27 weeks {third trimester}

How far along: 27 weeks 

Gender: Boy

Weight gain: 15 lbs. (yikes!)

Picture this: Baby is the size of a camping lantern (whaaaat?).

Maternity clothes: This time ‘round, I’m really digging ALL the leggings and loose tops. Maybe because my bump seems bigger second time around and I’m living in denial (in my mind, loose clothing = small looking bump)? For the life of me, I cannot find a pair of maternity jeans that work. They’re all too loose. I’m an incredibly picky jean shopper on the best of days, so gimme pregnancy + jeans and it’s just a losing battle. I’m loving this top from Asos, my new Birks, these non-maternity leggings from Express, and I really want to order a t-shirt dress like this one once it warms up a little more.

Sleep: The vivid dreams are still occurring at least a few times per week. I don’t love them. But at least it’s not every single night anymore, thank God. Most nights I sleep like a log.

Best moment this month: We decided (I think?) on a baby name. I absolutely positively love our name. I never thought this day would come. I have a hard time with boy names in general and the few I do like are either two syllables and/or don’t sound good with Lukas.

Worst moment this month: Whenever I think about labor & delivery, I get scared. I have a pretty great imagination, but I’ve realized that while it’s a colorful, creative one, it’s not particularly violent or gross. So while I was definitely nervous the first time around, I didn’t know what to expect and I think that made it better. Now I know what it’s like to push for forty-five minutes. I know what a vacuum feels like (ugh). I reallllllly am not looking forward to L&D and I’m hoping that when the time comes, I can handle it like a boss.

Miss anything: I miss being tired because I’ve done something physically active, like gone on a long run or worked outside in the garden for hours. I know I’m growing a baby and that it’s honest, legit work, but sometimes I get extremely annoyed when I find myself needing a nap at 10AM or when I can barely move by 7PM. I like feeling active and fit and being pregnant changes all of that. I miss my clothes and shoes (but then I remind myself they’re in Durham, so it’s not like I’d have access to all of them anyway). I miss margaritas and a well made old fashioned. If you'd like to be my best friend for life and deliver either of these drinks to my hospital room after baby boy is born, I won't stop you. *wink*

Movement: He’s kicking like a champ. This little guy has such a personality and I’m getting quite excited to meet him!

Cravings: Iced lattes, pizza, and basically, any food that I don’t have to prepare.

What I’m currently watching: It's more "what I watched recently." Boo. If you haven't watched Big Little Lies (HBO), Good Girls Revolt (Amazon Prime), or Santa Clarita Diet (Netflix), do so immediately. My fave by far was Good Girls Revolt. It was fascinating (and disturbing) to watch how differently women were treated in the workplace in the early 1970's. The actors are all superb, the storyline caused me to binge watch the first season, and the retro outfits and hairstyles...gah, crazy fun. Made me want to plan a 1970's costume party. Unfortunately, there isn't a second season planned (yet). I'm hoping someone picks up this show--it needs a Season 2!

Queasy or sick: Nope. I felt a little queasy around 7-8 weeks, but I’m not sure if it was the pregnancy or being sick with the absolute worst case of the flu ever (I blame the flu). I did get some pretty awful lower back pain last month, but the osteopath was able to help with that (he said my pelvis was misaligned). I’ll be seeing him until we move, so I’m hoping that helps keep the pain and any further misalignments away.

Looking forward to: Our trip to Anchorage in a few weeks. We’re staying at this sweet AirBnB (it even has a backyard and a grill) that’s within walking distance of downtown Anchorage. We’re going hiking, on a whale watching cruise, and trying out lots of new restaurants and coffee shops – plus, the drive down there is incredibly scenic. We only leave at 4PM or so, and it’s a 6-hour drive, but Alaskan perk! The sun won’t set until 11PMish, so we’ll get to soak in ALL the beauty along the way. Score.

the weekend

It’s my first time wearing sandals this year. They feel strange on my feet. The windows are down. Renegades is playing on the radio.

