Last night,
I did the late night dog duty for the first time in
(Wait. Love? How long have we had Lola? Yeah, we got her in March. 2 years and 8 months? OK, thanks!)
2 years and 8 months.
It’s usually the husband’s job,
but hey, I figured I owed him one.
Anyway, as I was trudging sleepily down the stairs,
I heard my husband behind me, coaxing the equally tired puppies to follow me.
“Go with mommy, Zig. Go with mommy, Lols.”
I was waiting for him to tell me to go with mommy, myself, when it struck me that I was mommy.
It may sound weird, but the idea that I am mommy,
the one responsible for my precious babies,
still stops me in my tracks
and takes my breath away.
In the past 2 years and 8 months I have become a mommy to not one,
not two,
but three sweet babies.
Jeez.
No wonder I’m so tired.
But you know what?
I’m also supremely grateful.
And being the leader of this little pack
(well, some of the time)
makes early morning wake-ups,
and mid-day blabbing and crying and barking sessions,
and even late night dog duty
seem pretty darn great.
And, even when it doesn’t feel so great,
at the very least,
it feels right.