Role Play? Hopefully not!

I often refer to my dogs as my children. You know, “I’ve got to get home to the kids.” and “We’re taking the girls to the cabin this weekend.” Statements like that, which if you do not know me, could be very confusing. (It also doesn’t help that I have pictures of my niece all over my desk and give people in the office updates as if she was my own child.) I have also made the same dog/child analogy in a previous blog post, here. So I take my responsibility to them very serious. I worry about their health and safety, if they’re warm or cool enough, if they get enough exercise, things that any good mother would worry about.

Like most families we have our daily routines. I wake up at 6:00am every morning (sometimes at 6:09 or 6:18…at the latest 6:27, oh alright, I have ponytail and just mascara work days where I get up at 7:00) and as if I would ever forget about them, I’m immediately reminded that yes I have 3 dogs sleeping in the same room because as soon as my feet hit the ground Shelby leaps from her bed and launches into her song and tap dance routine as if to say, “Hey! Hey! Hey! You’re going to let us out right mom? Right? Hunh? You’re going to let us out, right? Yes! I knew it! You’re letting us out! Alright mom!” And this is EVERY morning.

So as I wait for 3 grown dogs to try and barrel out the bedroom door at the same time, I then follow them into the kitchen and open the back door to let them out. Well, my sweet hydrated Callie makes a sleepy bee line for the yard and pees for about 10 minutes, while Toccoa runs and sits at the edge of the deck scanning the yard for any sign of a squirrel or robin so that she can greet them and say good morning. (AKA run them up a tree and terrorize them) Shelby on the other hand, you know the one who could win a Tony Award for her morning performance and feels it is her duty to make sure every living soul is awake the moment she is, ya well she stops at the kitchen doorway like, “Mom it is way too early to go outside.” So I feed them breakfast, get them fresh water and then they lay at my feet grooming each other while I get ready for work. Then when it’s time for me to leave I let them back into the dark, quiet bedroom where they snuggle up with my husband in the warm, snuggly bed and that is where they stay while Steven gets to sleep for, oh just another 2-3 hours that’s all. Absolutely no bitterness here. But yes, that is how I leave my mutts and my man every morning. Sigh… Nonetheless, I feel somewhat good about taking care of the kids every morning and then heading off to earn some moola to contribute to our household and lifestyle. And I’m all, oh ya, I’m going to be a great mother…

With my day starting much earlier then Steven’s, usually when I get home in the evening I am done. Kaput. Frazzled. Exhausted. Some might say (my husband) a tad dramatic. So majority of the time my handy man is in the kitchen preparing dinner and taking care of the kid’s evening dinner routine.

Well last night he was working late so it was me and the girls. I got home around 5:30pm and let them inside. I knew it was a little early to feed them dinner but last time I was left as soul caregiver, because I didn’t feed them right when I let them in, I forgot and they didn’t get dinner till about 9pm. So to be on the safe side I went ahead and filled their bowls, which they immediately scarfed down.

I went on with my evening, tiding up some things, finishing laundry, mopping the floor… just for fun lets pretend that IS what I did instead of watch a movie on HBO, take an hour nap and eat a rather large serving of Mac & Cheese for dinner. As I was stirring from my nap around 8, I sat up and saw the girls asleep in the living room as well. I swear it didn’t look like normal naps; they looked famished, like they were too weak to raise their heads to look at me, they were barely responding to their names. This was serious. I ran into the kitchen and saw their shiny empty bowls and immediately recognized that twinge of guilt that starts in the pit of your stomach. I FORGOT TO FEED MY KIDS…AGAIN.

I went and helped them into the kitchen, because they were so weak and all, and put a nice fresh scoop of dog chow in their bowls and kept apologizing profusely for being such a bad mother. Once they licked their bowls clean we went back in the living room and I felt relieved that I at least remembered before Steven got home with his accusatory inquisition, “You fed the girls, right?”

I won’t even let you in on how much fun Steven had with me when we realized I had in fact remembered to feed our dogs…twice. But more importantly, it got me thinking. Motherhood. Team practices, doctor’s appointments, piano lessons, birthday parties, school picture day, science fair project deadlines, dentist appointments, did I give them lunch money, has he showered this week, did I brush her hair, did she have shoes on when I dropped her off? YIKES. There is a LOT to remember. Maybe when you actually have kids your body starts producing an organization hormone or something? Maybe? Or maybe, just maybe, Steven will consider birthing the children as a fair part of my contribution to parenthood and he can remember all the other stuff and we'll call it even.

I don't know though, if you ask these kiddos, I bet they'd tell you I'm a pretty darn good Mama...





If that's not the answer you get, don't believe them. They are so living a great life :)