SO, here we are. Somewhere between 2 and 2 and 1/2. Somewhere between baby and toddler it's starting to happen. I realized in the last few days that my baby is not a baby anymore. This little, independent, strong, assertive child is slipping away from me. Not really of course but that is how I am feeling. We used to cuddle more. Now it's mostly more about trucks, cars, vacuum cleaners and Einsteins than me. It could of course be my imagination. Independence is creeping in more and more. It's funny. Sometimes I feel like me life is like that scene you see in music videos or on cars. A person is standing in the middle of a ton of whirling lights all around them. It's one giant blur and the person is the only thing in focus. That's me. And I'm not that in focus most of the time to be honest. But, that's my life. One big, humongous blur. I'm sure other parents can identify. Where DOES the time go? How is it that it's December 1st already? Where is my baby? Where is my first baby? Who am I?

It actually is funny and sad. I just want to stop the frenetic pace sometimes. Most times. I hate that I'm 42. I hate that I am out of breath when I race up the stairs. I hate my wrinkles and gray hair. But I don't want any regrets. I don't want to look around when I'm 70 and feel like I didn't stop to appreciate my children, my husband, my family. But I'm not sure how to accomplish this. Scream at the top of my lungs, "EVERYONE STOP TALKING AND LET ME LOOK AT YOU!!!" Don't think so. Amidst the screaming, whining, crying, homework, dinners, meltdowns, tears, stresses, school work and everything else, I'm not sure how to be that person that takes it all in. To not regret so many things. I hate how I speak to my kids and my husband sometimes. OK, a lot of the time. I try to be more patient, I do. I just think I suck at it.

All the while I am desperate to hold onto my baby. The boy who needs me, wants me. He does still need and want me, right? Ironically however the boy who I did not want. That's right, I really wanted another girl. I sat in the car in my daycare provider's driveway when we heard the news from the genetic counselor. "No genetic issues. And, it's a boy." I immediately started to cry. I had no idea what to do with a boy.

My aunt told me to be thankful. As she well knew, so many people would be thrilled to be able to have a child in the first place. Selfish, selfish I was. Why couldn't I just be happy to be having a normal, healthy baby? Again, I suck.

I spend a lot of time feeling guilty for what I say and do. Instead of just saying and doing the things that people want me to say and do. I let everyone know my "inside voice" as a colleague says. Why? I'm a pretty good communicator. I say what I feel. I let people know. Why not? I grew up around and in a family of good communicators. Everyone said what was on their mind.

We never really mastered the "hold your tongue" attitude. Pity. It could have saved many a hurt feeling. As we grow older, we do grow wiser I think.

So growing older, living in a crazy life that is wizzing by isn't all that bad. I just need to take more time to be easier on me and on my kids and my husband. It is what it is and I am who I am. Although I may not like me every day, I think I'm a pretty good person and mommy and wife. At least I hope I am.

Of course as soon as I saw the son I really did not want all of that changed. I could not imagine a happier baby. He truly is the Love Muffin I used to call him. My little Julie Bean, my sweet, delicious love.

I pray that he always needs me, that both my kids always need me. Despite how I might suck at things from time to time. Love conquers all. Love heals all. And family always loves till the end of the earth. Up to the sky and back again. I know no other way to love.

My Beloved Jazz

Monkey Head, Mummy, Lover, Monk, Sweet Love, simply Monkey and Jazz Ma Tazz are a few of the names I called one of my first 2 babies back in 1997 when she came to live with my former husband and I. I had never had a long term pet and was so, so excited to finally have not one, but two! Two cats because you have to get two so they're not lonely I justified.

So, on an early morning winter day we staked out the local animal shelter in Wilmington, DE waiting for them to open in a parking lot across the street. Since it was winter time there really were no kittens anywhere. And I called all of the shelters. Those who know me, understand that when I set my mind to something there's no stopping me.

So there we sat, the minutes ticking away until opening, waiting. Finally it was opening time and we sped across the street into the lot of the Delaware Humane Association. We walked in and in the lobby was a tall, metal cage with about 6 kittens in it. They were all about 6 weeks old. One of them, Victor was practically hanging from the top of the cage. He was a nut and I wanted him. Unfortunately or fortunately as luck would have it he was "on hold" and not available. So next was a black and orange "Tortie" as she was called. Her name was Agatha. Who the hell named her that I wondered? How terrible. She was adorable and we chose her right away. We called her Bijou. (Boodie, Boo, Shmoobie)

Next up was a little grayish brown tabby named Belle. A pretty name for a pretty girl. We signed the papers agreeing to spaying, etc. and the girls were packed up for us in cardboard boxes. I cannot recall whether or not they shared a box at the time. Off we went to show them their new home.

The early days and weeks were full of craziness. Fighting, lots of meowing and territory struggles. Boodie was the loser. From that point on, Jazz ruled the castle.

Kittens are so much fun and we all had a ball together. Jazz became the most affectionate cat a person could dream of. Sleeping on my pillow, in my hair each night. We had discussion about "my pillow, your pillow" at least twice a week. When she was about a year old she began to climb up on my chest and bury her head in my hair. She purred so loudly and bit my chin with little love bites. In the early morning when we were just waking up she would hold out her paw and place it on my pillow and we would hold hands. It was extremely special and amazing.

