the shit always hits the fan.
i speak the truth. trust me. it happened here. and here. it’s like they have a freakish sixth sense that when i’m alone and at my most vulnerable…hmm, mommy, now’s a good time for us to get sick! huzzah! and they don’t even take any sort of pity on me even though i let them have extra treats and let them stay up extra late to watch Jumanji. i mean, come on! i’m an extra special sort of pushover when i’m single-mommying it.
last night i get a call from the vet. Indy’s red blood cells are low. she’s not OVERLY concerned, and she could totally read the complete and total shitfuck panic in my voice and reassured me that she just wanted to take some more blood and worst-case scenario he’d have to take a steroid.
(not cancer, ali)
at 10pm, Emily bounced into my room wanting to read lines from Mamma Mia. She is determined to get a primo part in this production…
i took Indy out at about 11:30 because i wanted him to sleep through the night.
having a puppy is a little like having a newborn again, i mean, without the sore nipples and the delicious baby smell (seriously, y’all…dogs can be STINKY. especially considered that Indy’s toothpaste is poultry flavored). they cry sometimes, little pathetic newborn cries. you have to feed them, bathe them, take care of their poop. you have to babyproof your house. people tell you that your puppy isn’t dressed warmly enough (i am still undecided about the puppy sweater…) and give you a lot of unsolicited advice. and you try to push off their bedtime so they sleep in…(hello, tell me i’m not the only one who kept her baby up until midnight to get a good solid 12-6 night’s sleep?)
so, i went to sleep at around 12. then at 2, josh came in claiming he was having a nightmare
(now before you get all judge-y mcjudgerson on me…it’s NOT from watching Jumanji. dude has seen the movie at least 87 times. it doesn’t scare him. well, i mean, not any more than watching a prepubescent Kirsten Dunst prance around in overalls and braids scares me.)
(maybe he was having nightmares about Mamma Mia…)
and then Isabella came in wheezing at 4. she has athsma, so this happens from time to time. and by time to time, i mean every single time her daddy is out of town.
and then she came back at around 6:30, demanding to watch Diego and have some chocolate milk. this, of course, woke up Indy, who i then took out in the -30 degree weather for his morning poop. success.
and then, 20 minutes before i had to leave for the vet, Indy decided to barf on my cream-colored carpet. fancy.
so, here i sit.
worried about my poor puppy
thinking some retail therapy is in order. and NOT to get Indiana a sweater…
or at the very least, a tube of cookie dough needs to GET IN MA BELLY!! (fuck you, Jillian Michaels! i will eat it if i want to…your 30-day shred doesn’t include being a single mom with 3, better make that 4, children, does it? i don’t think so!)
where’s my dad and his Starbucks morning delivery service when i need him???