Final Countdown

Here we are, in my last week of maternity leave. I don't know what to say, other than it seemed to go way too fast, and it only seems that recently that BabyA woke up and became more interactive. Once she started the whole social smiling bit, she just seemed to take off. I don't want to let someone else have those moments. She's been an absolute bear lately at night, and darn it, I want some of the good stuff too!

She still is refusing to go to bed before 10PM, which isn't that big of a deal now, but once I go back, I need that hour or so after bedtime to get things done like make up bottles for daycare for the next day, wash my pumping bottles, pump once before I go to bed, etc. She has been getting up once a night for the past week or so (the through the nights are history I think, at least for a while) at 4:30. Which wouldn't be bad, but since she doesn't go back down until 5:00-5:30, it poses a problem. By my calculations, I need to be up at 5:45 to allow me to shower and get ready before Son gets up, and still have time to get one more feed into BabyA before we leave and begin the 30 minute commute/daycare dropoff and still have me get to work at a somewhat decent time. I also need to feed and let out one of our dogs since Husband is refusing to do so due to some issues that we are having with Black Dog. Oh, and I get to do it all alone.

My mother has been insisting that I put my foot down and make a point to communicate to Husband that I need help. I don't see the point. Husband really ends up being more of a pain in the ass than anything. First, he doesn't know what to put on Son for clothes, then he gets into a power struggle with a two year old over putting on a diaper (for God's sake, just dig through and find the friggin' Elmo one already!), and in the end, just makes me inherently crabby. Oh, and then he has to mess with me when all I want to do is dry my hair and, gasp!, make it look better than if I had just rolled out of bed.

The whole dog issue has added even more onto my plate. So, now I'm not only worried about the work situation (see my previous post and after talking to my admin last week, I'm going to be walking into an absolute shitstorm), worried about getting two kids and myself out the door in a somewhat presentable state, and now, I have to part with my dog. Husband gave me the wonderful "him or me" ultimatum over the weekend. It broke me heart, and has managed to break through the Prozac-induced absence of crying. Black Dog is high needs-he needs to be walked, needs to be with his people, just needs. If he doesn't get his exercise, he starts barking, peeing in the kennel, you get the picture. I'm lucky if I can just get through the day sometimes, and while I would love to have the time to do the walks, I just don't. Husband hasn't made it any easier since he won't do anything to help. Yellow Dog is a different creature. When she barks, its for a reason-potty, something outside, not for attention. She's just as high energy, but it's manageable.

I know that this is the right thing for everyone. Black Dog needs a home that can give him all of the things that he needs, along with a fenced in yard (he tends to wander off or chase squirrels, or anything else that moves, but will bark incessantly if put out on a tie out). Our house has become too small for two large dogs and two small kids. If he finds another home, we can dismantle the kennel, and get a room back. Yellow Dog can be trusted to have the run of the house, and isn't the accomplished garbage diver that Black Dog is. She's not as good with kids in that she just forgets how big she is or where her tail is, but she has a great personality, and with some work, it can be fine. I've missed having her around, but I wish that her pass from the kennel didn't have to mean that Black Dog would have to leave.

The whole thing is really bothering me, since Husband made me get rid of one of our cats a couple of years ago as well. Same sort of thing-very sweet personality, but just some problem behaviors. While I can intellectualize all of this and tuck it all away behind a curtain of reason, it still hurts. Hurts because I feel as though I failed; both him and myself. Hurts because I really do love this creature, and will miss him. He's one of the few things in my life that doesn't make direct demands, and wants to please ME, not the other way around. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it, and managed to finally cry myself to sleep. No one that I know will take him, so in the end, if I can't place him soon, he'll have to go to the humane society, or if they have room, one of the no-kill rescue groups. I don't want to do this. Then Husband asked me why I was so quiet yesterday. Duh. I just really don't want to deal with him right now. It just seems that I always have to lose what I love and what loves me. I'll forgive him eventually, but I can't do that right now, and I know that he'll never understand that.