How does this happen that I am here watching a cat and they are sipping wine in Sonoma? I am not sure, but as soon as I write the check for my son’s next semester at college, I will take some time to try to figure it out. I think it might have something to do with the decision I made some thirty years ago to have these vacationing children, but my original thought process is getting fuzzy in my old age.

Staying home to raise the children was a fulfilling job. I was a tad saddened to learn this week that this experience precludes me from advising my husband on any matters of state should he decide to run for President.

Funny thing is that parenting involves very high level decision making skills with serious consequences.

Think about it. How many wars have you prevented? How many strikes and work stoppages have you settled? How many arguments have you been an arbitrator for? How many budgets have you balanced and how much self control have you had in order to do so? And scheduling? Being in two places, as close to one time as possible without the luxury of Air Force One, happens all the time. Executive decisions are made and enforced – hourly. A decision is a decision, and good judgement is good judgement no matter what the topic.

But now it is time to feed the cat from hell. Will it be turkey or liver? Decisions, decisions.

I never was good at reading all the directions.

Luckily for me, my kids are smarter than I was and bought the little thing to let it ferment without exploding, and they rack off the wine a few times before bottling it. And by “they” I mean me and them. I helped my daughter with it this weekend and lost two bottles of wine because one batch was too low in the bottle (called a carboy), so we needed to put some wine in. There went a nice bottle of Chardonnay and a Traminette of mine. What’s a mother for?

It reminded me of a book I bought both of my daughters called “A Book of Directions”  by Kate McNair when they were teenagers. It makes me very melancholy to read any part of it now – one of their copies is still up in their bedroom. I don’t think it’s in print now, but it is a funny and touching collection of stories written in or about 1970 from the perspective of various teenage girls as they encounter some typical teen life experiences. It’s mildly humorous too, as the author has a nice light touch, and it lets your kids know that what they are feeling as teenagers is normal – they are not alone. There are some things that are pretty universal.

No, there was no wine making but the book ends with a story where a daughter is asking her mom why she didn’t tell her exactly how to do something and watched her daughter make some mistakes. The mom answers with, “We all have to find our own way. It isn’t done with maps or a book of directions. We find our way, finally, with our heart.”

I just kept thinking how glad I am that the girls found their own way with wine making and that they followed someone’s directions. Otherwise, I would be cleaning up a 25 gallons of sticky half-fermented grape juices that would have blown all over the place.

On the positive side, I would have had the Chardonnay and Traminette to console myself.

Nothing ordered  is as it is on the menu. We have to hold something or have extra of something. I swear that I can hear the cashiers fighting over who will have to take our order when our car rolls up.  Of course, we could plan ahead and write it down but that would make sense and make it easier, and the confusion becomes a form of our entertainment. What’s the fun in being all organized and efficient?

The only trouble is that the lack of it can impact the accuracy of our order and then the complaints get on the heavy side. And that is a good way to kill an appetite.  Or someone in the backseat. Just kidding.

It probably takes a village to fill our order – a more accurate description for this post.

Now I dread drive through windows just like a visit to the dentist.  Both drills give me a headache, empty my wallet and cause me to ponder the number of cavities in my head. However, I get a new toothbrush and floss at the dentist in a cute little bag. They are much more practical than the crappy toys I have been stepping  on for years and we do all leave the dentist with fresh breath.

“The art of giving orders is not to try to rectify the minor blunders and not to be swayed by petty doubts.”
~ Sun Tzu (Chinese General and Author, b.500 BC)

The kids have no space to make this wine, this time even a greater amount than before, and once again the parents will become foster vintners. My first thought was that I’d rather have grandchildren but then the wine turned out pretty good this last time, there were no diapers involved or screaming so I am okay with it.

My girlfriend’s daughter did my hair and it is so wonderfully colored that it really deserves to be seen by someone important, but since that is not very likely, I will settle for turning heads at Aldees and at the mailbox at the end of my driveway. This is as much exposure I can muster in a rural area where the largest village nearby has a population of 1800.

The other development is my recent acquisition of kettle bells. They were on sale at Aldees for $24.99. I have been swinging them around, which is kind of fun. Since they really make me sweat, I am not sure how long I will actually use them. Perhaps the latest health insurance survey I had to take that let me know my BMI is too high might motivate me. Maybe.

This cat hates me but it’s nothing personal – she hates everyone. And just when I thought my refereeing days were over, doesn’t this cat decide to feud with my cat. This is all taking place throught a window as my cat is an outside cat and this one is an indoor cat. The big difference between fighting cats and fighting kids is that the cats actually listen to me when I yell at them to stop. And they can’t give you the finger behind your back.

And this cat hisses at me no end. It matters not that I am the one who feeds her. I am still undecided as to whether or not I will clean the litter box before my daughter gets back. The thought of it makes me second guess the frequency of her suggested feeding schedule. She is pretty scrawny already so I had better not make any adjustments.

My window is splattered with cat spittle on both sides but I won’t bother not clean it until this brat of a cat is back at her home after the kids trip. Either then or next spring. Or if I am having company over with fairly good eyesight. One good thing about your friends getting older is their failing eyesight. This gives me solace after my time in front of the 8x makeup mirror each day too.

Not exactly an account like those from the more famous cat women like Ertha Kitt or Julie Newmar, eh? Well, at least I don’t have to fight with men in tights carrying shark spray in their utility belts. And those cat women got to wear masks to cover up any new wrinkles or other imperfections. I am pretty daring but I don’t think I can pull that one off.

“Time to accessorize.” ~ Catwoman

When the kids were younger, I limited their TV viewing time because I was very mean and wanted them to grow up with at least half a brain. When I did let them watch TV, it wasn’t just anything on the tube, the shows had to be suitable – to me, of course.

One of their favorites were the KidSongs videos and songs and we played the videos over and over until you could probably see through the tape. They often will reminisce about some of the songs so when I happened to stumble upon the KidSongs site with downloadable songs to record to a CD or an iPod, I couldn’t resist.

Thirteen songs and $13 later, I had some of their favs downloaded and burned to a CD that I decorated with photos. This get me exactly 13 seconds of appreciation – they did love it but the jury is still out whether it was worth it. Once again, I feel victim to my fond memories of my child-rearing past. Now I will probably get spammed with announcements about new releases. Too bad there are no songs with accompanying videos about kids fighting, screaming and tantrums. It would provide some balance, that’s all I am saying.

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving. ~ Albert Eienstein