Kitten Mummy World

It is quite a thing being a Kitten Mummy. The last time I was Mummy to something so very small and needy who got me up in the middle of the night with various demands and made my shoulder smell permanently of regurgitated formula milk, poo and wee was 25 years ago, and that was Heather. But to her credit, Heather did not inflict fleas upon me.

Actually, Flora Bijou Mybug has only presented me with 4 fleas. She is too young to be flea-treated properly, but has been wafted amid a haze of Frontline spray in a general 'let's see if we can't at least gas the b***ers out.' Proper flea treatment is on the horizon. And worming. And potty training. And weaning.

So although I am lacking 'zzzzzzzzzz's' at the moment because of the Wee Small Hour Feed during which last night Flora took the opportunity to test her new teeth on my fingers and do a spot o'pouncing practice, and she had to have TWO baths yesterday because of random pooping and lack of foresight on behalf of whoever was who was put on this planet to invent Kitten Happy Nappies - For All Your Happy Kitten Pooping Needs, I know the needy phase will be over in weeks rather than in years. Which is just as well, because being a Kitten Mummy is a very time consuming affair. 

Because it is not only feeding and burping and bathing and mopping up poop and wee and milky dribbles that take up time. Oh no! There is also the crawling around on the floor supervising Carpet Exploration and Under Sofa Adventure Activities. There is Kitten Balancing whereby one has to employ the skills of a Tai Chi /Pilates Expert in order to maintain excellent posture and calm movement when one has a Kitten asleep on one's shoulder, head, elbow, knee, matronly bazoom, back of the neck. There is Kitten Juggling - this is when Flora Bijou Mybug goes into frantic activity mode (this usually presages a poo or a wee, a bit like when Tybalt does his Victory Wee Dash) wanting to play let's-do-EVERYTHING-at-once-NOW like tumbling off a shoulder and narrowly avoiding the cup of tea the Kitten Mummy is holding, or staggering dangerously near the edge of the sofa in a 'whoops- look at me being all wobbly' comedy moment, or making a dash for ALL small, dark crevices accessible only to a three and a bit week old kitten and probably requiring rescue by the Fire Services and the Massive Cutting Equipment.

Basically, our substantial extended three-bedroom semi-detached home, containing three adults and two large adult cats is being held in sway (is that a phrase? What does it mean? It just popped out of the typing fingers so it MUST mean something) by a small ball of fluff who last night weighed in at 208 grammes which is less than a pack of butter and is probably more difficult to spread on toast. But that is okay because Flora Bijou Mybug is very funny, very cute, very bouncy and very, very entertaining. And that is all a Kitten Mummy wants, really. 

(Kitten Mummy is pleased Flora Bijou Mybug is putting on weight. But she is puzzled because the nature of Balance in the Universe suggests that someone in the house ought to be losing weight. Sure as heck isn't the Kitten Mummy. But then Kitten Mummy is sure that she is suffering from something called Pre-emptive Weight Gain or PWG. It is a new phenomenon whereby the Kitten Daddy mentioned he is going to be making Smarties Brioche...yes, that is brioche with Smarties...at the weekend, and Kitten Mummy is already absorbing calories from just the mere thought of it.)