Love Your Pet Day

In case you didn't know, today is Love Your Pet Day. 

Recently my kids have started to notice that I spend an awful lot of time with the dogs. And they have begun to question whether I love my dogs more than I love my human children. That's just nonsense. It's just refreshing to have someone look up to you every day. Seriously, look at them- always looking up.

While I have solid relationships with my children- better than most by traditional standards, the kids fail to acknowledge that they are growing up and inevitably growing away from me. They don't all want to be snuggled under blankets with me watching Sherlock Holmes BBC on the iPad. The dogs relish the eternal maternal warmth that exudes from my body- the kids pull away. The dogs live to please, they are loyal and forgiving even when I am not at my best. The kids- not so much lately. And that's all okay. That's just the nature of their ages.

The Mr. sensing a bit of internal conflict as I pondered the children's accusation, assured me that he knew where my true love lay. "I know that if the kids and the dogs were stuck on train tracks with a train barreling toward them, you would save the children first."

This is true. How else would I have extra sets of hands to save the dogs?

Love your pets a little more today. And throw your kids an extra bone, too.

Love

Princess Commando is home sick today with a migraine. An unfortunate inheritance from her mother. In her groggy post migraine fog, she stumbled over to my desk and handed me a valentine. Be still my beating heart.

A picture of my new dog, Bridget 

 

In case you can't make out the writing, it says:

Dear Mother,

Happy Valentine's Day! My love for you is stronger than the Earth's gravitational pull. It is so strong that I feel any of your own pain and sorrow. You are my universe. Thank you for years of kindness. Love, Anna

Whether or not you buy into this day or shun it for it's shameless commercialism, here's my Valentine to you:

At the end of the day, after the routine, the scuffles, the worries, the laughter, the monotony, the excitement, the narrowly avoiding disaster, I wish you all a soft place to fall.

A**Hole in One: Mommy's Milli Monster

The following A**Hole in One story was sent from my friend, Rebekah following a heated bedtime battle with her three year old daughter, Milli.

The other night as we were trying our very hardest to get our daughter, Milli, who has the extraordinary ability to grin and ignore every single direction, request, or plea from her parents, ready for bed, we had this very special episode:

Me: Milli, come in the bathroom it is time to go potty and brush your teeth.

Milli: ( Sings and dances in the hallway)

Me: Milli, it is time to get ready for bed.

Milli: (Sings, dances, grins in the hallway).

Me: Milli, if you do not come here and get ready for bed, we will not read Puff the Magic Dragon tonight.

Milli: (Sings, dances, grins and begins to roll on the floor clearly showing  me there will be a battle should I try to physically bring her in the bathroom).

Me: Okay, you lost Puff.

Milli: YOU ARE THE WORSTEST MOTHER EVER! I WILL NEVER HUG YOU AGAIN! YOU ARE NOT THE BESTEST! YOU ARE THE MEANEST! I WILL NEVER PLAY WITH YOU AGAIN! THESE ARE NOT THE COMFIEST PAJAMAS! AND I WILL NOT SNUGGLE! YOU ARE THE WORST SNUGGLER EVER! I'M GOING TO THROW EVERYTHING IN THE GARBAGE!!!!! DADDYYYYYYYY MOMMY IS THE WORSTEST!!!!!

Daddy: (Comes upstairs from the hockey game) Milli, what is the matter? Did you cooperate? 

Milli: Yes, Daddy. But, Mommy whined at me.

Daddy: Do you want to read Puff?

Milli: (The following said in the most sugary sweet voice) Yes, you can read it to me! I looooove Puff!! He is the bestest dragon ever! I love my comfy pajamas! They are my favorite! I love to snuggle! Do you want to snuggle, daddy?

I watch, sitting on the toilet, tooth brush in hand, in exhaustion and amazement as the little darling skips out the door with daddy.

For more information about how you can contribute to A**Hole in One, please click here. What's  the good in enduring our own crappy experiences if we can't share them later with others in their similar times of affliction? 

you know, dog

Dog, each morning you wake me

with  Ready- or- not- here- I- come inexhaustible exuberance

mattress quaking, bed sheets lifting and twisting under your dancing paws

Get up! Get up! Get up! Aren’t you happy to be alive?

I look at you and where others might see

a nuisance

a waste of space

a lost cause

a drained bank account

an inevitable heart break

I see beauty

From the familiarity of your not so fresh breath

the worn leather of your nose

the scar from a wound incurred in a former life

the spindly legs

the musculature of your haunches

the great white shark jaw

the glassy marbles in place of eyes

the batty ears that smell of earth

the wag, wag, wag of your tail

the fur of feathers and wisps pungent like wet carpet

You have become one of the most beautiful things of my day

Because you know,

dog,

you know when to stop your spinning antics

with that rope toy in your mouth

You know without me uttering a command

to drop everything and settle your body next to mine

Your countenance changes

You know

before a tear even begins to well

that my love meter is down

You know

what my humans overlooked

that I just need a little warmth pressed against me

a reassurance

Someone to have faith in me

When I don’t have faith in myself

You know, dog

you know what symbiosis is all about

this give and take

this loving one another wherever, whenever, no matter what

A**Hole in One: Afternoon A**Hole

The next installment in the A**Hole in One series was submitted by my friend, S (she asked that I refer to her and her daughter by their initials), after a particularly trying afternoon pick up at daycare with her three year old daughter, N. Anyone who has ever tried carrying a sack of screaming, squirming piglets over their shoulder while wearing dress shoes in the middle of an ice slicked, snow burdened winter will appreciate the following anecdote.

N hates to leave daycare. Emphasis on the HATES. Yesterday was especially horrific. Here is how it went.

Me: (Arriving at her classroom door) Hi sweetie! It's time to go.

N: (Seriously pissed off face alternating with near tears face) Go get my brother first.

Me: No.

N: Please Mommy.

Me:  No.

N: Can I have a few more minutes? (Now with  teenage-level snottiness).

Me: OK. I'll be back in a few minutes, so finish up what you are playing with.

Ten minutes later I return with baby bundled in tow. N sees me at the door. She GLARES at me as if I've just stolen the last French fry off her plate.

What followed was 7 minutes of foot stomping and hair tossing, alternating with crying on the floor in the fetal position.

I finally get her out of the classroom by leaving. She walks out, taking the world’s smallest steps, and meets me at her cubby.

What happened next was 20 minutes of shouting, crying, flailing, refusal to get coat, boots and other winter apparel on. All the while throwing her body around in such a way that other happy, accommodating children cannot access their belongings. I should mention that her shouting usually includes "Ouch mommy! Stop Mommy! Don't hurt me!" (I don't need to mention that I'm not even touching her, right?)

I am now sweating and fuming. A sympathetic parent tries holding the door open to no avail as we are barely moving.

In the end, we left with her over my shoulder (no boots, hat or mittens, coat unzipped) while I also balanced the baby in the infant carrier through the snow to the car.

For more information about how you can contribute to A**Hole in One, please click here. What's  the good in enduring our own crappy experiences if we can't share them later with others in their similar times of affliction?