My husband loves me.
He let me get another dog.
Since Booda died in July, Max has been a pretty depressed and lonely dog, and I have been eager to get him a new canine companion. But it definitely had to be the right companion. Not just any dog would do. So every day I scanned the websites of all the local shelters looking for a dog that might fit the bill.
Last Friday the director of Perfect Paws Pet Rescue (a local no-kill rescue that fosters pets in people’s homes, and the same rescue where we found Max) arranged for me to meet four of her dogs. So Emerson, Max, and I packed up and went to meet the potential adoptees.
And this is what we came up with:
Adorably stupid looking, 12 pound, 4 month old, not quite potty trained, with ears that could be used for hang gliding – Little No Name Dog.
And the chaos ensues.
But, he and Max play BEAUTIFULLY together. They are running circles around the backyard as we speak.
Happy happy tails.
P.S. Name submissions are welcome and appreciated.
So I am officially operating in “Zombie Mode.”
Today Emerson turns 7 months old, and while she is doing a virtual cornucopia of adorable 7 month old baby-ish things (rolling over, sitting up, smiling & laughing, making raspberries), the one thing that she is not doing very well is sleeping.
For the past two weeks or so, we have been on the every exciting roller coaster ride known as TEETHING. And it has reeked ungodly satanic havoc on any semblance of a sleep schedule that may have previously existed. I do have to say, that despite her discomfort, Emerson has maintained a pretty amazingly cheery demeanor through this whole ordeal.
But the sleeping. OH MY GOD. The sleeping.
The thing about sleep is that, amazingly, the body does acclimate.
Emerson is 7 months old today, and that means, that as a breast feeding mother, it has been seven months since I have gotten more than 2-4 hours of sleep in a row. LET ME REPEAT MYSELF.
I HAVE NOT SLEPT FOR MORE THAN FOUR CONSECUTIVE HOURS…..IN SEVEN MONTHS.
I know…I should be dead. But somehow, woven into the miraculous evolution of motherhood, I, and millions of other women like me……somehow adapt. We evolve. We SURVIVE.
I remember when my body adjusted the first time. The first two to three weeks of “baby boot camp” were the hardest, and then somewhere in there…..the switch flipped. I just got used to it. Somehow, I learned to function on sleep increments of 3-4 hours, and if I may say so, generally speaking, I do so amazingly well…..with grace, with poise….look at me, juggling all my balls, while still seeming relatively fresh…….look at me, I actually shower at least every other day, and manage to find time to change my underwear EVERY SINGLE DAY………..
AND THEN…….THE TEETHING!
And as those 3-4 hour sleep increments began to dwindle to 1-3 hours…… Oh, you can handle it for the first couple of nights – piece of cake! But as one or two nights becomes three or four…..and then eight……and then twelve……the tenuous threads of sanity begin to fray…..the perilously balanced Jenga game that is the health and wellness of my psyche began to wobble….ever so slightly.
The Zombie emerged.
There is nothing quite like sleep deprivation. It expresses itself in a myriad of happy ways. There are, of course, the physical symptoms: general physical fatigue, blurred vision, shortened attention span, hearing that tunes in and out – the list goes on. But that is nothing to the psychological & emotional ramifications: the irritability, the overreactiveness, the spontaneous bouts of crying – the inevitable loss of sanity, which eventually evolves into a state of numbness.
However, each day brings with it new hope! The teething can’t last forever! And even if it does, the first seven month of parenthood have proved to me that we are nothing, if not adaptable. Forever a biologist in my heart, I believe in evolution. Give it a few more days, and my body might find a way to survive and thrive on this new sleep schedule. Anything is possible!
