from here
About a week ago, I was sitting on the couch eating my breakfast and trying to watch the news. My two boys were doing some sort of game that involved sliding down the stairs head first, cackling hysterically at the bottom because your pajama pants are half off, running a loop around the downstairs, and then repeat. Again, and again, and again. There was A LOT of energy and A LOT of noise.
Not to be left out of the bedlam, my hunting crazed Vizsla, Ella, had spied an interloper out in the yard. Some mangy squirrel had the audacity to climb up and perch himself in one of our trees and Ella was not going to stand for something like that. Not in her yard. In order to alert me to the small, fluffy tailed threat outside, she was batting the kitchen door with her foot and running back and forth from the door to me, whining the entire time.
Tucker, who appears to not have a real hunting bone in his body, didn't care one bit about the squirrel but being that he is 11 months old, he was not going to remain calm in the midst of his 4 legged buddy's frenetic energy so he was racing back and forth with Ella and trying to bite her on the neck at the same time.
Sitting there on the couch trying to read the newscasters lips, because I had given up actually hearing anything at this point, it occurred to me that in a few months, you can take this morning melee and add two screaming infants and a healthy dose of sleep deprivation into the mix. What a riot THAT is going to be.
Which had me wondering if registering for a straitjacket and a bucket of Valium might be more important than things like burp clothes and bottles. Goodbye sanity, I will miss you.
