Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Monday, July 29, 2019

Wistful but lucky... Depression and two kiddos...

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I really want to get back to writing. I miss having a creative outlet.

Just wanted to get some feelings down now, but Baby X has consistently woken from his nap whenever I have opened up Blogger.

Here goes nothing.

With Baby X over a year now, it's kind of crazy. I know I have love in my heart for more kids, but realistically I don't think I could handle more. My depression and anxiety just can't seem to be managed well. Exercise helps with the "big feelings" as I call them around here, but I've been sidelined with the worst back injury of my life since mid June and it's crushing my spirit (and my disc, too).

I was driving back from errands today, Kiddo D at a camp and Baby X briefly calm in his seat. It was a respite from his shrieking and my negotiating in the stores and the parking garage. My sunglasses were cloudy and smudged with tiny fingerprints. Baby X loves to pull off my shades and then forcefully "put them back on for Mommy" which entails jamming the arms into my mouth/nose/eyes and holding them there. It's cute. It's silly. It makes every pair bend and smudged.

I smiled. And I haven't been doing that much these days.

He doesn't sleep well. It's been getting better, but I'm still exhausted most mornings... hell, most days, all day. My coffee intake has skyrocketed in the most literal sense. I go through coffee beans like a newborn and diapers. Or a toddler with toilet paper. Or a kindergartner with liquid soap or toothpaste.

I thought that at this stage in the game I would have had a better handle on two kids. That I'd be less bitchy and have found more of a rhythm, as the saying goes. Mind you, miracles don't happen, so I'll ALWAYS be part bitch, but... ya know, less grumpy and quick to go off on Kiddo D.

Not sure if I have mentioned here before, but antidepressants seem to make me incredibly sick. I have multiple chronic conditions, including one that holds medication sensitivity as a symptom. I've done enough therapy to teach classes and write hardcover books. I mean, the classes would suck and the books wouldn't sell, but I COULD probably do it. There is essentially a holding pattern of sticking through it all, but no real improvement in sight. Not here, not in the horizon, not in the far-distant future. And that's sad. I used to think apathy was so lame... giving up. But there are certain realizations I have made now that just ARE. I'm certain my mood and anxiety will ebb and flow. There will be better days and weeks and months, and the not-so-great ones. I wish there were a magic pill that would help it... reduce it... perk me up. But I have tried almost all of them. NO JOKE. My file is a thick one, spanning decades and provinces. I am a health insurance company's worst nightmare.

But the physical side effects are intolerable. Not even just the first few weeks. It seems to get worse the longer I am on the medication, and then coming off of it it just HORRIFIC. Brain zaps and nausea and wishing death would make it stop because it's so physically uncomfortable and debilitating.

I tried a bunch of meds when Kiddo D was a baby and toddler. I was always feeling sick. It was no way to live.

Now, I have two kids to take care of, so feeling physically ill every day, even if my mood is slightly elevated, is not worth that trade off. Exercise is my best tool, but it's a tough balance between overdoing it and feeling more exhausted, and moving enough to put a dent in the stress hormones and anxiety.

I hope my kids don't look back and think I was a fool for not medicating. That my prissiness and short temper aren't a life sentence for both of them for therapy. I keep trying to be more patient and less RAGE-FACE with Kiddo D. I don't know that I am succeeding.

I always have brain fog, I can't focus, I'm SO SO SO sensitive to noise. It makes the agitation go to unbearable levels. I want to give Kiddo D my attention, but Baby X is NEEEEEEDY and curious and gets into EVERYTHING. I can't look away. So I hope, in my heart, that as he gets less motivated to kill himself at every given opportunity, that some semblance of giving both kids equal attention will come to be.

He's awake now. I should go.

But I do want to say... I am grateful. I am grateful I have these two wonderful, healthy, intense children. I am grateful I get to spend my time with them. I wish I could be a better version of myself. It's so sad to be in therapy and uncover all the layers and layers of shit you were subjected to as a child. For the therapist to say that you're doing incredibly well considering what you're dealing with. But to still fall short in so many ways.

