This spring is shaping up to be a whirlwind for the McKinley crew! It kicked off with my sister’s wedding in Oklahoma, which was beautiful and perfect and featured the most charming little flower girl, […]
This spring is shaping up to be a whirlwind for the McKinley crew! It kicked off with my sister’s wedding in Oklahoma, which was beautiful and perfect and featured the most charming little flower girl, if I do say so myself. Then, Andy had to dash to Texas, which left me on lone Bea duty for a handful of days. Now we’re prepping to hop back on a plane for a wedding in Miami—where we’ll also have some spare time to introduce Miss Bea to a bit of beachy goodness.
Sandwiched between all the travels is everyday life and all sorts of other stuff, some of which is fun, like planning Bea’s first birthday party, and other things that are not-so-fun, like the epic amounts of cleaning necessitated by a shaggy furball and a 1-year-old hooligan.
At some point during all of our hustle and bustle Bea’s curiosity (and legs) have grown into a whole new animal, which means I currently have two mobile and not-so-housebroken beings living under our roof. In an adorable and annoying twist of fate, they’ve decided to join forces. Between the two of them, I can barely keep up with the messes.
Yesterday, for example, after a vigorous scrub session thanks to Georgia rolling in the garden followed Bea rolling on Georgia, I left my semi-smudgeless “children” to pick up the pile of dirt-stained paper towels and washcloths. I returned a few seconds later to find both of them enthralled with a fresh spewing of spit-up—Bea was proudly smearing it across the rug and furniture like Jackson Pollock’s understudy and Georgia was gladly lapping it up behind her.
Don’t get me wrong, this sort of free maid service is one of the greatest perks of having a pup and a baby at the same time, but there are some places Georgia’s tongue just isn’t meant to go. Like down Bea’s throat. Or in Bea’s cups. Or all over her bare baby buttcheeks as she makes her way to the bathtub. I intervene whenever it’s hygienically necessary, but I’ll admit that it’s hard not to laugh at their camaraderie.
Like when they ban together in their plight against my clean laundry: I fold the clothes and place them in the basket; Bea pulls everything out of the basket and throws it on the ground; then Georgia sorts through the heap, pulling out the socks and hiding them all over the house. It’s quite the assembly line.
And during mealtimes, while Georgia is mopping up the floor under Bea’s seat, Bea drops her stickiest leftovers straight onto Georgia’s head and laughs hysterically. I have to rush to pluck the pineapple chunks out of Georgia’s fuzzy ‘do before she and Bea decide to have a dander-filled snack later that afternoon.
It’s all so gross. And so sweet. And a bit dream crushing for this once-tidy mama who still has visions of household surfaces free of sticky fingerprints and fecal matter. Until that day comes, though, I think I may consider buying stock in Bounty and Folex … and making Georgia an appointment with the groomer.
Thankfully they’re as sweet as they are icky—and I’m happy to call them mine.