Insane Pup
I don't know what to do about Farrah's 8pm witching hour. She is really the best pup--all day, she's either chewing on a toy, napping, playing joyfully with me, obediently going outside to pee, or working on training exercises. She is nailing "sit" and "down," and today we started "stay." She's so sweet and cute etc etc etc. And yet. Come 8pm, right in the heart of bedtime, when I'm already tired and stretched to the max trying to herd two children to bed, she completely unhinges. I mean--she is nuts. Running around the upstairs at top speed, yipping and growling, trying to jump on us and basically eat our arms and faces. It's insane. Insane.
Tonight, Greta valiantly tried throwing a million toys for her, but Farrah was beyond toys. She was almost airborne. I had to finally stop reading to the girls and take Farrah downstairs. Of course there was still bedtime stuff to do, so I penned her into the kitchen with baby gates and went back up. When I came back downstairs, she'd pooped. I cleaned it up. I brought her back upstairs to do lights out. She peed on Greta's floor. All day, she and I are in sync, she's a model puppy, and then at bedtime it just completely breaks down. Once Andrew's home, he can be on Farrah duty during bedtime; but I just don't know how to handle this hour of puppy insanity when I'm trying to do the whole routine alone.
Tonight I concluded the evening's shenanigans gracefully, herding Farrah downstairs while screaming at the girls, "DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, I CAN'T PARENT ANYMORE, I AM DONE." Nice. Two housetraining accidents and some top-notch parenting. A stellar end to the day. Clearly I need a new strategy.
Tonight, Greta valiantly tried throwing a million toys for her, but Farrah was beyond toys. She was almost airborne. I had to finally stop reading to the girls and take Farrah downstairs. Of course there was still bedtime stuff to do, so I penned her into the kitchen with baby gates and went back up. When I came back downstairs, she'd pooped. I cleaned it up. I brought her back upstairs to do lights out. She peed on Greta's floor. All day, she and I are in sync, she's a model puppy, and then at bedtime it just completely breaks down. Once Andrew's home, he can be on Farrah duty during bedtime; but I just don't know how to handle this hour of puppy insanity when I'm trying to do the whole routine alone.
Tonight I concluded the evening's shenanigans gracefully, herding Farrah downstairs while screaming at the girls, "DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, I CAN'T PARENT ANYMORE, I AM DONE." Nice. Two housetraining accidents and some top-notch parenting. A stellar end to the day. Clearly I need a new strategy.
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Love, Marion