Whenever something sad happens, my gut instinct is to sit down and write out my feelings.  I’m not one to internalize.  I need to talk about them.  Go over details.  Sort out all my messy emotions.  I am here to do that today.

After work on Tuesday, as I was driving home, my mom called me to tell me that she and my dad had to put our lab Maui down.

Unless you have a pet it’s really hard to truly understand the pain that comes with losing one.  These furry friends are more than just love embodied in 60 pounds of tail-wag.  They’re members of the family.  Shoulders that have been cried on many times.  Nonspeaking, nonjudgmental listeners.  It doesn’t matter how many times you get back from work, they’ll be excited each and every time you do.

They don’t even care if you have a terrible singing voice.

Which is why losing a pet is so hard.  They’re the embodiment of kindness.  Of everything good in the world.  Of pure, unadulterated love.

We got Maui 12 years ago when I was a senior in high school.  She came as a package deal.  When Kyle, my dad and I finally convinced my mom that we needed a dog, she decided that, heck, we may as well get two.  So we waited eagerly to pick up our Maui and Ashbury from the breeder.

Maui has always had a special corner in my heart.  She was the underdog.  The one that would let our neurotic, little Ashbury have the spotlight.  She was just happy to have a little love and a good belly scratch.

Knowing she’s gone feels like a chapter has closed.  I was 18 when we got her.  I’ve graduated, gotten married and had a baby since then.  Yet it still feels like yesterday I snuggled with that tiny puppy on that first car ride home.

It’s sad, but like many things, time will heal the strength of grief and I’ll be able to remember her sweet, little mug without tearing up.  But for now I’ll let my heart ache in it for awhile and miss my dog.

Love you, Mau-pie.

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We’re 7 months as of last Saturday. And yes, I’m going to be that uber annoying mother that uses the pronoun “we” when referring to my little man.

As in:

We’re finally getting teeth.

We like carrots.

We’re having trouble pooping.

That last one makes me slightly regret the “we” thing now.

Anyway. Here we are.

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Fox turned 6 months about a month ago.  Which means he’s almost 7 months.  Which means I never posted his 6 months photos.  Why?

Because damnit, WordPress!

Awhile back I decided I was going to write a post about something other than my pre-shuz baybee.  I know.  It’s tough for me to do that.  Because seriously.  I want to eat him sometimes because he’s that delicious.

But I digress.

So I wrote up this marvelous little post.  And it was pretty funny.  And you have to believe me about its “funny-ness,” regardless of if it ACTUALLY was funny or not, because this post did not happen.  Because WordPress lost it!

I hit the “publish” button.  Leaned back.  Waited for those comments to roll in.  Then realized it was asking me to sign into my account.

Well, ok.  I’ll sign in.

I did just that.  Then it took me back to my dashboard and my post was lost forever.  I checked my drafts and saw the first sentence typed out.

Then I hulk-stomped my computer out of anger.

I did not do that.

But I wanted to.

Damnit!

So I boycotted WordPress for a month.

WordPress did not know I boycotted them.

But in my smug little heart I felt better.

But I’m back because I just can’t stay away.  I do love you, WordPress, I really do.  But why you gotta do me like that, yo?

So I’m posting Fox’s 6 month photos, one month late.  And in a few days you’ll see his 7 month photo.  And then you’ll hate me because I’ll have gone back to “all baby-mode, all the time.”  Sorry for you non-mommy bloggers out there that just want to read about shoes – a topic that used to actually be of relevance on this blog.  One day, people.  I promise.  When he stops puking over the back of my shoulder and down my pant leg and onto those very same, sexy shoes I used to talk about.

Here’s Fox. 6 months of age.  Totally rocking the faux-hawk with the professional socks.  ‘Cuz that’s my friggin’ cool kid right there…

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O.M.G.

A month has passed since I’ve updated all you lovely people.  I know this because the last blog post was to post Fox’s 4 month pics.  And here I come (a day late and a dollar short) to post his 5 month pics.

You haven’t missed much.  Here’s the Cliff Notes version.

Still no sleeping happening in our house.  In fact, Fox has reverted back to waking every 2 hours, so we’re actually sleeping less.  How’s that math for ya’?

