Of dogs and men

Lately, Chewy has been obsessed with dogs....he stays up later than he should researching the best types of guard dogs, which ones home owner's insurance won't cover, which have the most cases of biting people, the most intelligent, etc.  He's taken quizzes on finding "the right dog for you".  He's talked about dogs incessantly for the last week or so.

My first thought on this? Panic.  I'm about to have a baby, folks, in case you've missed that fact.  I will be a stay-at-home mom with my very first child, trying to sleep and adjust to that lifestyle and my husband keeps talking about adding a large dog to the family (his favorite is Doberman but before that it was a Rhodesian Ridgeback (the Lion Hunter), and he hasn't completely ruled out a Great Dane....a Great Dane!)  I started out by reminding him I would be the one home with the beastie all. Day. Long.  I would have to do the obedience training, I would have to take one of these giants out for walks while also trying to navigate the baby stroller.  As you can imagine this didn't go well.  Spouses don't like being parented, and I'm pretty sure I parented in that moment.  There's a series I really enjoy called, "For All Eternity" - it's a book too, but I haven't read it, I just have the CDs of the guy conducting a four week seminar on the topic of marriage and communication.  Anyway, he says at one point, "Don't be a dream killer, let life kill the dream."  And yet there I was, trying to kill Chewy's dream, but you've got to admit becoming a dog owner has more probability and less road blocks than owning a beach house.

Anyway - so I let him talk and talk and talk about dogs now.  He's decided I am a lot like a Doberman, especially the needy part (I like having my back rubbed...and my arms, and I like cuddling, I can't help it - I require so much attention!)  And I think I've convinced him I would live in constant fear if I had to share the house with a Great Dane, it helped to prove my point that my hand has been in a deaf Great Dane's mouth before - against my will.  Luckily she didn't bite down, but she sent a message I've never forgotten...that if she wanted to, she could have taken my hand off.

So - we shall see.  Fingers crossed I don't end up with a high strung, high energy, 5'9 dog any time soon.

In other news.  We had a doctor's appointment this week.  They did an ultrasound to determine the baby's weight and overall size.  Little guy is already up to 5 lbs 15 oz.  They said that's about two weeks ahead of where he should be and it puts him in the 90-something percentile in weight.  I think Chewy took a lot of pride in baby boy's weight because he mentioned in the waiting room it would be cool if we had an 18 pound baby.  I told him he wouldn't be having one with this wife!

I'm at 33 weeks now but haven't taken a photo this week.