nightmare.

Sadly, I'm afraid that the true solutions may be ones I simply can't provide, such as a calmer and more spacious environment. I tried the "No Mark" pheromone spray; she peed on the floor where I sprayed it 3 times in the next 18 hours, a big jump from the usual 4-5 times a week (that I know of). I took her to the low-cost vet clinic at the shelter where we adopted her and Smidge, for blood work to see if she has kidney problems. (It would have been roughly 3 times the cost at our regular vet.) She doesn't, but they think she might have parasites, which could explain her occasional diarrhea and recent poor appetite. Not the peeing on carpets, though. The shelter vet seemed to think it was really a mobility issue, but we've already gone through several litter types until we found the current one which she likes, and several pan styles as well, and currently we're using those under-bed storage containers to give her more room for scooting around. She's perfectly content using them - about 75% of the time. UGH!

The shelter seems in a hurry to take her back, which frustrates me. I was hoping they'd at least try putting her on some anxiety medication to see if that helped. They said they weren't ruling out the possibility, but would prefer to re-home the cats. Perhaps it is selfish of me to try to keep them, but I am very resistant to letting them return to the shelter. It was a terrible environment for Kanga with her difficulties. They did suggest trying a pheromone diffuser (do you know how dang expensive all that stuff is?!), and I put one in the bedroom where they have most of their squabbles. Now Kanga has decided to pee on that floor too. AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!! Of course, it does seem to help with the squabbling as advertised. But at that cost it isn't worth it. Maybe the vet is right about the mobility issue, and she prefers to pee where she feels most relaxed. *headdesk* They said something about "observing her behavior at the shelter to see if the problem persists." Of course she will use the litter box at the shelter, because she can't even leave the dang cage!!! She'll never be more than 12 inches from it!! What a stupid idea.

Anyway, yet again today I started searching ideas for a shallower litter box. The wide boxes we're using are about 6" high, which isn't really shallow enough for Kanga; but cutting into them creates a different problem because of the way she has to hitch herself over the side. I foresee lots of scraped elbows with cut plastic edges. I considered putting foam tube insulation on cut edges, but she will scratch at that and possibly eat the shreddings; she samples some strange things. Until now I really haven't found anything for cats with serious mobility challenges. But today I found this post from Fundamentally Feline. And that led me to search for litterboxes for senior cats. Viola!

It costs a mere $40 on Amazon. (sarcasm) It's actually a puppy training box, but hey, whatever works! I'm saving up for it - and searching Craigslist. Maybe by tax return time I'll be able to spare another $40. The shelter vet also suggested putting carpet in the bottom of the litter box, which would be a great idea if I was rich and could afford to throw out a cheap carpet tile EVERY OTHER DAY!!!

I'm pretty annoyed with the shelter, to be honest. I feel like they weren't up front with me in the beginning about a problem they had every reason to know existed. True, she didn't start peeing on the carpets right away. But she did start within just a few weeks, and she continued the habit in a new room when we took the carpet out of the old room. I have a hard time believing this is something entirely new. And it makes me even more concerned about giving her back, because if they aren't honest with the new adopters, these kitties might get stuck in a cycle of being adopted and returned again and again. I don't want that. They're 3 years old and lived in one shelter until 11 months, then in another until they were adopted at 16 months, then were returned again after a year. I'm seeing the start of a bad cycle here.

I am going to put carpet tiles on top of the real carpet all around the litter box. Maybe that will help to prevent the good carpet getting ruined, even if it doesn't solve the underlying problem. Meanwhile, I just couldn't resist sharing this photo from yesterday of both cats sitting with me. First time ever. :D

Of Cats and Daughters

The Princess turned 6 years old recently. She's an amazing daughter in every way. Sometimes amazingly difficult, hehe. But always amazing.

A few weeks ago she started being actively, sneakily mean to the cats. Like throwing a toy at them and then denying it, or swatting them for turning away when she tries to pet them. Which I guess makes sense in 6-year-old logic. Or deliberately stomping her foot next to them as she passed by to startle them away.

