Fluffy Butts

I have two kitties. Ralph is an approximately 10 year old grey tabby. Binky is a 6 year old white kitty with a grey saddle. I adopted Ralph when he was 4 years old and I got Binky some time later, as a kitten. Ralph has carried a bit of a grudge against him since the beginning. He kinda reminds me of the way an older sibling will act towards a younger sibling.

Sometimes they will cuddle next to each other while napping and will stand as a united front against the dogs (with Ralph even coming to Binky's rescue if he sounds upset by one of the dogs). Other times, Ralph likes to kick Binky's ass, sometimes just for the pure pleasure of it, it seems.

Ralph will act like the big brother, licking Binky's face and ears, Binky totally enjoying this. Then he stops, stares at Binky intensely for a minute or two, and attacks him. After a few years, Binky finally learned to expect this and generally will jump away from Ralph or bop him before getting attacked. Of course, bopping Ralph generally gets him into trouble.

I was getting ready for work this morning and I was watching them in the bathroom mirror; Binky lying on the floor, Ralph standing over the top of him. He leans over and starts to lick Binky's head. Binky was having none of this and bops him. Ralph stands there, staring down at Binky and I can see he's getting ready to pounce. So I intervene and Ralph stands in the same spot, staring at me for a couple minutes, all innocent-like: "I wasn't going to do anything. I'm just standing here, minding my own business." I turn back to the mirror and watch them, intervening two more times. After the 3rd time, Ralph turns and starts to walk away, "Fine, fine. I'll go over here." But right after I turn my back on them, Ralph whips around and pounces on Binky. The brat was just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to beat up on Binky when he thought he could get away with it!

You gotta admire the wickedess of this little punk. I don't know of any other animals capable of waiting for an opporunity to strike after being diverted 3 times!

... and the Pleasures

Brad really did a lot to get me off on the right foot this morning. It was such a simple little act and yet it really brightened my morning. I used to tease him about the fact that he hasn't a single romantic bone in his body. Not that I'm overly romantic, mind you. But he'd never given me flowers for no reason at all, never bought me a little gift "just because", that kind of thing. It kinda bugged me for a while but when I would stop to think about all the other things Brad does for me, I really couldn't complain at all.

A few weeks back, I woke up early one Saturday morning. I had been having a dream that Brad had left me and I woke up crying. I'd go back to sleep, the dream would continue, and I'd wake up. After that happened several times, I finally decided I was not going back to sleep, that I was getting up and out of bed for the day. I walked out to the living room where Brad was already and stretched out my arms to him. He got up off the sofa and walked over and gave me a hug. I told him about my dreams and he was all, "Awww! Honey! You know that will never happen. I'm never going to leave you, you're not getting rid of me that easy." After he comforted me, he said my getting up early had ruined his surprise. He'd intended to go to the store and pick up some pastries for breakfast before I got up. So he ran off to the store and came back with not only pastries but a bouquet of flowers for me! :-o I don't think he'd ever done that before, it's usually always been flowers for special occasions. I was floored. What a wonderful, sweet thing.

This morning, I was heading back to work after 5 glorious days away. I had spent probably 3 of the 5 days daydreaming about what it would be like to have every day off. It was a beautiful dream. :-) Brad walked me out to my car like he does every morning and when I opened the car door to my little black Beetle, I saw a rose he'd picked off the bush and put in the flower holder-thingy by the steering wheel. My sweetie was trying to perk up my morning. Once again, he surprised me by showing me that he does, actually, think about me.

I smiled all the way in to work today. What a great start to the day!

The Pains...

(Previously posted as The Difficulties and the Pleasures; edited because it was so darn long!)

Yesterday, Brad, Moon Unit, and I were sitting at the dinner table, discussing an email we got from K's caseworker. We were going over her questions regarding how we would handle different difficult situations that may arise. They both brought up that they didn't feel like Dweezil and Frank were properly disciplined. So I asked them about this and what they thought needed to be done that wasn't being done already.

The thing that seemed to come out of this was that it's not so much what I'm not doing right as much as it is trying to overcome the influence (or lack thereof) of being in their father's home, where discipline seems to be severely lacking. They get yelled at a lot but not really disciplined. It seems to just roll off Dweezil's back. Add to that the fact that they are usually only up every other weekend and it's maybe 4-6 days a month that they are with us vs being at home with their dad. Discipline is such a difficult proposition when this is the case. I can't have much impact on their behavior. There have been some improvements but more needs to be made.

I never wanted to put them in a position of uprooting them from their home, disrupting their lives, when they were more or less happy. I think I've made the assumption that they are happy. But when I think of how things are at their house - the frozen dinners instead of home cooked, how messy their house looks sometimes, the way their dad yells at them but never really disciplines them - it really bothers me because I really think they would be better off here. Okay, so my house isn't always perfectly clean (who's house is and are they normal?) and I don't always spend as much quality time with them as I should. But still, I sometimes think maybe I've done the wrong thing by letting them stay where they are. And I really hate second guessing myself like that.

To top that off, part of the email we got from K's caseworker asked why the boys live with their father. We've been split up for 8 years and I have always waited for that question. I guess for the most part, the general population is polite enough not to ask. But the caseworker is not part of the general population. She has to make sure that we are going to be a good family for K so she had to ask. So I answered her question, trying to be as completely thorough as possible while at the same time trying not to be defensive. Because this is a horribly sore point for me. I have never regretted anything like I have regretted not having the boys live with me. And it's just so very difficult to talk about because of the second guessing. But I guess there's very little that's sacred when you're trying to adopt a kid who's been through the foster care system.