I love my family with all of my cracked, duct-taped, dusty heart. I enjoy the moments when I can make them laugh. So so so deeply. I want to enjoy these days as much as I can. I want to be there for them emotionally - support them POSITIVELY, ask about their day, about their feelings, be able to focus and HEAR what they are saying, and often what they aren't saying, too. Sincerely. I don't want them to act in a false way to make me happy. I need to embrace the fact that they are their own little people. It's so hard. And we model what we know from when we were little. I have so much unlearning and so much learning to do...

I hope I figure it out for their sake... and soon.


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Thursday, May 26, 2016

The End of Nursing My Toddler?

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A few nights ago, we'd had an okay day, but I was so grumpy. All the posts I've failed to finish on here have been about my health trials and tribulations since last June. Injury, illness, injury, illness, surgery gone wrong, more illness, then another illness. I was feeling the worst of last said illness.

This last illness is mastitis. Pretty sure it was from my new venture of trying to learn to run properly (as opposed to the clusterf*ck that was me trundling through a half-marathon in September without adequate training...) with my new sports bras. Those puppies squished the girls so much, my milk ducts on ole righty decided to reply with anger and pain. For those unaware, mastitis is basically a brutal boob infection.

The chemical content can change in breast milk during mastitis and the baby/toddler may not like the taste of the milk. While this was surely happening with Baby D, I also felt pretty sure she was approaching self-weaning from my milk. I decided 2 years ago that I would let her decide when to stop nursing, but I felt this sad dread that those moments of our lives would be over soon.

But I digress.

On antibiotic #2 for mastitis, I was so so bloody tired and run down.
Weak, with no patience.
That night I realized all I had done was criticize and basically be a bitch to Baby D all day. I crawled into her bed while she slept so beautifully... so peacefully. I looked at her angelic face and her tiny nostrils flaring, ever so gently, and realized that she doesn't deserve the wrath of my health woes. She didn't ask me to start running, or to lose weight or do anything other than be her mommy. But yet she gets the brunt of my bad mood and short temper when I am once again down and out.

I cried. Like a real little bitch. True sobbing, but the kind a mom does so no one can hear. Like holding a tornado inside of your body. I shook her pillow unintentionally. She roused slightly as I stroked her face and hair. I planted a kiss on her tiny forehead and thought about how she will master this world, that no one can or should keep her down (most of all, ME), that she is going to do incredible things in her lifetime, and I thought of how pure and wonderful and HAPPY she is. And that this would be the last night I put my 2 year old to bed. Maybe the last time my little toddler would nurse had already happened.

I felt sad and scared of the world, yet full of love.

As if sensing my upset, do you know what my fiery little snowflake did, as if on cue?
She dug her finger so far into her nostril that I'm certain she found gold.

It was what I needed. A reality check. A slap of BE HERE NOW, WOMAN!
And I giggled. Watching her pick her nose in her sleep was just utterly perfect.

It doesn't need to be all about my pre-disposition-to-all-things-depressed-and-extremely-anxious.

It was so cute and fitting.

She rallied up there for a while, then her hand fell back down on the pillow beside my face. Gawd I love her. I left her room with a smile.

I realized that she's going to keep close to me and keep me on my toes, no matter what comes our way. Not much I can do on the health front... I'm trying my best. I just have to remember to keep trying. And remember that she'll be 3, and her place in this world matters far less to her right now than boogers.

And it's kind of wonderful that way.


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Friday, July 3, 2015

So... How Does One Resign From Parenting? #Fail

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Two days ago was not a happy day. Nothing dramatically awful happened, no one was hurt or anything.

I just realized that I am not cut out to be a patient mother and that I really suck at the "terrible twos" with a child. For those of you who call this stage the "terrific twos" I have only two words for you: Fuck you.

There have been many mornings where I wake up and immediately begin the internal judging/berating/belittling inner voice to myself about how I should be doing so much more for my daughter. Or that I can't believe I'm late again for something. Or that I've plopped her in front of Paw Patrol or Toopy & Binoo or the Price is Right (if I am feeling especially selfish that morning and don't want to listen to that annoying talking rat any longer), in the hopes she will eat her sugar-laden Mini Wheats and put SOME TYPE OF FOOD in her little, running, crazy, fearless, adorable little body today.

But two days ago was just so bad. Nothing particular really happened. I just had little patience, high irritation, and low will to live. I made several depressive revelations in succession, and had no energy to deal with any of it.

