Happy Belated New Year

Well, hullo. If you haven't guessed, it's been a hell of a new year. Blogging took a back burner as some very important things occurred. Relatively important, anyway.
Monie moved back. 10 minutes from me, into a room with a view. So fun. * Ned and the girls are addicted to ice skating. (They only started yesterday, but even my perpetually freezing 5 year old never asked to leave. For 2 and a half hours. Very Big deal.) * I have realized that mothers make or break your emotional well being, and am hoping to lose weight in the process. Sometimes stress= weight loss. I think it's a pretty even trade.  * I started cloth diapers. * Dan the D-bag got a puppy, aptly named Yeats. Not really aptly, but he's named Yeats. He's a husky/lab mix and has turned my seven year old into Responsiblity and my 5 year old into Anxiety. (I have never seen anyone more aware that a puppy can escape in my life. She literally pushes you out the door to keep them closed, all with a frozen smile on her face. )

I am not a dog person. I used to feed our family dog chocolate so he would have a heart attack. (I was young, okay? And... unstable, in retrospect.) But Yeats is...different. He is actually Cute. And smells like a puppy. And is under the ownership of someone who firmly believes in training dogs (and people), so he is starting school soon. Hopefully a trained dog will change my perspective on dogs in general.  The dogs we had growing up were TERRIBLE. They begged under the table for food, they ate off the stove, they chewed everything in sight, and any time you had friends over you had to yell out the window to "Get away from the door!" If anyone opened our door they would be trampled before they knew what hit them. My mom's response to my complaints? "Oh, lighten up, Joey. You're just not an animal lover. Why don't you pray that you like dogs?" WTF? Seriously, WTF? Are we talking about the same thing here, Mom?
Anyway, Yeats has promise. The girls love him, and even Ned gave him a half nod the other day, and called him "little guy." Between Monie, ice skating with Ned, and Yeats, I think I will be able to ride out this ache called Mother, and have myself a Happy New Year.