For the love...

I do not love animals. I know that is not a very popular sentiment and that PETA should be knocking down my door, but it's still true! I am just not a pet person. So why, might you ask, do I have two dogs? Because my family loves them. D and I had only been married a couple of months when I brought him back a dog while working in Idaho. That little puppy, who I really didn't even love then, is now a huge dog in my backyard. His name is Scooby. The boys named him. He lives exclusively in my backyard, which is exactly where I like him to be. I do love that his bark is so deep that it would be terrifying to a prowler who may try to sneak in through my backdoor. I do love that his 40-foot chain allows him to protect our back steps from any daring intruder. I do love that he can jump high enough to see over our 6-foot fence, again warding off any possible intruders. I just don't love that he is a dog...

Last March, after trying for nearly four years, I was pregnant. I was unbelievably happy...for about a week. I had a miscarriage. My heart was broken and I didn't stop bawling for days. I still getting teary-eyed thinking about it. Before that moment I thought that a miscarriage was just something that a lot of women went through and it wasn't that big of a deal. Oh, how wrong I was! I loved that baby from the moment I knew of it and losing it, even at only seven weeks, was truly heartbreaking. Anyway, I had already told Fuss of his upcoming new sibling, so when that sibling was no more I had to break the news to him as well. In my angst, I sat my little son down and told him that we were no longer having a baby. He looked at me with his huge brown eyes, furrowing his brow in deep concern, tipped his head to the side, and in his most pleading voice said, "Please! I promise I will be a good big brother! Please, Mommy!" If I thought my heartbreak was complete before those words, I was wrong. I wanted to give him anything, anything at all, to ease his disappointment and my pain. So when I told him that I was sorry, but there was nothing I could do, and he replied with, "Can I have a puppy then?" What was I to do? I hesitated, repeated to myself that I had committed to never have a dog living in my home, and then told him we would call my sister to see if by chance she would be breeding her dog anytime soon. I actually told him that if she was I would let him have one of the puppies. I figured there was no chance that would happen, after all she had only bred her dog like twice before. I called her and told her of my conversation with Fuss. Being able to completely understand my pain, she happily announced to me that she had bred her dog just last week and that if it worked she would give Fuss one of the puppies rather than selling it. Oh goodie (ugh)!! We waited, anticipated, and panicked. Okay, mostly I panicked. D, not loving little dogs, assured me that this was my promise and I would have to deal with it. Needless to say, the puppies were born and we brought one home six weeks later. He named her Tilley. I don't know how he came up with the name, but it fits her. She was born on Fuss' fourth birthday. I'm not sure if it is a sign that they belong together since they share a birthday, but regardless it is obvious they love each other. I just spent the last several minutes watching Fuss lie on the kitchen floor while his 4-1/2-pound Yorkie Poo climbed all over him, licked him, and had him giggling nonstop. The moment was truly precious, but I still am not in love with her. I can't help it. She poops on my kitchen floor, even after she has been out to potty. She licks my toes! Why do dogs lick my toes?! That is probably the one thing that really turns me away from animals, the licking! She has to be taken outside several times a day. I have to keep a baby gate up to block off my kitchen because I can't stand the thought of an animal running around on my carpet and doing whatever else she may decide to do while exploring. I refuse to allow her on any furniture lest they smell like dog. The thought of laying down on a couch that a dog has been crawling all over is so not relaxing to me. Seriously, I don't love animals!

It is hard for me to admit, though, that the benefit of these animals outweighs my distaste for them. I also have to admit that I would probably miss them if we were to no longer have them. I guess that protecting my home and bring pure joy to my child are reasons enough to tolerate them...maybe even like them a little, but I will never admit to loving them!

Where does the time go...

TWO YEARS!! Seriously, what is wrong with me?! I don't even know where to begin!

Fuss is definitely the joy and the bane of my existence. It is amazing you can the love the person that drives you insane so unconditionally. He is the most hilarious irritant in my life! At 4 years old, he thinks he knows everything. He is completely OCD and I now spend my days making sure that I do everything differently than I normally would just so that he can get the idea that there is more than one way to do things. Oh the tears that I cause with these tactics, but I am trying to convince myself that it is better he cry tears now than he become the crazy old guy that no one wants disrupt. He threw a fit, full blown defiance against me, the other day because I put milk in his cup, then put the milk away, then got out the Nesquik mix, when I usually just grab the mix from the pantry at the same time I grab the milk. It makes sense to do it that way considering my pantry is next to the fridge, but I didn't, so he wouldn't drink it. For three hours he whined to me that he was thirsty. For three hours I handed him his glass of milk. He refused to drink it because it "wasn't made right." I refused to allow him to have anything else because he got his stubbornness from me and I wanted to make sure he too was aware of that. This is the current story of my life...who can hold out longer. It's definitely me!

I do have to say, he's not always that way. Sometimes, I am thoroughly amazed at how much he is like me. He's funny, thoughtful, stubborn, lazy, clumsy, and so very, very attention deficit. One minute he has me cracking up, such as today when I handed him his towel after he got out of the tub, and he winked and me and said, "Thanks, Sis." It's the little moments that catch me off guard that get me through the moments that I want to...well, I'm sure you can guess!

I can't help but wonder sometimes how my Fuss might be different, maybe less demanding, if his entire world wouldn't have been turned upside down last year.

Last year...2010...so much has happened, but for me most of it was spent in my bed with my feet elevated on a stack of 10+ pillows. You see, I was born with flatfeet, a trait I inherited from my mother and she from her father. Sadly, Fuss has inherited them too. Anyway, because my feet are similar in structure to my chest...flat...I have had problems with my knees and back. So, I decided it was time to do something about it. In April, I had my left foot operated on. The doctor removed some extra bones, reattached the tendons that used to be attached to the no longer existent bones, put an implant in my foot to hold the bones up correctly, and put three holes in my Achilles tendon to lengthen the short little tendon to its correct length. In July, I found out that the implant had popped out of place and had to have surgery again to fix it. This is an issue that the doctor had only ever seen one time before, when he operated on my mom. By the middle of August I was done with casts, boots, and crutches. I was walking on my own. I was walking on the outside of my left foot, but still on the inside of my right. So, in September I underwent surgery on my right foot, repeating the same procedure. During this time frame (2010) Fuss had turned 3 years old, we were working on potty training, he started preschool, and Olie moved in with us. It went from him and me together always, just us, to Mom in bed, Fuss going away for two hours a day with a bunch of people he didn't know, and having to share his dad with his brother everyday! That's a lot of changes for a kid to have take place in just a few months. Since that time, he has been emotional, clinging, and downright defiant. Sometimes I can't help but to wonder if his OCD behaviors were enhanced by going through so many changes so quickly. He has to hold onto what he knows. He has to keep control of his life in some way. It's really hard to explain this theory to a 4 year old, almost as hard as it is to keep it in mind when I am losing my mind with the insanity of the OCD.

I think I just had a little bit of an epiphany... Now, I am trying to figure out why I haven't blogged. Blogging to me is like being my own psychiatrist. I put it out there. Let you read it. Hope someone out there can relate and then move on... I'm pretty sure I'll be back tomorrow. After all, I have a lot of issues that could use the therapy and my keyboard is way cheaper than a shrink!