The Cous Strikes Again

You know the saying that you need a vacation after your vacation?  I get it now. While our Disney trip was amazing, it was exhausting.  At the end of it all, I just wanted to sleep in, head to the airport, pop a xanax, and wake up at home in my bed, where I could chill out for a few days before reemerging to reality.  But alas, it didn't exactly happen like that. 

The return trip itself was somewhat of a disaster.  After refusing to use the airplane toilet (because of  "the loud"), Braden preferred to soil himself, and announce it to the rest of the plane.  Loudly.  Once we landed, in a rush to get him off of said plane, I picked him up and soiled my own shirt in urine.  This is on top of my orange juice soiled jeans, thanks to Braden spilling his juice all over me mid-flight.  

When we got home, all I wanted to do was purge myself of urine and citrus and lay in bed and catch up on Real Housewives episodes.  But alas, there was laundry to do and kids to feed.  And on top of that, we had a party to plan.  Casey's birthday was that very day, and his party was planned for Saturday, at our house.

[Before continuing on, I must write this note to myself: NEVER AGAIN HAVE A PARTY AT YOUR HOUSE!  Thank you.]

Since I was so focused on planning our vacation, Casey's birthday party planning had gone to the wayside a bit.  I don't generally do high maintenance parties, but even the basics were up in the air the day before the party.  What to serve?  What to play?  Who did I invite again? 

Family descended upon us on Friday.  Of course it's wonderful to see everyone, but it is also overwhelming and exhausting and hard to party plan and clean with everyone here.  So needless to say, by Saturday I was stressed and tired and just wanted things to go smoothly.

The Forgotten One

I write all the time about Braden.  About Casey.  About my husband and work and vacations and my various identity crises.

It dawned on me yesterday that I haven't written at all about a certain family member and housemate. 

This is Cous Cous.  She also goes by Cous, "The Moose," Moostifer, and Ga ga. 

She is a Cavapoo (a mix between a King Charles Cavalier and a poodle).  She is 4 1/2.  She is about 25 pounds.  She is a daddy's girl.  She is OBNOXIOUS.  And as much as I hate to say it, she is at many times forgotten.

It wasn't always the case.

Back in December of 2006, we were newlyweds living in New York.  I was working at Skadden in those days, and I was miserable.  We made the decision to leave our jobs and move to DC, and we thought it would be a perfect time to get a dog.  We'd have more space, an easier lifestyle, and I'd have four weeks off from work to potty train the little thing.  We perused the internet for hypo-allergenic breeds (husband claims he is allergic) and knew Cous was "the one" from the second we saw her picture.  She flew into JFK Airport with her breeder the day before we moved to DC.  I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her.  My husband, on the other hand, vomited that day when she had her first accident.  (I told you he had a problem with his stomach when he is undergoing a life change!)