Lady Kitty and I are in my room while Michael is downstairs in the kitchen with Lake. It’s a good day… about seven o’clock on a school day. The boys are prepping the 17 weekly vocabulary words, putting the final shine on Lake’s Friday finale, the spelling test. A freshly dressed Lady Kitty is sitting up on my big bed with her back to me, looking out the window into the branches of cedar tree. I am standing, fronts of my thighs pressing into the side of the thick mattress, unbraiding her night braid and brushing her hair to create the requested hairstyle of the day: two high ponys with bows.

Spring is exploding into our neighborhood and the crisp morning air erupts with birdsong. The chipper chatter penetrates our ears so close to our brain and cajoles us awake and propels us squarely into a happy mood. The bouquets of cherry blossoms on the street trees fill the sky with fluffy pink flowers. How dreamy is that? No less wondrous than if baby unicorns would suddenly gambol by in merriment.

Lady Kitty andI are having a bit of a lark playing “cat family”. I had been purring in her ear to wake her up and tried to lick her face while we both laughed and she ducked and dodged. But not before I got the briefest taste of a forehead guarded by wisps of hair tendrils. Salty!

Our “cat family” game evolves to incorporate the tasks of the morning. As the school bus draws closer it involves some opposable thumb activity and talk becomes peppered in amongst the meows.

“Your teacher asked the parents to send snacks to school for the class if they could. The class is running low on snacks. Would you like to bring some of those boxes of gluten-free bunny grams? We have a bunch of boxes in the pantry.” I say.

“You know how all the bananas are stuck together?” Lady Kitty says.

“Yes, like a ‘bunch’ of bananas. That’s called a ‘bunch’ of bananas,” I say.

“A crowd. Well, I call it a ‘crowd.’ A ‘crowd’ of bananas,” Lady Kitty says.

A perfect morning of cats and bananas. I’m glad I spent it with you, Lady Kitty. You’re the cat’s bananas!

12/21/25

Lady Kitty asked me, “Do you want to play Rock Shop? You don’t need to help me, but you can and I would like it.”

*Tug Tug*

I do not recall what I was doing in that moment of the Rock Shop invitation, or how I responded to the *Tug*. I just found this scrap of paper whilst cleaning up a few tidbits. I still try to jot down quotes when I can, to preserve the particularities of the kids’ precocious sayings. Nonetheless, many slip by. I think I will remember and write it down later, but I can barely remember by that evening, or by an even slimmer margin of possibility the next day.

I do not recall what I was doing in that moment of the Rock Shop invitation, or how I responded to the *Tug*. The days and what they encompass of parenting have a funny way of distorting time. Distress amplifies some moments and days seem to leapfrog in a blur from one challenge to the next. Meanwhile, time overall collapses; where did it go? Each beautiful moment is presented as an offering before vanishing. How do I remind myself to cherish the present moment, again and again and again? It is here, Dear Reader, where I reflect with gratitude, that perspectives can shift. Precious exchanges can be relished and hardships relinquished. Sharing the interactions that brought me bemusement and warmth allows me to savor the connection once more.

I do not recall what I was doing in that moment of the Rock Shop invitation, or how I responded to the *Tug*. My photo library references these images from three days prior. I sure hope I said “yes” to my darling, and responded with a hug.

I do not recall what I was doing in that moment of the Rock Shop invitation, or how I responded to the *Tug*. I can say I’m trying to say “yes” more consciously. Even if it is “yes” to only a few minutes of reading or playing, or a qualified “when… then…” “yes.” Ultimately, I’ve noticed simply saying “yes” brings a tingle of connection for both of us. At the end of the day, at the end of a life, that’s all we really wanted: to feel connected, validated, and like we belonged. So, “Yes, Love, I would like to play. I would like that too.” Thank you for extending a bid for connection. Thank you for your vulnerability and authenticity. Thank you for giving me permission to slow down. I’m honored to be your mum. A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you.