I'm Totally Crazy

I've been called crazy a few times in my life. Like when I got married at 19. Or when I got pregnant with Coby before Cameron was even a year old. Or that time I had a few too many Long Island iced teas at Curtis's office Christmas party and didn't realize they were so strong and ended up taking off my - well, never mind. Point is, I've done a few things in my life that call my sanity into question - but for the most part, I've managed to prove the naysayers wrong. I've been married for almost a decade ... am managing three boys just fine (well, okay, for the most part) ... and that Long Island tea incident didn't even end up on YouTube.*

*Because it happened before YouTube was even invented probably, but oh well.

Anyhow, despite all this, I have recently made a decision which makes even ME wonder if I've gone off the deep end. And it's this:

This "crazy decision" is a full-blooded Chocolate Lab, seven weeks old, who goes by (but does not necessarily answer to) the name Josie.

As you guys know (and read here and here if you don't), we very recently had to say a painful and difficult goodbye to our ten-year-old dog, Andy. And my mom, God bless 'er, tried to dispense a little advice afterward in that way she does ... phrasing it as a very subtle suggestion, as if trying to implant it into my subconscious so I'll think it was my idea (I'm onto you, Mom). "After all this, I'm sure you won't want to think about getting another dog until the boys are older," she said. Followed by some reasoning that my brain tuned out because, well, if I've learned one thing in my 29 years it's how to completely ignore reason.

Yeah, it's a talent, be jealous.

I knew we could never replace Andy - but what I needed so desperately to replace was Andy's presence. Those first few days without him here were horrible. Every noise I heard sounded like him. Every dark shape caught in my peripheral vision - the couch pillows, the clothes on the floor - looked like him. I hadn't realized, until he was gone, that a huge part of my life consisted of our simple daily interactions. 

So I guess it was grief that drove us to pick out a fuzzy, pudgy little bundle of puppy. Our new little girl, our Josie. She didn't bring Andy back, of course, but she helps me cope with his absence - although I tend to think of them both being here. Like, she'll run back to the bedroom and I'll think, "Oops, Andy's isn't going to be happy when she disturbs his ... oh." And then, like I do at least three times a day so far, I'm hit with a wave of sadness that momentarily paralyzes me. 

Wanna know what else momentarily paralyzes me? Stepping in puppy poop in the middle of the night on my way to the bathroom.

And that, my friends, is why I'm crazy. Because I signed up for this. Because I willingly chose to have a four-year-old, a two-year-old, a six-month-old, and a seven-week-old puppy. Because it's such a great experience to have two that are teething and two that are potty training!

(Not really, I just made that last part up.)

She's such a sweet girl, though. Very smart. And she's already in love with the boys. Colin's a little afraid of her (but this is the child who is also scared of playground swings and artificial flowers - yes, really - so I didn't expect anything less). Cameron, the one who got a dog bite to the face requiring 40 stitches and thereby the one who should be wary of dogs, yet isn't, adores her.

... as you can plainly see. :)

So anyway, Mom, you were kinda right about the struggles of having so many needy, teethe-y, poopy-and-peedy little babies at once. But this too shall pass - it did with Andy - and at least I'll have plenty of blog fodder in the meantime.