In 2000 the girls and I moved to the West coast. It was a difficult yet amiable split. I do remember the line, you got the cats, I got the cat hair.

In 2002 I married Kevin. Kevin adopted "the girls" as we fondly called them. We went about our lives dealing with lots of travel for work, cat sitters, and an occasional vet visit.

In 2005 we had our first child, Mira. When we brought Peanut home the girls were pretty freaked out. We worried, as all expectant parents do how the cats would adjust to having a baby in the house. Boodie accepted, Jazz never really did. She was never a lover of other people but especially not kids.

Jazz kept her distance from Mira and did her "Jazz thing" for the most part. Some of her favorite things to do were jumping on the bed and keeping me from making it, chasing the air pockets under the sheets, meowing downstairs for several minutes when we came up for bed as if she were lost. Then came zooming up the stairs and jumped on the bed, scaring us to death. She loved sleeping on our bed all day and sun, sun, sun. If there was a sunny spot in the house Jazz would find it. She loved to sit in the window and watch birds and "bark" at them. It was nutty. It was her. Everywhere we were, Jazz was. When Boodie was sleeping in a closet, Jazz was right with us. On the couch, in the office, in the kitchen begging for treats.

This cat was a gift to me. To us. She loved love. When we would put the kids in bed for naps and sit down on the sofa to watch a little TV she would zoom down the stairs to be with us. Free of little ones. She wanted to be with us, on us all the time. She was everything you dream about having in a pet and more. She was affectionate, sweet, funny yet fiercely independent. As all cats are.

One night many years ago she developed a love for plastic grocery bags. Bad move. She liked them so much that she would rub her face on them. Well during one of the face rubbing time she accidentally got the handle around her neck. Uh oh. She got so scared that the bag was chasing her that she took off like a demon through the house. She ran so fast I could not catch her. It was coo coo. She finally got herself under the bed and stopped long enough for me to "free her" from the bag. And of course you would think this would have deterred her from the plastic bag. Oh no, it happened at least 1 or 2 other times in her life. She was a nut.

Jazz loved water too. She loved to drink out of the faucet in the sink, the tub, you name it. While I was showering she waited for me on my sink. "Meatloafing" as we called it.

She talked incessantly. At one point we read about a breed of cat called an Absynnian that talked all the time and had larger ears. We felt she was a Tabby/Absynnian mix. I still believe this. Most cats do not talk as much as she did.

Anyway, in 2008 we had our second child, Julian. When we brought Jules home Kevin did a great impression of Jazz that was So spot on. "Oh no you di'int bring another one of THOSE into this house!!" Too funny.

Jazz had been diagnosed with asthma after having some coughing attacks in early 2008 and was on inhalers that year. In early 2009 we had a lung asprit test done to rule out cancer. Well, it ruled it in. She was given 6 months. We saw an Oncologist and decided against surgery after discussing it with my brother who is a brilliant physician. We all decided that Jazz would never have bounced back from the risky surgery and that she would have never been the same cat. So we continued with the inhalers (Flovent and later added Albuterol). Later we also added a steroid shot one a week that we administered at home. Well, Kevin did. She took all of her meds with grace and dignity. She didn't know she was sick and was doing great.

In around April or May of 2010 Jazz had some weird things going on with her eyes. She had a virus in one eye that caused her pupil to become a D shape. Two days later she lost her sight in the right eye. We took her to an animal Ophthalmologist a few times for check ups but they could not determine was caused the blindness. One day they were finally able to see that it was retinal degeneration indirectly related to the cancer. There was nothing they could do for her. She stayed under the bed and then bounced back. She was amazing.

Jazz was losing weight and slowing down in late June and into July of 2010. She spent most of her days on the sofa sleeping. Although she certainly enjoyed her treat and snuggle time with me and with Kevin. She stopped sleeping on the bed and eventually coming up the stairs was too much for her. She was a tiny shell of the girl she once was.

We had been talking about euthanasia and when we would know it was time. She did not seem to be in pain and was still enjoying the sun spots around the house when she did take a break from the sofa. We knew it was only a matter of time.

On the morning of July 24th of 2010, a Saturday Kevin went downstairs like he always does to make his coffee and found her. She had passed overnight and was in the kitchen. She was near the pantry where we kept her treats laying on her side with her paws crossed. I will never know why she was there and not on the sofa.

The Dr. says she seemed to have gone quickly and did not suffer. It was most likely her heart. She was tired, weak and plain done. I don't blame her one bit. I simply miss my Jazz. I miss everything about her and my heart has a gaping hole in it. The house is empty. Sun spots go unused and the sofa will never be the same without her cuddling with us at night.

Yes she lived nearly 14 years. With cancer to boot. The vet's office said once that she "amazed and astounded" us. She sure did. Living past her initial prognosis by 13 months.

Jazz's ashes will be scattered in our backyard. Although an indoor cat, she longed to play outside. She will be so happy there. I am also creating a memorial in our garden with stepping stones using broken china and a wind chime.

So here's to you Monkey. Thank you so very much for all the unconditional love, kisses and smiles. I'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

~Mommy