Dog Life

I am a dog person. You know those types of people. They let their dogs in the house. They talk to them as if they understand. They cuddle and kiss. That's me.

My first dog ever was Bingo. My mom waited until I was five to go to the pound. Since then, my family has always had dogs. My dad was even a K9 instructor for the Border Patrol so we had one of those super expensive, humongous German Shepards.

Anyways, while living in Sacramento, Rafal and I adopted Gunner. A pitt bull pointer mix. I am a firm believer of going to your local shelter and saving an animal's life but in all honesty you never know what you're going to get when you bring home a sheltered animal. That was the case with Gunsy. Gunner belongs to no one. He is his own best friend. He isn't loyal to me even though I treated him better than Rafal at times. But so sweet and if he likes you enough, he will cuddle (my favorite). When Ava was able to get around, I noticed Gunner hightailing it. And the ultimate heartbreak, he growled at her. My mom has him now permanently. He runs around like the free bird he is and still loves on me when I see him.

But! My life was just not hectic enough that I asked Rafal if we could get a puppy this time. A few days later, Penelope, a pitt/lab mix, joined out clan. Sweet yet rambunctious. Ava can climb, poke, prod and whatever else, Penny loves it. She stays close when we are outside. And seems to associate herself with our family! But how I found myself potty training a toddler and a puppy at the same time? I'll never know.

The San Diego Situation

If you follow this blog but live outside San Diego county, let me fill you in on what I do here. Or as I like to say, the San Diego situation. This is when the city comes alive for me. I don't like going to fancy restaurants, or to sporting events (seriously, I hate sports) and you definetly won't find me in the club.

We've been here instead:

Polish picnics
The bay
Viejas
The zoo (very San Diegan)
A different bay
Adopting animals
Another bay

Trauma, Life at Walmart

Yesterday, Ava cried at Walmart and so did I.

Here is what happened.

We were shopping on a normal Friday afternoon. Ava is a really good child. She sits in the cart like a wunderkind.  So I wasn't aware that she shoved her foot into the slot next to the alotted one. You know, the tiny, narrow slot that you can barley stick your finger in.

Needless to say, her foot was not coming out and it was getting red and puffy. I ran back into the store and was greeted with 'aww poor baby'. Let me tell you, I don't do well with people who aren't proactive and that's what I got with the Walmart employees. They tried prying her foot out themselves to which I asked them not to touch her as her foot was really swollen at this point.

A older tattooed biker gentleman noticed, actually everyone in the garden center noticed, and ran to get a crow bar and wrangled her foot loose. Thank you to my unlikely hero without whom my daughter probably would still be stuck in the cart at Walmart.

The following story has happened on more than one occasion.

Ava can tell me when she's hungry. It's the only sign language she knows. She puts her little fingers to her mouth and taps her lips. 

"oh, you are hungry my girl? what would you like o eat"

"i com" 

Ice cream. 

I think someone is missing her trips to the ice cream shop in Germany. I'll have to blog about the best italian ice cream in the world soon. 

And I promise Ava hasn't been eating I com for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

When The Wife Is Away...

The husband is sure to make a mess of the house.

I thought a lot about reuniting with my husband. In my head, was so romantic and very Nicholas Sparks-y. I had missed him so much. Everything was fine until we arrived to our humble abode  

Needless to say, Rafal tried his best to tidy up but my nerves got the best of me. When I opened my cupboard to get a drink of water and saw 30 new glasses shoved in there and my beautiful goblets hiding in he corner, I just cried.  It's a strange overwhelming feeling leaving your family, traveling for so long, being exhausted and just plain emotionally drained. Anything would have set me off at that point.

My Rafal may not be great at housekeeping and my bathtub can attest to that but that man knows his way around a saw. Ava's room is fitted with a brand new window and old one closed up. Thanks, husband! Soon baby girl will be sleeping in her own room.

Traveling

Today I am going to talk about flying with children. Let me give you the 'tricks and tips'.

There are none. 

Seriously.

Before we left, I read all kinds of blogs talking about how they ran off to NY and they did this and this so, heeding their advice, I packed a backpack with new books and toys Ava hadn't seen before. They worked for 5 minutes. If your child thinks she is the next Gabrielle Douglas (nice Olympic reference, eh) like mine does, then she is up and down the aisles 30 times over. Since Ava is under 2 years old, I wasn't required to buy her a ticket but that also means she doesn't have a seat. Can you imagine holding a wiggly worm on your lap for a 10 hour flight? Thankfully, a flight attendant noticed our plight and gave us those nice bulk head seats in front. 3 of them. Ava was able to stretch out and sleep for a few hours.

If you plan on taking a obscenely long flight like I did, bring the following: a portable tv and your mom.