Wordless Wednesday: Come Home Kitty

(I've heard that there is an "(almost) Wordless Wednesday" floating around somewhere, have you seen it? Maybe that would be more appropriate for my Wednesday writings, since I can't seem to keep my typing as hush hush as the title leads on. But even then, the word almost would be stretching it.)

(For now, I guess I'll just stick to my you-can't-see-me-because-I'm-hidden style parenthesis. I know its not much different than an every day post, but its still fun. For me at least, heee.)



(I don't talk about our cat very much, do I?)

(Well I should. Because really, she is my baby.)

(Just look at those big beautiful eyes. Those are the kind of eyes that melt your heart. They close with delight, every single time I stroke her fur. They blink with frustration every time the kids get rough with her or pull her tail- but shes never once scratched. Those are the purest eyes. The kind that mean no harm, and only see love.)



(Bomber is patient. She knows that I've got chores to do, and kittens to take care of. She gives me my space. She follows me around, hoping that I'll take a minute or two in between loads of laundry and putting babies in time out, to give her arching and itching back a little scratch scratch scratch. But for the most part, she keeps quiet off in a bedroom somewhere, laying in the light that comes in through the window.)

(Every night after the babies have gone to bed, she lays beside me on the couch. Depending on what kind of mood I'm in, she'll cozy herself up on the back of the sofa, within arms reach in case I get the urge to reach up and give her love. Sometimes, if I'm sitting, rather than laying, she'll curl up against my leg. Or sometimes she'll purr her way right into my arms, laying up close to my face, while I watch a movie or good tv show.)

(Whether I've cuddled her on the couch or not, she knows that when I go upstairs to bed, theres always "Bomber pet time". Where I give her my undivided attention. I scratch her in all of the very best spots- right above the tail, under her chin, and of course up and down her spine. She likes it when I use my fingernails, so I dig in until the air is filled with fur. A nightmare, if you're allergic to cats, but luckily I'm not. We snuggle together until I pull the covers over my shoulder. She knows that at that point, its bed time, and she'll have to find something else to do. Every night, its the same. And shes content.)



(Last night, Christopher left the garage door open. During a midnight storm, the laundry room entrance, which had been unlocked, was forced open by the wind. A curious kitty nosed her way outside, and couldn't find her way back.)

(Usually when I wake up in the morning, Bomber wakes up with me. She walks into Charlie's room with me, leading the way actually, and then she follows us both downstairs and she sits beside me while I snuggle Charlie during his morning sippy of soy milk.)

(This morning though, she was nowhere to be found.)

(Usually when we go out for our morning walk, she comes with us. She doesn't leave the driveway, she just pokes her nose around the garage for a bit, sometimes getting locked out while we're away, but usually getting tossed back into the house before we go off on our adventure. And then as soon as we come home, either she is sitting outside the front door waiting loudly for us, or she is sitting inside the front door, happy to welcome us back.)

(This morning, there were no welcome home's.)

(I searched high, I searched low. Every closet. Every drawer. Every comfortable looking snuggle spot that I could possibly find. But she was nowhere.)

(I went outside and called for her several times. I sent out text messages. I posted in local yahoo groups. Where is my kitty?)

(And then, just as I was starting to write this post, having uploaded only two of the three pictures, a knock erupted at my door- )

(There was my neighbor, from two houses down. "We have your cat", she said in the sweetest of voices. I jumped up onto my tippy toes, clapped my hands, and let out a child like squeal of delight. I slid my flip flops on, and followed her quickly to her house. There in her laundry room, so very confused, was my precious Kitty Bomber. I scooped her up, and carried her home, shouting plenty of thank you's, in between "ooooh, Mommy missed you"'s, over my shoulder as I went.)

(While I had spent the morning looking for Kitty, they had spent the morning trying to find Kitty's owners. They had called the vet, they had called base security, they had walked around the nearby streets. Luckily, Bomber's vaccine tag eventually ended the chase back and brought her back here to us.)

(I was so worried. Thinking of the worst.)

(But now here she lays, quietly at my feet, too tired to keep her eyes open, yet too happy to leave my side.)

(Go take a nap, pretty Kitty. I'm sure you've had a very busy night. And while you do that, I think I'll fluff up my pillows in preperation for some extra "Bomber pets time" tonight...)

A Black And White Back Yard Kind Of Day

Some days are more black and white than others. Today is not one of those days.

The sun is shining as hard as it knows how to, baking everything it can reach its rough edged rays around. The kids had already been both in and out of the kiddie pool by 10:45 this morning, having accidentally missed our morning walk (um, "accidentally"), we had to kill the morning time hours somehow. With temperatures getting close to 100 by this afternoon, I knew we'd have to be hiding in the shelter of the house before lunch time.

Days like this make me long for days like last week. The chance-of-storms-everyday, kind of days. The no-need-for-sunglasses-because-you've-got-constant-cloud-cover, kind of days. Where are those days hiding, I wonder? I wish they'd hurry back.

Actually, I'll just show you?
Days like this...

Days where Daddy teachers Charlie how to work with his tool bench.



They pound plastic nails, they twist colorful screw drivers, and they spend much needed one on one man-time together. What could be better?



And while Big Sister tried to get in on the action, she found herself playing with a single action figure in the grass all alone. Sometimes boys need to be boys, Miss Eleanore- be patient, your turn will be here before you know it.



See. The boys couldn't hammer and build forever, now could they? According to Daddy, hes been working on doing hand stands at the gym. Lets see who can hold theirs the longest.

Now that you're all good and light headed...



(I love this man).



Charlie recently got a new slide, and he loves it. It took him all of 5 minutes to get the hang of it, loving is so much that he woke up the next morning calling out "slide slide slide" from his crib.

"Its 6:30 in the morning Charlie, not right now", I replied to him as I sleepily pulled him out from underneath his yellow train blanket.



If he could, he'd go up and down this thing all day and all night. Even though the ride is short and smooth, it never seems to get old.

Unfortunately, the slide is too small for Sister, so you can imagine the jealousy that comes along with that. I do remind her of her play house though, that she got when she was Charlie's age. The same playhouse that is the center of their universe when they're let loose in the back yard. The playhouse that her and her imaginary friends call home.



While Charlie is sliding and Elie kicks around a ball, the winds start to pick up. The air drops at least ten degrees in temperature, maybe more, and a glance at the sky casts a dark shadow over all of us.



Time to put away those toys babies, and head inside before the rain drops start their drop attack. March, march, march...

And lets hope for another black and white day soon.