I said wait until fall. Loki said… absolutely not.

And just like that, April stopped being a normal month and turned into a full-blown, no-sleep, what-is-my-life kind of situation. Because nothing—and I mean nothing—humbles you faster than a surprise litter of German Shepherd puppies when you thought you had time.

I had a plan. A good one, actually. Wait until the weather cooled down. Get everything set up the “right” way. Be prepared, organized, calm. You know… all the things people say they’re going to be before life laughs and does whatever it wants anyway. April clearly didn’t get the memo. It showed up like, “Oh, you thought you were in control? That’s cute.”

And then came the puppies.

Tiny. Loud. Completely helpless… and somehow already running the entire house.

There’s something about holding a newborn puppy that instantly melts you. They’re warm, fragile, and so small it almost doesn’t feel real. For a split second, everything else fades—the stress, the timing, the “this wasn’t supposed to happen yet.” Then they start crying, and reality hits fast. Oh. This is real.

If you’ve never been around newborn puppies, let me paint the picture. It’s not just cute moments and soft little noises. It’s constant checking. Making sure they’re eating. Making sure mom is okay. Making sure everyone is warm, safe, breathing, moving. It’s waking up in the middle of the night to sounds you don’t fully understand yet but respond to instantly anyway. It’s responsibility—heavy, immediate, and non-negotiable.

And somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, there’s also this weird kind of peace.

Because as overwhelming as it is, there’s something grounding about being needed in such a real, physical way. No overthinking. No spiraling thoughts. No “what if” scenarios running in the background. Just: take care of them. That’s it.

Loki, of course, is completely unbothered. Like this was always the plan. Like I didn’t spend weeks thinking we had more time. He’s just existing in his “I did what I was supposed to do” energy while I’m over here rearranging my entire life overnight. Sir… the audacity.

But if I’m being honest, this is kind of how my life goes. I think I have a timeline. I think I know how things are going to play out. I convince myself that if I just plan it right, prepare enough, control the details—I can avoid the chaos. And then life shows up and reminds me… chaos isn’t something you avoid. It’s something you learn to move through.

Because here’s the truth. The timing is almost never perfect. You’re almost never fully ready. And the things that change your life the most? They usually don’t ask for permission first.

April wasn’t supposed to look like this. It wasn’t supposed to be messy, loud, exhausting, unpredictable. But here we are. And somehow… it’s still beautiful. Not in a polished, everything-is-together kind of way, but in a real way. A “this is happening whether I’m ready or not” kind of way. A “figure it out as you go” kind of way.

And honestly, those are the moments that end up meaning the most. Not the perfectly planned ones. Not the ones that go exactly how you expected. The ones that throw you off, shake things up, force you to adjust, and make you realize you’re more capable than you thought.

Because if I can handle this—the sleepless nights, the chaos, the constant responsibility, the emotional rollercoaster of tiny fragile lives depending on me—I can handle a lot more than I give myself credit for.

So no, April didn’t go according to plan. Loki made sure of that. But maybe the plan wasn’t the point. Maybe the point was learning how to adapt when things don’t go your way… and still show up anyway.

And right now, that looks like puppy breath, tired eyes, a house that feels a little louder than usual… and a life that, once again, reminded me I’m not actually the one calling the shots.

And honestly?

I’m learning to be okay with that.

~Tj🩷