Just over a week ago, we got this.

Obviously, we’ve lost our minds.

This little bundle of trouble is Luna. She has been busy chewing on cords, peeing in the house and terrorizing our other dog. We do not have time for this puppy. We can’t afford this puppy. We definitely don’t have the energy for this puppy.

We also know that if you wait for the right time, it will never come. And, we can barely afford bread but that doesn’t stop us from buying it.

There are a lot of reasons why I can justify getting this dog. Mostly, it’s because our daughter is just a few years away from college and our son is almost a teenager and there isn’t anything better than a puppy to create forced family time with your children.

Plus my kids are getting hard to snuggle and they aren’t as soft. And, they don’t have sweet chicken liver breath. If I could have kept my babies little, I would have. Not too small, though. Not so small you can’t take them to movies or go to restaurants. And, definitely not small enough to have to wear bibs all the time. Two words. Re. Flux.

Of course if I had been able to keep my kids small I probably wouldn’t need a puppy so badly. That is likely the REAL reason I said yes to this fluffy ball of fur. I think part of me will always have the desire to care for something less self-sufficient than I am. Deep down I need to be needed.

Or, I just really like chicken liver breath.

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One of the best things about having a 15 year old daughter is the way she keeps my ego in check. She’s very much like her autistic brother in the honesty department and between the two of them, I find myself mostly talking to the dog because at least she wags her tail in my direction.

Here are some recent conversations with my daughter:

“Mom, are you wearing eyeshadow?”

“No, why?”

“Because your eyelids are purple.”

*

“What’s for dinner?”

“Pork and rice.””

“Oh. Is it good rice or is it your rice?”

*

“Mom, your car smells like the elephant house at the zoo.”

*

So, there you have it. I’m tired, I’m a lousy cook and my car needs to be cleaned. I won’t even tell you what she thinks of my new shoes.

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As my 15 year old daughter came out of the bathroom last night, her 11 year old brother was waiting outside the door. When she entered the hallway, he jumped toward her with a loud, “BOO!” and scared the daylights out of her. I laughed. Mostly because she does her fair share of frightening people around here. Paybacks, dear. Paybacks.

I saw everything from where I was in my bedroom so I gave my son a thumbs-up and said, “Good job! You got her, but you’d better be careful because Dad scared me in that exact same spot when I came out of the bathroom one time and I almost pushed him down the stairs.”

He stared at me. “Really?”

I said, “Yes, really. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just a reflex.”

And, the hearing impaired kid who suffered with belchy acid reflux for years said, “Ohhhh, I get it! So you burped and it almost knocked him down the stairs!”

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Last week my son got upset by something he had seen on television. He was sitting with both of us, completely supervised, but it was a movie scene which was a little too violent for his special needs brain to wrap itself around. Thanks a lot, Gollum.

My husband kept playing the stereotypical man card saying things like, “You’re fine! Go to bed.” I, on the other hand, hugged my boy, wiped his tears, and explained why we thought he’d be able to handle watching it (even though *cough* I knew he wouldn’t) and then we discussed, at length, the difference between traditional animation and computer animation.

At the end of the night, he put his 50 lb. body on my lap and said, “Dad says I got upset because I have too much of you in me, but I’m glad I do because you care.” I told him that he has plenty of his father in him and that Dad does care, but doesn’t know how to show it. Then I called a therapist for my husband. Not really, but I thought about it.

A couple of days later, my son and I were driving when we saw a stray dog. I stopped my car to help, but someone came out of a nearby apartment and took over the rescue operation. As we drove away, my son piped up from the back seat, “I’m kind of glad we didn’t have to help that dog.”

“Why, buddy?”

He replied, “Well, I can say this because it’s just you and me, right? I thought it was kind of ugly because it was one of those dogs whose tail stands up in the air and you can see its butthole.”

I laughed, “You sound like your dad!”

Excitedly, he said, “I do? I guess I do have him in me after all!”

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