Running wild and running free / Two kids, you and me

I hear a chortle from the back seat, then the quick, energetic sound of crumpling paper. A laugh interrupts the calm, but this time noisier, happier. Lukas is holding a bank receipt. Paper excites him to no end: the joy of holding a smooth, creamy slip in his small hands. The freedom to crumple at will. The delightful sounds as the slip twists, turning into something new.

And I say / Hey, hey hey hey / Living like we’re renegades

The temperature has inched up twenty degrees today and we’re wrapped in a balmy, sun soaked sixty-one degrees. A bird chirps nearby. We can’t help but be exuberant.

Hey hey hey / hey hey hey

 * * *

A clear glass bowl holds round red tomatoes; springy pieces of lettuce; croutons, dotted with herbs; thick, uneven wedges of spicy radishes. Tall, narrow wine glasses bubble with a heady, unorthodox combination of rose and sparkling spritzer. Breaded fish sizzles in the frying pan, emitting the occasional pop.

It’s Friday night and we’re spending it at home in bare feet, making dinner together. There’s a baby in the corner, eating his dinner in courses. When one course ends, something else is almost ready. Babies don’t understand the concept of courses, so he’s not always patient. But for now, he eats slowly, watching us bustle around the kitchen.

The chimes play their song. We watch neighbors walk down the road, some pushing baby strollers, others pulled by dogs. The sun promises at least six more hours of daylight.

* * *

I hold the coffee in one hand, push the unruly stroller with the other. It’s a delicate dance, one I am slowly perfecting with practice. The towheaded baby in front of me is alert, watching for people, children, dogs.

I spot a bunny to our left. He’s big. He springs from his hiding spot, long legs quickly taking him a few yards away. I imagine he’s Peter Rabbit, soft, velvety, with a milky white tummy, white tipped ears, and a warm gray brown back. Lukas is staring at something else. I wish I could bring him the bunny to pet, watch his eyes go wide in wonder.

* * * 

These are the idyllic moments; the ones I wish I could grab ahold of and tuck away. Or better yet, print them off as images, to look at over and over again months, or maybe years, later. There is so much about being here that is hard, but then Lukas laughs. We take a walk. Or Drew and I prepare a meal. We spend time together. Life tastes like lemonade, the kind that makes my mouth pucker in a good way; sunshine warming bare feet; tiny, bright blades of new grass hiding among all the dusty brown. 

And it's perfect.

lukas v. the tomato sauce {and other april memories}

When the life juice of your computer cord fades away over a matter of weeks and you don't take the hint (buy a CHARGER, dummy), you eventually find yourself staring sadly at a dead macbook. No (easy) way way to publish blog posts, no photo uploading or editing, and ultimately, your life (as you know it) grinds to a very firm stop.

I take it you figured out that by "you," I totally mean "me"...

Since it's been a while, today I'm filling a post with a slew of photos of life in the past few weeks.

On this particular afternoon, Lukas had 0% interest in smiling for the camera. I pulled out all the stops: strange noises that sounded like a cow dying; maniacal grins; rousing calls of "Hey Lukai! OVER HERE!" Nothing worked. He was not buying the malarky I was selling.

I already miss these chimes and we haven't even moved yet. When a certain little boy is napping and I'm sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, responding to emails or typing up a blog post, the chimes gently sway back and forth, providing the sweetest musical backdrop to my work. 

There's that look again. 

Our drives usually aren't planned. This one sure wasn't. We decided on a whim to head north towards the Arctic Circle, intending to see what the road was like. One thing led to another and we found ourselves (no, not at the Arctic Circle, sorry to disappoint) on the Dalton Highway, which takes travelers all the way to the tippy top of Alaska: to Prudhoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean. It would've been another few hours of driving before we hit the Arctic Circle and someone under 2 feet tall was protesting, "But Mama and Dadda, I'm DONE."

My mom made these guys swanky bow ties for Easter Sunday mass. I found Luko shirt at a consignment store for only a few dollars and it almost matches Drew's. Score!

Sweet baby bump at 22 weeks. Little brother was protesting via kicks and punches that he too wanted to wear a matching bow tie. Next year, bro.

These two take the sweetest shots together. 

And then we finally get to Lukas versus the Tomato Sauce.

