The Many Faces of Brooke

Photo by Jill

"525,600 minutes. How do you measure, measure a year?

... How about love? Measure in love."

 Lyrics from "Rent," the musical

Brooke is a few "minutes" sort of a year. She's 11 months and counting to September 4, when we'll fully celebrate the 526,600 minutes she's been part of our lives.

Photo by Jill

In all those minutes and moments, I am amazed at the changes that happen from helpless baby to daredevil toddler. Yes, I've lived through the miracles of the first year before - with my own two and with Kinley.

But when we saw her a month ago, she was just contemplating letting go of sturdy furniture and making her way in the world. Now, she is in constant motion.

Photo by Jill

Turn your back, and she's headed for the stairs. If she sees you coming, she climbs even faster. Peekaboo! I see you!

 

Next she's figuring out how to pull herself into a child-sized rocking chair and then stand in it. (Her Mommy is the one I once pulled off the dining room table after a climbing escapade. What goes around, comes around, I tell Jill.)

Photo by Jill

Her blonde hair is getting long enough that there's a slight curl on the ends.

Her exuberance for life is contagious. She lives life full-throttle. 

(It's probably why she's not the best napper She doesn't want to miss a thing.)

She wants to be in the middle of everything.

She and Kinley are starting to play together - at least sometimes.

Photo by Jill

She will sit still to read (which Grandma loves, of course)!

She loves to eat.

And she loves bath time. (I can get away with this photo right now, I think.)

It was a pleasure to watch Brooke and her sister while Mommy and Daddy went out to celebrate their 6th wedding anniversary.

Time flies when you're having fun!

Tomorrow:  Her sister gets equal time.

Love Hurts

Love hurts. Especially when you're a kitty and a toddler is around.

A Facebook friend just posted a photo of her little sister "hugging" a kitty. I immediately thought about the snapshot I had of Jill similarly "loving" a kitty to the point of suffocation.

It must run in the family. Our niece Emily showed Jill-like holding skills a few years ago. (Before anyone out there calls the Humane Society, these kittens and other similarly-loved kittens over the years survived and thrived and no doubt reproduced.)

Brent had a kinder, gentler approach to his chokehold ... uh, hug.

Fritzemeier Farms has produced more than its share of kittens over the years. The cat crop may be the most prolific reproduction level around the place. In proportion, it outpaces the cow-calf herd.

Of course, my cat-loving husband doesn't think you can ever have too many felines.

These are the latest additions. They are offspring of a mom who would prefer to have nothing to do with humans - except at chow time, of course. Randy is doing his best to rehabilitate the trio and make them people friendly.


I personally think in-breeding has affected the cuteness level of our cats. They are kind of a muddle of colors.

But all kittens are cute at this stage.

The downside? They grow up. And they aren't nearly as cute when that happens.

The upside? They keep the mice at bay. For me, that's the way they earn their keep around here.

I now have the Rod Stewart song, "Love Hurts," stuck firmly in my brain. Just in case you want it there, too, here's a Youtube version.

I know it has nothing to do with cats. What can I say? That's how my brain works.