We had a great weekend. Eli turned the Big 1 twice.... I will explain later, had a great birthday party down in Mankato and had a great time catching up with family we hadn't seen in quite a while (I am telling Eli that Aunt Mary and Uncle Steve flew in from South Korea just for him) and had a lovely time.
Then on Sunday I got the call from B. He had to leave Saturday night to work on Sunday so he was home, he let Thomas the man cat out to do manly cat things and let Todd down into the basement to do private kitty things. Sunday morning B found Todd curled up at the bottom of the stairs and thought Todd was up to his old tricks of always being where Bryan needed to walk or being "asking to be stepped on" as Bryan would say. Except Todd didn't wake up or look at B when he called out the normal T-O- Double Dizzle.
B did a great job of calling me and letting me know and found a great spot for him to be buried. I am just heart broken and don't know what to do. Bryan doesn't know what to do so he changes the subject.
He was just my special kitty. He was mine. He got jealous when I read books and didn't rub his ears. He was just mine. It always seemed like we were on the same team, trying to annoy Bryan. Every morning Bryan would would put his feet down from the bed, there Todd would be. Bryan would walk into the kitchen and Todd would be laying right where Bryan needed to go. It was like his little mind game with B.
I knew he was sick from day one, but I was really hoping that we were the very very very select few to beat kitty cancer. In a way we were, we beat it for a whole year. Todd got his Christmas where he got to play with Christmas ornaments, he got to pounce after Thomas in the long grass, he was terrorized by a toddler and a 3 1/2 year old and loved unconditionally. So in all honesty he lived a full kitty life... just not long enough for selfish me.
I miss him terribly and am crying enough to make my husband uncomfortable (I think my sister is close behind) but it doesn't help when your smarter than smart child comes up with the brilliant idea that we need a magic blanket to fly up to the clouds to rescue Todd. Imagine me in the back seat, with two kids trying not to bawl when this little insight popped out of Emily's mind while Bryan and Ellie keep looking forward in an uncomfortable silence. Yup. And I am not even a cute crier.
So needless to say I am a little down. I miss my Toddy. And my child just told me to calm down and take a deep breath. And another one. And another one. Gotta love her.
But back to Eli turning 1 twice!!! So Bryan and I had a hell of a start to our week, it was just a crap shoot from the start. So Wednesday showed up, and I got up bright and early got my act together, picked out an outfit for Em and then went to get Eli ready. I went to the closet got his Cupcake Happy Birthday Shirt and got the boy dressed like it was nobody's business.
We smothered him with birthday kisses, took a few pictures, posted them on facebook stating that we had an "offical" one year old. Then off he went with dad to daycare while I got Em ready.
Then B came back to get us (day care is two blocks away and sometimes it is just a tad easier to get Eli out the door so everyone can get ready faster and easier).And off to daycare we went again. As I walked Emily in, Renee apologized for missing Eli's birthday and that everything she had - said it was the 12th of July.
I said, it is.
She said that it was Wednesday the 11th.
She even had to show me the calendar.
The walk of shame back to the car to tell B what we did was dreadful.
I can't believe what we did.
I had an email in my work inbox from my Mother informing me that my child's birthday was in fact the 12th not the 11th. Thanks mom.
The only saving grace was that we did it a day early, and that we actually knew what day our son was born on, we just got our actual days mixed up. So my son turned 1 twice, I think this might just have to become a tradition, but at least it is a really good story to tell and it gave quite a few people a good laugh.
When I say I am not a perfect parent, I mean it. But imperfections make perfect stories for therapy.
Meg
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