Red sauce for dinner means a bath before bed. No matter what I do, I can never quite scrub his little face clean of orange smears. A bath usually does the trick (...except for that time when I dried Lukas off with a towel, post-bath, only to discover an orange streak on the towel later. *facepalm*)

Piggy toes.

Is there a call for tomato sauce smeared baby models? 

an ode to humidity

I never liked humidity.

It’s a soggy towel draped over my body. Humidity weighs down on my bare shoulders, causing me to feel lethargic, to walk more slowly. It convinces my hair to spin wildly out of control. Thin tendrils (frizz) rise lazily in a soft cloud around my face, causing me to look stressed and (dare I say it?) slightly crazy.

But.

That being said, do I really want a life with no humidity?

It took twenty-four hours of Alaskan living before I realized exactly what I was in for. This place is dry as paper. That may sound like bliss to some. Heck, it should’ve sounded like bliss to me. I’ve spent almost my entire life dancing an uncomfortable cha-cha with humidity. First, there were fifteen years in southern Florida. My ten years in the mountains of Asheville were less traumatic: the mountains experience some humidity, sure, but it’s nothing to write home about. When I moved three hours due east to Durham, humidity waved a jaunty hello, greeting me like the old nemesis she was.

The perks of a dry, desert climate: if you happen to cloth diaper or wash your clothing by hand, this is the place for you. Thick cloth diapers that took several days to dry in Durham are done in eight hours here. Eight hours! I was flabbergasted.

If you like to step out of the shower and feel dry almost instantly, book a flight to Alaska. At home, the showering process looks more like this: I shower. I dry off. I apply make-up, only to realize, crap, there’s beads of sweat scattered all over my nose and underneath my eyes. Wait, my forehead’s shiny too. I pause to blot, than resume application. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

The cons…you should probably buy stock in moisturizer, bottled water, and humidifiers. I apply lotion to myself, to Lukas, to his cheeks, constantly (the cold weather and dry climate did a number on us, particularly those gloriously chubby baby cheeks). Moisturizer is invaluable here. I could drink a gallon of water a day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Add in pregnancy and the amount is more like two gallons a day. As for humidifiers…they are an Alaskan necessity. Ideally, we’d have a humidifier big enough to cover an entire house. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t woken up in the morning with a dry, stuffy nose. I still haven’t gotten used to it.  

Humidity, I’ve always had a tumultuous relationship with you. You cling to me like a soggy, needy baby, leaving narrow trails of sweat in your wake. But darn it, I actually miss you. I miss breathing like a normal human being; that sweet feel of moisture soaked skin; and yes, sometimes, even those salty trails of sweat. 

So, my dear humidity, get your jaunty wave on, because I’m coming for ya in July.

our family in blurbs

DREW, the logical one with the chill attitude + silky hair: the guy is working his butt off. He’s assigned a week of call for a full week, every other week, and he takes additional call because, well…why not? That’s what we’re here for. Even with all that, he has more downtime here than he ever did working at Duke. Fairbanks past times include video games (unfortunately played when all EST peeps are asleep); reading strange, alien themed novels; getting a certain 11-month-old to chortle loudly; yoga; and hospital cafeteria bacon (apparently it’s not only delicious, but CHEAP).

 VIKTORIJA, the creative dreamer whose current obsession is staying hydrated…with iced, half caff lattes, that is: the doldrums of winter are long past. These days, she’s doing yoga, taking an every-other-week spin class (thanks to a certain crazy call schedule, blah), and pushing the stroller ‘round the ‘hood as often as possible. She’s almost done knitting Luko baby blanket (that only took a year), recently submitted an article to a collaborative blog on motherhood, and is attempting to make more homemade meals (pregnancy cravings make her want alllllll the take-out).

 LUKAS TOMAS, the blue-eyed cruiser with the giant, well rounded appetite (but NO spicy foods, please + thank you): Lukas wears shoes in public now, crawls efficiently, and enjoys “walking” if someone holds on to both of his hands. He loves pushing around little trucks, thinks he’s a chef (…if a chef’s job description is to empty a kitchen cabinet of its pots and pans), and loves following his mama around as she folds laundry, makes the bed, and scrubs the occasional toilet. The bathroom door has to be closed these days, otherwise little goober makes a beeline for the toilet and starts pulling up the lid and peering inside. 

