Endo(and)me-triosis

It's hard to know where to start in this. Do I begin at the diagnosis? At the first sign of symptoms that I ignored for years? Or when the symptoms reached a point where I couldn't ignore them any longer?

First I'll explain what endometriosis is, as I had only a vague idea before being diagnosed.

If you google endometriosis, you'll find the description as "a disorder in which the tissue that usually lines the uterus grows outside the uterus." But what does that actually mean?

Every month a woman of reproductive age has hormones that cause endometrial cells to line the uterus in preparation of pregnancy. The lining of cells is what the egg embeds in after fertilization. When pregnancy does not occur, the cells detach and the woman gets her period. In endometriosis, for one reason or another, the endometrial cells have been introduced elsewhere in the body, usually around other organs in the pelvis.

Because of the nature of the cells, hormone stimulation causes them to line whatever area they can reach. This means normally free-floating organs like the ovaries could be attached to the pelvic wall, or intestines could be surrounded and formed together. Sometimes the cells can be found attached to the diaphragm, lungs, even the brain. But almost all cases are focused on the pelvis and surrounding organs.

Symptoms of endometriosis vary. Some women have really heavy and painful periods. Others have constipation, cramping, pain during intercourse, or just overall discomfort.

My symptoms began years ago, but I ignored them. I was diagnosed with IBS as a teen and most of the symptoms I had were easily explained by that. Until the 5K.

March 18 I started the Lucky Leprechaun 5K. I hadn't run more than two miles in a while, but I was confident I'd be fine. About halfway into the second mile, I started experiencing pain/pressure in my stomach. I chalked it up to needing to go to the bathroom and pushed through. I finished with a terrible time and tried to go to the bathroom with no luck. I drove home, had to take a mid-term on campus, and after another several hours of this horrible pain/pressure, I broke down and went to the ER.

6 hours later I was diagnosed with two cysts on my right ovary, one of which was roughly the size of a chicken egg, and the other about half that size. Best guess was that running caused them to temporarily twist and that caused the pain. I had the cysts removed on April 7th, and from that we learned they were endometriomas, caused by endometriosis.

We won't know the full extent of my diagnosis until I have another laproscopic surgery on June 14. At that point, the specialist will categorize what stage I am at, try to remove the majority of the scarring and endo tissue, heal the lesions caused by the detaching of the endo cells, and remove my fallopian tubes.

In the meantime, I'm uncomfortable. I have some days where I'm totally fine, and others where I can barely think straight. I am literally counting down the days until my next surgery and hoping that this will be the fix I need.

And now for a little fact: 1 in 3 women have endometriosis. And over 40% of them never know. I was diagnosed only because the bouncing of my running caused two organs that had formed together to break apart. It's only in hindsight that I realize I'd been having symptoms for so long and that maybe that could have been avoided. Don't ignore pain because it's embarrassing. 

Advocate for yourself. My regular GYN only had 3 options of treatment for me and only one of them didn't result in me going into menopause at 32 years old. I refused to accept that and found a specialist who is dedicated to treating this surgically and with the hope of stopping any further instances.

The more I've learned about endometriosis the more I realize how very lucky I am. This disease causes infertility, and yet I was able to easily conceive and carry two healthy babies to term. I am on message boards with women world-wide that have been diagnosed and the biggest thing that stands out to me is that I'm the exception and not the rule. Most of these women will never be able to conceive naturally, if at all. Yes, having endometriosis sucks, but I acknowledge that it could suck so so much worse.

The Cry

Yesterday, my sisters and I drove to Washington, DC to march with 500,000 of our fellow nasty women, bad hombres, and people who believe in the power of unity, see the good in diversity, and are just plain fed up with having the rights of the many ignored for the benefit of the few.

This was my very first rally/march/protest experience. I'll admit, I was nervous going into it. I didn't know what to expect. Would it be too crowded? Would there be fights? People shouting insults? Violence?

Getting to our reserved parking space in DC by the Verizon Center in China Town - a mere 3/4 mile from the National Mall - was bananas. Being native to the area, we had opted to drive based on prior experiences with the DC Metro System. While we were right to have done so (lines at the closest station to our houses were three hours long), by all accounts the DC Metro workers handled the crowds with kindness and understanding and were as efficient as they could be, given the circumstances.

We got to our parking space at about 9 AM and went to a nearby Corner Bakery for breakfast. Being so close to the march and with roads already closed to traffic, that poor restaurant had already been put through its paces! Even with the pandemonium of long lines, long wait times, low toilet paper and low available seating, I could tell right away that the general feel of the day was going to be solidarity. 

