Dogs and babies.
Sometimes, they’re one and the same.
They both have to be trained. They both whine if you don’t feed
them right away. And they both are very demanding.
I sound like an old, ornery Mama, don’t I? It must be this
sweltering Gilroy heat getting to me.
Dogs and babies.
Sometimes, they’re one and the same.
They both have to be trained. They both whine if you don’t feed them right away. And they both are very demanding.
I sound like an old, ornery Mama, don’t I? It must be this sweltering Gilroy heat getting to me.
I find myself trapped inside with both my little ones clamoring for my attention when all I want to do is step into a cool bath with a good book and shut the door.
I can’t remember the last time I did that. Oh yeah, when I was pregnant. When my daily worries revolved around my swollen ankles and whether my trousers still fit me.
I was still blissfully ignorant to 3 a.m. feedings, hold-your-nose diaper pails, and spit-up stained clothes.
Now that I have our little Emma and our miniature dachshund, Lucy, under the same roof, I find myself with too few hands and too many bushels of laundry.
I saw a sign the other day that I feel I can now relate to – “M stands for Mom not Maid.”
Not that I feel like a full-fledged maid, but whoever made up the rule that ye who stays home the bulk of the day is stuck with the bulk of the housework needs to clean my house.
It’s just not fair, is it?
Sometimes after a long day of mopping up messes, folding onesies and playing peek-a-boo, I feel like I’ve sweated away I.Q. points and the last ounce of my communication skills.
If that’s not enough, I’m afraid I’ve got a serious case of sibling rivalry brewing between my two kids.
If I’m cooing to Emma, Lucy is sure to step in between us, leap onto my face and plant kisses on my chin. And if I’m playing with Lucy, you can bet Emma will grab a fistful of her fur and pull – hard.
Thankfully, Lucy has learned some tolerance. Instead of growling or even barking, she slowly backs out of the room and goes about her merry way.
But then other days, I feel like I’m experiencing deja vu. There was the day when Emma and I came home to find the kitchen trash can upturned. Plastic wrappings and remnants of last night’s dinner lay strewn all over the floor.
It seems the latch securing the cupboard housing our garbage can snapped in half. And our darling dacshie had seized the moment, tearing into whatever she could get her paws on.
Of course, at 4 a.m. the next morning, a half hour after I had fallen asleep, I heard the sounds of retching in the corner. Lucy just couldn’t stomach our kitchen scraps.
The following day, something didn’t sit well with Emma. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that much of her lunch ended up on the blanket she happened to be sitting on. While holding up the baby, I tried to sponge her off, while also cleaning up the blanket. Not skipping a beat, Lucy sauntered over to lick up whatever Mom had missed.
With all that said, there’s no other place I’d rather be, and there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. I know I’m lucky to be at home with Emma. My husband, Chris, and I worked hard so I could do just that.
Amid the chaos, I’ve learned to smile and let sleeping dogs – and babies – lie. There are just some things I don’t have any control over. And I’ve accepted that good enough is well, good enough.
And then there are the moments that remind me of what a charmed life I lead. Like at 6 a.m. when I bring Emma into bed on a sleepy Sunday morning. Lucy snuggles up and curls herself around my legs while Emma tucks herself next to Chris and throws a dimpled arm over his chest. I look at my darlings sleeping peacefully and I have to chuckle.
Ah, dogs and babies.
Sometimes they’re one and the same.
They both require a dash of patience, a smattering of laughter and a whole lot of love.
