Do you ever do things you don't want to do because you know it will help make someone else happy?
Ever since Tennyson could talk, he has adored cats. His masks have cats on them. If he visits a house with a cat, he gets so excited to pet and play with them. When told he could choose between 200 dollars and a cat, he chose a cat.
So last week we went to the Animal Rescue League and found Cheezly.
He was orange. Friendly. Patient with the children, even in the stressful environment at the animal shelter. He took his first nap on the shelves in the laundry room. He would follow me around and beg to be pet whenever he felt bored.
As the week went by, he proved to be ever the most perfect cat we could have found. He would sleep on top of the cabinet in the living room. He would chase a fuzzy rainbow mouse up and down the stairs. He always was clean in his litter box. He tolerated being picked up by Jonas and never scratched, bit, or hissed at anyone.
Everyone was happy.
Except me.
I panicked when we brought him home, and stayed panicked for a full day. Clark had to take a night off work because I was a complete mess. I kind of put myself together, but the discomfort was building.
But I told myself, I'm handling this. I promised Tennyson one day he would have a cat. It'll be fine.
Anxiety never bows to logic. It just sidesteps. Builds a bypass. Creates a new path when logic is standing in the way.
As the week went by, my irritation levels were on high. Things would bug me easily. Then, the trouble sleeping. And a sudden fear of leaving the house. I would feel twinges of panic at the thought of even going to the grocery store.
I called the doctor to set up an appointment to discuss reintroducing medication (I've been off for about 3 months). I called a counseling group in Des Moines to talk about starting cognitive behavior therapy.
And then Tennyson, overhearing my conversation with Clark about what was to be done said, "I'd rather have a happier mom than a cat."
I cannot tell you how much relief and guilt I felt in that moment. My son had waited years for a cat. He had asked and asked and always been told, "When we move. When we own a house." He waited until we unpacked. He saved up money to help buy the cat a bed and toys and food. And the guilt I felt about his giving all that up because I couldn't handle it cut me deeply. I felt even more guilty as my anxiety lifted almost immediately. A solution came from the tender heart of my oldest son.
I was very proud of him, and how somehow, in that moment, he was more than seven years old. I saw a glimpse of the kindness, understanding, and compassion I hope to see in him for the rest of his life, something that hopefully will never fade with time. We cried together. He was somehow better and stronger than me, and I loved him for it.
Today, Tennyson went with his Dad to take Cheezly back to the ARL. Then they will go get a hamburger and pick up a tye-dye kit to make a craft.
I will probably never attempt to give my children any sort of pet ever again. But I will attempt to give them more of my love, more of my time, and more of my patience. Because that is what they have given me this whole week, and their grace and forgiveness were what I needed.
In this thing, my kids outperformed me. They did something they did not want to do in order to make someone else happy. I hope I can be like them when I grow up.
