Blues, among other things

I babysat the three little boys for the last time last night.
Blaise is two now, and he can annunciate my name. Hunter and Luke will be five in September, so we talked about me leaving and they told me that maybe they'd go on vacation while I was gone too, but wanted to know if I'd be back for their birthday. When I told them I'd be gone, Hunter looked at me and said, "Maybe you can come over the day before."
We had a good night. Two of them weren't feeling well, so we made juice popsicles and watched too much Thomas the Tank Engine. I choked back tears while we were reading stories, and then again when I put Blaise to bed. I've always had a special bond with him; he's such a happy baby.
Then, things got bad. I put Luke to bed in the boys' room and he wanted me to sing to him, so I asked him what he wanted. "A song about you," he said, so I sang something. "Actually," he said after I'd badly sung a short, made-up song, "tell me a story about you." So we talked about them, and Carlos, and life.
I told him I loved him and tucked him in and then went to find Hunter, who was in the other room. He wanted to sing to me, he said. He hummed me a song and then asked me what my favorite part was. "The middle," I answered.
"It's Tinkerbell's birthday song," he said. "Now you sing me one."
I hummed Blackbird.
And then I cried.
They gave me a beautiful card and each of the boys gave me a piece of paper they'd decorated.
It's been a wild two years, but as I told her when I left, I'm wildly more prepared for motherhood. I remember when I had just started with them and I'd find myself overwhelmed at times. Now, I can weather tantrums calmly without being stressed at all. Last night, there were those tired tears that only sleep can solve, a problem so simple it wasn't, and Luke telling me he had to have popsicles by midnight. The only problem? They weren't frozen yet.
I looked at him and I said, "What do you think will happen if you don't have one before midnight instead of waiting until tomorrow?"
He thought about it.
"Nothing too bad, right?" I said. "Now, you may have banana or applesauce."
The tears continued, but I continued doing what I had been doing and I didn't bat an eye. Later it was applesauce that solved the problem.

After I got home last night, I called my friend Patrick (who met Maddie a few months ago on his first night in Chicago) and told him I wanted to go out. Then I called my new Irish friend (how funny is it that we majored in the same thing? However, he also has a Master's degree and I do not) and asked him what he was doing. He was at a blues place. So Patrick and I went. The place has two stages, and the musicians switch back and forth between the two all night. One of their group had talked to the musicians after the first set, and they invited him up to play with them. The club was open until 3:30, so we stayed there as long as we could. (I'd only gotten there around one.)
I ended up home with McDonald's breakfast around six thirty, and I managed to find what I believe is legal parking (it's street sweeping day, but there weren't any signs) so all is well. That group of guys is hilarious. They're seven guys here for the summer, excited to meet American girls, but so far have only met Irish ones (and me, but I don't think I count. They keep asking me if I have girl friends. I tell them I'm working on it). I have thoroughly enjoyed the couple of weeks I've had with them and am going to be sad to miss their summer here.

Mike gets in tonight! I'm not sure what we're going to do, I have a huge final tomorrow, and still think I'm going to write a six page paper, but haven't decided yet, so it might be a laid back night in.
I'm miserably unprepared for this move and it's starting to make me nervous. I know that I don't have much to do in Colorado, but Dad is leaving just before I get to his house and the idea of being somewhere unfamiliar at a high-stress time with Carlos and other cats is stressing me out. I'm employed, though! I start at Subway next week. I'm about to the best qualified "sandwich artist" that ever lived.
But South African preparations must begin.
Ah, summer. Hopefully Denver is ready for me.

Moving to Denver: 2010: Cat Update

I apologize for that last post.
My life list should actually look more like this:

To Do:
Stop being such a melodramatic bore.


Instead of doing anything on either of those lists, I spoke with Mom on the phone for well over an hour, referenced Virginia Woolf more than I should have, and then promptly overworked myself about cat nail clippers. You know, that sort of afternoon.
Carlos' nail clippers are missing. And his claws grow faster than baby's fingernails. So perhaps my Sunday drive today should be to PetSmart (Is it PetsMart? Or PetSmart? either way, there) to get some new ones that won't shred his nails.
That way I can prove to myself and him that I'm not a bad mother.

The ankle is another issue entirely. I played ultimate frisbee and then kickball yesterday, neither of which are activities conducive to healing. I now have a solid mass just above my ankle bone. I'll keep you updated for developments in that department.
However, I love running around. I also love it when neighborhood moms say that 22 year olds can still have popsicle breaks. Perfect evening.

Firetruck on my street and others fast approaching. Hopefully it's the second great Chicago fire and I can finally capitalize on my renter's insurance policy.
(Cute joke, I promise. I'm pretending that I'm not leaving and have therefore not begun packing. It's that sort of week as well. It might be easier if half of my possessions were charred. It would certainly make packing easier.)

The short-lived audio player will return, just after I've made some adjustments. That one was cumbersome and ugly, and if it's one thing that I prefer my blog not to be, it's that. (Take your pick, cumbersome or ugly.)

I'm going to hit up the PetSMart (there, end of discussion) downtown and make sure that I can get Carlos  what he needs. Maybe he'll want to come with? We're trying to practice car driving. (Redundant, I know.) He's not been bad at it; the only thing he HATES is getting in. And with those claws? He'd be a free cat in no time.

....
(Some time later)

I've returned...I have a new dog carrier for Carlos (since he's too big to fit comfortably in the cat ones) that should be spacious enough for the road trip. (I'll hopefully be able to fit a small litter box and some food/water in there as well....fingers crossed!) I didn't want to go too big, he doesn't need a cat palace. But he also got a new collar (it's adorable - white with dark brown flowers along it) to replace the one that was lost when he had his surgery. I'm not going to bother paying to make a tag or anything, he's microchipped and easily recognizable by all of his physical injuries.
Apparently, his teeth are out of order too. The front fangs are behind other fang-like teeth (I'd like to say incisors, but I'm most likely wrong. Fangs are incisors, right?) but should be in front of them. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to bother him although it might explain why he eats like a hyena.

Today was beautiful: hot and sunny, the Pride parade was today. I didn't go, instead I chose to decompress (and rest that ankle) and lay around watching the NCIS marathon on USA.
Perfect day.

I'm off to my friend Harrison's for our last movie night tonight.

The countdown has begun.
I'm at home today, not doing much of anything.
Lots to do: cleaning, obviously, a 6 page paper due Wednesday, packing, etc.

Tomorrow: A test at 2, then work from 5 until midnight.
Tuesday: Apparently, Mike flies in.
Wednesday: Final
Thursday: work
Friday: Denver.

Not much to write, not in the mood to write about much of anything.