Take Back the Sofa

This post is about our sofa, but I really need to start with the two adorable kitties we adopted back in October. They are still kittens, and they also have all of their claws. This is a major departure from our two previous cats who were declawed (and lived to the ripe old age of 18). Other than the veterinary assistant job I had the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school, I haven't really given claws much of a thought. 

Until now. 

Back in October, we were a bit concerned. Our two cats were born of a feral mother and we were worried that these two timid, jittery felines were not going to acclimate to our family or life. Fortunately, they have acclimated. Completely. So much so, that our sweet, cuddly fur-babies have "adopted" our expensive Pottery Barn sofa in the living room as their home base and scratching post. 

They could choose almost anything else in the house: old nubby carpet, cheap dining room chairs from Living Spaces...I would even be cool with them using a comforter that we could replace. But instead, they chose the one piece of furniture on which Keith and I dropped over $2000 of our hard-earned cash. So today, I decided to take it back. 

I had an idea. What if the little pill shaver I use on my sweaters worked for the couch? 

There's really nothing that would make it worse. So I figured, why not? We had a large crowd coming today--over 100 people for a luncheon for work--and this couch is an embarrassment that we keep covered up under throw blankets. It just ends up looking shabby and slovenly in a room that is very polished and sleek.

And much to my surprise and delight, it worked like a charm. Sure, it's not going to fix the corner that they have completely torn apart, but it did make the rest look really really nice. You saw the "before" picture; now take a look at the during and after shots:

I cut off the longer strings and loops that were hanging all over to make the job of shaving the fabric easier.

Voila! Here is the much better finished product. I really couldn't be happier. )And now I need to get to Petsmart to buy a product that makes the cats less likely to do this again.) 

Fear Zachtor

Zach is what you'd recognize as a typical youngest child. Vivacious, hyper, and a little mischievous, he throws more tantrums than his sister ever did, but cuddles more, too. And he doesn't have that 'careful gene' that seems to flow naturally out of the chute with the firstborn. Whereas Natalie is cautious, he takes life head-on. This is both a figurative and a literal statement, in fact.

You see, the other day, when he was running (much like a bull at Pamplona) out of his sister's room, he misjudged the doorjamb placement and charged himself right into the wall. Hysterics followed and it took every bit of willpower I had not to laugh because that would just be cruel. (Also, I worry that the parent police would rush in and put me in cuffs. What? You say there are no parent police? There should be, but that's a post for another day.)

But back to Z-man. This kid is frightening in his constant state of split-second poor decision-making. People are always shaking their heads in wonder/judgment/incredulity when they discover that he had broken two bones by the time he was four. And just yesterday, our little Evel Knievel was careening down our steep driveway on his plasma car using his sneakers as brakes.

Z is just shy of TWO years old, here. He threw himself out of the bounce house and landed wrong on the grass, fracturing his tibia.

At the tender age of three, he flew over his handlebars on his tricycle at school, breaking his arm in two places. When presented with a plethora of colors at the orthopedic surgeon's office, Z opted for the hot pink cast because he wanted to make his sister jealous. (Mission accomplished.)

So imagine my surprise when recently, Z began to approach bedtime with fear and trepidation. He kept protesting, "I'm scared to be in my room alone, Mama." But then, he'd fall asleep and I'd wonder if all of that pageantry was just a boy learning about the unappreciated, yet effective art of guilt-tripping.

Then tonight, his fear became intense enough that my mama-spidey-sense prickled at the back of my neck. He was balking at going into his (very well-lit) room to pick out a book. This task takes a mere one minute, but rather than go directly to his room upon my instruction (HA!), Z writhed morosely on my bedroom carpet, whining about being scared.

I looked at him shrewdly as I changed the sheets on my bed, trying to gauge the truth of this statement. "Z, I turned on every light in your room. I thought you were afraid of the dark."

"But Mama, I'm afraid of the light, too," he countered immediately. Well this was a new one.

"Okay, I'll go with you as soon as I'm done changing my sheets."

Short bird-walk: It's been a hard couple of weeks. Daddy, who is the principal at a large middle school, has been gone most nights and some mornings at school events and meetings. The kids are feeling his absence and it's making them act out in ways that are undesirable at best. So, in an effort to calm the stormy waters, I invited the kids to help me make air-popped popcorn with a generous helping of real butter and salt. (Don't worry--we had a healthy dinner first.)

Then--smart woman that I am--I had them change into pajamas, climb into my bed, and watch an episode of Peppa Pig. These two needed to wind down and nothing is as effective at this as Peppa. I was trying for an early bedtime with these two. My chances were looking pretty good, too, until I realized remembered that they are the world's messiest eaters. Even my cats--who have NO LIPS--keep food in their mouths with more regularity.

And maybe, just maybe, I could deal with popcorn kernels in my bed, but I draw the line at sleeping on sheets that have just been used as the world's largest (and softest) ad hoc cloth napkin.

Back to the story at hand...

From his post on the floor, Zach looks up at the wall across from us and whimpers, "Mama, I'm afraid of those girls, too."

Here, I repress a shiver that he's going to go all Sixth Sense/The Shining on me and carry on. "What girls?"

He explains, "Those girls in the picture on your jewelry cabinet over there."

He gestures to the double-hinged frame which contains two pictures. One photo is of me (ironically very pregnant with Zach), my sister, and two of our long-time friends at my sister's 40th birthday celebration. We are wearing sunglasses and posing identically to the little girls on the opposite frame. It is a greeting card, and the girls, who pose coquettishly while wearing fancy party dresses and donning sunglasses, reminded our dear friend of the four of us. I explain what the two photos are and how they really are not scary at all. Whimsical, maybe, but not scary.

"I see whimsical people."

He's not convinced. He starts to cry and whine again.

I'm still not done making our impossibly difficult bed, so I try to make him laugh. "What about chocolate? Are you afraid of chocolate?"

"No." His reply is immediate and quizzical. And then he realizes what game I'm playing. "Yes. Yes I am afraid of chocolate."

Now I'm just intrigued. Chocolate is his favorite thing in the world (aside from bodily function jokes). I begin to test him on everything he loves.

"Okay, are you afraid of the cats? You afraid of Romeo? Annabelle?"

"Yes."

"Really?" I ask dubiously. "Are you afraid of your Legos?" At this point, I can see his discomfort. He just got a Lego toy for good behavior and it doesn't leave his side for long.

"Yeah."

I hear the uncertainty in his voice and go for the jugular: his best friend, sister, and confidante, Natalie.

"Why don't you go get a book out of your sister's room to read before bed. She's in there, so you won't be alone. Or are you scared of her, too?"

"No, I'm not scared of Natalie...Oh wait. Yes I am. I am scared of her."

Just wait until she's a teenager, buddy.

It only took Z about three visits (eating disgusting fast food each time) to gain the courage to climb up the play structure. It took years with his sister. She's now much more adventurous. I guess they're trading places?