Women of varying ages and backgrounds exchanged stories of travel and tales of how they got there. I was shocked to learn how many had come from so far away just to march. North Carolina, Texas, Michigan. The lady from North Carolina had gotten on a bus at 3 AM that morning to get there in time. Their drive and dedication impressed me. There were marches in or nearby almost every city in the country, but these women had come here, to the heart of DC. Like me, I think they wanted their cries to be heard by Congress and the White House directly.

When we finished eating, we headed out toward the Mall. 

Immediately we were greeted by thousands of people with signs scrawled with messages of importance. Not all signs covered the same topic. Women's Rights was just one of the many issues this march was about. Black Lives Matter. Pro-Choice. Health Care. LGBT Rights. Planned Parenthood. Diversity = Unity. End Misogyny. Protect the Environment.

The crowd was much too thick to get to the stage where celebrities such as Alicia Keys, Madonna, Ashley Judd, Gloria Steinhem and America Ferrera spoke. After one attempt to move closer, as a group, we opted to roam the Mall. There were so many important messages to see. Like these Buddhist men and women who, after silently walking through masses of people, sat and meditated on the grass of the Mall. 

We saw signs from women describing ways they'd been discriminated against throughout the years. One I remember in particular stated she was fired from her job in the eighties because she'd refused to sleep with her boss. 

Occasionally a loud cry would ring out and, like a wave, would grow closer and closer to us and we'd find ourselves, too, shouting out loud. Presumably, it would begin with what someone on the stage had said. Though none of us could hear from where we stood, the sentiment was felt and expressed. We were here and we would make our voices heard. The sound would echo throughout the city, ringing off the walls of these great, historical buildings seeped with tales of all the protests and marches and rallies that had come before this one. It was awe-inspiring, energizing and comforting.

Much like those mighty cries, an emotion would wash over me in waves, leaving me momentarily breathless and bringing tears to my eyes. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't anger, it wasn't pain. It was relief. 

For the first time since November 9th, 2016, I didn't feel so alone. For the first time since November 9th, 2016, I didn't feel so hopeless. For the first time since November 9th, 2016, I believed that we could do something; that we could fight for the things they were trying to take from us; that our voices would be heard.

Among all the heartfelt, ooey-gooey sappiness, we found humor. Hand-knit uterus hats, a man dancing as a unicorn, hilarious signs, and some genius people who taped "Russian Voting Booth" on several of the porta-potties. This wasn't angry women whining about oppression. It wasn't "down with the man!" or "fight the power!" It was men and women showing one another, telling one another that they weren't alone. That we were awake, we were watching, we were listening, and we were going to be okay. 

Don't booby trap my uterus.

Queef on him.

Eat pussy, don't grab it.

All that twitters is not gold.

We got lunch, being savvy locals(ish), we ate at the cafe of a less popular museum not on the mall. Even in there, Our numbers were strong. I've never been so happy to be in long lines as I was yesterday, and that's a fact. The longer the bathroom lines, the more people were there to make our presence known. 

Walking back out onto the streets, we were again overtaken with awe. The numbers had nearly doubled.

I have never seen this many people in one place in my entire life. I knew then that we were making history. 

Again, I feel I need to emphasize that every single person was happy. The feeling of the crowd was positive. There was no impatience, no urgency, no frustration. We were all pleased to be there; all happy to still live in a country that this was legal. Yes, it was crowded as hell. No, I couldn't move if I wanted to. And it was wonderful!

The march started and we joined up, quickly being swept up in the masses. 

I am one. We are many.

We chanted with the people. "Show me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!" My favorite being, "We want a leader, not a creepy tweeter!" The wave of that wonderful cheer would move over us, sometimes beginning at the front and moving back, sometimes coming from the back and moving up the front.
When we reached the Washington Monument, we decided to separate from the group - a process that ended up taking well over 30 minutes to move about 20 yards. Again, it was amazing. I would happily extract myself from that same crowd a thousand times over if it meant drawing attention to all the reasons we were there again.
At the base of the monument, I got my first clear look at the full extent of the march.

You can see the White House between two groups of trees here toward the center.

Just look at all the crazy, glorious, strong people!

