I think I may suck. Well, not suck but perhaps slightly failed? Not like a momentous failure that results in harm to anyone or anything, but all the same a failure that makes me feel a tiny bit, well… bad.
Remember those cute adorable Covid puppies we adopted? Yeah those little wiggly things? Who are now huge clumsy balls of fur and energy? I believe I have missed their birthday. And now a days with pupchinos and puppy cupcakes I feel like I had let them down.
Their litter brother’s mom posted her Barkday party pictures. The vet sent each dog a birthday email… albeit two days apart. I may have coincidentally purchased some new bones but there was no party here. No pup cakes. No hats. Nothing.
Am I supposed to have done something? What’s the rule on this? When did dog parties become more than just a Dr Seuss book? Am I failing my canine friends? I suppose I could get really worked up about this. Beat myself up. Blame it on some too tight mask or rampant something. But in truth? I don’t have the energy to do much more than I already am. My want to do list is so long and celebrating doggies birthdays didn’t even get considered for the list. I have to draw the line somewhere.
So official Happy Birthday Reese and Maddox. You two rock. We love your energy. We love your hair tufts. Your snores, you exceptionally loud bone chewing and the sleep train that you make. Please don’t expect a party because this mama is tired and planning anything beyond what to wear to bed tonight is too much.
I grant myself grace. And recognize that not everything needs to be celebrated and not everything can be. And as much as I would love to be a well financed kind Martha Stewardest person, that’s not happening. So I will continue to give puppy showers, allow dogs to sleep in beds with kids, and eventually build them a doggy room. All while keeping in mind that doing my best is good enough, that will keep my sanity.