Dogs – Southbound35

A Plan With Good Intentions

I can imagine how having this little one is going to be for me, an inkling anyway. I know its going to be fluffy clouds, naps all day, a cooing, smiling, blue baby boy daydream. Mark my words.

I can even imagine how its going to be for Husband Dearest – just one more face to kiss before heading merrily off to golf, right?

But in thinking about how this will work for our furry children, I imagine it from their view and see this Braveheart-esque charge down the hill that is our front lawn. In comes 7lbs (hopefully) of noisy smell and the 500lbs of “necessities” that come with it. They haven’t seen much of their parents in the last few days, and can’t quite put their finger on why this isn’t like the other trips they remember from the past. Once their people come home, at least one is too tired to properly accept the usually-proclaimed upon greeting and the other is lugging the “necessities,” and everyone is yelling for the dogs to stop jumping around.

So, in my blog-grazing adventures, I came across the idea of getting a real-looking baby doll to get the dogs accustomed to sharing my lap and not jumping, etc. You know, just kind of easing the transition. Amazon Prime to the rescue! Now, as my purpose for this purchase was dog training, I was all for the economical approach to fake baby brothers…which meant getting the less expensive girl baby – a choice which, when photographed, got Facebook all atwitter. Regardless, today marks day one of carrying this tiny, plastic, baby-smelling thing around, calling it “The Baby,” encouraging easy sniffing and less jumping. It seemed to go fairly well for the dogs.

The thing is, it totally backfired – for me.

In the course of carrying it around, trying to put clothes on it, holding it awkwardly as I watch television, I realized that this tool I have acquired to calmly introduce my dogs to a baby had made me come to grips with the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. None.

I had that baby’s arm almost off before I was able to put that tiny onsie on. While the fur babies settled on the floor and next to me on the couch, I sat there staring at this plastic, powder-scented girl-boy baby and thought, well now what? I hope feeding really does take the time everyone says it does because I was totally at a loss as to what to do with him-her otherwise. I was on my 12th trip to the bathroom when I realized I was no longer holding the baby and it was about 3 minutes later before I realized it was because I had left it on top of the toilet tank. I’m fairly sure that is not a good plan moving forward.

So, while I know women have been doing this for centuries, fairly successfully, I can only hope that, come December, maternal instincts kick in. Failing that, I hope the real baby’s arms move a little easier for putting clothes on.

Oh, and if anyone knows how to attach a crib to the back of the toilet, you know my digits.

Passing First Base

Dear Internet,

I now realize why, when asked how far along they are, pregnant ladies always answer in weeks. As a non-pregnant person in the past, I was always a little confused by their answers – smiling, nodding, walking away trying to divide in my head. Now I realize pregnant ladies answer that way because they have no idea how many months they are either! Truly, the whole date of conception, date of implantation, due date, you’re this far along, but the baby is technically a week behind you thing is danged confusing!

So, don’t be surprised if, when you ask me, I will answer you with “I am 17.5 weeks today.” What that means, dear Internet, is that the Second Trimester is firmly under way – goodbye to all of those charming First Trimester symptoms and hello to, well, the calm before the storm. And also the period where you are no longer terrified you are going to look pregnant – you’re begging for it, because at this point you still look like you had too good a time at the Gattitown pizza buffet.

It’s also a fantastic time to notice things. Like, hey, we should probably think about buying this kid some furniture. Or, man, I hope this kid does not inherit my flying squirrel arms. Most recently, I have noticed that having dogs is probably great training for having kids. And here’s why:

Why Dogs are Excellent Training for Having Kids:

You Must Feed Them – an easy one, I grant you that. But how many times have you looked your dog in the eye at 2:30 p.m. and realized they aren’t following you around all day because they love you – they’re doing it because you forgot to feed them breakfast, and they have no thumbs to do it themselves?
You Must Potty Them – sure, the methods may differ, but the truth of the matter is if you don’t let the dog out, or change the baby’s diaper, there will be a mess in your house. Likely on you, your clothes, your carpet, you name it. I swear to the heavens above, though, that if I ever have to pull a 14-ft long piece of grass from my kiddo’s hindquarters, I am saving it in his baby book to show him and his date on prom night.
You Freak Out When They’re Sick – they can’t talk to you and tell you what hurts. They just lay down a lot, looking pitiful and fevery-hot, not wanting to eat or play, and you’re willing to plop down your mortgage to fix it. Luckily so far, this usually resolves itself with a delayed bowel movement containing at least one stuffed animal ear or tennis ball parts. Let’s hope kids are this easy too – “Look Husband Dearest, I found your headphones!”
You will never go to the bathroom alone again – I know about doors, and their purpose in keeping others out while you attend to some thangs. However, I also realize it is almost worthless to try at my house, because it is a heck of a lot easier yelling at Husband Dearest to get the bejeezus out of here than it is to keep little doggie noses from battle-ramming their way in. Sometimes I give up and the little one sits on my lap. I am pretty sure that’s why, of the two of us, he likes me more than Husband Dearest – and I’m not afraid to exploit that.

