The Reluctant Mermaid

one woman unwilling to swim in the same direction as the others


Meet Elissa, or rather... meet Leopold

Hello! I have a FIRST GUEST POST here at TRM! (I'm such hot stuff I even abbreviated things for you).
My dear Elissa and I used to work together at this awesome little baby gear empire where I think it's safe to say we were equally abused/adored by pregnant women over their strollers/carriers/non pvc and bpa and C.I.A (heehee) baby products.
Because, as many of you know- when you're pregnant you turn into a crazy kookoohead.
Except Elissa
Who is eloquent with words, crafty with wool diapers and a sewing artist who I feel so inspired by and lately, she writes about becoming a mom (anydaynow!) on her blog;
The World Was Turning
She worked in the city store, and I worked in the suburban store but we formed a pretty lovely work friendship when we went to NYC for Toy Fair a few years ago. We had a pretty hilarious little road trip for 3 days (remember the photo albums we found?) and a great little brainstorming session about our jobs. I don't think I've ever quite bonded with someone I worked with the way that I did with Miss 'Liss. I love very much how she sees things around her and then writes like you're seeing it right along with her.
She now lives in her native Vermont with a handsome husband who she's mad about and now (anysecondnow!) she is going to have a little baby of her own.
And her cats are being pretty snippy about it.
So, Leo- the more brazen of the two cats decided to write his tail (wink) off about exactly how he thinks this baby-stuff is going to go down.
Elissa? Leo? Are you ready?

Kat asked me to do a guest post- I’m calling out pregnant but my cat, Leopold, has offered to share his worldview.

We can’t see it, but we know that it’s coming. We feel it every time we sit on her lap, that wriggling, wiggling from deep inside of her belly. It pokes us when we’re resting, and resting is considerably harder to do now that her belly has grown to enormous proportions. You’d think she would have considered us in making this decision. She smells different, too. The smell of two intertwined into one, of changing hormones and metamorphosis.

Change is on the horizon, my friends. And we embrace it and fear it, all at once. We fear it for the negative effects sure to be invoked upon us. Less laptime, less attention, delayed feedings, litterbox pile-ups, the shrill and glass-shattering sounds of a newborn cry at all hours disturbing our sleep and sanity, less patience. We embrace it for the benefits: we can eat the delicate leaves off of the ivy plant without retribution, we can vomit on the floor and then lap it up, we can traipse around on every tabletop and every desk, we can step on computer keyboards and shed hair on nice blankets. We will certainly revel in our newfound autonomy.

Bitty’s worldview? She’s 7 inches tall, has enormous bug eyes and an overbite and the worst meow you’ve ever heard. A meow that will rock your world, in a bad way. She sleeps for a lackadaisical 22 hours each day, and during her wakeful period she skulks around feeling sorry for herself or scuttles around the house in fear. True, true, I don’t improve it by lurking in dark corners and pouncing on her or chasing her up and down the stairs- but suffice it to say I don’t think you need to hear her world view. What kind of worldview can you have when your nose is 7 inches from the floor?

I, on the other hand, standing at a glorious 10 inches tall, am a thing of pure beauty. My long, silken mane and huge fluffy tail are admired by all who lay eyes on me. I dominate this house; I’m the ruler of the floor, king from the knee down. One hasn’t experienced elegance until one has glanced upon my pure white paws or gazed into my yellow eyes. True- my once pure white paws are graying a bit- the repercussions of a warm pellet stove that seems to call to me, luring me to sit by the gentle flames and warm my bones; my lustrous and pearly white fur reaps the consequences of the ashy off-put. My world view is quite complex, the menial human brain has no capacity to comprehend the deep thoughts and esoteric contemplations of a creature such as myself. Cats must sleep for 16 hours a day for when their brains are awake they are slaving away at abstruse concepts and unfathomable hypotheses. Even in slumber my brain is employed. My world view consists of answers to the mysteries of the universe. My time is spent unraveling enigmas and removing the shrouds from mysteries. But it’s too complex for your lowly brain; I can assure you of that.

Take heart, human- it’s not your fault. While Bitty lazes in her languorousness, I’m off to seek slumber. This conversation has tired me to no end.

1 comment:

jill nalette said...

very sweet! you both are lucky to have one another as friends!
elissa can't wait to hear about your bundle of joy : )
hugs and smiles~ jill