TGIF

I'm at work and get a text from my husband: 

I think he's teasing. Every time I beg for a kitten, he says, "No. No more." And my broken record response is, "C'mon, ONE MORE!"

I know it's stupid to want another cat. My husband being a veterinarian, we have become the Land Of Misfit Toys. We have two pit bulls, three cats, four snakes, and two fish tanks. We sound like the tenants from hell. It's been years since I've owned a black coat. Barf, fur, poop, anal glands, nail trimmings, morning walks, battle/play scars, ruined furniture and constant begging for attention are part of our daily lives. Why I would want to add to the chaos goes against common sense. 

But I'm a slow learner.

So when I got this text last Friday, I assumed my husband was teasing and didn't take him seriously. I responded with, "YES PLEASE. Can you bring her to the office? I was just thinking I'd rather be playing with a kitten than doing data entry."

After a couple more texts, I realized he wasn't kidding. He was bringing home a kitten for our anniversary. 

We're both slow learners.

I immediately lost my mind and started shrieking and running back and forth, shoving my phone into the faces of my very patient co-workers. I was shaking with anticipation the rest of the afternoon, unable to concentrate, knowing I was going to go home to a kitten, a kitten I had already fallen in love with two weeks before:

I immediately took to Facebook to broadcast our new arrival, while simultaneously chastising ourselves for adding to the anarchy of our house. My announcement was met with resounding congratulations and questions of names and how this came to be. I was absolutely high with glee as I went to pick up a new litter box and some new toys. 

That was three days ago, and I am in kitten bliss. He is just SO cool: wildly affectionate, non-stop purrs, and he fetches. For real. 

My bliss is slightly tempered with the knowledge that we will have to introduce him to the other animals, an event that fills me with dread. Watching the hissing, swiping, tail-puffing and back-arching that will go on between the cats as they figure out their territory is a scene I'd rather avoid altogether. I want to live in a world like the one in Snow White, where all the animals smile at each other while you sing to them and help you do the dishes. 

I experienced a couple seconds of self-doubt: Can we handle another cat? What if the animals really don't get along? What if the dogs chase him and he's miserable? What if he scratches the dogs' eyes out (something my own cat almost did a few years ago when they tried to play with her, and she does NOT play because SHE is a PRINCESS, goddammit). 

And I had those couple seconds. Like I said, I expected that doubt from me. But what I didn't expect was some passive, but genuine, disapproval from a couple of friends. 

"You guys are crazy." "I don't get it." *eye roll* "Aren't you breaking the city's code for having too many animals?" "Whatever." *exasperated head shaking with a loud sigh*

Ouch. I may be covered in super-hyper-kitten-play scratches, but that hurt worse. 

I'd love to say that since high school is nearly twenty years behind me, that I've developed the kind of confidence that comes with true ownership over your life. I may still have a couple guilty pleasures that I don't wear on my sleeve, but for the most part, I'm unabashed about my likes and dislikes no matter the unpopularity of them, while respecting those of everyone else (unless they border or live in hatred, bigotry, etc., of course). 

But their doubt fed mine. After all, they aren't strangers. They're my friends. I listen to them, they like me for who I am, and they're telling me they think I'm dumb for doing this. For wanting this. For being happy about this.

geeeeeez.

When my sister called to tell me she was pregnant with her fourth child, she didn't actually do it herself. She had her oldest daughter (then five years old) call to tell me "Mommy's going to have a baby" since my sister was too embarrassed to call me herself because she knew I would think she was nuts for having a fourth. 

And she was right. I did and do think she's nuts. But I also think having a fourth child is great for her, even though I don't understand her motivations for doing so. 

My sister is a natural-born mommy. In the same way some people are born geniuses and can decipher tax language, my sister was born with a raging love of children. If it were possible, I would say she should have ten. She's madly in love with her kids with a stable (but messy) home and relishes her role as a parent. The world needs more kids raised by parents like her. 

She really didn't have to be shy about telling me she was pregnant again. Sure, I thought she was bananas because I can't imagine having one kid, let alone four. But I also knew this is the life she's always wanted. And that she's good at it. How could I not be happy for her?

And this is the life I've always wanted. And I'm good at it. Reminding myself of that helped me shed my doubt and ignore my friends' disapproval. I get it: They can't imagine living my life, and I can't imagine living theirs. Sometimes, I guess, it's just difficult to keep those opinions to ourselves. 

I have named our kitten Friday. Because Fridays are awesome, everyone always looks forward to Friday, and Fridays are full of fun and mischief.

And his addition to our family has made me happy. That, and knowing that even with all our four-legged kids, my house will always be cleaner than my sister's.