A vague run down of where my life is at now:

  • My house always ALWAYS smells vaguely of shit. Occasionally it's my own aroma being shared with the house, since my child is vehemently against me doing anything personal with the door closed. But usually it is a combo of festering poop diapers in her fancy odorless Diaper Genie pail (HA, odorless her ass!), the random droppings of my ancient blind Great Dane, or the random droppings from my child's butt in failed potty training attempts. No candle can burn all of that shit smell away.
  • Dishes. So many fucking dishes. Spanning all the counter tops, and hiding on every other ledge in the house. Dishwasher not quite full enough to run right now with dishwasher safe items? Imma just plop all this highly meltable plastic kid shit in there and a few non-stick pans and fire that baby up!
  • Laundry. Always. Then more laundry. My system includes forgetting clean stuff in the dryer for days, having to redo Hubby's stuff (I ALWAYS look like a bag lady, so what's a few more wrinkles to me?), and putting the clean clothes in a pile on the downstairs couch until inspiration strikes and I fold it. (Side note: possibly another 3-5 days until it is carried upstairs when one of us discovers we are totally out of something, like, say, pants).
  • Insomnia. So tired I can fall asleep almost instantly, but dammit I cannot stay asleep despite all the sleeping medication in the world.
  • No childcare breaks. I am at home with my daughter. I am perpetually battling injury/illness. Pain is exhausting and toddlers give zero fucks about your problems. She never stops. She sprints, she jumps into water, she tests me every 5 seconds, she fights 80% of diaper changes. I am so fucking tired ALWAYS (see above), and have family help for a few hours (often during nap time) maybe twice a month. My family lives provinces away, so when they come, I wanna hang out and visit and not sleep the time away. But I need breaks from my monkey.
  • I am horribly impatient. Toddler games are cute for the first five or ten minutes. Then I don't want to play tea cups that spill all over, or pretend to eat mudpies. I have limited patience, and I feel shitty about it, but it's true. Nature walks are fun! If you're idea of fun includes repeatedly wiping gravel out of your child's mouth, standing still while they "fix" leaves with sticks, and don't mind moving 40 feet in about an hour. It's cute, but let's be honest: it's booooring day after day. Or maybe I'm just an asshole. Probably both.
  • My child subsists on sugar alone, or sugar-laden wheat. I have begged her to finish her chocolate muffin or to at least eat her fries for our Mother's Day meal in the park (spoiler: she ate neither). She won't eat veggies, she rarely eats meat, she feeds mostly off of my desperate offering of every conceivable healthy food option in the house. That seems to satiate her; she has no need for food.

Oh, my Sweet, the world is your jellyfi- I mean... oyster.

I love my little monkey bum. She's so cute, and smart, and charming. I WANT to be a good parent for her, and give her all she needs to thrive. But it's tough not being able to leave and do anything for more than a few rushed hours to get back to relieve someone else. It's tough that she's such a handful that we don't trust many people to watch her, and worry when we leave her. It's tough that hubby and I can rarely do anything together outside of the house. It's tough that I want to keep breastfeeding her, and love the time, but that her latch seems to be getting worse and my boobies are sore all the time. It's sweet that she ALWAYS wants mommy, but tough to always be the one to soothe her despite how hard the Hubs has worked into her good books.

I know the days are long and the years are short. And there are more times when I feel so overjoyed with her. But I think the intense combo of everything above is just burning me out. Suck it up, buttercup. I know.

I just had to get it off my chest.

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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Letter to my then-Feyoncé™, now The New Husband AKA the Former Feyoncé™

17 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
As a start to our wedding ceremony, the wedding officiant asked me and The New Husband AKA the Former Feyoncé™ to secretly write letters to each other, and not share them, and she would read them aloud.

I want everyone to know how I feel about him, so dammit, I'm posting it on the blog.

I need some love and positivity right now, so here it is:


Dearest [Name Redacted to Protect The Innocent], aka “[Redacted Variation on Previously Redacted Name]”, aka “Babe”, aka “My husband-to-be”,

I don’t even know how to start this letter. How can I express the love and appreciation I have for you in words? I simply cannot do it justice with words. I can look into your eyes, and smile, and know that you will know how I am feeling or what I may be thinking by the tilt of my head or the look in my eyes.