BB2, active, excited, and incredibly insistent that Mama realize there’s a feisty someone residing in her belly: I’m 23 weeks along—more than halfway there (pinch me, it seems unreal). Baby is kicking up a storm. I’m not sure if I’m just more aware this second time around or if this kiddo is a real mover and shaker. My guess is a little bit of both. Lukas and I have a routine of saying good morning to the baby every day. I may have him convinced that my belly button is a direct walkie talkie to the baby…

We also know baby’s gender!

Guys, it’s a BOY! We are so SO excited!

In the collage above: our kid would NOT look at the camera. Note that his expression also doesn't change one bit. He was not digging the impromptu photo shoot.

a run on the wild side

I knew it was going to be a good morning when the day started with a tall iced latte and reindeer pockets. Picture a warm, doughy calzone, stuffed with scrambled eggs, parsley, melting cheese, and reindeer sausage. And my latte was FREE—I’m calling that the icing on my reindeer pocket.

We were bundled up to our noses and must’ve looked quite ridiculous to our downstairs neighbor, who had walked out that morning in a jacket, bare legs, and flip flops. Meanwhile, Drew and I had doubled up on the leggings/long underwear, tucked ears under hats, and pulled on giant scarves (okay, that part was just me). She and we were definitely on two sides of the extreme for the day’s 10-degree forecast. Today was the day. Drew, Lukas, and I were heading north to go dog mushing.

Dog mushing is your traditional, Fairbanks activity that I wasn’t sure we’d be able to experience. But Sven, the owner and dog musher, had assured us that a 10-month-old baby could come along for the ride. I had no idea what to expect.

We pulled into Sven’s property and saw several yurts planted in the snow, facing a stunning view of woods and distant mountains. It was like being on top of a ski slope: crisp, cold, and gorgeous. Sven explained the ins and outs of the dog mushing business as he walked us down to the dog field, where there were about thirty dogs waiting. Each had a small wooden house, stuffed with hay, and was on a leash. Some of the dogs eyed us interestedly, while a few lay on top of their small houses, basking in the sun.

Alaskan huskies love the cold. Sven told us that when it hits 20 degrees, the dogs require additional water so they don’t get dehydrated. I think my mouth fell open. 20 degrees and they’re already HOT? He explained that in the summer, he has to hose the dogs down so they don’t overheat. A favorite summer pastime of theirs is running down the mountain to a nearby lake and going for a swim. Moral of the story: we probably shouldn’t bring an Alaskan husky home with us to hot, muggy Durham.

Sven hooked up seven dogs to the sled and we piled in. Drew sat on a small step at the middle of the sled, I was in front of him, and Lukas sat snug on my lap, a giant blanket wrapped around us. At this point, all thirty dogs were barking wildly: the twenty-three unattached dogs were wildly jealous of the seven who got to set off on a mushing adventure.

When the dogs surged forward, my first thought was literally, oh my God, someone stuck me on a roller coaster ride. The sled zipped quickly down a narrow, carved trail and I could feel the icy air slap my cheeks. I happen to HATE roller coaster rides: the sinking feeling in my stomach, the speed, and the drop, there’s always the dreaded drop. Luckily for me, the dogs' frenzied pace settled into a steady rhythm of 9mph. We spent forty minutes sliding down trails. A few times, we’d spot another dog mushing team and Sven would take turns ducking off to the side so the other team could zoom by.  The dogs were ecstatic to be running, giving each other the occasional friendly nip, grabbing a mouthful of snow, and enjoying the exercise.  Lukas didn’t make a peep. He sat in my lap, blue eyes gazing out at the dogs and the snowy landscape around us.

After the ride was over, Sven unharnessed the dogs while Drew, Lukas, and I made our way up to a yurt to warm up. I poured myself a cup of hot water, dunked in a tea bag, and wrapped my fingers around the cup. Forty minutes outside with a decent breeze, generated from the moving sled, had left my feet frozen (yep, a second pair of socks would’ve been a good idea), cheeks windblown, and fingers icy. Lukas took ten minutes to defrost before he graced everyone in the yurt with big smiles.

