Dearest Child,
As we count down the weeks (and now days) to the time where we'll get THE phone call that a baby is on its way, I've found myself doing all of the things that a pregnant woman would do. I'm washing (and re-washing) all of the sheets and clothes that we've got. I'm also organizing like a mad woman. Last weekend's attempt to locate a measuring tape turned into a half hour junk drawer purging fest. Our junk drawer has never been so clean. Whodathunk that buried in five years worth of "junk" would be twenty something twix-it clips and batteries galore? Sidenote: I also turned the hundred or so rubber bands loitering in the drawer into a very cool rubber band ball.
At any rate, while I've been "nesting," I can't help but to think of the two little dogs whose worlds will be forever rocked in a few weeks. They don't realize it, but as we're counting down the days to bring you home, we're also savoring every last minute of having dogs that truly are the center of our familial universe. I look into their brown eyes, clueless to the situation as they may be, and I just feel so dang awful. Visions keep coming to my head of two mangy dogs staring at me from outside while I hold a sleeping baby in my arms. And I Can't. Shake. The. GUILT.
Not that they've got much to complain about. They've had pretty awesome lives up until this point. They're fed countless "cookies" throughout the day (so some people may call them bribes, but hey, I never claimed to be the dog whisperer). They only go outside to go to the bathroom, and then it's right back inside the house. Family portraits aren't complete unless they've got the dogs in them. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for these two, our camera would be absolutely void of any pictures whatsoever.
I think their biggest treat so far would be on Friday and Saturday nights, when we fall prey to their pleas and let them sleep at the foot of the bed. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, ROXY sleeps at the foot of the bed, while Maynerd happily snoozes between your father and I. He's taken that spot since we were first married. He used to growl whenever your daddy got too close to me in bed, but we've since then managed to break that habit. Now he growls at ME whenever I get too close to your father in bed.
You get the point...these dogs are spoiled. And that gravy train's about to come to a stop pretty quickly. What's a furbaby mom to do? Well, whenever I've got a laptop free lap, I pick them up and give them each a good ear scratchin'. I also find myself being exceptionally cognizant of all of their 'quirks' lest I forget them the moment I become a "real" mom.
Take Maynerd, for example. Homeboy loves to get into the bathroom trash and steal the dang crumpled up dixie cups that your father and I use each night to take our medicine. He'll rummage through the bin none too subtly and, once he's found his "prize," he'll beeline for underneath our bed to happily chew on what truly must be the greatest thing he's ever found on this green earth. Granted, as soon as he's found out, I pull the cup out from underneath him and throw it away in the one trashcan he can't get into: the kitchen trash.
Maynerd's other quirk is his attitude about sleep. To say that Maynerd kind of likes sleep is like saying that your dad "kind of" likes cars. About an hour or so before we go to bed, he'll quietly slip into our bedroom, hop onto our bed, and fall into a deep sleep. I think his reasoning is that if we find him there, we won't want to disturb him and we'll let him spend the night in our bed. Admittedly, sometimes he outsmarts us because we play right into his paw and let him stay there. Most of the times, however, I scoop him up and carry him fireman style to the laundry room, where his cookie/bribe awaits him.
Roxy, on the other hand, can't get to the laundry room fast enough each night and each morning because she can't WAIT to get her cookie. While most dogs might whimper at the sight of their owner putting on his/her shoes because that means separation surely will follow, Roxy gets positively giddy because that means that she's going to get her morning cookie. Yeah. She's a sell out, but she knows it.
Roxy's love of all things food related isn't her only quirk. She's quite positively the most vocal dog I've ever met. I don't mean to simply imply that she barks excessively (although she does do it each time she thinks it's breakfast or supper time). Homegirl murmers. And moans. And groans. And snorts. And coos. Anytime I scratch her in just the right spot, she turns into a bumbling mess as she gasps and grunts and sighs with pleasure.
Sigh. I love these two dogs so much, yet I feel that they've only given me a mere glimpse as to what parenthood really entails. In my urge to nest, the role that the dogs currently play in our little family has definitely not been lost on me. I'm doing everything I can to ensure a smooth transition. I've even gone so far as to sleep for the past few weeks with the blanket we'll take you home in. Dog experts say that if the dogs to smell something that has the parents' scent mixed with the baby's scent before the dog/baby introduction takes place, then the dogs are more likely to sense that this baby is here to stay.
We'll see about that. At any rate, if you ever see baby pictures of yourself playing in the living room, and notice in the background that there are two miffed dogs on the outside looking in, you'll know why.
In the meantime, baby, I'm counting down the sleeps until we meet!
Lots of love,
your mommy
PS. It's 9PM, about an hour before our bedtime. As if on cue, Maynerd's left the living room to happily fall asleep on our bed. Roxy's not ready for bed yet; she's merely looking at me as she waits for her evening cookie.
