I know I am in kind of a rut with the whole "all I write about is this dog" thing. But it's cold here in St. Louis and we can't go outside, or at least I refuse to. So, with that comes being inside. Inside a small house with a dog that does both really cute and funny things and now, tonight, really annoying and naughty things.
So, I go into the bedroom to change and find the pair of pants that I wore yesterday on the bed in the same place I left them. They were taken off the bed for sleepy-time, and placed back on the bed after waking up. Walking the extra 1ft to the closet and hanging them up was not an option both last night and this morning. And yes, I paid for that selfish decision. This was realized when I lifted the pants up to hang them up and found this:
If I was like the mother of all my friends growing up, I would refuse to believe that my dog, sweet Caroline, had anything to do with this. I mean the evidence is right there, but how could my dog ever do such a thing? I didn't raise her this way... It had to be the dog next door... You know, some crap like that. You know what I am talking about. Those mothers who get the phone call about their daughter who did you-know-what with you-know-who and yet fails to believe that their barely passing/sober daughter could ever do such a thing. Ya. If I ever learned anything from my mom it's this: your child is guilty most of the time, no question. Am I right? I'm stronger for it. Stronger and bitter. Maybe not bitter... but this side of the teenage years I am sure thankful she took the approach she did. I was a hellion as is, so I didn't need the whole "benefit of the doubt" bit when it came to school and involvings of friends from school.
That was a tangent. I was going somewhere. Caroline. Yes, so I happened upon one of my most favorite pants torn, ripped with her ferocious fangs. Poor girl was already sitting on the bed when said pants were found, so she saw the utter dispair-turned-wrath of mommy-dearest poured out. I contained best I could and redirected my wrath to the mature *silent treatment*. All the mothers, well anyone who is mature, out there are now thinking that I am well on my way ready for motherhood. Conditional love, wrath, silent treatments...
I do beg to differ as I think there are few things going for me with the whole motherhood area that is far down the road.
1. God. I could go on and on, but we all know how important the relationship with Him is and how that relationship stems and formulates other aspects of our lives. I don't think that last sentence made sense, but it sounded intelligent.
2. My husband. Was I blessed when he was brought into my life! What a redeeming factor in my life... and if our kids could just have every ounce of him then we'd be set. Also, if he could be the one raising these kids... score!
I have now created this blog over the course of 3 hours. It's length is so unnecessary but I am too tired to figure out which parts should be cut. And we can all be honest... it's rich stuff packed into these posts. Right.