January 5, 2010
When it comes to mothering, I've never been a DON'T WAKE THE BABY!!! kind of girl. If someone decides to ring the doorbell, or call the house phone, or let me know in a ridiculously annoyed tone that I should have ironed his work shirts during nap time, so be it. If the yearly urge to vacuum the stairs comes to me once the baby's down for the night, I whip out the Hoover with no hesitation.
I'll freely admit that I'm not afraid of waking my kids. Probably because they're pretty good sleepers, and when they're awake I'm a moderately neglectful mom. Trust me, when your kid spends 90% of her waking hours in a high chair with a mountain of Goldfish on the tray it kind of eases things up. Try it. Really.
But I'll tell you, as hard as I try, I just can't relax around this dog:
I'll let you guess which one.
If he's not eating my potato peeler, he's pooping out a baby sock. If he's not stuck between the couch and the wall, he's doing laps around the house with a cereal box stuck on his head. He eats tampons. He shreds diapers. He eats the shoes right off Maggie's feet.
Right now, I swear on all things powerful, he just trotted through the dining room holding my casserole dish in his mouth.
So let me tell you, I completely relish the moments when Coach is sleeping. Seriously, if you wake him up from his nap, I'll kill you.