Life As a New Mom: Jailbreak Edition

One baby, two dogs, one jailbreak... What would motherhood be without those random moments of cray-cray?

Dolly is now three months old, and we had our first family portrait session this past Sunday. I’ve got another post in the works to share all the lovely photos taken by the talented David A. Smith with DSmithImages, but for now I’ll share my favorite with you:

Looking good, amirite? I am getting a hang of this motherhood business, y’all. Dolly is sleeping through the night and growing at an almost freakish pace. I can’t keep up with her. Girl’s already wearing six-month-sized pants. But that’s another post entirely, and (GASP!) this post isn’t even really about Dolly.

It’s about my dogs. I am also a “mom” to two furbabies. We have a Black Labrador Retriever, Minnie, and a West Highland White Terrier, Sammy Davis Junior, Jr.; they are both nauseatingly spoiled.

I thought their adjusting to having a baby in the house was going to be a challenge, and I was wrong. Their interest in the baby has waned from a crazed “OMG BABY BABY LET ME SMELL THE BABY LOOK LOOK OMG BABY BABY” to a casual “Oh. Baby. Whatevs.”

They do, however, like to make sure I know when Dolly’s upset (as if her eardrum-rupturing wail is somehow not enough of a signifier to me)—they bark incessantly when she cries. It makes for a really fun and relaxing experience—especially when Dolly is screaming louder than a tween at a Beiber concert while I prepare a bottle for her and I have two dogs at my heels barking like some sort of crazy hellbeasts. Good times.

Anyway, my dynamic doggy duo likes to spend time outdoors. They entertain themselves in our fenced-in backyard when I let them out a few times a day. They don’t like being out for too long, as they are apparently afraid I will a) drop food on the ground and they might miss it, and b) they won’t be around to protect their little sis when she cries.

A few days ago, I had put the dogs out in the backyard. I left our front and back screen doors open, though, as I wanted to get a nice breeze going in the house. The pups are outside and I am attempting to assemble a new swing for Dolly which apparently requires a doctorate from MIT to do so successfully. Dolly begins to fuss and the dogs activate their go-go-Gadget super ears and hear her cries. They begin to bark. And bark. And bark. You get the idea…

I give up on assembling the swing to console the baby. I put her in the Baby Bjorn (an infant carrier) and we walk around the house in an attempt to calm her down. The dogs are still concerned, but they are no longer at the back door. I shut the door. I assume they’ve chilled out a bit and go on with my business.

Dolly and I go back to the office and I start on some projects for work—and by projects for work, I mean spending thirty minutes on Pinterest—when I hear footsteps in the hall. It was just us gals in the house, so I am a bit concerned at this point. I hear the footsteps again and am starting to freak out when I realize that the steps in question belong to a 95-pound-Lab.

That’s right, Minnie had gotten back in the house. She dug a hole underneath the backyard fence, wiggled herself through that hole, and then came in through the front door. She straight-up JAILBREAKED to get back into the house. Sammy Davis Junior, Jr. (her partner in crime) was not far behind.

I would have been mad if I weren’t so impressed. How smart were they? They couldn’t get back into the house through the back door, so they found a way to get out of the fence, walk around the house, and OPEN THE FRONT SCREEN DOOR. Amazing—and endearing, too. They love their little sis so much they just can’t stand to be away from her.

Needless to say, fence repair is on my man’s “honey-do” list this weekend. I have a depressing amount of chores to tackle myself, but at least I know that when I am busy, the dogs have my back.