We made it, sort of

BJ returned from his five days out of town late Sunday evening. I was happy, very, very happy, to see he come home.

I love both of my dogs, and I wouldn't give either one of them up for anything, but this past week was a learning experience for me and Zoe. BJ does the bulk of Zoe's care taking. I've spent most of her six months with us just playing, petting, and coddling her. It's been nice. But while BJ was gone, I actually had to take care of this very high maintenance dog. I am exhausted.

During the course of the five days without BJ, Zoe decided that she would no longer ever step foot in her kennel, which left me in a pickle when it was time to go to work. She was untrustworthy in the yard, untrustworthy in the house, and generally left me nervous. She ate an entire stick of butter, wrapper and all, and developed a bladder infection that caused her to urinated every 2 to 5 minutes. This also led to trips outside in the middle of the night and severe sleep deprivation. Oh, and she tore up one of her toys leaving copious amounts of stuffing all over me house. It made the vacuum groan, literally.

But somewhere along the way, something strange happened: We bonded. Between the bouts of frustration and anger, I realized how cute her stubborn and idiotic personality is, even if it is totally different from Sienna or Gus. And she slowly stopped causing quite so much mischief and started following me everywhere and laying on my feet whenever I was still. She is bony and heavy, but it was still kind of cute. After six months of BJ being the only thing standing between Zoe and utter chaos, I finally joined the barrier wall. I'm starting to think she is going to end up a good dog after all.

As for Gus, he set on the sidelines watching the shenanigans. I think he felt sorry for me. When she finally did calm down, he joined her on my feet. I don't know how they both fit, but they do.

Assumptions

Tonight, two of BJ's closest friends, Josh and Jeff, will be arriving at our house to pick BJ up. Early tomorrow, they will all leave for Michigan where they will be groomsment in Dave's wedding.

Josh, Jeff, and Dave were groomsmen in our wedding, and having not seen his closest friends in entirely too long, BJ is really looking forward to this road trip. It is sure to be full of adventure, laughter, and lots of beef jerky.

Although I am really excited for BJ, and I hope he has a wonderful week, I have learned to not casually mention it to people. Although people who know BJ don't think twice about it, if I tell anyone who doesn't know BJ that my husband is about to leave on a road trip with a bunch of buddies to go be groomsmen in a wedding, images of The Hangover immediately come to their mind, and suddenly I become the poor neglected wife left in Kentucky while my husband heads off to what is sure to be one giant, riotous bachelor party full of alcohol and strippers. It doesn't matter what I say, the expectation is that any wedding must be precluded with this bazaar tradition.

When did this become part of the process of two people committing their lives to one another? When did women's self-esteem become so low that they think they have to tolerate their fiance getting lap dances before he can fully commit to marriage?

For the record, BJ's bachelor party (which included these same guys who were his groomsmen) consisted of board games in Josh and Allie's apartment. And I happen to trust that BJ and his friends will not be participating in any antics this weekend that involve scantily clad women. How do I know this? Well, I don't know all the wives well, but I do know that Allie and I are scary, so that helps. But mainly, I know that they are good men, and that is what really matters.

On a side note, BJ is going to be gone for 5 days! If you don't remember how well I did with his absense the last time he left for five day, here is a reminder. I generally become a basket case. And this year I have obscene amounts of pregnancy hormones coursing through me that make me even crazier than my Pierce genes had already made me. This is officially dangerous.

Stretching the Limit

Yesterday, I wore a pair of my non-maternity jeans to work. For the past 6 to 8 weeks, I've been able to wear my non-maternity pants by looping a pony-tail holder through the buttonhole and around the button. This is an invaluable trick for pregnant ladies.

However, I fear the end is coming for this little trick. For the first time this pregnancy, I felt horribly uncomfortable in my non-maternity pants. This led to that practice I have so perfected over many years of being neurotic: a panic attack. I came home moaning to BJ, "I didn't think I could get any bigger than I was, but I'm bigger. I'm definitely bigger!" To which BJ replied, "You aren't getting fat. You are just getting more pregnant." I know. His logic is stunning. I need some stunning logic in my life.

But I have one other trick besides BJ's constant doses of logic to help me through my many I'm-getting-fat panic attacks. It's called ultrasound photos. This kid I'm carrying, he is cute. I mean really, really cute. And I know it is cheesy to say, but I'm enamored with him. While my neurotic nature can lead to illogical panic attacks, it can also lead to illogical love, and that is always a good thing.

More from Memorial Day

I know I'm running a little bit late, but here are some more pictures from my family's visit last weekend.

These first two pictures are of our picnic in the park. Anytime my parents are up here on days I have to work, they make picnics and take me out. It is wonderful.



This is a picture of Zoe doing what Zoe spent the entire weekend doing: Begging my mother for one more treat. My mom always comes prepared with a big stash of treats. Obviously, our dogs love her.


This is Zoe saying, "All I want or need in life is one more bacon strip. I promise to be a good girl if I can have just one more."

For the record, she wasn't a good girl before, during, or after acquiring that bacon strip. It's a Zoe thing.

This picture is me and Dad comparing bellies. I win all the belly contest these days.


Then these are just some nice family photos we took right before they left. I wasn't crying...yet.



Miraculously, I managed to talk Bro into letting me get a decent picture of him. This doesn't happen often, so I'm posting it on my blog just to prove that I do in fact have a nice-looking older brother with a super cool red beard. Though pictures are scarce, I really haven't been lying all of these years.


And lastly, we tried for a Gensic family portrait. These use to go pretty smoothly with Gus and Sienna, but now that Zoe is in the mix, things are a little more chaotic.

Oh well.