Newest Pretty Baby

I'll bet you didn't even know we were expecting! Here is our newest pretty baby. She came with the name Jessie, but we might change it to Penny, or Rose, or Little Lady, depending on who wins. She's a German Shepherd mix. She and her brother and her mom were surrendered to a kill shelter in Illinois, and the outstanding group Magnificent Mutts rescued them. Her brother went home yesterday to live with a 9 year old boy and his family, and she came home to us today. Hooray for happy tales (tails?)!

If you're nearby and you're looking for a new dog, I can't recommend Magnificent Mutts (out of Hillside, IL) enough. They've been wonderful to work with.


The girls are madly in love.  They've been very good with her - keeping an eye on her in the house, giving her treats, playing with her, and taking her for walks  They're going to be excellent dog-moms someday.

When Max died, I felt like our house lost its soul. It was so strange to come back to an empty, quiet house. Aside from when I lived in the dorms, this has been the longest I've ever lived without a pet. We've missed Max so much, and I have missed the security of having a dog more than I ever thought I would. I'll happily trade clean floors for the peace of mind that comes with knowing that someone with keen hearing and sharp teeth is looking out for us. Of course, she won't be much of a home security system for a few months.  I think she'll be between 50 and 60 pounds when she's grown (heh, that's what they told us about Max, too, and she topped out at 90!).

So many people have cautioned me that we can't replace Max, and I know that, I really do. But there are so many great things about Shepherds, and so many great things about mutts, I can't imagine having any other kind of dog. My last three cars have all been Hondas. I tend to stick with what works, once I find it.  It's honestly a coincidence that she looks so much like Max.  I had already agreed to her before I saw a picture, based on the description of her from the lady with the rescue organization.

She asserted her individuality tonight when I gave her a pill (I think it's a dewormer - it gave her terrible gas!) in peanut butter, and she refused to take it.  It was as if she was telling me, "I'm a new dog, Mom, and your old tricks won't necessarily fly."  Tomorrow we'll try cheese.

I know that Max would be glad that we're welcoming a new dog into our family - particularly because she doesn't have to put up with her.  Max was never much of a dog-lover.  She greatly preferred the company of people.

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She's been sleeping on my legs as I've written this post.  It would be very cozy if she would quit farting.

She is not a replacement, but she's a very welcome addition.  Our house feels like home again.

Slowly Emerging

We've been in this bizarro world of newborn time for 12 days now...  It's amazing how things that used to take 10 minutes (like getting out the door) now take 30 minutes.  (We're those ridiculous people loaded down with 50 tons of stuff at the store.  It's hard to keep a newborn warm.)  Entire days (and nights) go by in a blur of diapers, nursing, ham and turkey and present opening and sugar.  I've lost all track of what day it is today, and what I'm supposed to be doing other than treading water.

It's wonderful.

Jack is SUCH a great baby.  He is nursing like a champ, and he's content and snuggly and just awesome.  He smiles, sometimes, and it melts my heart.  I know it's not a "true" smile, but it's true enough for me.  I call him "Mister Baby."  Switching to male pronouns after five and a half years of "she," "her," and "the girls" is kind of hard. 

His head smells so good.

I've managed to keep up with thank you notes - which is insane because all of our friends and relatives are still waiting on them from when Claire was born.  I'm keeping up with the laundry.  The kitchen is clean.  We have enough festive holiday leftovers to keep us fed for another week.  Ham keeps for ten days, did you know that? 

We survived Claire's stomach virus by quarantining Jack and me in the bedroom.  It was hard to not snuggle Claire through the worst of her sickness, but her daddy took very good care of her.  Jack and I didn't get sick, thank goodness.

My favorite sling is now too big, so I need to figure out what we're going to do about that.  I tried to buy a stroller today at Sears, but no one was at work at Sears today, and the few people who were there didn't want my money.  Next task on the computer is to write a strongly worded letter to Sears corporate about their completely shitty customer service.  I ended up deciding (after 30 minutes of waiting for someone to help me, and no help arriving) that I'd rather chew off my feet than buy a stroller at Sears. I was literally standing in the infant/toddler section yelling "DOES ANYONE WORK HERE?  I WOULD LIKE TO SPEND SOME MONEY!"  No one came.  I took a pair of jeans and waved them past the exterior door, hoping to set off a security alarm which would summon someone.  No alarm went off.  I called the store FOUR times from my phone and tried four different departments to locate someone with a pulse - no luck.  It was absurd.  I felt like I was on candid camera.  I almost stole the stroller...  I figured I could take it and no one would notice, then I could just mail them a check.  In the end, though, I figured Amazon.com was less likely to get me arrested.

Well, this wasn't supposed to be a rant about Sears, but I'm feeling a little too tired for anything but stream-of-consciousness, so that's just what this will be today.

I actually managed to send Christmas cards/birth announcements this year!  I KNOW!  That picture up there was my favorite of the ones I used on the card.  He flipped his tiny lid right after it was taken, so it's a good thing we got one good shot.

The bruising on Jack's face is almost gone.  He looks much less like a boxer and much more like a baby. 

I'm having some of those horrid thoughts that I've had before, but whether it's due to Dr. Dave's good influence, the Zoloft, or both I'm able to ignore them or laugh them off most of the time.  This time I know that it doesn't mean that I'm going to do anything to hurt anyone.  This time I know that it doesn't mean I'm a rotten mother.  It's just a broken wire in my head.  Maybe it's how my brain deals with being completely responsible for another human being.  Maybe everyone has these thoughts - BJ says it's like when you're up really high and you think, "Just a step to one side and I'm a goner," even though you have no intention of taking that step.  It's comforting that he's had horrid thoughts too, and that he's able to blow them off.  It makes me feel less nuts.  It's comforting to be able to look at MG and C and say, "See, they're fine!"  I didn't have that comfort when MG was a baby and I went through this.  I may not be at the optimum level of anxiety, on a ten point scale I'd rate myself at a 6, maybe 6.5, but it's far better than the 8 or 9 level I was at before he was born.  Dr. Dave says that 4 is optimal.  I'll get there when I've had some sleep.