In Which I Reveal That I Am Not Dead (Yet).

I am not dead!

Yet.

But there was a period of time (read: a couple of months) where I thought the world may, in fact, be conspiring to kill me.

It started the SECOND I landed in Maui. In fact, I hadn't even gotten off the plane when I decided to check my voicemail. It was Doggy Daycare. I've thought long and hard about what to include about this in this blog, and here is my attempt to not fly completely off the handle in retelling it to you:

We're not going to Doggy Daycare anymore.

There were a series of very SERIOUS lapses in communication on their part, which led to me continuing to bring Caleb to daycare when it was clearly (to them, but not to me) NO LONGER his happy place. Had I had been properly informed of the fear behaviors he was displaying around a certain dog, I would never have brought him back. Period. But these lapses occurred and the end result was a phone call in the Maui airport, a half-assed apology for not mentioning Caleb's fear around this dog before ("Oooooh....Um....we thought we had?"), a request that he be picked up from daycare, and a subsequent hysterical phone call to my mother to GETCALEBRIGHTNOWOHMYGODHE'SNEVERGOINGTOTHATDAYCAREAGAIN.

No bloodshed, no bite marks, nothing. Only EVERY SINGLE INDICATOR that Caleb was incredibly uncomfortable around this dog during MULTIPLE (I found out later) encounters and NOBODY TOLD ME until Caleb pounced on this dog and pinned him in an unfriendly 'I don't want to play with you, you're freaking me' out kind of way and then someone thought maybe they should call me to come get him. While I'm in Maui. Still in the airport. But an ocean away. From my furry child.

Attempt to not fly completely off the handle in retelling it to you: FAIL. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it.

Once my Mom had Caleb and assured me that he would be fine with her, I was able to have an amazing time. An amazing time scattered with random flare ups of fury (Whenever I saw a dog on the beach; When on the phone with the Daycare trying to get my money refunded; When I woke up in the morning and realized I didn't have a dog to walk because my dog was in California after I had unknowingly traumatized him by taking him to daycare; the list goes on and on.)

We made it back from Maui without me having a heart attack or a brain aneurysm from the hysterics, and I was just beginning to think the world was returning to normal, when I got a call from my little brother.

He was going to get married!

In a week.

Please do not misunderstand, this was AWESOME news. I love my new sister-in-law! It was just so....sudden. I figured they would get married eventually, I just thought I would get more than a weeks notice. Insert a weeks worth wedding excitement here. Oh, and another request for time off work.

But we're not done with the weddings, folks. My Father then announced his intention to marry a woman he's known less than a year, that I have met once. You may draw your own conclusions from that one. Less than a month after my Brother got married we all hopped on a plane and flew to Texas for another wedding. At least I got more than a weeks notice this time. Oh, but there is one little side note to this as well: The day after I got back from Texas I was scheduled to move from my place to Boyfriend's place 30 miles away. The move was scheduled long before my Father's announcement, so in order to do both without losing my moving date, my trip to Texas went a little something like this: Fly to TX / Get off Plane / Go to sleep / Get up and go to wedding / Go to sleep / Fly to CA / MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!

Stressful? To say the least. Oh, have I mentioned I hate moving? Hate, hate, HATE moving. I proclaimed to Boyfriend that we might as well get married now because I AM NEVER MOVING AGAIN. I was feeling a bit melodramatic, I admit.

But it is finally over. We're moved in, Caleb has adjusted nicely. He particularly enjoys running up and down the stairs. I'm putting up baby gates to curb that behavior this weekend. I have enough doggy mommy guilt from the daycare trauma, if Caleb breaks something running up and down the stairs, I may finally curl up and die.

Next Post: In Which I Stop Whining About Life's Insanities And Tell You All About Nose Work!