I love that understanding, and the connection we have. I love our mutual sense of humour, and ability to laugh at things. I love our “fit”. I love YOU, and I love us.

But how do I tell you how important you are in my life? How very fortunate I feel to have met you, and to have the honour of being the woman you are choosing to spend the rest of your life with?

From the very moment we met, I felt you exuded honesty and sincerity. I was charmed by your laugh and your sense of humour. And you were handsome (YOWSA! AND STILL ARE! Look at you!). And the more I got to know you, the more incredible you became to me. You amaze me every day with your intelligence, kindness, patience, understanding, and determination. Our bond has grown, deepened and strengthened as time has moved on. Each day I love you more.

You have let me see that what I thought, or can think, is a broken, flawed, embarrassment, is actually the woman you love with all your heart, and believe in more often than I believe in myself.

You’ve shown me that I am a lovable partner (unless it’s time to do the dishes or walk the dogs). You give me purpose (in explaining song lyrics), keep me on my toes (always seeking out the cutlery that doesn’t hurt your hands), and we work together with our strange quirks (like needing the car window cleaned, or never turning left into a gas station).

We have traveled together, and I have had opportunities to see things I never would have had the courage to try without you in my life. Like seeing the gorillas in Rwanda. And seeing the huge rhinoceros in front of our vehicle… in that crazy trek we took to the far-reaching African Lion Safari!

[Redacted], you ARE my life. You have given me courage, strength and comfort when I thought there was no strength left. You have cheered me on, and encouraged me to fight for the things that are worth fighting for. We have stood together through the rough waters and the playful waves and the calm stillness. And your support means more than any vows, or words, could say.

You mean everything to me. I can’t truly articulate how much love my heart holds for you. You are brightness, sunshine, warmth, and safety. You are wonderful.

I promise to do my best to be a good wife, and eventually a good mother to our not-yet-conceived children.

I am the luckiest girl in the world to be standing here, with you, the man who holds my heart, who makes me whole, who loves me unconditionally, who works alongside me, who challenges me, who makes me smile, whose hugs can make the world seem kinder, who can turn my mood and my day around. I love you so much, Babe, and I am so happy we are standing here today. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I love you more than any words could ever say.

I hope I keep making you as happy as you make me.


Oh, YES I DID!!!

p.s. To the people who didn't like the centrepieces: Really? Seriously?  I liked 'em, and we made a decent donation to an organization in my home town with the money we saved.

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Thursday, February 3, 2011

To Love A Pet

35 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
No, not like THAT you sick pervs.

I have done a lot of thinking over the last many years about the family pets we have had the honour of adopting/owning. I have had moments of such unexplainable, limitless joy with their adorable personalities and the love that they have brought into my life.

I have experienced months (okay, maybe more than that) of the deepest, saddest sorrow over losing such non-judgemental, loving, perfect little creatures.

I find that their eyes can be so expressive, their companionship unfailing, and their kisses uplifting even on the worst of days.

The adoption of this new puppy brings the question up to me again - is it really possible to love a kitty or puppy or other companion animal to your very core? To feel like you are an unstoppable duo together, and that their love is one of the sweetest, most unconditional and honest kinds of love out there?

My heart is just exploding with happiness when I am sitting between my two doggies, or when the new pup is sleeping on my legs or giving me kisses. I miss my Scooby, and I always will. At the same time, I am so happy to be able to have the companionship of these doggies.

To the pets that have gone:

Marnie - our childhood cat who was tormented by me and my sister, who was de-clawed and missing teeth and could still catch mice:

Marnie was around before I was old enough to walk.

You were a fighter, and one kick-ass kitty. I loved your unique markings and Elvis sideburns. I'm sorry for any of the unkind childhood things I did to you.

Casey - our first puppy was a learning experience and a sweet little thing. I hope you know that you were loved little fur ball. I am sorry for any mistakes we made with you, pup.

Clancy - our German Shepherd doggy who was gifted to us by my dying grandpa. You were a strong boy. We were fairly new to raising a dog, and Mom and Dad did everything they could to keep your cancer at bay. Everything that was done was done out of love. I remember playing fetch with you on your last day. You were a regal, smart dog.

