Not All Fluffy Puppies and Ice Cream

I don't know what to write. You see, I have something to say, but I hate bugging you with the sad stuff.

Mike is so tired. I don't get to the point that I pray very often. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I try not to bug God about the little stuff. I try to be grateful.

I'm praying now. Mike is tired and overwhelmed. I'm not very good at taking up the slack, I guess. Who would have thought that if I went to quilt night, it would feel like too much for him at home. The dog behaved badly. Mike still thinks we made a mistake. I'm really glad we brought Teddy home, most of the time. Don't ask me about cleaning up five carpeted stairs and the landing at 11:00 pm last night.

There isn't anything I can do to convince Mike that this is the right thing for our family. It may be right for Nickie to have the adoration of a dog. It may be right for me to have a walking buddy and someone to talk to during the days. Yet it may not have been the best choice for a man who has no energy left by the middle of the evening. There's nothing for me to say except "I'm sorry." I had thought that Mike was ready. I had thought that he knew what we were going to be in for.

So now I'm praying, that we can muddle through, that the training I signed up for will help us, that Mike will get enough sleep tonight, and that nothing else will happen to wrench what little control of our situation we have out of our hands.

Thank you for listening, jb