I had a feeling it was jealousy, but there didn't seem to be much I could do about it. I began to get very upset and a couple of times she went off and cried after I yelled at her. Then one evening she said: "Mommy, if I ran away would you look for me?"

I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I replied, "Yes, of course! But I really hope you never run away because I'd be so super sad."

"But how would you look for me?" she asked. "You have to take care of the cats."

Light Bulb.

I explained to her that there is no way I would ever not look for her or her brothers because of pets; I can get other people to take care of the cats if I have to, and they are very special but they aren't my kids, and my first responsibility is to her and her brothers, and if one of them was lost I would never stop looking until they were found.

I've been trying to make an effort to spend at least a little time reading and writing with her in the evenings now, at least the evenings when we're home. She's being nicer to the cats. I think she still gets annoyed that Smidge curls up on my twin-sized mattress with me at night, because she isn't allowed to sleep with me any more. She's not ready to accept my explanation that there is room on the bed (not really, but I can't reason with a cat) for an 8-pound cat and not for a 50-pound child. Some things will take time, I suppose. She still occasionally cries about not having a kitten, and she cried last night at my sister's house because my sister's kittens have grown up and don't like her any more (of course in reality they didn't like being manhandled any better when they were little, but they couldn't escape as effectively hehe). She still wants a pet that belongs only to her, that will fawn over her and sleep with her and follow her everywhere and let her squeeze and snuggle and love it to her heart's content. What she needs, in reality, is a fluffy dog. And I wish I could give her that, but I can't.

There is just nowhere nearly enough of me to go around, these days.

I'm a Cat Mommy with troubles! Lol

Okay, so nobody said it would be easy, right? But I still fondly imagined that giving Smidge more cozy spots would stop Kanga's peeing problem. It did seem to help, after all; just not enough.

I have rearranged furniture. I've added yet another litter box which is now totally in the way. I opened up the drafty hall closet (the one with no storm window, but it's still painted shut so God forbid you could actually make use of it for air circulation when the weather is nice; oh no, it is strictly for draining away money on the utility bill) and decided to make it the laundry closet, and added Smidge's stool that she likes, strategically placed to give her access to the shelf and from there to the windowsill. Nope.

She has taken over the new cat tree by now, and at this point to be honest I think Kanga's problem has more to do with the Princess than with Smidge. She deeply resents not being allowed to pick the cats up or invade their sleeping quarters, and she has started playing with them a lot using the wand toys. Which, by the way, are bloody expensive and NOT meant for little kids to use because they break easily. In spite of my constant nagging at her to be more gentle and not use the toy like a horsewhip, she continues to thrash them around violently. I know it's bothering the cats because they will often come running from one end of the apartment to the other, and sure enough if I go to check, she's in there swinging a toy around and insisting that "It was an accident" and "It didn't really hit her SO hard." AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!

Since peeing on the floor in a particular area is supposedly associated with the need for a safe space, I thought this weekend I'd clean our reeking carpet - not with that foul-smelling Nature's Miracle stuff again, which the cats and I both abhor, but with essential oils of lavender and chamomile, the advertised ingredients for the expensive "cat calming" spray at PetSmart that I can't even begin to afford. To me, the Nature's Miracle smells just as bad as the cat pee. It's only advantage is supposedly leaving the carpet odor-free after the fact, but I have not found that to be the case.

The lavender and chamomile certainly did seem to, however. I was so happy last night after I finished; the room smelled lovely, the cats weren't holed up on the other side of the apartment looking miserable, and in fact Kanga kept coming in every time I shut off the carpet cleaner and lying on the wet carpet as if she enjoyed it. So I was certain of success.

Oh, and I added the third litter box the night before with fancy Dr. Elsey's expensive litter for cats who hate their litter boxes, and she used it four times in 24 hours! A big improvement over the previous litter change to SWheat Scoop. (Note to the wise - that stuff breeds meal moths. Avoid it.)

