Packing with cats

I have two cats. These cats were my children before E came into the picture. Max is a black mammoth of a cat. I do seriously mean mammoth- as in a prehistorically gianormous version of the modern, domesticated housecat. He also happens to believe he is a ferocious panther. He is under the delusion that he is extremely scary and has superb hunting skills. Too bad he can't even kill a housefly until it has zoomed 22 hours of its 24 hour life away in our kitchen. Zoey thinks she is a tigress. She, unlike Max, is a svelt 8.5 pounds. She is also a complete hag, as cats go. She is certain that any living thing that steps foot in our yard is coming to attack. Have you ever heard a cat growl - from it's belly? Disturbing. This is also the same sweet little girl cat who zooms into a room to attack the oversized chair which, it seems, becomes her mortal enemy at 9:00. BOTH of these cats feel that they must go with us whenever we travel. They make this completely clear when they nest in the suitcase as we pack. It makes it quite difficult to keep clumps of cat hair off one's clothes when the cats are snuggling with everything I put in the suitcase. How is it that cats know exactly when to "help" by pawing at one's underthings and burrowing under the jeans so that you accidentally zip them inside the suitcase? (Again the howling is nerve-gratingly distinct) Nevertheless - I press on to take my girls' trip.

MK and I are heading out tomorrow to Nerd prom! Yes, I will miss my husband and child horribly but I will revel in 2 full mornings of waking up when I choose rather than being slowly inched over the side of my own bed by a 2 foot bed-hog who always seems to show up 3 minutes before the alarm goes off. We will do whatever we want, because we can. We will eat at restaurants without high chairs or sippy cups. We will go to a movie, maybe even two, that do not contain cartoon characters. We will drink beverages that could require tiny umbrellas. We will stay in a bookstore for several hours without my guilt complex kicking in before I've even finished my mocha. In short, I will be Reagan again for 2.5 days instead of Mama. Glorious to know she still exists and glorious to know that E's face when I show back up on Sunday will be the best part of the whole weekend.