What's it to you, bub? Huh?

As I write this, I'm watching my two dogs wrestle on the footstool.

One is our rescue Collie, Kimmy and the other is our new rescue pup, Dolly.

Doll is our latest addition to this crazy household, and a very welcome one too.

Taken from a field in Hungary then taken to a killing station, she was then rescued, fostered for a while, then transported to Scotland where she was fostered again before coming home with us one wintry day.

AT just 9 months old, she's been through a lot, though is settling extremely well.

She needs work - but who doesn't?

Oh, she's also very large.

A big, playful, daft lump of  a beast.

But couthie, good with the kids and a really fun (if boisterous) playmate for Kim (who, after a lot of initial WTF is this?!  is actually really enjoying having a play buddy)

Getting your second dog is a bit like having your third child, I have discovered.

People are less interested and more likely to say some not-very-nice-things inadvertently.

To your face.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion, and a lot of people feel free to use it as they wish.

"Are you mad?" Yes.  We all know the answer to this.
"Have you not got enough to deal with" That's up to me.
"Why?  Just why?" Why the hell not?  I'm handling it. What's it to you?

Well: free speech and all.  I give not a jot.  I'll let you decide if that's dog or kids they were asking about.

The older I become, the less fucks I am inclined to give about what other people think about me.  It is so very freeing.

My life, my rules.

I've recently found a new kind of courageousness which I think I would like to attribute to a loss of anxiety about what other people think about me.

Fundamentally, I am a good and honest person.  I honestly and promisedly swear that everything I do is done with good intentions.

My failings are my own and I own them completely.

I lack confidence in my abilities a lot of the time.

I feel a lot of guilt about things outwith my control.

I am hugely empathetic and this really is my downfall a lot of the time.

But I am fed up of being an emotional doormat.

So, as practiced for a few months now, I am now:

Not taking any shit.

Speaking up when it is unfair.

Speaking up when people are rude to me.

Ignoring any badness or bad feeling.

Enjoying good intentions and goodness and laughing and loving and not feeling guilty or losing sleep or worrying.

Done and done.

Now - back to watching my two hairy babies play and be happy.

Just give me 15 minutes...

Dave has a half hour in the morning before he has to leave.  Technically, this is his time to do what he wishes with - maybe he will have some breakfast, read the newspaper, maybe he'll cruise the internet before he starts work.

I asked him what he does wih this hallowed half hour.

"Ah, I just start work early"

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?!?!

That is half an hour of pure GOLD DUST, my friend!

When I told him this, he kind of just rolled his eyes and looked at me funny.

I looked back at him perplexed.

I am about to spend TEN HOURS holding a baby and doing everything one-handed, including going to the toilet and cutting cheese.

I'm generous.  I told him, I didn't even want the half hour.

Just give me 15 minutes...

In 15 minutes I will:

• Find something to wear which is not yesterdays clothes/leggings I've slept in for 3 days
• Shower
• DRY my hair instead of letting it dry in that horrible frizzy/wavy shape it otherwise dries into. Or at least the fringe.
• Pee. Alone
• Eat the only meal I'm getting until 9pm (if I can be bothered to make a meal by then)
• THINK. 
• Clean up a little in preparation for the onslaught of crazy baby mess.
• Check my emails - maybe I won't miss anything important this week if I can just get 5 minutes to CHECK MY DAMN EMAILS!!
• Take out the massive pile of rubbish which is taking over my kitchen
• Let the dog pee - it takes me ages to get to the actual point of being able to take the baby out, to get him dressed, pulled the pram out of the car/located the baby sling and found those tiny little baby socks!
• Find a pair of my own damned socks!
• Maybe even have a cup of tea... (I can dream, right?)

Never underestimate the power of a good 15 minutes of baby-free freedom!