Bring On The Bitches!

I'm ready...I think. Honestly I think one bitch in this house is enough right now but I know in the near future I will be taking a back seat to some new bitches that will take over my life. NO...I'm not pregnant! Jeez, if I were do you think I would be referring to my offspring as bitches? Yeah, you're right, I probably would. These are actual bitches, and I feel that they will be here very soon:

Ever since our dog died a couple of years ago the pitter patter of little paws has been on my husband's mind. At the time my youngest was only a few months old and my oldest had just turned two. I was quite content with the pitter patter mind blowing racket that my kids created for me on a daily basis. Of course I missed her, she was in many ways like my first baby. She may have also served as a type of birth control because she proved that I was definitely not ready to take care of a baby. We got her when she was 6 weeks old. I've often said that God makes kids cute for a reason and I believe the same goes for puppies. She was a royal pain in the ass. She whined all night, chewed everything she could get her paws on, and crapped all over the house (usually minutes after I had just taken her outside). But who could resist this face?

We discussed getting another dog but I was reluctant. I mean, can you blame me? I was already dealing with a little "critter" that was destroying everything I owned, whining all night, and occasionally crapping on the floor. That's right, I said on the floor. There is nothing worse than a two year that figures out how to remove his diaper and is not potty trained yet. I really didn't need anything additional to care for. Plus how was I going to train a dog when I couldn't be sure whether it was the one who was using my home as a toilet or if it was my child.

Finally I agreed that we could get a dog when my youngest turned five. Not sure why I chose that milestone but in hindsight I probably should have said ten because he turned five in June. I'm also convinced that I was severely sleep deprived, or possibly drugged, when I agreed that we could get two dogs...at the same time. What the hell was I thinking? Sure! I know one puppy is a lot of work, but why don't we throw in another one and double the work load... I don't do anything all day anyway. Ugh. Plus, no matter what anyone in this house has to say about how much they are going to help take care of the puppies, I know it's a bunch of bull. It may start off that way, but ultimately these two fur balls will be my responsibility. I wondered if my husband may have forgotten my drug induced agreement but it turns out that he didn't. Since June he has been all over the Internet looking for two chocolate lab puppies.

I have to admit that deep down I may want this just as much as he does. As the kids have gotten older their constant pleas for help have been replaced with "It's OK mom, I can do it myself". I find myself missing being needed. I never would have believed that it was possible, but it's true. I miss holding my little babies while they sleep in my arms and kissing there chubby cheeks. I miss tiny little hands reaching for mine while we take a walk. Now my attempts for affection are embarrassing for them. When I try to kiss and hug them they squirm and whine "Maaaa! Stop it!"

We haven't told the kids about our pending new additions to the family yet. It's almost as if they know though because my youngest has now turned into a "pet" for my oldest. He spends most of his days pretending that he is a cat. By the way, I hate cats. I'm surprised that female cats are not called bitches because they can be pretty moody. Anyhoo, he crawls around on all fours meowing and purring. The other day I found him lapping up a bowl of milk off the floor that my oldest had prepared for him. Thankfully, they haven't decided to set up a litter box or anything for him because I'm convinced that he would would use it.

So bring on the puppy breath, the wet little puppy noses, and the pee stained carpets. I'm in need of being needed...I think.