Even after the march, the streets were teaming with people. I have no idea what time it actually ended, but we headed back to the car around 5 PM. On that walk back, the cry would sound out and we would shout back. I know we were heard.
In the end, we made over 18,000 steps, walked 7 miles, climbed 20 flights of stairs and brought hope back to hundreds of thousands of Americans.
If you're feeling like I was, hopeless and alone, try to imagine the cry. I know if I need it, it will carry me through darker times than we're facing now. We will be heard. We won't be silent any longer.

Why

Two days ago, my faith in humanity was shaken to the core. The entire time Trump was running for president all I could think was, "There is no way anyone is gonna elect this asshole." I think a lot of us thought this. So much so that I really never even considered the possibility that people would. And when people did... I have no words to describe the emotion I felt at that moment. When I woke up and logged onto facebook, my entire feed was filled with worry, sadness, anger, shock... and gloating. So much tactless, rude, unbelievably prejudiced gloating.

After I unfriended a person or two, I lashed out with something along the lines of "If this is what America wants then we deserve the bad shit that's gonna happen." Not my finest moment and not, exactly, what I was really going for. But in that moment I felt so betrayed by my fellow Americans and so disgusted at the lack of empathy they seemed to have for one another.

I feel the need to explain myself. First off, let me say that I don't hate all people who voted Trump. There were two people running who both had a long list of negatives and a short list of positives. As most elections go, one represented one side of a lot of core issues and one represented the other. Naturally those with more conservative values are going to choose the side that fits with those values. Unfortunately for America, Trump most closely represented that. So again, I don't hate. But... Trump also represents a side of America that should not exist. Whether intentionally or not, he has given voice to the bigots of the country.

The racists who were once too cowardly to publicly act are now emboldened by the President-elect's words that he will build a wall and deport and watch people based on the color of their skin or the religion they follow. The idea that this group of people are now brave enough to display their true feelings of hate has my stomach churning. It's not that I'm anti-Trump (although, in all honesty, he is not even a little bit what I want for a leader), it's that I'm anti-hate. One might even say that I hate hate. Hate divides and by now Americans should know better: Together we are strong.

Already I've heard of derogatory comments being said to non-white people. Violence and harassment against minorities has increased. The confederate flag (another example of something that has been taken and used for bigots as a way to display their hatred) has made a resurgence among teenagers - kids too young and stupid to really understand what it is they're saying, only thinking it "funny" or appropriate based off how they were raised. Reports of random strangers trying to remove hijabs from Muslim women, people being beaten for no reason other than they look or speak differently.

The violence goes both ways. A white man in NYC was beaten for voting for Trump by two black men. It's no excuse, but I do think the motive of that beating was fear. Spurred by the hate and vitriol spewed by Trump and his supporters, I can only imagine the worry and fear felt by minorities.

As a woman and the mother of two young girls, I can say that the comments Trump has made about women has me fearful that sexism will also grow stronger and more prevalent. That rape and sexual harassment will become an even bigger problem than it already is.

I hope that I'm wrong. I hope my fears will go unrealized and that, just maybe, the Trump administration will surprise me. I won't say things like "he's not my president," because that's the same crap people pulled with Obama and it pissed me off. He is my president (or will be). The country chose him and I must come to terms with it and continue to do my part in society. I'll tolerate the changes in policy and grin and bear whatever other alterations he makes to our country - hoping all the while that they're temporary. But I will never tolerate hate.

And now here are some cute animals.

Big Deal

For the first time ever a woman has a chance at becoming the president of the United States. This is a big deal. Not even a century ago women weren't allowed to vote for who would become president of this country. Their opinions were not worthy enough; their lives not important enough; their judgment not keen enough.
I get it... emails and national security. I get it. I get it and I don't get a flying fuck about it. It takes not one iota of magnitude from the degree of BIG DEAL this is for me; for women.
Did you miss the first part? For the first time ever a woman has a chance at becoming the president of the United States. All the arguments against her may be valid, but fuck you for implying this is not a big fucking deal for women in this country.
For every woman who has ever been sexually assaulted or harassed. For every woman who has ever been told she wasn't good enough. For every woman who has ever felt inadequate. For every woman who has been beaten, put down, or made to feel ashamed. For every woman. Win or lose. This is a BIG DEAL. 


I found this comment on a Facebook post and wanted to share because it is exactly what I'm getting at here!

 "I  hovered my finger over the button just for a minute, and let it sink in that I actually was going to get to vote for the first woman president....and I lived to see the day. When I was told in the 70's that the secretarial pool was the highest job any woman would ever have in the Fortune 100 company I was employed by, I pretty much thought it would take a thousand years. And look how things have gotten so much better in this country since then, for so many people who were second-class citizens in my youth."
See? It's a BFD, you guys!

