A Quarter of a Century

There hasn’t been a whole lot of free time to blog in my schedule these days. The new puppy has completely ransacked my former routine (not to mention one rug and a few socks) and requires attention almost every minute that I’m home. I knew he was going to be a lot of work, but this has been a whirlwind, to say the least. Clayton has been so busy with his new clinical rotation that he hasn’t been able to help out very much. This means the 3am potty break is all up to me, along with the majority of the other 47 potty breaks and 12 carpet clean-ups throughout the day. I’m also having to schedule an hour during work to run home and let him out. This has probably been the most stressful part of all. One hour is barely enough time to take care of everything I have to do for him and me and then make it back to work on time. If there was any possible way I could downgrade to part time for the next several weeks, I would do it without hesitation. I am so scared of screwing something up in these crucial first weeks and ending up with a psycho dog that scares people away from hanging out with us.

Here’s a more detailed summary of the last three weeks with Bryson Noa:
Rugs destroyed: 1
Pants peed on: 2 (Luckily they were on the floor, not on my person.)
Pieces of poop mistakenly picked up with bare hand when I thought said hand was safely behind plastic bag: 2
Numer of times hands have been washed: 372
Number of times I’ve stolen some lotion from the physical therapy rooms at work to cover dry skin from insane hand washing: 5
Number of days I arrived late to work during the first week of parenthood: 5
Number of days I arrived late to work since the first week: 5
Number of times I cried on the way back to work after my hour break: 2
Number of times I cried at work because I wasn’t able to get home within Bryson’s scheduled lunch time and was afraid I was throwing off his fragile routine: 1
Number of times I arrived home to find Bryson outside of his crate standing in a puddle of his own pee: 2
Number of toys Bryson has gotten bored with: 7
Number of “toys” Bryson has not gotten bored with: 10 (my fingers)
Number of times I have shaken his skin folds and told him he was the cutest puppy ever and all the other puppies were jealous of him: 35
Number of times I’ve melted when he wakes up and yawns with that high-pitched squeaking noise: 63
Number of times I’ve stared at him asleep and forced Clayton to come stare at him with me: 3
Number of times Clayton has asked me if we were about to be hit by a car, would I save him or Bryson: 1
Number of times I hesitated to answer: 1

I really do love him so so much.

On top of the puppy madness, Clayton’s birthday is today! He is a whopping 25 years old (but can still pass for 18 when he is clean shaven). We are celebrating tonight at P.F. Chang’s with a possible surprise after-party with a few friends and a chocolate peanut butter cake. I hope he is able to relax, if only for a few hours. Last night I brought home a pre-birthday surprise of York Peppermint Patties and a 6-pack of Newcastle. Sorry boys, I’m taken.

I really do love him so so so much. And just for his birthday, of course I would save him from that car. But he would owe me three more puppies in return.