Just Call Me Mommy And Other Surprises

Mom, Dad, sorry to give you a heart attack there. I am not pregnant. But, even though I am a late bloomer (all around), I have not avoided motherhood.

It all hit me on Valentine’s Day. Husband took me to one of our favorite restaurants, Fleurie. It has a long history for us. Just under 10 years ago, Husband took me there on our first date. This Valentine’s Day date had us sitting at the same table. It was quite romantic. And, as soon as I sat down the first thing out of my mouth was, I hope Callum is going to be okay with us being gone at this hour. He’s not used to this. It’s probably messing with his routine.” 

In case you missed the introduction of Callum, now 4 months old, here he is.

Husband, not skipping a beat responded, he’ll be fine. This is why we are having an early dinner (5:30 seating). So, we can get back to him.

Yes, we were talking about our child our dog over dinner. Isn’t this what parents do? As soon as we were done, we raced home (Husband will not admit to this racing, but secretly he was wondering how he was, too.) Another thing parents do?

Also, our conversations of late have looked quite like the following. I come home, after leaving Husband with Puppy. Puppy is in his crate looking forlorn. I race over and see he is sitting on a soggy towel with kibble strewn everywhere.

I accuse: How long has been sitting in his dirty diaper pee in his crate?

Husband retorts: I checked his diaper took him out 3 times and he didn’t want to go. I didn’t see that he peed. He cries whines now when he wants to just get picked up go out and just play.

Under my breath I say: Typical. Can’t you tell the difference between I have a dirty diaper cry “I have to pee” whine and I’m scared pick me up cry “I want to play” whine?

I then reach in and cuddle him while shaking kibble off the dirty towel and fleece bedding and put them in the washer, all the while holding him in one arm while he licks my face and makes my clothes smell like pee. It’s amazing what I can do with one arm now – dishes, laundry, typing at work, while holding Callum in the other. Did I mention the pee? I am unfazed.

Let’s also talk about the fact I’d forgo buying new shoes to pay for his Royal Cuteness. I was in PetSmart the other day and didn’t blink an eyelash when I found a about a dozen few new toys to buy. The fact this dog has now cost me more than my first semester of college hasn’t deterred me from adding more to the pile. Because, you know, he doesn’t have enough toys now.

Yes, he really has surpassed the price of my first car, first college semester (at a state school, not Harvard or something), and probably my first set of Kate Spade shoes – combined. The recent oral surgery to remove baby canine teeth that were poking into his soft palette, put him over the edge from merely being a little expensive to true financial bondage. (This dog better never die. I’ve got a lot invested here.) But, I’d sell my car to keep him in treats.

Of course, when its play time, all he wants is Daddy. Appparently Daddy is more fun playing tug of war and tossing him around scrambling his little brains and potentially hurting him. He never does, but I have visions of him losing a tooth – at least one of the ones he has left until his grown up teeth move in. (Yes, I’ve been saving his baby teeth). Daddy also lets him help build fires in the fireplace and other fun things.

Daddy is cool. All mommy does is feed him, brush him, take him out at 3 effing o’clock in the morning to pee (but only on nights when mommy has to get up at 6 a.m. for Very Important Meetings) and look for poop to eat, and buy him more toys, and take him to the vet every.single.week. and basically worship his cute ass.

You’re going to hurt him, I yell, as Daddy does yet another cool, fun, rough-housing thing with him.

He’s fine.

Stop! Give me my baby.

See?  I’m a mommy. EEEEEEEK.