End of the Line

I have had pets for as long as I can remember. As a parent myself, now I can't imagine why my own parents were so indulgent with me in this arena. The first pet I remember is Maggie, a parti-colored Cocker Spaniel that I'm pretty sure my mom fell in love with from a shop window. We kept her for a little while until my mom said that we were allergic to her, although I suspect she just realized it was a bad decision and the excuse of allergies was the easiest way to break it to the kids. I'm not sure if Simon came before of after Maggie, but he was an all- white medium- hair cat that we got from some kids giving away kittens on Halloween. We had him for about 7 years until he got Leukemia and we had to put him to sleep, much to the trauma of my brother and I. Besides these pets I had many others, a total of: 4 lizards, a mouse named Spencer, countless 'feeder' goldfish, 3 rabbits, several kittens, my calico cat named Molly, a Lab named Maddie, my Weimeraner named Sadie, a horse I leased named Astro, and an almost-sheep named Lambie. After I moved out the pet-collection got even worse. Since then I have also owned many rats, a freshwater aquarium, 2 snakes, a pink-toe tarantula, and several more cats including the 2 hairless ones we have now.
I worked as a vet tech for 5 years, starting at the age of 16. I loved this job, but it required very many tasks that were at times revolting, and I never minded any of it. It was fascinating and fulfilling. Later I was a manager at Petco which also had it's fair share of less-than glamorous aspects, but I still loved it.
I have always been an animal-lover. As an intense teenager I was a vegetarian and animal-rights activist, and even a vegan for a short time. I always marveled at how this trait was settled upon me since no one in my family shared my affinity for all living things. I have always unflinchingly accepted this as a basic part of my makeup and personality.
Until now.
Things are changing.
Before I had Lola I remember actually being afraid that having a child would make me love my pets less. Ha.
Well it did.
Ever since having children, there has been a slow decline in my devotion and dedication to animals- my pets more specifically. As time goes by I have less and less tolerance for the additional workload my pets place on me. Now that we have Fiona, it is almost intolerable. They are just 2 more creatures that I have to care for- cleaning up their bodily fluids, feeding, watering, bathing... without the same incentives or rewards you sometimes get for caring for your children.
For example- since the cats are hairless, they are actually quite high-maintenance. They still excrete the oils a normal cat would, but lack the hair to absorb it, thus attracting all dirt and grime to it like a filthy, greasy magnet. This requires once-a-week bathing at which I am negligent at best, as well as regular ear, eye, and nose cleaning. Also nail trimming. This oily dirt-attraction leaves brown spots wherever they congregate. Since they are hairless, they also seek cozy warm places. Hence, the places they congregate are many and leave the aforementioned brown patches on our sheets, covers, furniture, walls that they lean against, windowsills, blankets, pillows, clothes...
I know, disgusting.
Up until now it has been a mere nuisance that I was willing to overlook for the affection and pleasure of my kitties.
I still love these cats, but it is not really worth it to me anymore. The more complicated my life becomes as my family grows, the less I am willing to expend my limited energy cleaning up after these guys. It seems lately they are so much work!
For instance, a few days ago I came out into the living room to find 2 piles of cat vomit. Lovely.
Yesterday I discovered that one of them crapped in our bathtub, the very same bathroom that houses their currently immaculately clean litter box, leaving them no excuse for such behavior. Before I could clean that up, they did it again. What the?! I am washing my bedding constantly, trying to remove stains that are hopeless. I walk around the house with a bottle of Lysol and try to remove the stains I see from room to room. I clean the litter box frequently to avoid having a characteristically cat-smelly house. Bathing them is always at the top of my to-do list, and seems to resurface as soon as I get around to doing it.
They are also incredibly needy, a trait I found endearing until recently. Hence, the picture of Smegel laying on top of Timm's arm as he feeds Fiona a bottle. He frequently lays flush against her while I nurse her. They sleep under our covers every night, nestled as close to us as possible. When I spend my whole day in close physical contact with a preschooler, an infant, and at time a husband, 2 sweaty cats are the last things I want to share my affection with, especially if they are vying for it while I am presently sharing it with other members of my actual family.
I never thought this would happen. I can't believe that I am saying it, but I don't know how much of an animal-lover I am anymore. Or- I still love them and are fascinated by them, but I don't know how well they fit into my life anymore. I am as shocked as anyone and now find myself in a predicament since my cat's predicted lifespan gives us another 10 years together. Unless that long-term cough of Smegel's develops into something more...
Forgive me Erin!

Hormonal Imbalance

What's with hormones, anyway? Why do they have to- Okay, I have to stop myself already.
First I must explain that my hormones seem to have afflicted me with a post-partum onset of something akin to Turret's syndrome. Seriously. When I am frustrated I find myself searching for something to call out, and it's usually something obscene. Luckily I quell this inclination. It is especially difficult when I am nursing. I am still at that stage of nursing that hurts like the fiery pits of hell when Fiona first latches on. (Boy, she can latch. I tell her she's a natural. There's been no learning curve there.) For the first couple/few minutes I throw my head back as the f-word shouts loudly in my mind. To keep from yelling out I usually have to clench my teeth and emit something of a moan until the sting abates. This is accompanied with a thrashing of my feet as I try to distract myself from the pain. So you can see, from the inappropriate sporadic obscenities that I suppress under guttural moans, to the trashing and seizing of my feet and legs, I suffer from some sort of post-partum Turret's syndrome. It should be noted that under normal circumstances I am not inclined to obscenities, other than 'hell' and 'damn', which I have never considered to be obscene.
As is the case in many other circumstances, I feel the Lord has blessed me to spare me more than I can bear during this time. Since I struggle with depression under the best of circumstances, post-partum depression added on top of that seems like it would be the tipping point for me. Thus, I have never suffered with an excess of depression following the births of my children. I do however, feel the typical surge of hormones that comes with it. So far I have felt it bubbling up around me, softly and slowly. I don't know whether or not this is wise, but I have continually been suppressing that bubbling up to avoid giving it licence or control. Since I know it is fueled by hormones, and the influence of those hormones is finite, I am merely trying to wait it out. I figure if I ignore the nagging feelings long enough, the post- partum period will end and I can resume life as usual, trying to manage my usual feelings of depression and inadequacy.
Another thing that I hate about these hormonal disturbances is that I cannot describe the feelings they cause. Being accustomed to feelings of depression, I can usually articulate those feelings pretty well. These hormonal imbalances however, only leave me ill at ease and sensitive but unable to tell you why. The best way I can describe it is this: it is as though the plates of my life all shift a few degrees to the left so that they lay unsettled and out of place. Nothing fits where it used to, nothing is in the right place, everything is unsettled. I just don't feel like I fit anywhere. It's all wrong.That does not adequately describe the unease or sensitivity or inadequacy of these feelings, but it touches on it better than any other way I have found.
But like I said, I know that this part of my emotions is finite and not to be trusted so I have not yet allowed myself to give it heed. I am hoping it starts to pass soon so I don't have to expend so much energy pushing it under the surface. Likewise I hope that those around me and all I encounter continue to be kind and understanding towards me so as not to upset that delicate facade of peace until it restored in actuality, whenever that may be.