Can you do self-insemination at home ?
My middle child was just four, while my youngest was still small enough to fall asleep in a wrap on my back. We often gathered at Liz’s place — it was our go-to spot for some mom time, a chance to unwind while our kids ran wild. There were maybe five or six of us, including Sarah. We opened the back door and sent the kids out into her yard, a lively group ranging from seven to three. The little ones played in the sand while the older kids engaged in a game of tag. We only paid attention when we heard them scream in pain.
Honestly, I can’t remember the details of our conversation. Perhaps we discussed our children, knitting, baby wraps, or what on earth we would prepare for lunch. Liz’s home was cozy but not spotless; dishes piled up in the sink and clothes cluttered her laundry room. We lounged on the couch, occasionally nursing babies to sleep.
Suddenly, the back door swung open. My four-year-old, Jake, emerged with a gaggle of children trailing behind him. He brandished a shovel, bursting with pride and declared, “I DUG UP A DEAD CAT!” He dumped a load of bones onto the kitchen floor.
To my horror, he had indeed unearthed a long-dead cat — Liz’s cat, reduced to bones and ash for months.
I stood frozen, overwhelmed by shock.
My friends erupted in laughter.
I Need More Dead Cat Friends
Liz, Sarah, and the others were true friends. I saw their unkempt kitchens and their messy living rooms. My child had just dumped cat bones in the middle of their living area, and they laughed wholeheartedly for a solid five minutes. A “dead cat friend” looks at you amidst your chaos and chooses understanding over judgment. They invite you in and say, “Your mess? Come see mine, and let’s bond over it.”
Dead cat friends accept your unique tastes in music, fashion, or whatever else you enjoy. They might not agree with you, but it doesn’t change the fact that you share the same struggles with laundry, dishes, and dinner dilemmas. If your husband (like mine) does all the cooking, they’ll tell you how lucky you are, but they’ll still complain about dinner too, and you’ll listen. Dead cat friends can embrace differences without a second thought.
Dead cat friends don’t hold your kids’ mischief against you. They understand that children can be wild and unpredictable. If one child scribbles on a wall or sprays another with a hose, your dead cat friends won’t pass judgment; they get that this is just part of being a kid. And when your own child is upset, you comfort them and shrug it off as, “Eh. Kids.”
They Love Your Kids
Dead cat friends appreciate your children in all their quirky glory. Your kids are not merely accessories to your life; they genuinely care about them. When Jake dumped those bones, my dead cat friends laughed because they knew he had dreams of being a paleontologist. They were aware of which baby wraps my youngest preferred and that my oldest often got into trouble with Liz’s eldest but not so much with Sarah’s.
Your true dead cat friends not only like your kids — they celebrate them. You laugh together when their little one dances around singing, “My butt, my butt, my butt is in the circus!” (That was Tommy, the son of another true dead cat friend, Lisa). Even now, years later, I still chuckle at that memory. You admire their unique style and play pretend with their toys. You have photos of your kids hiding in boxes together.
It works both ways. Dead cat friends make an effort to engage with your children, and your kids respond positively. When you arrive at their home, your kids often dash inside without hesitation, calling out for their little friends. They know the rules — shoes by the door, no going upstairs — because they recognize these are their dead cat friends.
I Miss My Dead Cat Friends
Life changes, and friendships evolve. I have just one dead cat friend remaining. As our children grow, our conversations have shifted beyond diaper changes and infant milestones. We can now bond over her son’s voice changing or gossip about life; I share things with her that I wouldn’t dare tell anyone else.
Emily has even cleaned my house without me asking, a true mark of a dead cat friend. Once we were both vaccinated, her home was the first I visited. I gleefully ran around her kitchen exclaiming, “I’M TOUCHING YOUR COUNTERS! I’M TOUCHING YOUR COUNTERS!” She laughed along with me, not at me — that is the essence of a genuine dead cat friend.
I can name her pets and her favorite book series. She brings me fresh eggs, and now my kids refuse to eat anything else because “Emily’s are better.” They would hug her if not for the pandemic. When I visit, I know where to park and how to navigate her tricky backyard latch. She knows how to calm my whiny seven-year-old.
I absolutely adore her kids.
I find myself longing for more dead cat friends. But I’ll take one amazing dead cat friend over several average acquaintances any day. Emily loves her pets too much to appreciate this term, so I apologize, dear friend.
But I’m sure Mr. Whiskers would understand.
For more insights on friendships and parenting, check out this post on home insemination. If you’re interested in fertility topics, Intracervical Insemination is a great resource. Also, don’t miss out on this insightful podcast from Cleveland Clinic about IVF and fertility preservation.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt piece, Kate Thompson reflects on the importance of having true friends — “dead cat friends” — who accept you and your family in all their messy glory. These friends celebrate your children and share in the joys and challenges of parenting. While life changes and friendships evolve, the bond formed with those who understand your chaos is invaluable.