T&E (Tired and Emotional)

kitten biting laptop

Well I have to say…

They’re no Lenny.

They’re better than Lenny, obviously, but Lenny was chill. He minded his own business and kept himself to himself. He fed himself, watered himself, and on the rare occasion that we ran into each other, we would both stop in surprise, as if we’d forgotten the other even lived in the apartment. On the last day, he waved goodbye with a single antenna and I nodded my head in acknowledgement. It was a civil arrangement; a cool but not unfriendly relationship.

Thing 1 and Thing 2  (their names are not yet decided) are small, furry, projectile missiles that enjoy biting hair, toes, curtains, shoelaces, faces, and each other. They frequently attack thin air. They need to be fed four times a day (FOUR!), and Thing 1 tries to eat both bowls at once. They are noiseless ninjas, appearing underfoot without so much as a meow of warning, so that you live in a constant state of shredded nerves from the possibility of standing on one by mistake. They live in a single room for the time being, but have recently become aware that there is a wider world beyond the door and Thing 1 has made about 47385 escape attempts so far. Thing 2, more cautious by nature, hangs back and watches his sister volunteer as tribute with a shocked look on his face. Neither of them speak English, and they have a particularly limited understanding of the word ‘No.’

They are small, and soft, and Thing 2 is more photogenic than I could ever be (Thing 1 doesn’t stay still long enough.

ragdoll kitten

“fvgh).“kiiiiiiiiiii,” says Thing 2, as he pads his way across my keyboard.

Still, last night, after so many months of anticipation and such high expectations of how I would feel once they arrived (LOVE, obviously – the same kind of love I had for my cat that passed away last year)… I found myself feeling strangely low. I didn’t feel the unconditional love I was expecting to feel. I didn’t feel instant, uncomplicated happiness. Instead I felt slightly frightened and a bit overwhelmed. I started to panic on the inside. As I looked at their dark little faces, watching me with wide blue eyes, I felt a crushing sense of responsibility.

kittens ragdoll

“I might have to keep you safe for twenty years,” I told them in a desperate whisper at about 2am. “Can I do that?! I don’t even know if I can do that!”

They stared silently. Thing 2 blinked.

“I mean, every house plant I’ve had has died. That’s why they’re all artificial now. Did you notice? They’re all plastic!”

Thing 2 yawned and flopped down on his side. Thing 1 started to climb up the leg of my jeans, a mad look in her eyes. I peeled her from my thigh and sat down on the bed. A tear rolled down my face and I wondered if I was actually losing it completely.

“I had a cat before, you see,” I told them. “He was the best cat – my little man – and last year he was put down. So you have… really big paws to fill. You guys are really cute, and I like you a lot, but you’re baby strangers. I don’t know you yet, and you don’t know me, and there are two of you, and there’s only one of me, and you’re all over the place, and I only have a single set of eyeballs and they both point in one direction, and I’m feeling very overwhelmed and tired and I just… I just need you to work with me and give me a bit of time. Okay?”

As I spoke, Thing 1 and Thing 2 sat up straight, staring at me solemnly. Then Thing 1 approached me and curled up against my side, and Thing 2 padded straight up to my face and reached up to lick my nose.

I petted them and they purred.

I googled it then and found that it’s actually quite a common thing. Apparently, when expectations are (consciously or subconsciously) very high, you can get a sort of post-adoption depression when everything is suddenly REAL LIFE and you really truly internalise the fact that you are now responsible for two kamikaze floofballs for almost as long as it takes to pay off a mortgage, and you will have to get to know each other a bit before you can realistically expect to have the same kind of bond you had with your 16 year old domestic shorthair family pet.

As I write this, they are asleep beside me; two stretched out little snuffleupagii.

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Although they clearly need a few more English lessons, they certainly seemed to understand my rising panic last night. Since our heart-to-heart, they’ve been very affectionate and have stopped biting my hands (as much). The number of attempted escapes has decreased dramatically, and Thing 1 has let me take a photo or two.

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I’m feeling much better today. I have the gruesome twosome booked in for a vet visit tomorrow, I’ve made them an Instagram account so as not to spam my own with pictures of their fuzzy faces, and I am no longer in imminent danger of having a meltdown.

Amazing what a few hours of sleep can do!

Ragdoll kitten

 

 

 

Thoughts On… Adulting Struggles

It is unseasonably warm in Ireland at the moment. In a freak occurence, the sun is actually visible, the clouds are wispy and barely-there, and the temperature has crept up to Irish-sunburn levels (which isn’t very high, but it’s high enough for people to wander the streets in singlets, puffing and red-faced, panting about how it’s “FAR too hot!”).

I am currently sitting at my table, with a cup of tea beside me to wash down my many supplements*, thinking of the many, many things on my To Do List. The thoughts of all these things that need to be done have come together to form a thick, grey, thundercloud of tasks, and every so often it sends forks of lightning formed from pure unadulterated panic down my spine.

This is Not Good.

I know myself well enough to know that I need to get a handle on this situation. I feel overwhelmed, but I know that all the items on my endlessly long To Do List are doable; it’s only when thinking of all of them, together and at the same time, that I start to sweat and wonder whether it might be a good idea to change my name to Carmen Sandiego and move to Raja Ampat to sell beaded bracelets on the side of the road.

I do love making beaded bracelets…

Adulting is hard sometimes. I have yet to master the life skill of organisation. I rarely make lists, and even when I do make lists I inevitably lose them, which usually leaves me worse off than I was before. I often lose track of time because I’m so focused on a single thing that I forget 1.) to eat, 2.) that time is passing and 3.) there are in fact other things that require my attention. The fact that this blog is still alive and updated is a minor miracle considering how abysmal my scheduling skills can be.

And yet…

I love the feeling of being productive. I love the days when I smash through the things on my To Do List with reckless abandon and reach nightfall exhausted but delighted by my progress. I love seeing things look the way I envisioned, or finishing something and knowing I don’t need to worry about it again for a while. I love escaping out from under the crushingly heavy Sisyphean boulder of responsibility that builds up every once in a while after a period of slacking (or, say, a particularly lazy holiday).

Considering that I LOATHE this feeling of having every chore ever invented hanging over my head, feel positively meh about actually doing them, and enjoy the feeling of having done them, you would think the obvious thing would be to get through them as quickly as possible. The adult, rational part of the brain would tell you that it is the only logical course of action. I know this.

So why am I still sitting here?

Wish me luck. If you have anything stronger than luck (bourbon?), send that too. If you have a way of tackling mammoth To Do Lists in a productive manner, let me know your secret. You can whisper it. You can even send it by smoke signal; I’ll keep one eye on the windows just in case.

I’ll be right here, tediously checking my way through a list as long as my arm.

 

*Seriously it’s getting out of control; I’m now taking iron because my iron stores are low, folic acid because a friend told me everyone should be taking it all the time, vitamin D because I rarely see the sun here, vitamin B12 for my skin and vitamin C and zinc to help absorb the iron. I was talking to a friend recently who said I should also be taking magnesium, but I really don’t think I can bring myself to take more than five tablets in a day unless there is a serious and pressing need…