This heat (104+degrees) in Dallas is going to be the death of me. Yesterday I got up at 5am and went to the first workout for this season's White Rock Half Marathon class. It was already 82 by the time we started running at 5:30am. I tried to be peppy & encouraging as I led my group on the run but in my head I was thinking, "KILL ME NOW IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO SWEAT THIS MUCH AFTER 3 MINUTES OF EASY RUNNING!"
By end of day, I just wanted a good night's rest as our house labored to stay under 79 degrees indoors with the A/C blaring. I took just one lil' Tylenol PM hoping to sleep all night without any disturbances. Other people in our home didn't get this memo. At 3:30am I could faintly make out Davy crying through the haze of my medication-induced coma. Usually I'm fine with letting her cry it out but I also heard a dull thumping - suddenly my body went into Emergency Momma Mode and I flew out of bed fearing that she had gotten out of her crib.
On the way to my bedroom door, stumbling drunkenly in total darkness mind you, I sensed Fatty anxiously bumping against the door frame. Mystery thumping sound identified. I opened the door and he shot out of the bedroom like a bat outta hell. In my stupor I vaguely thought, "uh oh."
I've been weaning Davy for the past few weeks and it's been hard for us both: hard for me because it signifies the end of a sweet time in life. Hard for Davy because Woe to the one who comes between Davy and her food!! Woe, I say! The weeping and gnashing of teeth coming from the crib broke me so I nursed her in the middle of the night. Something I haven't done in many months.
Once she was down I was able to get my brain to tell my body, "left foot, right foot" back to my bedroom. But a nagging image of Fatty flying down the hall, toenails clickety clacking, was haunting me. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, turned on the light and saw what I had feared: Diarrhea Slaughterhouse 2009 all over the tiled floor.
The funny thing is that I barely flinched. It's like after almost of year of being a mom, liquid piles of poop on the floor don't even phase me. I just cleaned it all up, didn't even bother finding Fatty, who I'm sure had taken refuge in some dark hiding place, and shuffled back to my bed.
What a glamorous life I do lead.
Showing posts with label fatty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatty. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
You Know You're Codependent When...
...You find yourself wondering if your dog is upset with you.
Fatty has been limping on his right leg since Sunday. We think it's because he played so hard outdoors with a new toy. When he lays down for awhile, his hip gets sore so he limps when he's standing back up. I'm sure he's not feeling quite up to par.
However, I keep thinking, "is he mad at me for not taking him on the walk yesterday? Did I do something that hurt his feelings?"
Note to self: call your therapist.
Fatty has been limping on his right leg since Sunday. We think it's because he played so hard outdoors with a new toy. When he lays down for awhile, his hip gets sore so he limps when he's standing back up. I'm sure he's not feeling quite up to par.
However, I keep thinking, "is he mad at me for not taking him on the walk yesterday? Did I do something that hurt his feelings?"
Note to self: call your therapist.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Happy Birthday, Lump!
I said before that I fell in love with the Pembroke Welsh Corgi breed when I lived with the Orenders. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a huge Anglophile, that I love all things British: be it Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, tea and scones, the Royal Family, Westminster Abby, Oxford, C.S. Lewis, Jane Austen...I could go on but you're already bored, aren't you? So I had envisioned a corgi named Fatty Lumpkin long before he came along.
He was the runt of his litter and when we bought him his ears had been taped to keep them up because his brother and sister kept biting them. His parents were both show champions but the breeder told us, "he's a little long in the leg to show." Who knew that this little guy would be such a wonderful investment?
The hours of fun we have had with Fatty have probably lengthened our lives. I can say with total honesty that he makes us laugh every day. He is smart as a whip (bustin' out my grandfather vernacular) and understands numerous phrases, not to mention is hyperintuitive to body language. We love messing with his head by asking him, "Fatty, wanna go for a...bath?" To see his expression go from glee to despair cracks us up. Yes, we're cruel.
We nicknamed him Nana when D. came along. His interest in her can sometimes drive me insane as he must be right up against me anytime she's feeding or being changed. This is the nature of a corgi - they are herders and were also bred to lay at your feet during those cold English winters.
About a year ago after a night of gorging ourselves at Capital Grill, we brought leftover steak home for Fatty. My favorite part is how his growling (he has never shown us any kind of mean spirit) is completely cracking Russ up.
Happy Birthday, buddy. We'll be sure to keep our fingers away from any birthday treats.
He was the runt of his litter and when we bought him his ears had been taped to keep them up because his brother and sister kept biting them. His parents were both show champions but the breeder told us, "he's a little long in the leg to show." Who knew that this little guy would be such a wonderful investment?
The hours of fun we have had with Fatty have probably lengthened our lives. I can say with total honesty that he makes us laugh every day. He is smart as a whip (bustin' out my grandfather vernacular) and understands numerous phrases, not to mention is hyperintuitive to body language. We love messing with his head by asking him, "Fatty, wanna go for a...bath?" To see his expression go from glee to despair cracks us up. Yes, we're cruel.
We nicknamed him Nana when D. came along. His interest in her can sometimes drive me insane as he must be right up against me anytime she's feeding or being changed. This is the nature of a corgi - they are herders and were also bred to lay at your feet during those cold English winters.
About a year ago after a night of gorging ourselves at Capital Grill, we brought leftover steak home for Fatty. My favorite part is how his growling (he has never shown us any kind of mean spirit) is completely cracking Russ up.
Happy Birthday, buddy. We'll be sure to keep our fingers away from any birthday treats.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
For Future Reference
Tomorrow is Fatty's 2 year birthday. I'll write more about him then. Just wanted to let you know so you could, you know, like leave him a happy birthday voice mail or get him a Starbucks card or just, maybe, a birthday lick on the cheek.
Next week I'll begin to also post some pre-Halloween photos of what it was like growing up under the creativity of Sweet Kay...who I adore...but who I fear has influenced me when it comes to costumes for my kiddos.
Until then, here is what it would look like if Fatty had been raised by Sweet Kay come All Souls Eve:
p.s.: that is not my house or my dog...there is a Doc Marten's sandal in the corner of that photo and you should know that I would NEVER have one of those in my home...ungodly beast of a shoe.
Next week I'll begin to also post some pre-Halloween photos of what it was like growing up under the creativity of Sweet Kay...who I adore...but who I fear has influenced me when it comes to costumes for my kiddos.
Until then, here is what it would look like if Fatty had been raised by Sweet Kay come All Souls Eve:
p.s.: that is not my house or my dog...there is a Doc Marten's sandal in the corner of that photo and you should know that I would NEVER have one of those in my home...ungodly beast of a shoe.