Bad Doggy Mommy

Ok....someone else please admit they have resorted to doing this, so I don't feel like the only bad doggy mommy out there.

Moms are busy...they just are.
Our grocery lists aren't perfect...they just aren't.
Sometimes necessities don't make the list...they just don't.
Our furred friends are last on the totem pole...they just are.

So today, (and it isn't the first time), I go to give our Golden Retriever, Maggie, her breakfast. Her ears are all perked up, and she's hungry. There is a rolled bag of dog food right next to her bowl, and I lift the suspiciously light bag to pour her food. Nothing. Nada. The bag is bone dry. There aren't even a few morsels caught between the folds in the bag.

Now I've been just as much to blame in these situations as Ken. However, yesterday Ken must of fed the dog and left the rolled up bag in the same place, but used up all of the dog food. I'm sure he thought there was a new bag around some place. There wasn't.

So here's the dirty deed: Your dog is looking at you, and already salivating expecting another Purina breakfast. You can't let her down. You can't walk away empty handed from those hungry puppy dog eyes. So desperately, you try to find the closest thing to dog food you can in the pantry. What is the closest thing to dog food in any Mom's pantry? --> CEREAL.


Looking at your expectant dog, you pull the Rice Krispies off the shelf. You rationalize as you glance at the ingredients that, after all, it is close to Lamb & Rice Formula (without the Lamb). The vet did say Maggie's allergies might be better with a Rice diet.

You pour the People Food into the dog bowl, bracing yourself for the havoc it will probably cause to your dog's sensitive digestive system. Imagining that you may both suffer the long drawn out smelly consequences in a stuffy room in about 3 hours. You wait expectantly as your dog looks at the big bowl of Krispies, and glances back at you with a look you can't quite discern. In your mind, the translation could go two ways:

Either she's saying "You mean I can really eat this whole bowl of People Food?"
Or she's looking at you with a "You forgot me again didn't you?" look.
Bad doggy mommy.

So tell me. How many of you are willing to admit you have fed your dog from a cereal box (or worse) when times were tough? Take this skeleton out of the closet, and let it swing out in the open. Bad doggy mommies, stand up and be counted!

The Rise of Traditions

I can remember when I was carrying Grace feeling a twinge of worry. There is something in everyone that wants to leave a legacy for their children. And it helps to have part of the legacy started in the form of traditions. My problem was that I couldn't think of any traditions my family had that I could pass on.

It has been almost six years now, and we are beginning to see traditions arise in the house. Brace yourself as these are not your classic traditions, but they are traditions in the sense that if you ever didn't do them, it would be a form of punishment. I have only a couple that I can think of, but more I'm sure will come to mind later:

Tickle Hugs: I can't even recall how this tradition started. Obviously hugs that turned into tickle fights. But these are a requirement now before putting the kids to bed. And there are rules to tickle hugs. You get only one at nap time, two tickle hugs at night time (AFTER prayers), three tickle hugs on Christmas, and four tickle hugs on Easter.

Prayers: The kids may only say The Lord's Prayer on Thursday and Sunday nights. All other nights need to be personal or special prayers. This tradition was instituted since we noticed that the children started saying The Lord's Prayer every night as their choice of prayer because it required little thought. The rule worked too. It took a couple of weeks for the children to actually remember how to pray, but their personal prayers became much more meaningful again.

Now the problem with our 2 traditions is that they are juxtaposed. So when the kids are praying you get something like this:

"...and thank you for the library, and going to the pool. You are my hero. And I love you. In Jeeee....sssuussss....naaaaameee"(child is tensing up to bolt across the bed)".....AMEN!!!" (shouted with a flurry of legs and arms trying desperately to get out of reach before the first tickle hug).

The Butterfly Whisperer

Occasionally you have those moments. I had one today walking on our treadmill that faces out into our backyard. The children where outside literally chasing butterflies that fluttered by.

Grace, my "Butterfly Whisperer" had her pointer finger and arm extended. Her mouth, singing a song that I couldn't hear from indoors, as she watched the butterflies flying closely around her. Her hope being that a butterfly would be soothed by her siren song and come and land on her finger. She never gives up. I watched her as she persisted for 10 minutes with constant song trying to attract her fluttering friends.

It is just that small moment that makes you smile, and admire a little 5 year old. A free spirit, trying patiently to capture another free spirit.

What is the Protocol of Disposal?

I think all mothers with little artists can relate to this one. I caught myself with the same yucky but familiar feeling as I quickly stashed more coloring pages into the trash, before the kids came around the kitchen corner.

When our children are little, we save every little scrap of genius...their first scribble with Crayolas, their first painting. We encourage them, and cheer them on. And then one day, they come to us with a work of art. Something they've made, and we show such joy that they decide to give it to us. And from that day on, they live for the expressions on your face they trust they'll find, every time they bring you a love offering of glitter and glue. This becomes and almost daily cycle of coloring gifts and affirmations.

And then, one day, you do it. You have to. The fridge is covered with masterpieces, the counter is covered with masterpieces still drying. The playroom has no more locations. There are stacks of coloring pages everywhere. So as "wrong" as it feels, you force yourself to throw the weaker items away.

And then it happens. Your daughter or son, notices their drawings crumpled in the trash. They call you on it - staring at you in disbelief and hurt by the trash bag with their crumpled artwork. And you're crushed that they've discovered it. How could Mom throw away their love offerings? And it makes you wonder...what did Mom do with my clay squirrel salt shaker I made back in 4th grade?

But still they forgive and continue to give...even after they know that sometimes Moms throw them away.

There Is No Doubt

This morning I laid on my back in bed and mourned over my new head cold. I was greeted with a warm hello by a few wild kicks from the baby that were surprisingly noticable. Over the last week, I have laid my hand on my belly to see if movement could be detected by someone else. Today...it was unmistakeable!

It seems too early to be feeling that kind of defined movement. Perhaps it is the daily cup of coffee this little one has shared with me since conception? The closest Grace or Jack ever came to sharing coffee, was coffee flavored ice cream.

You Know You're A Mother When...

...you find your bathroom hand towels being used by your children to clean up rubber cement spills on a carpeted floor.

...your dog's water dish sparkles in the sunlight because of a film of glitter on the surface.

...you find that today's incoming mail brought in by the children, is really today's outgoing mail.

...you realize as you place your child in the carseat for church, he's "going commando" to church, and you don't run inside for a pair of underwear.