Brandy - Our German Shepherd girl with her very own La-Z-Boy recliner. Even jumping into it once in the moving van when we were loading in our furniture:

Brandy on her La-Z-Boy. Such a sweet girl.
Those stinkin' hip issues would become too painful for you, even with Metacam pain medicine. You were so loved, and you helped train my Scoobers to be the wonderful pup she was. I love you and miss you, girl.

Murphy: The brown tabby who chose Dad, as opposed to us choosing him, when we went to the Brant County SPCA. Shortly after we lost Brandy, and just after I started volunteering there. You reached out with your claw and hooked into his jacket. He fell in love with you on the spot:

A beautiful brown tabby, Murph loved playing all along the basement stairs.
You were so pretty, and so playful. Ahem, I mean handsome. HANDSOME. You used to torment my blind Mr. Grey by hiding in high places he couldn't reach. You left us at only 4 years old when something went very wrong during a routine dental procedure. I know there's a hole in Dad's heart, whether he admits it or not. I miss you little guy.

Your ear hair was adorable. As was the way you would sip from running water in the sink, or try to jump across the toilet seat when the men of the house wouldn't latch the door. Wetness ensued.

Always an amusing kitty, our Murphy.
Love you guy.

Mr. Grey - I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you in the sick room at the shelter. Your eyes were crusted up and you were wheezing, sick with upper respiratory infection. (It's rampant in shelters, even with strict protocol... they always did the best they could with what they had).

My sister read your name card on the bulletin board. Mr. Grey - so simple, so fitting, so YOU:

I loved your wide pink kitty nose, and your unending affection.
I remember having my sister take a photo of you and I together that I photoshopped, in the hopes we could guilt Mom and Dad into adopting you. I missed a weekend of volunteering (the same weekend BF told me he loved me for the first time), to come back and find you had been adopted out. My heart was sad, but I was happy you found a home.

A happy cat, blind and all.
Well, fate stepped in, and you were returned to the shelter for some lame reason. After observation by the shelter staff, I asked/offered to foster you at my house to see how you did. We figured out fairly quickly that you were blind. We also fell for you hard... adopted you, and never looked back.

You were always willing to snuggle, always happy to greet me at the door. You would meow if we had momentarily forgotten that Scooby was outside the back door waiting to be let in. How the hell you knew that, being blind and having the door closed, was beyond me.

You'd let me pick you up like a child, arms wrapped around my chest and back, legs on either side of me.

Giving me one of your special hugs that you only ever gave to ME. :-)

You were an awesome friend and I am so sad that I had to let you go. What started as a claw infection with Clavamox antibiotics quickly turned into you stopping eating within a day... then drinking. Force feeding at the vet, IV, and emergency visits ultimately resulted in an ultrasound and a diagnosis of stomach cancer. It breaks my heart that you couldn't/wouldn't eat at the end and were so tired. I cherish that last night that you slept in bed with us, and the few minutes of purring you shared with me. I'm sorry your ending was so sad and painful. I'll love you forever, little guy, and I miss you.

Scooby - My "Akita/Husky" cross "free-to-good-home" puppy that turned out to be Great Dane or Lab or some kind of awesome hybrid who was my very best friend in the world:

Scooby Doo - such an awesome, sweet and gentle girl.

She got me through high school, was with me for every high and every low until January of 2010. I made a video for you here, Baby Girl. I will always love you and always miss you.

Never underestimate how much companion pets can mean... how much love and joy they can bring into your life. Animal shelters are so full of pets who have so much love to give....

Back to funny next time....


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Sunday, January 16, 2011

For Scooby.

8 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!

(Click the link above if the player does not work on the blog page)

I've enabled comments, but please leave comments only about her or the video.
And if you leave a comment, actually WATCH the video.

Self-promoting comments, comments that clearly don't "get" my message, or comments indicating this was a "funny post" will be deleted.

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Thursday, October 28, 2010

Happy 6 Years

11 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
No, no, not six years of blogging. If I had 40 followers after 6 years I would cry.

Oh, who am I kidding, these days I would cry over spilled non-dairy milk, or a video about a service dog that a friend posted on FB that was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once... that also reminded me of how much I miss my Scooby. Hell, a strong wind in the eye could bring on the waterworks.

But no, this post is a shout out to BF. He's not here with me now, but I wanted to send him all my love over the interwebs and share it with my many strangers new online friends.

