Fish and Dawgs

It's been an interesting and sometimes rough few weeks here at Casa Dawg. HB's sister is still living here with us, and it looks like it might be for a while longer. She is taking ownership of an interesting and new franchise here in our area, and just this week, her loans were partially approved.

Her husband and kids are in their home province, but have the house on the market and will likely join her. Not in our basement, mind you!

In the meantime she is here. Although I've often joked that I would love to have a wife, I have to tell you it's highly overrated.

Our schedule is such that we often don't get around to eating supper until about 7 p.m. here. But since she's home, she prepares supper in the early afternoon. Now HB is a teacher so he can manage to get home by 4 or 4:30 if he wants to do so. I, on the other hand, don't technically finish work until 4:30 or 5:00, and then have a 45 minute drive through traffic. I also have at least one, sometimes two, errand stops on the way home, given that we live outside the city and away from most services like grocery, retail, etc.

You get the picture. I get home - the dishes are done, they've both eaten, and whatever she's cooked is sitting cold and dried up for my supper, which I eat alone.

That is just one example. I love her but as someone said in reply to an earlier post about this very topic (remember - she joined us here in August and left to go home for three weeks only), company is a lot like fish. I totally get that now!

We hit the wall over the past few days. I am generally one of the most easy going people you will ever meet, but I turned into Holy Hannah from Hell this week! HB and I had one of the most spectacular fights that will ever be witnessed in this house - complete with slamming doors, yelling, and mucho cursing. The kids were here to witness it. The dawgs were here. And the SIL was here.

It worked itself out, but resurfaced on Monday morning. I was in the shower and not once, but twice, the water went on me. Once due to a toilet flush and once due to a kettle being filled for tea. We have a cardinal rule in this house. Do. Not. Flush. When. The. Shower. Is. Running.

Just Don't.

I thumped and screeched, and when I came downstairs to get my coffee, asked which of them would like to get in the shower next so I could return the favour....and we were off to the races again!

I left the house storming that morning, driving to work mentally pushing pins into the matching brother and sister voodoo dolls I had created. The phone rang. It's HB. Telling me he's sorry, it's out of control, and that he loves me. I begin to cry at the stupidity of it all.

We had dinner alone together Monday night and had a great, healing talk. We are both still grieving, and haven't been allowing ourselves to do so. We haven't allowed ourselves a minute to breathe, let alone grieve.

We have made a pact to one night per week, alone together, as a priority. And I have told him that there are things he has to tell his sister - I know they don't bother him but they do bother me and I can't say them to her. Right or wrong, woosy or whatever - I'm not doing it and he is. And he agrees that he can start by modelling respect for me around here and her - by demonstrating that I have a very important place in his life and in our home, and that she is not the wife.

So it's been a better week, but the road getting here sucked.

In the meantime, Anna Banana is doing well. Training up alright - although she has behaviours we're not used to dealing with as we haven't had to in so long - like chewing. It's just puppy behaviour, but it takes some readjustment. Plus the fact that she's choosing to chew on HB's old running shoes, which does not make her breath the sweetest!

Here she is:

Standing at the door - remember she's 10 months old!