So I was extra certain of success. I went to sleep enjoying the fresh, clean smell of an apartment where cat pee exists only in the litter box. I woke up to the old stink.

Yes, she peed on the floor again. Right in front of the litter box, which she then hopped into for pooping. Gooood kitty.... *headdesk*

Someone at church told me to put black pepper into the carpet, since cats always sniff before they pee, and the pepper is unpleasant. I'm going to spot-test that theory after the carpet dries. However, since she can't climb on things, I don't want the floor to be unpleasant for her. It's the only place she can be. Somehow I have to find a way to make her feel that peeing on it isn't necessary for owning it.

And she needs her nails trimmed again. They're catching on everything already. I'm going to ask the vet about those little nail caps so she can go longer between trimmings. I'm also considering having the two most troublesome nails amputated. I know that declawing cats is a rotten practice, but these are special circumstances. Her paws are already deformed, so it won't affect her walking or balance in a negative way, and it might make her less anxious if she's not getting stuck halfway down the hall whenever she wants to get from one place to another.

We'll see what happens.

I'm a Cat Mommy!

At the end of June, I decided we needed a pet. Studies show they help with depression, and both Little Bear and I struggle with that. Besides, all three kids have wanted a pet since forever.

A dog was out of the question. We knew a couple of people with kittens, but I felt a kitten would be more expensive (even if they're free to take home) and require more attention that we could offer. Considering how little waking time we actually spend at the apartment, it made the most sense to get two adult cats who already knew each other and would keep each other company throughout the day. We also needed indoor cats because the traffic in our area has ballooned over the past decade, and cats who go outdoors don't last long.

This meant adoption, obviously. I looked at the website for the local shelter and searched "bonded pair." Smidge and Kanga popped up. Two-and-a-half year old sisters, one with Radial Hypoplasia that results in her two front legs being shortened and turned inward so she hobbles along on her elbows, and one missing a front leg (due to the same condition in only one leg). They were up for adoption together. I thought it sounded perfect. They were young enough to spend (theoretically) a long life with us, but old enough to have outgrown the destructive stage. Their mobility issues meant I wouldn't feel guilty about keeping them indoors, and also that they'd be less likely to escape. I also assumed - incorrectly - that I wouldn't have to worry about the expense of climbers and cat shelves since they would have trouble getting up and down from heights. Ahem. More on that later...

Anyway, we went to visit them, and even though Kanga was unfriendly and scratched us a few times, I had my mind made up. The kids unanimously begged for a kitten instead, but in addition to my practical reasons, I wasn't going to subject such a small creature to the obsessive, controlling snuggles the Princess dreams of giving. She has a hard time accepting that live animals - especially soft fluffy ones - aren't toys and cannot be treated as such. If it was just the boys, that would be different.

They assured me that Kanga was not herself due to the pressures of the shelter environment, which could not accommodate her deformity. She refused to come out of her box or interact at all. I felt I'd do the same in her place. My opinion was that even if our apartment wasn't perfect, it had to be better than their current situation, and they'd been there for two months. Besides, I totally fell in love with Smidge; she reminded me so much of my old cat. So we adopted them. This was their second time at the shelter since they'd been adopted the previous year (after transferring from a shelter in New Jersey) and then brought back due to electrical fires in their owner's building.

When we brought them home, Smidge came out right away and dove under the couch. Kanga didn't budge. We left the carrier open and went grocery shopping. When we came back, she was out but ran back in when we got too close. We left the room, and later when I saw her out again, I closed the carrier and took it away.

We kept them in the big room for a few days. Smidge warmed up right away; Kanga took a little time but she did turn into a very different cat over the course of a week. I noticed that a couple of her claws wouldn't retract, probably due to her deformity, and one was quite overgrown and giving her trouble when playing. It was also the one everybody got scratched with. When we took them to the vet for their initial post-shelter checkup, the doctor did a fantastic job trimming her nails even though Kanga did her best villian-from-a-slasher-movie impression. Lol. It appears her claws on those crooked front paws are hypersensitive since she immediately reacts to having them touched, no matter how gently. Because neither cat can scratch properly to keep the nails worn down, trimming will have to be a regular thing.

