Bringing Home Puppy: First Six Weeks

#newpuppy #puppymamaistired #puppy #love #writingaboutit

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It’s been six weeks since we brought our new pup home. Tonto is four months old! I can’t believe how much he’s transformed since PICKUP DAY. The days and weeks have rolled through in a blur. The piled-up laundry is mostly under control, so I’m at a good place to reflect on the new-puppy journey thus far.

 
I lost a lot.

 
Sleep mostly. Yes, I’ve lost lots of sleep. Navigating through the trenches of both crate and POTTY TRAINING contributed to my lack of Zzzzs. Puppies are like small children: no matter what time they go to bed or how many times they’ve been up during the night, they will awaken at the same time each morning.

 
I lost my bed. In the beginning, the first couple of nights, I actually slept on couch cushions pushed next to the crate. I sang to Tonto when the midnight moon peeked through the living room curtain, and again at one and two a.m. Gradually, in nights that passed like shift work, I moved to the couch. A couple of weeks later, to the next room. By the end of the month, after pulling out the baby monitor from storage, I even slept in my own bed. That would prove to be short lived though. Future post: CRATE CONFINEMNT

 
Writing time? Me time? Let’s not even go there. 😦

 

I’ve also lost tangible things. Why? Maybe my mind is mucky and worn-out. I don’t know really. It’s so unlike me. Most notably, I lost my favorite lip gloss, a cheap pair of sunglasses, and something else that I really can’t remember.

 
I lost my breakfast at least twice. From dropping, not the unsettling gastro way. The last time was after a long night spent calming the pup. I’d managed to make the youngest child a decent breakfast the next morning, rushing to get her to school on time. While trying to lock the backdoor, hold the leash, and carry my stuff—including a perfectly made avocado toast that I’d only managed one bite from, I lost it. The toast hit the ground greenside down. Tears sprung to my eyes as I quickly scooped the mess up into a poop bag, knowing that avocados are not allowed for pooches.

 
That was probably one of the lowest moments of the first month. Sleep deprivation can make anyone feel lost. Forgetful. There were a couple more tear-worthy moments. MOMENTS. But, the hours and days and weeks of what I have gained make all the bad moments so worth it.

 

I’m exercising more (even lost a few pounds). Family time has increased beautifully, revolving around the puppy. We’ve met a lot of new dog and human friends, forcing this introverted, more-of-a-cat-person momma out of her shell.

 
I’ve gained and lost focus. Other than checking email on my phone sporadically, I did not open my inbox on the lab top for FOUR weeks! I missed several school volunteer and/or donation requests. When several big boxes from Amazon arrived on my front porch, I realized I’d forgotten to skip the monthly “Subscribe and Save” orders. On the flip side, I’m re-learning how prioritizes when time is short or the puppy is sleeping. I actually made a decent Costco run in forty-five minutes flat, including checkout, while my daughter was nearby at an hour-long, rock-climbing class.

 
The pup has definitely given me a refresher in patience, too. I can only imagine the combined hours I’ve spent walking around the yard in damp socks saying, “potty.” TEETHING pain and the FIRST EMERGENCY VET VISIT have both been enlightening. We’re still in the throes of the former and just recovering from the latter.

 
But the doggedness has paid off. I see glimpses of the rewards yet to come. Perspective is what I’ve gained the most for all I’ve lost. I have a little fur buddy now. A fluffy tag along. And when he looks right into my soul with those deep brown eyes, I know that I am found.

 

 

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Difference Between a Hobby and a Calling

fishsun

For the longest time, my husband has considered my writing a hobby, and often refers to his enjoyment of fishing as a comparison. This infuriates me, because writing, to me, is so much more. I believe it to be my calling. Something I don’t necessarily want to do, but rather its nagging and berating calls me to respond. To act, to write.

Anyway, after considering the matter, I’ve realized that perhaps I was not fully understanding the comparison. Indignation aside, I had quite the epiphany. What if I was only applying my own assumptions/perceptions of what fishing meant to me? I failed to understand what fishing meant to hubby. So, I thought about it . . .

He loves throwing a line into stilled water, watching the undulating ripples, anxiously awaiting that pull from the other end. He calls this time his peace. Mind roaming, relaxed, and embracing nature. So, I get that now. Maybe that was the intended comparison. I was simply hung up on the word “hobby.” Maybe I expected a more elegant lexicon to acknowledge my efforts.

writing

I mean, writing is a very internal process, requiring lots of snapping synapses to flick just right. It is hard, frustrating sometimes, conjuring up new worlds, or characters that actually think and feel and act in all sorts of crazy, human-ish ways. It can be exhausting. Whereas, fishing is an external interaction in the living, tangible environment—outside of self. Yet, in the end, both can provide the same result: a feeling of unawareness to the walls of everyday life that otherwise enclose us.

Sometimes, I think we all get hung up on the precise meaning of words, adding in our own (mis)perceptions too. We don’t stop to realize that not everyone shares the same experiences and interpretations.

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” ~Carl Jung

Know Them as They Grow

To Know Them as They Grow

Wow, what a beautiful message! I think everyone struggles with being present in the moment. But think about how especially vulnerable the moment is when a child’s heart is involved. ❤