Now that your mind is sufficiently blown, I will leave you with this amazingly brilliant and artistic cartoon and the happy dance that is sure to follow:

Prunes, Stretch Pants and Doggie Eye Conversations

Well, I started this blog as the tales of a childless mommy blogger, and have since found myself with child – thanks a lot, Husband Dearest! Not that I’m not excited. I am. And terrified, in denial, in expectation – wait. What was I saying again?

Which brings me to my main point today. The joys of the first trimester. Allow me to list them: Nausea, forgetfulness, impromptu nap-taking in public places, number one-ing all the time (and wanting to even when there’s nothing there) and not going that other number all the time, without help.

I knew about morning sickness, which has mostly passed. I could guess that you may be tired, you know, growing a person and all that. However, being stopped up in the (eyebrow raise – eyebrow raise) region is a pregnancy side effect not as highly publicized. Maybe because people don’t like to say words like “constipated.” However, if the World Wide Web is any indication, words like “placenta,” “womb” and “birth” are just fine to say. Anyone else think these words are grosser than Rush Limbaugh’s sex tape? Ugh.

Now, pregnancy brain is something I have seen first hand and believe in. I just can’t believe it starts this early. It does, Internet, it does. I cannot count the times I have walked into the room knowing I had a mission, doing an eye-lock with the dog – willing the beast to tell me just what I was doing in this room.

Sometimes they answer. Don’t judge me.

I think they’re just going off of a bank of sure-fire answers in the hopes they’re right:

“Well, Mama, you are here to get me a treat. It’s right there in that cabinet next to where you’re standing. I am also standing right here, and it would be incredibly efficient if you were to just go ahead and give it to me now.”
“Well, Mama, you are here to pee. I don’t know how in the life of me you manage to balance yourself up there and do that, but I have resigned myself to the fact that I can’t explain why you do the voodoo that you do. Just don’t forget to flush.”
“Well, Mama, you are here to eat something. Probably something sweet with extra fiber added to it, because of the you know what. Try prunes. I don’t like them, but the old folks swear they’re like magic. You aren’t fooling anyone with those Fiber One bars – you know they’re practically cookies.”

Stinky Panda

The Curious Case of the Midnight Pooper

I have two dogs, a Goldendoodle (pretty girl) and a Maltipoo (manly man).

Guess which one Husband Dearest refuses to walk in public?

Hazel, the Golden, is four years old, the younger of our furry children. She loves water and has the same birthday as Husband Dearest. Hazel has food allergies and this and that and the other – all of which amounts to a canine money pit. That’s why we think she was made to be as sweet as she is…because somehow she had to be worth it. And she is. Thanks to her Golden side, she is loyal, playful and a good cuddler.

Thanks to what we can only imagine is her Poodle side, you could also drop a piano on her foot before she would ever scream as loudly as she does if, should the holy gates of Hell open, and a child walks by.

At that point, she will grab her own leash and drag you back home to hoard water and prepare for the apocalypse.

Scout, the Maltipoo, is the best birthday present I have ever gotten and also the dog voted “Most Likely to Apologize While Biting You at the Same Time.” He has several aliases: Scooie, Little Man or The Wizard. As with anyone who holds several forms of ID and is known by many names, this 12 lb, 6-year-old ninja brainiac is the one you think twice about leaving a ball point pen around – because there is a small chance he will use it to create a lock pick and be in Cabo before you get out of the bathroom.

He is also the one that got new dog food yesterday. And also the one that really liked his new food yesterday. And also the one who woke me up at 2 in the morning to show the lawn how much he liked his new food yester – well, I guess today.

Anyway, meet the Fur Babies: