Everyone thought we were absolutely bonkers when we got our puppy Franny when our son was nine months old, and on one hand, they were kind of right. Tiny baby hands, sharp puppy teeth, two creatures who have to put everything in their mouths—it was a recipe for disaster in so many ways. We’d be out on a walk with Bodie in the stroller and Franny leaping about beside us and everyone—literally everyone—we passed said, “Wow, you’ve got your hands full,” or “I bet your house is chaos,” or “You two are brave.”
After some awkward laughing and shrugging, we eventually fell upon our trusty reply: “Chosen chaos!” we’d shout and then march on our merry way. Were our hands full? Was our home chaotic? Were we brave to bring a puppy into Babylandia? Yes, yes, and maybe, who knows, but we chose this and we chose to own it.
Was it tough at first? Of course. We could not turn our backs on either of them for a second. They were like magnets: those tiny shark teeth snapping at everything, those chubby baby hands grasping at this soft and warm and wiggly bundle of fur and floppy tongue. Many times, I wondered if we had made a mistake. My life was SO easy with one baby to care for. Now I essentially had two, and neither one of them could stop gnawing on everything in sight. At least one of them was in diapers.
But I knew that Franny would grow up even faster than my baby was aging before me. I knew that having a dog would get easier every day as long as I put in the training and the love. I also knew that most puppies lost all of their baby teeth once they were around seventh months old, so my biggest fear had a deadline, at least.
And despite the chaos, or maybe because of it, Franny brought us so much joy. After losing our beloved Cleo, our house was too quiet. Not any longer. She ran after toys and scrambled her legs like a cartoon, nails clicking on the floor. Bodie giggled and leaned in with a wide open mouth—“ahhhh”—to give her a kiss. She yawned really loudly, like, really loudly, absurdly loudly, and Bodie would imitate her and we’d all laugh. Bodie and Fran are inseparable now, and she is so gentle with him. She grew up having to learn that it was the baby’s way or the highway (read: kennel), and she figured it out. She drops her ball at his feet and he picks it up and throws it for her. If she steals food from his hand, we say “too bad!” and get this: she puts herself in her kennel. Bo whips a hand up and says, “Tt!” and we all know it’s time for training and treats for Franny (Franny knows this cue most of all). Bodie crawls into her kennel and she joins him with kisses and he chortles and pushes her “way.” And she listens! She is a really very good dog, Franny is.
This world is always going to throw you chaos, give you stress, shower you with expectations and pressures and disappointments and losses. You can’t control much, but sometimes, it’s important to manage the level of chaos you choose to bring into your home. Choose to build a life with the person or people who make you feel peaceful. Say no to the part-time gig or cool opportunity if the logistics are going to give you a headache. Shed the toxic friendship that makes your stomach clench every time your phone vibrates. But sometimes, you’ve got to roll the dice and dial up your tolerance for chaos. Say yes to a new job, creative project, or activity. Say yes to trying for a baby, or leaving a job, or getting a puppy when your son is nine months old. Choose your chaos. Then hold on and laugh. Don’t forget to laugh.
What is your chosen chaos? Share with me in the comments or reply to this email! I’d love to know. Wherever you are, I sincerely hope that any chaos in your life right now is the chosen kind, and that even if it isn’t, you know you’re not alone in it.
With love from my kitchen table,
Kaia
I so needed to read this today. Thank you for sharing your chosen chaos and I love all the love y'all live with. <3