Life is good

I was sound asleep.

Eddie was on the right side of the bed.

My four-year-old had snuck in-between the middle of us like he does most nights.

Our golden retriever was on the floor next to Eddie.

I was warm, (I have the best, softest blanket. )

Then the dog puked.

Eddie jumped up and put her out.

Then he cleaned up the mess while I pretended to be asleep. (That's okay, it's how we work).

The dog was out, Eddie went back to bed and Deacon was still asleep.

I was drifting off again then the dog started to rattle the door handle. That's her sign that she wants in.

But puking dogs don't get to come back in.

Then she would whine.

Then she was quiet.

Then she'd shake the door handle.

I was awake.

It was four in the morning and I was awake. And the dog had just puked, and there was a pile of dirty laundry on the floor, and a basket of clean laundry in the closet waiting to be hung up and Eddie's team lost last night.

But life is good:

Eddie and Deacon were asleep. Eddie's arms wrapped around his little boy (even though Deacon always kicks off the super warm, soft blanket.) But I had my boys in bed next to me and a beautiful daughter sound asleep in her own bed.

Life is good.