Who let the dog out?

It's a good thing our dog has no real concept of "running away," or we'd be down one dog. Twice.

The first time was early in the morning last week when DH was getting ready to leave for work. We knew something was wrong when she didn't respond to sure-fire cues: DH yelling "treat," and after that was met with silence, ringing our doorbell. He went to the backyard and noticed the gate was wide open. He found her quickly, she was two lots down at the small playground. She ran up to DH with her tail wagging, thrilled that he came out to play with her. She bounded back into the house ahead of him, totally unaware of any worry she'd caused us. I think one of us didn't latch the gate properly, as it was rather windy. But DH's theory is that one of the neighbors opened it, finally tiring of her incessant barking. Who could blame them?

The second time, which was earlier today, she raced out the doggy door, barking like mad at whatever certain danger she detected outside. A couple of minutes later, our doorbell rang. We opened the door to find two neighbors standing on the porch with Evey following at their feet, still barking at them furiously. They said she had slipped under the fence. Really? We thanked them and then went outside to check it out. There was only one possible spot where she could have conceivably gotten under the fence, but it was super narrow. To test her, DH went to the driveway with treats, while Evey and I stayed behind closed the fence. We got her all worked up trying to get DH and the treats, waiting to see the miracle of her getting through that tiny space to claim the reward. Well, this is no stupid pooch, she wasn't about to show us her secret. I'm still baffled. But the garbage can is now blocking the space, nevertheless.

Otherwise, we've had a nice long weekend, following the excitement of having our offer on the new house accepted on Friday afternoon. After DH got off work, we went to our realtor's office to drop off the earnest money to show the sellers we are serious about the contract. Because nothing screams "serious" like a check with SpongeBob SquarePants on it.

Then I was invited out with two of DH's coworkers wives on Saturday morning. They wanted to take me to brunch and shopping downtown for a little escape from the baby. How nice of them! I enjoyed tiramisu french toast -- pushing that Ann Taylor dress a bit more out of reach -- and got tipsy from half of a mimosa. (My first alcoholic drink in more than a year!) Unfortunately, we were only able to accomplish the brunch part before I needed to head home. DH was armed with loads of expressed milk for Bean, but it's no good for me to carry "exploding cantalopes" (our pediatrician's term) around on my chest all afternoon. Leaking exploding cantalopes, at that. The wives, not mothers yet themselves, were traumatized to learn that when you breastfeed, you can't be away from the baby for more than a few hours before you need to pump. "For your sake you need to pump, not to feed the baby?" one of them asked incredulously. The horror in their faces was priceless! DH's coworker lamented that I had set their plans for parenthood back a few more years. Just doin' my part to educate the public.

And of course we had to drive by our new house again. It already feels like ours, I just wish those strange people would get out of it. It is starting to sink in that we are going to have to move ALL of our stuff into this new place, while caring for our 4 month old baby. Minus the help of family or good friends or -- best yet -- DH's employer. I am already trying to get DH to bribe his coworkers with various treats to take pity on us and lend a hand. He feels uncomfortable about it, but I think he'll be more uncomfortable trying to get the piano into a rental truck all by his lonesome. If anyone has any moving tips, I'd much appreciate them. This is only our second move as adults that DH's employer didn't manage -- and the first time we did it alone, our nicest piece of furniture was a kitchen table set from 1982. What's even more sad? We still use it. Seriously.

I had a request for more Bean pics, so for your viewing pleasure...

"Dad, you change my diaper SO much better than Mom does. You should do it more often."

"Ta da, a freshly bathed baby with a clean diap!"

"I like how the blue in my outfit brings out my eyes."

"Who are you again?"

"Hilarious! Tina Fey's got nothing on you, Mom."