This weekend is Freedom Weekend Aloft, and late yesterday afternoon we spent some time in the front yard staring up at the sky, and watching the hot air balloons float by.

The balloons overhead were a welcome respite from the teething inferno that has become our household. Poor Beckett is sick with a cold, and is cutting 4 teeth. He has been crying for 3 days straight, and refuses to be anywhere but on top of us or in our arms. It’s been a very long week, and we actually tried to sell Beckett to a group of waitresses at Longhorn steak house yesterday afternoon, but they all said they were “done slap full of babies”, and they didn’t need another mouth to feed.

Today we’re going to hide him in a wicker balloon basket with a note pinned to his shirt that reads: Hello. My name is Beckett. I am 14 months old. Please return me to Glenwood Ave once I have enough teeth to eat a taco, and not one day sooner.

Have fun, Beckett. We’ll wave and blow kisses as you float by.

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Roxie Jet Black Berry came home with us last night, and has spent the morning exploring her new home, and getting to know her new pack. She has been really playful and calm, and we thinkg she’s going to be a wonderful dog! She is a tiny little thing. And she did really well on her first night away from her litter. She only cried for a few minutes in the middle of the night when I put her back in her crate after a trip to to the backyard. She woke up this morning happy, and ready to tumble around.

We love her already!

Click the thumbnails to see her up close!

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This week I’ve found myself nesting again. My mother was gracious enough to take Beckett for most of the day on Sunday so that I could pull a whirling dervish on the entire house. It was therapeutic, and downright necessary. Sometimes I’m amazed at how little you can get done with a 13 month running around. Beckett is pulling objects out of drawers, baskets, trashcans, and the refridgerator as fast as we can shovel them back in. He thinks it’s such a fun game. I’m not quite as amused.

I’m nesting because, on Thursday, we’re picking up the puppy. What we’re about to undertake is a little daunting, in my opinion. I’ve never had a puppy before. But I have had a human poop machine, and all I have to say is this: Thank God babies wear diapers. If Beckett had been crapping on the floor and leaving puddles in corners for the last year, I think I would have lost my mind by now. Or at least lost my cookies a few times. I’m afraid of housetraining a puppy. Don’t even ask me how I feel about potty training Beckett!

I’ve been doing my due diligence as a prospective puppy owner with unlimited Internet access, and I have to tell you, this puppy business sounds like WAY HARD. Did you know that puppies cry during the middle of the night, and that some books actually recommend setting an alarm clock for every three hours to get up and take your new puppy out? Every three hours! We survived that stage with Beckett, and it was not pretty. I am horrible on sleep deprivation. I become a completely different person. A much more apathetic person. Can’t the puppy wear diapers, too?

And what about the chewing? Apparently, based on the Internet articles, our sofa will be destroyed. Puppy, please don’t destroy our sofa. It’s not ours. It’s Cathy’s. And puppy, you don’t want to mess with Cathy. She’ll cut you.

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