I blog about the everyday things in my life, the fails, the happies, the sads, the expletive-rage-filled moments. But at the end of the day, I wouldn't be able to deal with any of it in the poor fashion that I do without his love and support.

Since I need to maintain his dignity respect his privacy, I won't go on too much about his details, but let me say this:

  1. I love Lavalife because without it, I never would have met the man of my dreams (yes, I mean BF).
  2. My heart wants to explode when I can make him do his louder, really-thinks-it-is-funny laugh, and I get to see his smile. (Those of you with weak stomachs or easily tripped gag reflexes may wish to navigate away from this post now...).
  3. Even when he has a crappy day, he's ready to greet me with open arms at the door and a smile. (Well, we already know my days are consistently crappy as of late...)
  4. I never knew I could love like this. I thought I had loved in the past, but BF "gets" me, is honest with me, and still loves me (crazy included at no additional cost). He is no bullshit, and I love it. No games, never ever a douchebag. EVER.
  5. He supports me in sickness and health, with a rational mind and a considerate heart.
  6. He's warm and snuggly at night time. I hate the empty bed when he is gone (unless I call Sven over, his fill in, but that is secret, so shhhhh).
  7. He has the most beautiful blue eyes and I know our children are gunna be puuuurty.
  8. I can't imagine a life without him and would never want it. He means the world to me, and I love him with all my heart.
  9. He is so smart, he knows the volume of a cylinder? sphere? off the top of his head! (That was what sealed the deal, during one of the many times when I was perplexed in college and he rattled off the formula over the phone - no Googling!)
  10. He's a fine piece of ass. (HA! I had to say that just to embarrass him totally. Even though it's true.)

Photographic evidence of my happiness whilst snuggling in his arms. See? I didn't lie there.
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Thursday, September 23, 2010

Schultzy Goes For Surgery

4 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
UPDATE: Sept. 24/10 8:25 pm, Schultz is doing okay! The surgery went well, they were able to cut out all of what they were hoping to, now we await test results to find out if it is something neutral or something bad. He was quite distressed I was told, after coming out of the anesthetic, chewed out his IV, ate his bandage and was probably making a hell of a lot of noise, so BF picked him up fairly soon after surgery.

Schultz is just sleeping, is very out of it, and refuses to drink which worries me a bit, but we'll give him some time. So relieved his is home with us. I couldn't face losing two of my pups in one year.


Another atypical serious post (most are not like this, but this one is important).

So tomorrow morning we take our boy to have surgery on his back end.

Looking a little tipsy in this photo

I had to put down my beloved Scooby Doo in January of this year, and it nearly killed me. I know that sounds absurd - she was a dog, but she had been my best friend and unfailing companion for 13 years.

With Schultz, I feel so bad for all that he's been through, and I just want him to be healthy and happy and know he is loved. Can animals know love? Probably not. They don't even recognize time.

But I'd like to think he know tenderness and compassion - or at least the opposite of abuse, neglect and starvation - in this household.

"Shit... I'm going where tomorrow? For what exactly?"

I wish I could explain it is to make him better.

"Nawww, just playin' Mom, I play you like a fiddle. So easy to get you wound up." *snickers to himself*

It's amazing how much pets can mean and how huge a space they hold in your heart. And then add in my incredible, impressive, hard-to-fathom, exhausting anxiety, and you've got yourself one hell of a worried fur-baby mom who won't be sleeping tonight.

Guarding us against small children and the elderly. Good Boy!
I tease him all the time... joke that he isn't the brightest dog, or that he enjoys the company of his nether regions more than me, or tease about his constant drooling (what, he can't help it, it's a Dane 'design flaw' - those jowls give him no choice and I know it), but in truth he is an incredible guy who has overcome horrendous treatment in his life. I love him with all my heart, and whenever I can make his tail wag, it feels like a small victory to me. For all he's been through, and to see he's still smilin'.

I'll update tomorrow to hopefully (surely, right?) say that all is well, they could remove things, it isn't cancer and that his heart was just fine for his age under anesthetic.

I have to go out of town for my own doctor's appointment after we take him in, so I will be a nervous wreck until we are all home together.

Please think positive thoughts for our boy, and cheer Dr. H. and Dr. R. on in your minds!
Image Credit

We love you, big guy.


Mom & Dad aka BF

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