Waking up every day (well - most days) striving to be the best parent I can be


and even if I'm not earning an "A," I'm finding the humor in every day moments


and situations.




Monday, January 30, 2012

Our Dog - Part 2

Science Girl and I realized we'd made a mistake taking our boys to "look" at puppies with no plan to actually bring one home. Once sold on the idea of having a dog, the boys saw no need to shop around.

The puppy rescue people posted pictures of puppies on their web site on Fridays. That day, our family gathered around the computer, hoping that the selection would be good. We were in luck. There was a litter of puppies, supposedly the offspring of a Boxer mother and unknown father. Science Girl and I quickly conferred. A Boxer mix seemed like a good size dog and judging by the pictures, the unknown part of the lineage didn't seem to include Poodle or German Shepherd.

One of the puppies was the color of caramel, another was white with black spots, and the third was a mix of black and white. The boys started referring to the dogs as Caramel, Spot, and Oreo. I reminded them that if we got one of them, we'd call him something else. I was thinking up names that would fit well with Leo, our cat, and was contemplating Gus, Fletcher and Linus.

Science Girl had also learned that to get your pick, you needed to show up early and get your name on a list. People would get to choose based on when they arrived.

On the designated Saturday, we showed up before the event started and were happy to discover that we were number 4 on the list. The first set of people looked at Caramel and took him. The second set of people, a large family in overalls, looked at Oreo. Simultaneously, the third family looked at Spot. Sport started to whimper, there were other dogs but we'd agreed that these three were our top choices. Science Girl and I looked at each other, anxiety building.

Suddenly, the overall clad family put Oreo back and asked to look at another dog. We were given an opportunity to visit with this black and white dog. We petted him, he seemed friendly and sweet. Our family all agreed that this was our dog. We picked him up and walked over to fill out papers. I asked the kids, "What do you think? Linus?" They scowled. "His name is Oreo," they said. I argued. They remained steadfast. We approached the registration desk. "Oreo Blizzard," they said. I winced.

Anyway, Oreo Blizzard has turned out to be a fine dog - funny looking with a long back and short legs, a loyal watchdog, affectionate, playful. And, whenever the boys or Science Girl declare their love for him, I remind them, it was my idea to get a dog.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Our Dog - Part 1

When I knew everything about being a parent, before I actually became a parent, I knew I wanted our family to have a dog because I thought all children should grow up with a dog. I envisioned a dignified animal who was loyal, loving and protective of our children, sleeping in their rooms, playing ball with them in the yard. A couple of years ago, I suddenly realized that the boys were already 12 and 8 years old and we had never had a dog. When I addressed this fact and my idea to remedy the issue, I thought everyone in the family would be enthused. They were not. In fact, Science Girl, Secret Service and Sport were united in their lack of desire for a dog. We had a handsome (but poorly behaved) grey and while cat named Leo and they all agreed that he was sufficient in the role of family pet.

I couldn't help but believe that they were wrong (like I often do when they disagree with me). The boys' focus was elsewhere. If I remember correctly, I think Secret was lobbying for us to purchase an ice rink for the backyard that he'd seen in a Sky Mall magazine and Sport was designing a tree house that he wanted built in our backyard (even though our trees were less than 5 feet tall at the time). I persisted and gradually managed to engage Science Girl in a series of discussions - adult dog vs. puppy, large dog vs. small, purebred vs. mixed breed. Science Girl did some research and found a puppy rescue group that gathered mixed breed puppies from several states and brought them to a Denver pet store each Saturday to facilitate adoptions.

Trooping over there on a Saturday morning in September 2009, we explained to the boys that we were just going to look, we weren't ready to buy. The boys didn't seem particularly interested in the whole venture, only reluctantly climbing into the car. On the way over, we talked about what type of dog we were seeking. Science Girl wanted a medium size dog who wasn't a Poodle. I wanted a medium size dog who wasn't a German Shepherd. (Please don't chastise me if you are a Poodle or Shepherd fan, I'm sure they are wonderful dogs but Science Girl takes offense at the poodles puffy coat and I feel like Shepherds would rather bite me than cuddle.)

In the pet store, Science Girl and I learned the routine, Secret (as usual) said little, keeping his thoughts to himself. Sport saw a puppy who intrigued him, a brindle colored German Shepherd looking little guy. Making yet another one in a long series of parenting errors, I let Sport play with this puppy. We had finished looking around and were ready to go. Sport looked shocked, weren't we getting this dog? We reminded him we weren't ready to buy.

Sports' face crumbled, big tears rolled down his unblemished cheeks. He had fallen in love. The whole family turned to me. Sport loved this dog, could we get him? Weakly, I said, "It looks like a German Shepherd." Secret started to argue with me about my discomfort with the breed. I was not persuaded to change my mind. When we got out of the store, Sport, (sans puppy) tears still trickling down his face, said, "You broke my heart." Secret glared at me. Science Girl looked exhausted by the ordeal. So far, this (like many other realities of being a parent) wasn't going the way I had imagined it would.

To Be Continued . . .

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Mini Me

Perhaps as part of his self taught CIA/FBI training, my son, Secret Service, has developed a clever method of eavesdropping. Like many of us, at the end of a conversation, he leaves the room where we've been talking. Unlike many of us, he turns a corner so that he's out of sight and then waits. Secret believes that sometimes we will say something interesting after he leaves the room and he wants to know what that is.

I don't know what juicy tidbits of family gossip Secret has scored in this manner. His surveillance techniques are based on the assumptions that we don't tell him directly what we think and feel about him and that we know things that we aren't sharing.

This whole situation seems ironic because Science Girl and I feel like when we talk to Secret, face to face, he isn't listening. We have to get him to pull ear buds out of his ears, we have to repeat ourselves, we have to insist that he make eye contact. Yet, secretly, this child is so intrigued by what we've got to say that he's hiding and trying to hear us.

The other day, we were all in the kitchen and Science Girl and I were instructing Secret to take out the garbage. This, like all other household tasks assigned to Secret, was not to his liking. I believe it wasn't convenient for him to do the chore at that time, there was a short burst of disagreement, which resulted in Secret stomping out of the room holding the trash bag. Science Girl and I remained in the kitchen, heard Secret walk through the mudroom, heard the door to the garage open and close. I smiled at her. "He sounds just like me when he argues," I said proudly. "He uses a lot of the same exact expressions I do."

Just then, we heard something in the mudroom. I peaked around the corner. Secret, still holding the garbage, stood there scowling. I smiled pleasantly at him. "Here," I said, "let me help you with the door."

When he was really gone, Science Girl and I chuckled. "I don't think that was what he was hoping to hear," she said.

I think we should try to remember that Secret may be lurking around any corner of our house and remember to say warm and loving things when he leaves the room. As a parent, it is gratifying to see yourself reflected in your child, even if it is the negative. I especially will try to note when Secrets' behavior reminds me of me. If that doesn't stop the eavesdropping, I don't know what will.