So yesterday the doctor, a Christian man, was most enthusiastic about my stay-at-home mom status (he kept saying how much he "honored" that, which I admit is truly nice to hear from a medical professional); he also, upon hearing that my children were girls and how old they are, agreed with me that they would be most helpful during the brief time I would be moving a bit slowly.
And he was right. I've had everything from offers of tea and toast to offers to take over this blog for the time being; the girls today completely cleaned out and organized the family room, hung up the new shower curtain in their bathroom, and have promised to do a few more chores this afternoon, as well as reheat the leftovers for dinner when it's time.
Lest you think all this spoiling is being produced only by a slightly painful toe and my limping gait, though, I have to tell the rest of the story.
Right before I broke my toe, Thad and I started talking seriously about letting the girls have a cat. They've wanted a pet for ages, but I wanted them to be old enough to do the lion's share of the caretaking; I never had a pet as a child due to the many allergies my family members have. I myself have definite allergies to dogs, but cats honestly don't seem to bother me as much, especially as I've gotten older. And like I said to Thad when we were discussing it, I highly doubt that a cat will make me sneeze or cough much more than the air here in the summer already does.
So, we were discussing it, and I was doing a bit of research. And a cat turned up on a local shelter's website that might just be a really good fit for our family; Thad went to look at her Monday on his lunch break.
I told the girls we might go see the cats at this shelter, and I mentioned casually that we were interested in one particular cat, but it would depend on a lot of things... So when I came back from the doctor with the broken-toe verdict, I had a little chat with them about how this was their chance to show me that they really were ready to take on this kind of responsibility.
I think they might have dismissed that as awfully convenient of me, except that Thad confirmed it. He's had cats, and grew up with both cats and dogs at home, so when he told them they'd have to do a much better job of not leaving bits and pieces of toys, jewelry kits, yarn, sewing materials, etc. scattered around the house if they wanted to bring a cat home sometime, they took it seriously. They informed me solemnly this morning that they weren't just cleaning the family room--they were "cat-proofing" it, and that they had plans to tackle the other rooms in the house as well. The one room took them much longer than they thought, though, and I told them it wasn't necessary to do the whole house in a day to show me they were serious about being responsible for a pet.
Time will tell if this shelter cat is the right one for us, or if we'll have to keep looking. But the girls are so excited that we're even talking this seriously about letting them realize their long-time dream of having a pet that's slightly more exciting than the fish in the aquarium in the living room that they're going all out to show me they can handle the job. Which, right now, means that I'm being waited on hand and foot--all the way to my broken toe. A win-win situation, if you ask me.