So here is one of the reasons why I love my husband…
My mom has a cat. It’s name is Phoebe. It is named after the Friends character, because the cat, while beautiful, is Weird. I mean capital ‘W’ Weird.
While we were visiting our family in the states we stayed at our brother’s house in Merced for about a week or so. My mom came up and stayed at my brother’s house with us. She brought her cat.
Ever since I got pregnant my husband and I seem to get super hot at night. Like two hot water bottles sleeping together. We would open the window in the evening to let in cold air so that the room would be maybe kinda cool at night and we could actually keep the covers on us.
Since we were traveling and staying in other people’s houses I was trying to be sensitive to people’s sensitivities and since breast feeding is seen by some as a lewd act every time I needed to feed my baby I would run, baby fussing in my ear, to the bedroom we were staying in, grab my boppy, leap onto the bed, settle in and feed my child. I would usually leave the door open because it’s really not a lewd act and I was saying, ‘it’s okay if you want to come in and talk to me.’
This particular evening Phoebe joined me. She sauntered in sniffing as she went, I glanced up at the window, and thought, ‘this could be bad.’
Of course in about two seconds she sniffed her way to the window, stood up on her hind legs, and sniffed the ledge and went back down. I thought, ‘I better act now before she actually goes out the window.’ I called out to my husband, with just enough of an edge to my voice so that other’s wouldn’t think anything was wrong, but he would know that dallying wasn’t an option,
“Scott could you come up here please?!” I heard no answer. Yelling at my husband is of course a better and easier solution than popping my baby off and setting her down as I leap to save a cat from hurtling it’s dumb self to the ground. Therefore causing my baby to scream disconsolately.
The cat sniffed again. She leaped and I saw her little furry butt begin to disappear out the window. Scott arrived in the nick of time.
“Get the cat, Get the cat!” I hiss, only loud enough for him to hear. He leaps forward, grabs the animal by her haunches and tosses her out the bedroom door.
Now many people would have turned and been angry with me, for leaving the door open or allowing the cat to come in, or whatever. Scott turns from tossing the cat into the hall and is laughing as hard as he can.
“We would have been in so much trouble! It would be like that scene in what’s that movie called?”
“Meet the Parents!” I’m laughing hysterically, and feeling light and okay, rather than heavy and guilty. Emma has stayed latched on and blissfully unaware of all of this ruckus.
And that’s one of the many reasons why I love my husband.