It is 7:30 am on Monday. The cat woke me up by scratching on our bedroom door. She needed food and attention. Nate has decided that he's not going to come when Cat scratches his door. I suppose that that is a good idea--less need to repaint and repair bedroom doors. But . . . there's not really any other way that Cat can let me know she needs something--attention, food, water. I like that she wants to communicate with me. It's like when people ignore their dogs and so they start barking constantly--or children that feel so starved for attention that they misbehave just so that they can interact with their parents (even if it is only to be punished for their "wrong" actions--the soggy potato chip syndrome). Being available, even if only to listen for a moment, is a difficult thing--especially because young children are particularly small and tend to want you when you feel the busiest--or have just found a moment for yourself.

I remember when my two daughters were 3 and 4 years old. If I was up and doing dishes or vacuuming or making beds, then they were content to play nearby. When I was able to sit down--to type up a paper (both my husband and I were in graduate school at the same time) or fold the laundry or read--then they immediately needed my undivided attention. One morning I was mopping the kitchen floor and they decided that they couldn't be seperated from me. They tried to follow me about the kitchen as I mopped, making it impossible (at least as far as I was aware) for me to get the floor clean. I set them both on bar stools. So there they perched at the doorway to the kitchen, sobbing as if their hearts were going to break. "Mom, we want to be with you. We want to be with you."

Even at the time, as I wondered what fancy had taken them, I was complimented by the fact that they liked me, felt comfortable with me, loved me--and wanted, more than anything else at that moment, to be close to me. They are now both grown up with young families of their own. I will listen with keen interest as they interact with their children so their children feel comfortable--and want to be near them.

Oops! The second to join us.

I started the idea for this blog when my daughters both decided to start their own blogs. I don't have any really cute little kids to take photos of right now. My kids are grown. I take care of our garden. I take classes at the local junior college. I live with a cat that wants to be petted, but doesn't want to be touched and two Uromastyx lizards who peel three times a year.

It is a different life from the constantly moggled existence I experienced with three children, school, piano lessons, doctor's appointments, moving every two to three years, making new friends, finding new doctors--now more sedate, but no less wonderful.

The three rabbits keep me in touch with what it is to care for something that really needs me. Peter Pumpkin-Eater, a dwarf Rex was the first to arrive. Oops! came next--a dwarf satin. Then Roo (short for kanga-roo), a sweet and spoiled bunny, also a dwarf satin, was a return at the place where I buy pet food. They couldn't put her back in with the others--and she needed us as much as we needed her.

It is a good experience to come into the kitchen in the morning and have three small, excited beings literally hopping around me. I am popular. I am wonderful. I am unparallelled in their universe.

I spend time and money on them, but I get so more much back in terms of pure adoration.

The three in the afternoon.

Limp Peter and sleepy Roo.

Roo--the baby of the family.

My Peter laying down--nap time in the afternoon.