Last Child School Woes

My youngest, E, started Kindergarten two weeks ago. After week one, my first day jitters and worries had passed. E's birthday is September 1st so in our state she was born on the cut-off date to start school. Had she been born twelve hours later, we would likely have had to wait another year to start elementary school. She will always be the youngest in her class. Because of this, I was worried. So last year we bumped her up to five-day-a-week preschool and she was blossoming. Even with the confirmation that she was academically ready and seemed well-adjusted, I was super nervous about her starting and the news that she'd been doing great that first week was welcome.

The next Monday, just as I was drawing in a great breath of relief,  I received a call from the school.
E had been crying a lot. She seemed inconsolable; crying that she missed me, missed her sister, was bored. They'd pulled her from class and had her in one of their intervention rooms because she just wouldn't calm down. She was holding a stuffy but really sad.

Have you ever had that feeling where it's almost like your feet are swept out from under you? Your legs go numb and your heart sinks low into your stomach. Momma Bear inside was roaring and clawing to get out - to go comfort my baby girl, to hug her to me and tell her she never, ever has to leave me again. I was a mess after that call (and, lucky me, got to go sit through 2 1/2 hours of biology lecture).

After school that day, E seemed happy when she got off the bus, much to my relief. Her teacher called me and we spoke about it some more. E can be a bit emotional when she's tired or hungry so I chalked it up to not having gotten enough sleep that weekend due to her pre-birthday excitement. We talked about ways to calm her and incentives to not have a meltdown in the first place. One of those was that E would get to call me at the end of the day, just before dismissal, if she had a meltdown-free day.

Tuesday, I didn't get a call. Wednesday, still nothing. Thursday was her birthday so I brought her lunch - Panera - and hung out with her there and at recess. Her teacher says E was crying this morning as soon as she came in the classroom. She calmed down quickly, which is good, but the idea of my little girl, on her fifth birthday, a belly full of cupcake-shaped pancakes. getting on the bus and bursting into tears makes me die a little inside. Thank goodness A rides the bus with her and E wasn't alone or I may have just pulled her out of school on the spot.

Friday morning I decided to drive her into school and walk her to her class. Which was a big mistake. We both cried that morning; E when we got to her classroom, and me when I got to my car. However, E had a great day! She called me just before school let out and told me about a new friend she'd made at recess and my heart brightened with joy. Had we finally gotten over the hurdle?

Monday was Labor Day so we had a long weekend. Monday night, she starts crying again. School is boring. She's scared (she isn't really - she just throws out any reason she thinks might work). She misses me. I'd made her and myself little bracelets to wear that she could kiss whenever she missed me and I would kiss mine when I missed her (I actually think I may kiss mine more that her during the day). We decided she would tell her teacher a joke every morning - a different one that we pick out the night before and practice.

Tuesday was a great day! No meltdowns, her teacher informed me in a note she sent home with E that was proudly given to me the moment she got off the bus.

But then Wednesday... today. She had a small meltdown, which I'm not sad about really. It happens. She's 5. But we started reading The Kissing Hand. If you've never read that book - whew! I suggest you go through it once BEFORE reading it to your children. I got choked up halfway into it.

Then the tears started - on her end this time. "I just want to stay with you." "I miss you too much." "I like you a whole lot and don't ever want to leave you." "I just want it how it was."

When your child says these things while bawling her sweet little face off, your heart breaks and crumbles. I forgot all about how she refused to taste the dinner she asked for and called it "yucky" the minute I set it in front of her. As much as I want to hold her to me and kiss her and tell her she doesn't need school and we can just live together forever, I know this isn't the best for her. I tried distracting her after a bit of reassuring  that even though she is going to school, we will still get fun days together, knowing that in a way she's right. It won't ever be the way it was before kindergarten started. There won't be endless Mommy and E days where she accompanies me on a few errands before I give in and get us froyo at Costco.

And GOD. I'm aching at that realization. So I read her another book - Peppa Pig this time - around a lump in my throat while I hastily wipe my tears from my eyes so she doesn't see that I'm also so super sad. I kiss her goodnight and tuck her in tightly, making sure she knows that even though she misses me, she will learn to love school and all that it entails. Even though selfishly I just want her to stay with me.
I miss her too much.
I like her a whole lot and never want her to leave me.
I just want it how it was.

