of toddlers and kittens

I wish I had captured today on film, but the photo above is the first photo I took all day.  After a weekend where my camera barely left my hands, I was DSLR’d out.  So the camera never took a picture, and even my phone mostly sat by itself.

That’s fine.  It’s just that today was so peaceful and homey and full of love.  I wish I had a few more photos capturing the little moments.

Lena slept so much today.  Two 2.5-hour naps… what?!  My poor darlin’.  I guess she’s still recovering from jet lag and travel exhaustion and she also had a super busy weekend with friends and festivals and hikes and late bedtimes.  She was a happy camper today, though, with a sweet attitude that just made me so glad to be at home with her, savoring every day of her being 18 months old.  I watched her as she busied herself with her toys.  She is very into stacking and sorting things.  Later I found all her wooden puzzle pieces in two neat little stacks, one for each puzzle.

(I wonder if I will have another daughter?  I have been sorting and storing all her outgrown clothes from this summer.  Will another girl of mine ever wear them?  Or is she my only one?)

Lena can’t really say “cat” yet (“ca… ca?”  or “dee-tee” for kitty) but she can say “meow,” and so that is Siena’s name in Lena’s mind right now.  Watching her squat down beside Siena and gently rub a hand in her fur, then stand up and look at me and giggle gleefully… oh, my heart just melted into a big puddle of love juice.

As for Siena and me, well… I’m smitten.  OK, I wasn’t so smitten when I saw her on my kitchen counter licking butter out of my butter dish, but she is just five months old and part of me thinks of her as a toddler in need of guidance.

The other part of me looks at her as this beautiful, foreign thing–a cat!  in my house!  my cat!–and marvels at her, the mystery of her, the delicacy of her grooming, the lightness of her leap, the austerity of her gaze.

But I think she loves me.  She followed me all over the house today.  She really is like a dog, just like they say Maine Coons are.  At one point she lost me–I had gone into the laundry room and partly closed the door–and I heard her yowling at the top of the stairs.  I stuck my head out and called, “Here I am, Siena!” and she took one look at me and came bounding across the room to join me.

Big puddle of love juice.

In other news, this is how we blog now, apparently.