It turned out that Kanga was the dominant one, and it annoyed me that she insisted on eating first and would butt in if she saw me petting Smidge. I assumed that Smidge's slender build and Kanga's chunky build had resulted from food issues, especially because Smidge would gobble her food very fast as if afraid it would be taken. I also assumed that Smidge didn't settle down and let me pet her for any length of time because she was nervous. Turns out she's just hyper, hehe. She can't sit still.

The pecking order shifted after Smidge killed and ate (yuck) two beetles on our deck one night, and decided she was the boss kitty and guardian of the household now! To my surprise and distress, Kanga didn't even try to stick up for herself, but just seemed to shrink down and give up everything to Smidge; all her cozy spots and safe corners, the first turn at the food dish, etc. If I sat down to pet her, she'd keep looking nervously around and sure enough, within seconds Smidge would come running in and give her a look, and she'd move away. Grrr. She also started spraying the sofa and peeing on the floor around the litter box. I steam-cleaned the carpet with pet odor remover once, but she's kept on doing it. She began throwing up constantly and stopped eating for a few days. It seemed pretty clearly an anxiety thing, so I kept giving her extra attention and fed them separately, and it got better slowly. I rearranged some furniture and added a second litter box, put out paper bags for her to hide in, and made her a cardboard box hideaway which Smidge sprayed right away and refused to let her go into. Ugh. Smidge also tried to monopolize the new litter box, but that has smoothed over. The first time Kanga got away with using it before Smidge caught her, Smidge ran up and sniffed the turd she'd left, then promptly hopped in and peed on it. I had to laugh at that one.

Because Smidge likes to be up on top of things, I decided to bite the financial bullet and order a cat tree from Groupon. Most cat trees I found would not accommodate a tripod, since they require the ability to leap down from level to level. Finally I found one that looked pretty reasonably spaced. I've seen other tripod owners talk about placing two climbers next to each other to provide more levels as well. In the meantime I picked up a small one off of Craigslist, which neither cat will use yet - not sure why, maybe it smells like the previous owner's cat or maybe they don't like where it is - and I rearranged the closet in the back of our Ikea loft bed/entertainment center/drawer combo with shelves for Smidge to climb on. I bought a pack of sticky-backed carpet tiles at Home Depot and cut pieces to put on top of the shelves so they'd be more comfy. My plan was to give Smidge places up high where she could enjoy hanging out and leave Kanga in peace down below.

A couple of days ago I put the big cat tree together, and Kanga immediately took it over. Lol so much for that plan! But hey, whatever works for them. They do seem to get along better now; Kanga has a new favorite place to sleep during the day and Smidge is free to keep the cozy cat bed she stole, haha. I also started feeding them next to each other, instead of the original setup where they shared a dish, or the second attempt where they ate in separate rooms. Smidge would run back and forth between the two rooms and eat from both dishes to keep Kanga away, little stinker. Now they eat together with minimal fuss. Smidge also seems to have partially subsided back to her more timid self, which wasn't what I hoped for, but as long as they aren't squabbling I suppose I can't complain.

I did have to find lightweight objects to put on the higher shelves of the new cat tree, since Kanga has decided to live there, because she can climb up but not down and that presents a major safety concern. That first morning she was apparently more comfortable attempting the nearly 4-foot leap to the kitchen floor than the 16-inch leap back through the hole she had come up through, and I had to grab her and set her down because it was obvious she was about to jump, which would have inevitably resulted in injury. Just in case, I'm keeping a pizza box on the floor in front of it for now, to cushion her fall if she should attempt it again and hopefully prevent serious injuries. So far I haven't seen her make any further efforts to go up there, but my ability to observe is limited.

It's going to be a fun journey!