The Lego Movie Birthday Party

This year A has gotten VERY into Legos. Like, find-new-furniture-and-rearrange-the-bedroom kind of into Legos. Her choice for this year's party theme was obvious: The Lego Movie. Unfortunately, there are no Lego Movie themed party supplies. So it was up to me to use some creativity (Pinterest) and make my own.

Unlike previous years, we out-sourced our party to a local bounce house. They provided plates, cups, napkins and cutlery so we were off the hook there. All I had to do was favors.

Favor Boxes

Needed:

• I found these colorful boxes on amazon.
• Colored construction paper (as you can see, I had a hard time matching the colors exactly. By the time I realized I didn't have bright enough paper, it was too late and I had to make do.) Try to find bright construction paper that includes blue, purple, orange, yellow, green and red.
• 1.5" circles cut from construction paper - six for each box. I have a squeeze punch like this.
• Black marker - I used a sharpie.
• Glue (I used hot glue as it seemed to stick better on the surface of the boxes.)

Steps are pretty obvious. Write Lego on each circle (I tried to figure out a way to make a stencil or stamp but didn't work it out) and glue on boxes to resemble a six-studded Lego piece.

Now for the favors.

Marshmallow Lego Heads

Needed:

• Big marshmallows
• Mini marshmallows
• 6" lollipop sticks
• Yellow candy melts *I linked amazon but you can get these much cheaper at Michaels or Joanns
• Black or chocolate candy melts  *same as above
• Fork or spoon
• Wax paper
• Clean scissors
• Baking tray
• Thin paintbrush that you won't mind tossing out after use
• Styrofoam disk

Steps

1. Cover tray in a sheet of wax paper.
2. Melt yellow candy melts according to directions on package.
3. Take one big marshmallow and insert a lollipop stick in the middle of one of the flat ends. 
4. Dip into the melted yellow candy melts and twirl until evenly coated. Don't worry about coating the top end just yet, but be sure you get the end with the stick coming out of it well. I find using the fork or spoon to scoop some of the candy where you need it helps.
5. Place on wax paper covered tray.
6. Repeat until you have as many as you need, and stick in the freezer for a good 10 minutes to set. If needed, remelt the yellow candy melts. When the "heads" are hard, it's time to add the "studs" to the tops. 
7. Take a mini marshmallow and cut it in half. This kind of distorts the shape a bit, but they're easy to squish back into a round shape.
8. Dip the top of the big marshmallow pop into the candy melt and stick the half mini marshmallow on. Then cover the mini marshmallow in candy melt. 
9. Place in the styrofoam block and repeat until you're done. Then stick them back in the freezer for 10 minutes or so.
10. Melt the chocolate or black candy melts according to instructions. (In the post I found this idea on, it said to use an edible marker to draw the faces on, I couldn't get that to work and thankfully I had chocolate candy melts leftover from some other party.)
11. Here you can use your creativity. I painted on pirate faces and nerdy faces, etc. Enjoy.

The Kragel

Needed:

• B'loonies 
• A printer
• Paper
• Elmers glue
• Scotch tape
• Paintbrush
• Scissors

Steps:

1. I made a picture.You can go ahead and save it to your computer.
2. Now, open up word or whatever word processor you have. Make that picture 1 1/2" by 1 3/4".
3. Print
4. Cut
5. Now dip the paintbrush in the glue and paint the outside of the b'loonies label
6. Attach the Kragel label and wrap around the tube. To secure the end I painted more glue along it.
7. When that's dry, take the pink tube and fasten it to the side with tape.

Benny's Spaceships

Needed:

• These Foam Rocket Launcher sets off amazon.
• You can make a little label or not.

Unikitty's Horn

I just found these Marpoles at Wegmans and thought they looked very Unikitty-ish. 

Lego Crayons

Needed:

• I found these molds on amazon
• Crayons (my kids always have tons - the hardest part is matching the colors!)
• Baking tray
• Oven
• Toothpicks
• Fridge or freezer

Steps: 

1. Preheat the oven to 250* F
2. Break up crayons to fit in the molds. I found that each block mold took about 2 1/2 crayons broken into halves. The Lego guys only used one crayon each. **If you need to unwrap crayons from the paper, I found taking a butter knife and slicing vertically down the wrapper usually gets it off in one pull.
3. Put the molds on the cookie tray (the molds are silicone and bend easily. I spilled wax all over the bottom of my oven and it was messy!!!)
4. Stick the pan in the oven and let "bake" for 10-15 minutes. The Lego guys melt faster.
5. When you pull them out, use the toothpicks to stir them each mold up a little to make sure the color doesn't separate. Some of mine looked pretty strange!
6.  Stick the pan in the freezer for 20 minutes or so and then pull each crayon out.