If you find yourself in Alaska and want to experience something completely and totally different, get thee to a dog mushing team. It’s an incredible ride.

TGIF!

It's the weeeeeeeeekend! And while this doesn't mean quite the same thing here as it does at home, it DOES mean it's the three of us, adventuring, for two whole days. This I like.

A few links for your Friday night enjoyment...

This book grabbed me and wouldn't let go. I finished it in the span of twelve hours. Still mulling over the ending--it wasn't what I expected. Let me know if you read it, k? I also enjoyed this book, the latest addition to Louise Penny's series and this thriller. I'm on a mystery kick that's lasted for years.

This article has me thinking about how to raise a little boy. Gentleman or no?

I'm a huge fan of shower scrubs. And coffee. This recipe marries the two together and I may just have to buy some coconut oil and to make it...

I've been loving the Blessed Is She emails that pop up daily in my email box. Each email contains the readings for the day and a gritty reflection. A perfect start to the day (before I even get out of bed, too).

Lukas and I have been listening to Lara St. John's CD of Bach's Sonatas and Partitas while eating breakfast. It's the perfect soundtrack for waking up sl-o-o-o-o-wly. Give it a listen. 

I'm dreaming of summer, hot weather and the beach. I've made Pioneer Woman's margaritas before and they're a doozy--so deliciously tart and refreshing. I've never made margaritas with lime, always with cans of frozen limeade. Fresh is the way to go (obviously). As soon as baby is outta here, I'm whipping up a batch.

Enjoy your weekend!

Lukas and I went on a walk before dinner tonight. It was 45 degrees out and GLORIOUS. See our view above. 

daily life

Imagine we're having a conversation, you and I, and you ask me about Fairbanks. Simple stuff, like where do we shop? What's the weather doing these days? Is stuff more expensive here? I decided to pack this post full of all of those small factoids. Because life here, while similar in many ways to life back home, is most definitely different. 

+ + The temperature is slowly creeping up. Alaskans consider temps above zero to be warm. At 20 degrees, folks think a heat wave has come to town. Drew came home sans jacket the other day because he said it was, "So nice outside." Yesterday, I saw a guy walking down the sidewalk in only a t-shirt. And (horror of horrors), I ditched my extremely warm parka on a trip to the library a few days ago because I felt too WARM. I walked into the building rocking only my Columbia fleece. Am I (gasp) turning into an Alaskan?

+ + We haven't seen a moose in months. I don't know where these guys are taking their daily jaunts, but apparently not in our neighborhood. I miss them. Their gangly legs, extraordinary height, rambling walk, and close proximity to my dining room window made me feel close to nature. Plus, they're just cool.

+ + Maybe you're wondering what we do all day. Drew is on call one solid week, off the next (a Thursday - Thursday deal). If it's a call week, he's in at 8AM and out by 4:30PM. On those days, Lukas and I drive him to work so we can have the car. If he's not on call, his hours are 6AM-2:30PM. There are pluses to both kinds of days. If I have the car, we hit the coffee drive-thru after dropping Drew off. Happy and half caffeinated, we head home for breakfast. Lukas usually takes two solid naps during the day (1.5-2 hours long), and at some point, we go to the library or grocery shopping (i.e. we find something fun to do that doesn't involve the house). If we're housebound, it's a short day because Drew is usually home by 3. At that point, there's all sorts of adventures to be had. Maybe we meet Drew's co-workers at the local brewery. I might head off to a spin class. Or maybe all three of us go out. I hate not having a car but I absolutely love Drew's schedule. It's a rare night that he isn't home before Lukas goes to sleep. And he's usually the one putting Lukas to sleep (win!)!

+ + I've become adept at sliding around on icy roads in our small SUV. The few times I've forgotten and taken to the neighborhood roads like a Durham-ite, the consequences are instantaneous: I hit the break for a stop sign (instead of gently slowing to a gradual stop), the breaks creak unhappily, and the car slides, leaving me unnerved. Winter driving here is an entirely different beast. If you think about the tortoise and the hare...well, I'm definitely a hare when it comes to driving. Here, the more tortoise-y you drive, the better. Slow and steady, that wins the race in Fairbanks.

