...sigh...

I woke up to the smell of dirty dog. Or Dogs, in my case. Shockie and Nugent haven't been bathed in weeks. Somehow the laziness is eating me alive.

Nugent came with Kaisa, Elsa, Charlotte and I on a long awaited walk to Cemetery Hill late last night. "Its past my bedtime," exclaimed Kaisa as we walked through the door... "Don't tell Deanie," was her addition. Its only eleven pm. Ugh. I haven't cleaned up from dinner, an impromptu dinner of Pork Shoulder in Deans "Special Sauce" as we've grown accustomed to calling his homemade BBQ sauce. And stuffing, of the instant variety. Oh, and three dollar corn on the cob. Its still all there, waiting for me. The laziness is eating me alive.

My alarm won't just shut up. SHUT UP. I've grown very tired of my alarm music, and even more so of Dean's "YOU SPIN YOUR HEAD RIGHT ROUND, RIGHT ROUND" blasting in my good ear. I tend to make excuses as to why I shouldn't get up. Again with the laziness. I even managed to shower at night, so I was good and clean for the morning.

No one else in the entire house has to be up except me. Why this torture? Why am I feeling sorry for myself? I don't understand it. The sun is supposed to bring happiness and non "SAD" days. It's sunny 24 hours a day now, minus a few hours of TWILIGHT (oh yes, I did mention it) in the middle of the night, when only drunks and seagulls marvel at the pink sky.

Reluctantly, I put on a BRIGHT green atlikluk, maybe it will help with my sheer boredom of the coming day. What exactly is there to look forward to? Work?! haha. Work. Right.

So I'm walking downstairs and down the long and dark hallway to the living room and kitchen, my feet feel like 30 lb weights dragging in the silt at the bottom of the ocean.

I come across this.



Immediately my heart feels bubbly. My mood changes gears and then I'm mad for even waking up in such a disgusting mood. How dare I?!



My children are well, they are healthy, alive, and sleeping peacefully in their own bedrooms, both of which are larger than my entire house growing up. I have a husband who adores me (seriously, its almost gross, how much he loves me), and better yet, he thinks my kids are cool. All the toys one living above the Arctic Circle one could covet lay strewn across my yard. I have a job, making a comfortable amount of money in this economically depressed time, in a disparaged town in Arctic Alaska...and I love it. How dare I?!



They constantly fight, and bicker, and argue. They are a drain to my social and monetary life. But the love they have, unconditionally so much makes up for that. My son and I have figured out life on our own. It was just him and I...and then Kaisa came along...and then Dean. I never once, thought to ask him if he minded. Maybe I will today.



Every day, we come home drained. Emotionally, physically, from our work loads. Every day, Kaisa makes us laugh, intentionally, or unintentionally. The facial expressions and songs from the heart, the questions about God, and Nugent's "Red Rocket", and the constant chatter coming out of her mouth while awake, are a blessing every day. I complain, but when she's not there, its just too quiet.



My dirty dogs, chew up my Victoria's secret bra's at an astonishing speed, and they ALWAYS find my Under Armour sock, and rip it to shreds. They constantly track dirt in my house, and are always making some sort of mess. But, when a bear tries to attack my 4 year old, you better believe, that Nugent dragged her away by the arm, (all while she was punching him in the face yelling at him to LET GO!) and stood tall to that bear/porcupine/wolverine/other dog.

Shockie is the worst dog, EVER. But when Kaisa is sick, or Koy's immune system is down, she dutifully lies with them, so they are warm in our cold winter nights. And she won't leave. Poop and pee be damned, she's not leaving my kids when they're sick.



They shed all over the house, and clog up my Dyson vacuum, but they are also the world's best babysitters. And master's of finding lost hamsters, to boot. Oh, and in addition to that, they are killer Duck Dogs. And I mean Killer in the best way possibly, they will retrieve ducks in ice water and be happy to do it.



So, How Dare I?

I need to take a little lesson from my six year old.

Dear God, I am sorry, I just couldn't help myself. It won't happen again. (But if it does, just send me another sign, OK?)

Maija