That's it!

Now for the Birthday Girl, I found a really cute dress on Etsy and the lady was so nice and the dress is so cute I decided to link it and show a picture of my girl in hers.

He's a cat!

Look at him. Seriously. Look at that adorable little bastard. He's so fat, but he wants to be in the box, so in the box he is.

That's Sammy. AKA Sammers, The Notorious S.A.M, Sammalammadingdong, Sammerdo, and sometimes, Jerkface Magee.
Sammy is 11. Not super old for a cat. Certainly not old enough that I thought he'd be dealing with serious health issues. But there it it. Last month I noticed he'd lost a good bit of weight. He's been a big guy all his life, at one point topping the scales at 20lbs, so for me to be able to feel, well, any of his bones, I knew it wasn't a good sign. He wasn't eating either, which has happened exactly zero times for him.
To the vet we went, where we learned he'd lost 3 lbs in a month (he'd had his checkup the month prior). Bloodwork was run and we discovered his liver wasn't functioning well. We started antibiotics and liver supplements and I began feeding him wet food. With an appetite stimulant, he began eating once more. In two weeks, I felt he'd gotten better. I could no longer feel his hip bones and eat vertebrae. We took more blood and learned that, while still not in the normal range by far, his liver was working better.
I thought we were out of the woods, but he's stopped eating again. Hepatic Lipidosis is what we're deciding on. His fatness has worked against him in life despite my best efforts to get him to lose weight.
So what do we do now? I have two kids, I stay home. We can't afford to spend ridiculous amounts of money on him. After all, he's just a cat, right?
Nope. When I look at that big lug in the picture up there, and even the relatively skinny one who sits behind me on the couch (that he knows he isn't allowed on but also knows because he's sick he can get away with it), I see my buddy.
I fostered Sammy and his litter of five kittens when they were 6 weeks old. A woman came into the animal rescue I volunteered for, while my husband was on his firs deployment, and told me her husband threatened to drown the kittens if she didn't find a home for them. I'm a sucker when it comes to animals in need. So even though I already had two cats, and even though there was a strict two-pet limit in my one-bedroom apartment, I took Sammy and his four siblings home.
Toby, Chloe, Twinkie, Lucky, and Sammy. They were tiny little bundles of fear and fur. I remember having to bathe them as soon as I brought them home. One woman giving five kittens a bath. I'll give you a minute to imagine that.

Yes. It was a challenge. Their claws were sharp, their voices loud, their eyes were gunked over from conjunctivitis. Two of them, Sammy and Twinkie - the two littlest - somehow crawled underneath the cabinets and I had to entice them with food to emerge. Oh, did I mention the fleas? Yeah. They had those too.
I loved every minute of it. I kept them in a big dog kennel when I was not home or asleep because kitten tornadoes can be quite destructive when not watched. They would play and play and play and then pass out in a giant puddle of kitty. Cutest puddle around. My older cats even got into playing with them. My best buddy, Al (a cat I grew up with) would hold them down and clean their ears.
The Hubbs came home to a house with 7 cats. He wasn't super thrilled, but... hello? Kittens! Who can stay mad?

One by one, the gang were adopted. All but Sammerton. He was mine for keeps.

Over the next few years, he became my buddy. Endless entertainment.  His weight grew higher and higher. He was always so sweet. He'd come to me when I was sad. He and my other kitty, Patches (Al had long since passed on) gave me someone to take care of while The Hubbs got deployed one and then two more times. Sam has moved with us four times. He's been through both pregnancies and my girls have always known him. He taught them both on different occasions why you don't pull cat's tails.

He snores, he sometimes drools, he sleeps on his back, he likes to sleep on my pillow (while my head is still on it), he is inexplicably good at photobombing, he's lazy, and can be a real asshole sometimes. He doesn't take shit from anyone and isn't afraid of the dogs or the kids or... really anything. Sammy does what Sammy wants, and I absolutely love that about him.

Yes. He is a cat, but he's not just a cat. He's my buddy, my Sammers, my responsibility. I will do everything I can to keep him happy and comfortable for as long as he lives.