A sickening sweet note has crept into a number of my recent blogs. I seem to be enthralled with the whole notion of being "the mom" to Birdie and Daisy. The cats Slim Jim and Cracker brawling on the bed remind me to enjoy the mom-glory while it's easy. Tomorrow, I pick up Daisy from college. And she and Birdie will once again Share The Bathroom. While two cats brawling is amusing, especially when they fall off the bed, onto the floor, and then roll the fight down the hall; two teenage daughters squabbling is less entertaining and at higher volume. But I want my Daisy back. For eight months, the house has been too quiet. While Birdie yells, especially at monstrosities like killer bees in the basement, it lacks the passion of a good sister-fight over nothing, anything and everything. Seeing the cats as they tussle, stalk each other, hiss and then settle down for side-by-side relaxation naps confirms that having two doubles the fun and the drama. Then I spy Tequila, the dog, watching anxiously, afraid that, for a moment, the cats might have my attention. I predict a long and noisy summer for Tequila. My attention will be divided. I intend to enjoy even the rocky moments of "I get to be the mom" as I soak up the glory of two squabbling girls, two squabbling cats, one jealous dog and the Big Guy.
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