+ + Food is expensive, whether it's at the grocery store or in a restaurant. Simple meals (cafes) cost about $25 and mid-level restaurants (think pub style) run about $75 for two. But since there aren't nearly as many dining options here as in Durham, our credit cards are handling the new location just fine. My favorite locations so far are a crepe place downtown (oh my gosh, do the owners know their stuff when it comes to sweet & savory crepes),  this Thai restaurant, and a coffee shop that's officially become the Alaskan version of my beloved Joe van Gogh (I think God was having mercy on me when he plopped me so close to a local coffee roaster -- He knew how hard the adjustment would be AND how much I love my lattes).

+ + There's snow and ice everywhere, but since the temperature has started to (slightly) rise this month, people everywhere are abandoning their snow boots for normal footwear. We packed light, so it's either Nike sneakers (rubber soles, not much tread to speak of) or leather booties (even worse tread). Maybe I'll just tramp around in snow boots until all the snow and ice melt... 

+ + I miss Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, even Harris Teeter, like they're my good friends. But Fred Meyer isn't too shabby. Imagine a much classier version of Walmart merging with Costco. Now add just dash of the fun that is Target, and you'll have an idea of what Fred Meyer is like. They sell Converses, couches, DiGiorno pizza, OshKosh overalls for kiddos, Private Select ice cream (Kroger brand -- if you haven't had it, it's absolutely amazing), reindeer hotdogs, swanky cheeses, office supplies...seriously, the sky's the limit here. For a town with limited shopping opportunities, Fred Meyer does its best to provide a quality, one-stop shop experience.

+ + I swear elves come out at night to plow the sidewalks. You'd think there'd be no reason to plow sidewalks in February or March; it seemed like a logical assumption to me too. But no, people regularly walk, bike, even RUN, on the sidewalks here in temperatures ranging from -10 to 20+ degrees. And let me clarify: when I say "plow," I mean remove several feet of snow. In general, sidewalks and most side roads in Fairbanks do not see the light of day. They're continually coated in a thin layer of packed, icy snow, the sort that reflects like a mirror when the sun hits it. I keep imagining myself going out for a run...and falling on my face.

The photo above was taken while standing on the frozen Chena River, where Lukas and I went to watch the beginning of the Iditarod. 

pajama musings

The little dude is sick, our Internet is gone-zo (last day of the cycle, dang it), and I’m still in my pajamas at almost 11AM. It’s a crazy morning over here.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with housing websites. Zillow.com, Realtor.com, local Durham realty sites…you name it, I’m looking at it. Our tentative plan for July goes like this:

+ Spend the first week of July (and our last week in Fairbanks) re-acclimating ourselves to Eastern Standard Time. This may not be as hard as you’d think. Don’t get me wrong, it WILL suck hitting fast forward by four hours. But here’s the kicker: by July, there will be roughly three hours of darkness in Fairbanks. On July 1st, the sun will set at 12:37AM and after a very quick night of sleep, it will rise at 3:12AM. So at that point, it really doesn’t matter when we go to bed or when we wake up. My plan is to spend that week slowly easing Lukas from Alaska Standard Time --> Pacific Standard Time --> Mountain Standard Time --> Central Standard Time --> Eastern Standard Time. Ideally, by the end of the week, we’re waking up at 4AM AST and hitting the sack by 7-7:30PM AST. We’re all probably going to be a giant mess by the time the plane touches down into North Carolina. But…

+ The second week of July is my family’s beach vacation on the Carolina coast. I absolutely positively do NOT want to waste our week of sand and sun acclimating back to EST (it took Lukas and me about a week to adjust to the time difference when we first got to Fairbanks). So…here’s to hoping my crazy plan works.

+ I’m in the process of looking for a furnished house to rent. After the beach vacation, Drew and I will dive into house searching mode.