Still nursing and pumping.  And nursing.  And pumping.  And cleaning pump equipment every night.  And pumping more.  And feeling like if I pump one more time I will possibly stab myself in the neck just to end the misery.  Oh. And having the building manager walk in on me while pumping.  That. Was awkward.  Not gonna’ lie…

We’re in the laughter phase, which is too damn adorable for words.  He’s slowly moving into a weird shrieking phase as of late, though, which is the cross between a scream and a dolphin noise.  He even carries on a for a few minutes, which leads me to believe that I might have birthed the very first human baby to ever speak “porpoise.”  Be jealous, ya’ll.

Work has been incredibly busy for me.  I plan parties.  I write flyers.  I go to meeting after meeting after meeting and then leave said meetings to go to another.  Then I go home and bring my work computer.

Oh, and then I do the mountain of dishes.

Woe is me, I know.

But that’s ok.  It just explains why you haven’t seen a post in forever.  But here’s some cute baby pictures for you to nibble on.

5 months with copyThis is the best of the shots as he was full of pickle juice on photo shoot day (as he is most days), although I do believe the term is “spirited.”

DSC00785Rolling with my fox homies, ya’ll.

DSC00790Just all around confused here.  What do you people want with me?!

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And just when you begin to think this child hasn’t learned the art of smiling…

He hits you with the one-two punch:

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DSC00815Have you come to rescue me?

DSC00816Cloth-diapered baby bottoms…turning baby butts into J.Lo booties since 1865.

 

 

 

What, what?  4 months old already?  This can’t be happening.

Someone, quick!  Hand me a newborn!  So I can sniff its furry little head and take naps with it on my chest.

Because my little dude is now strong and likes to throw his head around and give my cheekbone a shiner.  And he rolls around his crib so that at 4 in the morning I find him facing the total opposite direction with his head shoved in the corner.  And he’s pissed about it.  And this little tater tot also likes to grab my hair and talk to his hands and coo at his daddy.  Seriously.  He is growing up so fast now.

So, yeah.  Time to have another one.

Just kidding, Tony.  You can get up off the floor now.

Here’s our little Fox-a-doodle at 4 months.  Partying hard for New Years, of course.

(Don’t worry…we limited him to only ONE glass of Champagne.  We’re not super terrible parents, after all.)

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Last Tuesday Tony and I celebrated our 2 year wedding anniversary (and for those who are keeping count, that’s a total of 13 years together now!).

Instead of a fancy evening out, we gave Fox a bath, ate a terrible Domino’s pizza and watched Men In Black 3 while curled up on the couch.  I fell asleep after the first 30 minutes.  Tony let me sleep.  That is love, people.

Our life is a little different now that we’re a family of three.  You won’t find me in front of the mirror on Saturday nights, trying on my fifth outfit before going out to the bars for the night.  Grocery store trips require much more planning.  Exciting events now include going to see Santa at the community center on the weekend.

You’ll hear baby talk down the halls of our house and we’ll look at each other like we share an inside joke when we see Fox make the “poop face.”  We’re pathetic.

People say that having a child is the true test of a relationship and I can see the reasoning.  Babies are no joke.  They are tough.  They cry.  They can go into hateful beast mode when they are tired.  While there are many wonderful moments, you can’t negate that there are times you want to throw up your hands when you’re changing 3 layers of clothes at 2 in the morning because of a poop blowout.

While I was pregnant, I often wondered how Tony would be as a father.  I never doubted that he would love our son, but I had a hard time picturing how fatherhood would look on him.

Over the last 3 months I have fallen more deeply in love with my husband than ever.  Because I couldn’t have asked for a better father to our child.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve listened over the baby monitor as he coos to Fox.  I’ll hear them talking to each other and smile.  Fox lights up when Tony’s in the room.

Right after I gave birth, I remember looking at our new son while the doctor held him up, and then immediately I looked at Tony’s face.  There are no words that could describe what I saw, but I’ll never forget the look of pride.  The moment he held him, the bond was instant.

And even now, 3 months later, he has an unfathomable amount of patience for even the fussiest days.  He rocks at diaper changes.  And he talks about his son like he’s the light of his life.  And there is absolutely no question that he is.

While our relationship is defined by much more than our child – we have a friendship that still has us talking in bed until 1 in the morning on work nights – it’s hard not to see your husband in a different light once there’s a wee babe in the mix.

And it’s a wonderful light.

Happy Anniversary, Tony.  You still rock my world.

What the what?

We’re 3 months old already?

That be cray.