My Dogs are A$$holes

Before I had children, I scoffed at people who unloaded their pets once baby arrived. Our dogs slept in our bed, enjoyed doggy day care, thought nothing of climbing up on the couch.

Basically, I was an idiot. And we created two monsters. Stinky, hairy, loud monsters.

We have two dogs and two cats. The cats know their place. They have acclimated to moving even further down the totem pole quite nicely.

The dogs are going down kicking and screaming. Make that barking and whining.

Sadie, the elder and supposedly 'smarter' (according to my husband, I have
my doubts) of the dogs is the ringleader. She has coordinated several jailbreaks from the backyard that have resulted in a trip to doggy jail. You'd think we had them chained up or in a 5x5 pen.

Oh no. No no no. Our dogs have our ENTIRE backyard. And it's not small. What have they done with this expanse? Dug it up, destroyed landscaping, crapped on every square inch. Thrown themselves at the gate until it splintered and they could squeeze out. Littered the grass with the plush dog bed they disemboweled.

Then, when they finish their rampage of destruction, they camp out against the sliding glass door. For hours. Forget playing or running out some energy.

Since they can't be left outside when I'm gone under threat of escape, leaving the house becomes a huge exercise in dog proofing. No diapers, clean or dirty, can be accessible, or said diaper will be shredded and strewn about the living room. This also goes for nursing pads and used kleenex.

They are walking purveyors of filth. I sweep, I'm not even kidding, at least five times daily. I need to buy stock in Swiffer. If I do something as stupid as mop, they will track in mud immediately. Even if it hasn't rained in days.

The dogs have recently taken to pacing up and down the hardwood floors, scratching at their collars, shaking and incessantly licking their genitals (loudly) JUST as the baby is about to go to sleep.

This is what is going to push me over the edge, I swear. If you've ever had a fussy baby, you know the all encompassing rage that overtakes your being when someone/something messes with that babe's sleep.

Of course, we won't get rid of the damn dogs. My husband thinks they keep me and the children safe. My son adores them.

So they stay. Even though I might accidentally shave all their fur.

- Posted from my iPad! I know!

Live from Tissueville, It's the &:$;@!@ Summer Cold!

I swear I don't just come here to complain.

Okay, maybe I do.

But ugh. The plague has descended upon our house. First G had a runny nose last week. Then the husband had a cold. Then me. Mine consists of a gross phlegmy cough, a faucet for a nose and sore throat.

So I figured we were all done.

But this morning, G woke up and five minutes later put himself back to bed. I knew right away that a) the apocalypse was imminent or b) he was sick.

One wrestling match and armpit temperature later, it was confirmed. Fever. It hit around 102 and at that point I employed the perennial mom move - the Tylenol full nelson. This kid is not compliant in taking medicine, ever.

We're now hanging out at around 100.

The little prince is splayed out on the couch, demanding 'babies' - this is the Duggars. And clearly another post where I explain why he knows them AND ALL THEIR J NAMES is forthcoming.

For now, I'm crossing all my fingers and toes that the baby stays healthy. A two month old with a fever is panic inducing.

And also, G must be feeling better cause he's back to annoying the heck out of me.

Lay off, kiddo. I still feel like garbage. Thanks, your momma.

Happy 4th and Stuff (Mainly Stuff About Screamy Baby)

It's July 4th already. This summer is going by way too fast and with far too little sun for my liking.

But today, it's perfectly gorgeous outside. Which for Northwest Washington on the 4th of July is extremely rare...possibly a sign of the apocalypse.

The explosions in our neighborhood have been consistent for about a week now. Nothing says patriotism like blowing stuff up, yeah? I'm so glad neither my children or my dogs seem bothered. Cause then I'd totally be that neighbor calling the cops.

Funny how lack of sleep and a fussy baby will make you the crazy, stick in the mud neighbor.

Just so you know, I've been blogging in my head for weeks. It's just that none of it makes it here. Typing whilst rocking a screaming baby is impossible.

I have still yet to pinpoint why my babe is so screamy. I'm off dairy, she's on reflux meds. I'm considering going gluten free for a while to see if that helps. I know that MY body seems to function better when I'm not eating wheat.

Here's what I'm scared of: she's simply a high need baby. That's Dr. Sears' nice way of saying super duper don't ever put me down fussy. (I'm reading The Fussy Baby Book right now and it's like it was written about my child. Shoot.)

The best way I've found to cope is to wear her. All. The.Time. It works, and it frees up my arms. I've been using my Moby Wrap, which G calls the 'pocket.' If the babe is crying, G says 'Mommy, put baby in her pocket.'

And I do.

So basically, I'm totally morphing into a crunchy mama.

Breast-feeding, co sleeping, cloth diapering, baby wearing. It's kind of awesome to realize that getting back to the basics is do-able, even for a domestic flunky like me.

And cloth diapering is saving us so much money. Which rocks.

I have so much to write about. Probably boring stuff, but I get to do a lot of thinking whilst pacing.

And I'm mastering typing on the iPad while moving.

Multitasking is awesome.








- Posted from my iPad while baby wearing!