+ And of course, baby is making her/his appearance sometime in August! Since Luki boy was nine days late, I’m telling myself that of course this baby will be tardy too. It was incredibly hard watching my due date come and go (and then sitting around for an extra nine days, slowly going crazy). But there’s always the chance BB2 (Baby Blue #2) will want to start the party early.

So, who knows? Maybe we’ll come back from the beach and look for a house. Or we might coast into town, have a baby, and then house hunt. This is the year of craziness, so I’m telling myself to expect everything and anything.

a trip to the zoo (but not really)

We had just left a seafood market and were driving down the road towards home when I saw the sign: “Fairbanks Animal Control.”

“Hey, let’s stop,” I said to Drew. I’d mentioned to him before that I wanted to take Lukas to an animal shelter. We’ve spent almost two months here without our two furry felines. And there’s no zoo or indoor nature center in Fairbanks. So in my mind, a trip to the animal shelter would fulfill two desires: Lukas could pretend he was visiting Trixie and Tupelo. Maybe we’d even bump into a fluffy ginger kitty or a blue-eyed Siamese. And we’d get to see a plethora of dogs and cats, which I was sure would make my little dude smile.

We walked in and I was only expecting cats and dogs, but the first room held one chicken and three bunnies; so not your usual animal shelter residents. All four looked perfectly content to be there. The chicken was scratching away, while one of the bunnies busily worked on his newspaper, re-arranging it to optimal fluffiness.

The dog room was an entirely different story. A few dogs had been barking before we pushed the door open. One was howling. As soon we stepped inside, there was a pause, the briefest moment of complete silence. And then all hell broke loose. The barking resumed, this time excitedly. I could practically read the dogs’ minds.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, it’s HUMANS!”

“Hurry up, come over HERE!”

“Pick me, pick MEEE!”

We passed a few sad eyed dogs, one or two wildly excited ones, and a gray pit bull that reminded me of Fitzgerald, my sister-in-law’s pooch. Some dogs sat politely, eyeing us anxiously, while one guy stood up, huge paws on the chain link fence, practically grabbing at Drew’s jacket as he walked by. It was heart breaking. I eyed Lukas carefully, thinking he might burst into tears—the barking was amplified in the concrete block room and the noise was intense—but he just stared at everyone and everything, taking it all in. No smile, but no tears either.

When the door of the dog room clicked closed, I let out a sigh.

“That was painful,” I admitted to Drew. Dogs wear their emotions in their eyes and I felt like an awful person for not taking one home.

The cat room was quiet and peaceful. The residents were either sleeping or giving us the once over. The first cat we approached, a black kitty with huge yellow eyes, took one look at me and the kiddo and let out a hiss. “Whoa, I don’t think this one likes us,” I observed, taking a step back. We lingered in front of that cage, talking to the cat who, seconds later, determined we weren’t a threat (after all, she reasoned, what could that tiny child possibly do to her?) and came up to rub herself against the cage. These cats were hanging out, playing it cool, and definitely not wearing their hearts on their sleeves like the dogs.

“I wonder if I’d even like their house?”

“They smell strange.”

“Meh, I can wait for a human that doesn’t have a tiny human.”

Call me heartless, but therein lies my love of cats over dogs. I remember our family Golden Retriever and the way she would lay on the kitchen floor with her face in the food bowl. Her brown eyes would be fixed up as she pathetically tried to convey to us that she hadn’t eaten in weeks (try two hours ago) and that she didn’t think she had the energy to get up (throw a ball and watch her sprint).

I was born with an overabundance of guilt and dogs know this about me. The Golden only had to plop her face in my lap and stare up at me sadly and I’d feel compelled to take her for a walk. Cats, on the other hand, are independent. Sassy. Opinionated. For the most part, they don’t need me to do anything for them (there are cats and then there’s our Siamese Trixie…but she’s an entirely different blog post. That crazy feline is a dog living inside a cat’s body).

Lukas (no surprise here) is so much like his daddy-o. His deadpan expression had him in and out of the dog room with not a single smile cracked or tear shed. From the looks of it, he was most interested in the chicken and bunnies. So the next time we visit an animal shelter, I’ve decided we had better be in the market for a dog. Because this guilty conscience of mine won’t be able to say no to all the sad puppy eyes for a second time.