my life is one of indecision...

...and turmoil.

How many of these posts have something to do with freaking out and growing up?  Any of them?  All of them?

Fabulous.  Here's another.

I am in the midst of serious big-kid stuff.  I took the LSAT in December.  I got my scores back.  I started applying to some law schools.  I have been compulsively checking the mail and email every hour since I sent off those applications (Tyler says it will probably take at least a few weeks, but it can't.  Obviously, these schools need to be made aware of my delicate condition:  a condition of constant stress and panic and a complete lack of any patience).

I am making a decision that will likely shape the whole future course of my life, y'all (threw that in for my Texas friend.  And because it's fun to say).  This is career-choosing.  I am picking the career that I will conceivably be doing for the rest of my life.  This determines how many hours I work each week (a lot), how stressed out my job will make me (very), how much free time I will have to spend with Tyler and our hypothetical progeny (less).

Yes, our kids will be exactly this awesome.

I'm just saying, this is a lot to take in for the girl that still fights with Tyler each night over who has to pick what movie we are watching.  Least decisive couple in existence.

So my little freak-out is totally understandable, right?  It's totally normal for me to be mourning the loss of my future as a world-famous and universally loved actress.  Sure, I am not skinny enough, talented enough, or really driven in that field at all, but up to this point RUNNING AWAY TO HOLLYWOOD TO GET RICH AND FAMOUS HAS BEEN AN OPTION.  I am killing that option.  It is dying.  I will never be the next Jennifer Lawrence now (though, come on, did you see Silver Linings Playbook?  No one tops that level of crazy-awesome).

Seriously, fabulous.  You don't even know.

 

That back-up plan of just throwing away this whole education thing and becoming a singer?  Gone.  Becoming the voice of our generation through my brilliantly biting rhetoric?  Over.  Well, probably.  I seem to find ways to cling to this stuff even as I'm closing my own doors.

The point is, adulthood keeps creeping up on me.  Every time I make one of these eventually unavoidable decisions, I am picking a door.  Once I go with door number three, doors one and two are no longer options.  My choices just got narrowed.  Even if through door number three is a series of new doors, I still have lost all the doors that were behind one and two.

Does this make sense?  Or is this game show talk spinning out of sense?

I realize this is all pretty normal stuff and all of us have to do it as we get older.  I just seem to be making these choices and then regressing into a four-year-old mentality.

"I don't wanna."

(Story of my life right there.  Seriously, ask my family about the London layover sometime.  Ask Tyler if I am ever pointlessly stubborn.  The stories they could tell...actually, don't ask them.  I am angelic)

I guess the realization for me here is I may not wanna, but that's just too damn bad.  Choices are being made.  Life is being narrowed.  Now I just need to make sure I get better at committing to my choices.  Being solid in what I've chosen and running with it.  And I think I can do that.

My next movie choice will be The Saint.  Prepare yourself for some fabulously terrible romance, Tyler.

The tale of the stoned puppy...

...pain medication does strange things to a dog.  Turns out.

So, our baby girl got spayed today.  I may or may not have felt like the worst mother in the world when she got in the car to go to the vet, all excited, whole body wagging, and I knew exactly what she was headed for.

Something like this.

 

Now she is back home with us and all kinds of doped up.  The dog that normally decides it is time to run sprints around the house with a piece of my underwear in her mouth has spent all afternoon sprawled on a couch with a blanket over her.  Every now and then, she will muster the energy to slowly lift her head, thump her tail a few times, and bestow a few licks upon our faces before dropping her head back down.

Layla's approximate state of mind right now.

Reflecting on my dubious mothering skills with my puppy has lead me to imagine my (probably superlative) future skills as a mother to a human.  Now, I'm still not entirely sure that I absolutely am going to have this hypothetical future child, but, you know.  Just pep-talking myself beforehand.  So, now I enter into my skills as a mother, as discovered by my skills as a puppy-mother:

Teamwork:  One of the most important parts of successful puppy-parenthood is teamwork.  I need to be able to work with Tyler when it comes to taking care of the baby.  Most often, this means telling him that if our furry child bites me one more time, I am going to become a creepy she-hulk.  Then I leave him to play with Bitey McShark and I got sit upstairs and watch stupid television on my computer.  Just one fine example of my excellent mothering skills.

 

This...this ended up being less inspiring than I intended.

 

Medicating:  Specifically, self-medicating.  Sometimes, having a baby stresses you out.  The need for constant attention, the destruction of things, the adorable, but occasionally painful bouts of scratchy and nippy affection...it can all add up to some stressful moments.  Fortunately, I have prescribed for myself a steady regimen of baked goods (heavy on the chocolate), mixed drinks, and hot chocolate (also heavy on the chocolate)...(and cinnamon.  It's delicious).

 

Pretty much like this.  But in sweats.  And without a vacuum.  And not a model.

 

Whining:  ...okay, maybe this is not a stellar example.  But I still do it sometimes.  O well.

 

Affection:  This is not even hard to do, because even though she can be a handful, she is an adorable, furry, loving handful.  Every time she sees that I am mad, her reaction is to put her ears flat back against her head, cocks it to the side, looks at me all lovingly with her enormous puppy eyes, and wags her whole body at me (the tail is never sufficient) while covering every available part of me in puppy kisses.  How do you stay mad at that?  Answer: you don't.  Not possible to stay mad at your adorable child. 

 

I defy anyone to be angry at this face.

Puppies: exhausting and crazy, but probably the most wonderful fluffy balls of unconditional love in existence.  Thanks for making life great, sleepy dog.  I'll let you destroy some socks later as penance for sending you to the vet.