I thought I had a plan. April said… that’s cute.

I really sat there thinking I had time—like I was in control, like I could decide when life was going to get chaotic instead of life deciding for me. I said fall. Fall felt responsible. Fall felt organized. Fall felt like the version of me who has her life together. April said no.

And then suddenly, I have puppies.

Not a heads up. Not a warning. Just boom—welcome to chaos. Tiny, squeaky, blind little potatoes that somehow instantly run your entire life.

At first, it’s cute. Like really cute. You pick one up and your brain melts for a second. They’re warm, soft, barely moving, and you’re like… okay, this isn’t so bad. And then five minutes later, reality hits. Oh wait. This is my life now.

Because it’s not just “aww puppies.” It’s constant. Constant checking. Constant listening. Constant making sure everyone is okay. Are they eating? Are they warm? Why is that one making that noise? Why is that one not making a noise? You don’t ease into it—you get thrown into it.

And sleep? Yeah… that becomes more of a memory than a reality. You’re not sleeping—you’re napping in fear. Every little sound wakes you up, and somehow the silence wakes you up even more. Your brain just decides, “We live on high alert now.” Love that for me.

And Loki? Completely unbothered. Like sir… you started this. He’s calm, relaxed, doing exactly what he’s supposed to do, while I’m over here running around like a stressed-out manager of a very loud, very needy tiny wolf daycare.

But here’s the part that gets me—I really thought I was going to do this the “right” way. Prepared. Planned. Thought out. Instead, I’m figuring it out in real time with zero warning and minimal sleep. And somehow… it’s working.

They’re not just little blobs anymore. They’re moving. Not gracefully, not efficiently, but they are absolutely getting around. And now they’re starting to show personality, which is both adorable and slightly concerning.

There’s one that talks constantly, like they have opinions I didn’t ask for but am somehow still listening to. There’s one that wants to be on top of everyone at all times—no boundaries, no space, just vibes. And then there’s the one that walks around like they’ve lived a full life already. You haven’t. You’re three weeks old. Relax.

Teething is starting, which means everything is getting bitten. Each other, my hands, literally anything within reach. Nothing is safe. They’re also eating mush now, which feels like a big shift. One minute they needed everything, and now they’re already figuring things out on their own.

It’s happening fast. Too fast.

And I’m just trying to keep up.

Because this isn’t calm. It’s not peaceful. It’s loud, messy, unpredictable, and slightly unhinged at all times. But it’s also… kind of amazing.

Not in a polished, everything-is-together kind of way, but in a real way. A chaotic, figure-it-out-as-you-go, didn’t-see-this-coming kind of way. And honestly, that feels a lot more like my life anyway.

I try to plan. I really do. I try to get ahead of things, control timing, make things make sense. But life keeps reminding me that control is mostly an illusion.

Because the biggest, loudest, most life-shifting moments don’t wait until you’re ready. They just show up.

April fooled me. I thought I had time. I thought I had control. I thought I knew how this was going to go.

I didn’t.

But here I am. Tired, a little overwhelmed, covered in puppy chaos—and still handling it. Not perfectly, but enough.

And honestly? That’s more than I thought I could do.

~Tj🩷