Baby

Brian and I really are on the same page in so many ways. Our relationship is successful because we want the same things on our life’s trajectory. We both hate going out, we both like snacking and we both prefer communicating via email than the phone. We’ve maybe spoken 50 sentences to each other over the phone in our entire relationship. Most of that involved questions about groceries. More significantly, however,  neither of us wanted to have children.

We are both in our 40’s but pretty much have the emotional maturity of a couple of 15 year olds, and would resent having to give over all of our time and significant portions of our income to something small, wriggly, demanding and relentlessly loud. They are squeely, rash covered feces machines and there are no guarantees that your baby isn’t going to grow up to be a skateboard riding, Emo, bad postured douche bag.  Our commitment to not raising a family is strong.

This is why I find myself absolutely gob-smacked that I have a baby. I’m not even slightly maternal, my friends will vouch for me on this.  I’m not even sure how it happened, although you can all assume that it happened in the usual way of these things.

I didn’t think I was going to have a baby and then suddenly there I am. It’s funny how you can go along and not even know what is about to happen to you:

Yes. We have a new baby. His name is Sam and he’s a black Labrador Retriever. You’ll be reading a lot about him in the coming months if you’re here with any regularity. Oh my God, did you think we’d had a human baby? Gross. I could never ever handle  human baby. So much work and pressure and responsibility. And you can’t just stick them in their crate for 4 hours if you have to go out to the store or whatever. Well, my mom did, but she had a doctor’s note that it was ok. In retrospect, it was for the best, really.

Anyway.

Gracie is seriously pissed.

So far Sam is a great little puppy.

He gets the puppy crazies a couple times a day, which involves him running in circles in whatever room he is in and then running face first into walls, tables, what-have-you. He hardly notices - I swear he’s made of rubber or something. He doesn’t sleep through the night yet, so Brian and I are getting up at 2 and then at 5 or so to let him do his stuff. It’s a pain, but house training Sam is my priority. 

I am the world’s best poop cheerleader.

   Sam is, unlike our other pets, normal. He plays with toys.

He is friendly to people and other dogs.

He poops in one place, unlike Gracie.

However, I no longer get anything done in a day as I spend all of my time refereeing between Sam and Gracie, cleaning up accidents, keeping him from chewing shoes, furniture, the cat, drywall, my ankles. It’s a full time job, dammit.

Gracie is having none of it. The cat is intrigued, but cautious. Sam is just happy and hungry and loves everybody and everything and I’d be lying if I told you he crapped rainbows, because he really, really does not. But he’s pretty awesome.

I hope I don’t ruin the new dog. Brian is in charge of training because I am the exact opposite of a dog whisperer. I try to reason with creatures that will eat things covered in ants. 

Wish me luck.