As we count down the weeks (and now days) to the time where we'll get THE phone call that a baby is on its way, I've found myself doing all of the things that a pregnant woman would do. I'm washing (and re-washing) all of the sheets and clothes that we've got. I'm also organizing like a mad woman. Last weekend's attempt to locate a measuring tape turned into a half hour junk drawer purging fest. Our junk drawer has never been so clean. Whodathunk that buried in five years worth of "junk" would be twenty something twix-it clips and batteries galore? Sidenote: I also turned the hundred or so rubber bands loitering in the drawer into a very cool rubber band ball.
At any rate, while I've been "nesting," I can't help but to think of the two little dogs whose worlds will be forever rocked in a few weeks. They don't realize it, but as we're counting down the days to bring you home, we're also savoring every last minute of having dogs that truly are the center of our familial universe. I look into their brown eyes, clueless to the situation as they may be, and I just feel so dang awful. Visions keep coming to my head of two mangy dogs staring at me from outside while I hold a sleeping baby in my arms. And I Can't. Shake. The. GUILT.
Not that they've got much to complain about. They've had pretty awesome lives up until this point. They're fed countless "cookies" throughout the day (so some people may call them bribes, but hey, I never claimed to be the dog whisperer). They only go outside to go to the bathroom, and then it's right back inside the house. Family portraits aren't complete unless they've got the dogs in them. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for these two, our camera would be absolutely void of any pictures whatsoever.
I think their biggest treat so far would be on Friday and Saturday nights, when we fall prey to their pleas and let them sleep at the foot of the bed. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, ROXY sleeps at the foot of the bed, while Maynerd happily snoozes between your father and I. He's taken that spot since we were first married. He used to growl whenever your daddy got too close to me in bed, but we've since then managed to break that habit. Now he growls at ME whenever I get too close to your father in bed.
You get the point...these dogs are spoiled. And that gravy train's about to come to a stop pretty quickly. What's a furbaby mom to do? Well, whenever I've got a laptop free lap, I pick them up and give them each a good ear scratchin'. I also find myself being exceptionally cognizant of all of their 'quirks' lest I forget them the moment I become a "real" mom.
Take Maynerd, for example. Homeboy loves to get into the bathroom trash and steal the dang crumpled up dixie cups that your father and I use each night to take our medicine. He'll rummage through the bin none too subtly and, once he's found his "prize," he'll beeline for underneath our bed to happily chew on what truly must be the greatest thing he's ever found on this green earth. Granted, as soon as he's found out, I pull the cup out from underneath him and throw it away in the one trashcan he can't get into: the kitchen trash.
Maynerd's other quirk is his attitude about sleep. To say that Maynerd kind of likes sleep is like saying that your dad "kind of" likes cars. About an hour or so before we go to bed, he'll quietly slip into our bedroom, hop onto our bed, and fall into a deep sleep. I think his reasoning is that if we find him there, we won't want to disturb him and we'll let him spend the night in our bed. Admittedly, sometimes he outsmarts us because we play right into his paw and let him stay there. Most of the times, however, I scoop him up and carry him fireman style to the laundry room, where his cookie/bribe awaits him.
Roxy, on the other hand, can't get to the laundry room fast enough each night and each morning because she can't WAIT to get her cookie. While most dogs might whimper at the sight of their owner putting on his/her shoes because that means separation surely will follow, Roxy gets positively giddy because that means that she's going to get her morning cookie. Yeah. She's a sell out, but she knows it.
Roxy's love of all things food related isn't her only quirk. She's quite positively the most vocal dog I've ever met. I don't mean to simply imply that she barks excessively (although she does do it each time she thinks it's breakfast or supper time). Homegirl murmers. And moans. And groans. And snorts. And coos. Anytime I scratch her in just the right spot, she turns into a bumbling mess as she gasps and grunts and sighs with pleasure.
Sigh. I love these two dogs so much, yet I feel that they've only given me a mere glimpse as to what parenthood really entails. In my urge to nest, the role that the dogs currently play in our little family has definitely not been lost on me. I'm doing everything I can to ensure a smooth transition. I've even gone so far as to sleep for the past few weeks with the blanket we'll take you home in. Dog experts say that if the dogs to smell something that has the parents' scent mixed with the baby's scent before the dog/baby introduction takes place, then the dogs are more likely to sense that this baby is here to stay.
We'll see about that. At any rate, if you ever see baby pictures of yourself playing in the living room, and notice in the background that there are two miffed dogs on the outside looking in, you'll know why.
In the meantime, baby, I'm counting down the sleeps until we meet!
Lots of love,
your mommy
PS. It's 9PM, about an hour before our bedtime. As if on cue, Maynerd's left the living room to happily fall asleep on our bed. Roxy's not ready for bed yet; she's merely looking at me as she waits for her evening cookie.
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