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Jennifer Margulis

Mothering Outside the Lines

How to be a Happier Mom: Q & A with Meagan Francis

April 7th, 2011

MeaganTurtleI’ve known Meagan Francis for more seven years. We’ve been writerly colleagues, cyber friends, and in real life conference companies. We’ve also had pregnancy scares at the same time (only, her test was positive–tee hee). Meagan’s not only a prolific, hard-working, and incredible writer, she’s also an amazing mom. She’s about a thousand years younger than I am and she has way more children: four boys and a girl. Her children are ages 13, 11, 7, 5, and 2. And she’s not going out of her mind! In fact, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, her latest book, which is hot off the presses, is called THE HAPPIEST MOM. I asked Meagan to share some of her best secrets on how to celebrate motherhood and be a happy mom.

JM: Sometimes I beat myself up about my parenting abilities because I tend to lose my temper, especially with my seven year old who has been going through a trying stage lately (think: constant whining interspersed with belligerence … over things like the quantity of butter on the morning toast.) Does being a happy mom mean you never yell at your children?

MF: I wish! No, being a happy mom doesn’t make you a perfect mom. I still yell, I still gripe, I still overreact sometimes. I think what’s changed the most about me as I’ve gone down this journey toward being a more intentionally happy mom is that I can now break out of the anger sooner. I recognize what’s happening when I start to overreact, and can stop myself and redirect my feelings a lot faster than I used to. And because I decided that I value family peace and love over being “right” I’m so much quicker with an apology and a hug than I used to be. I still screw up every day, but I feel less defined by my screw-ups, because I am willing to apologize, forgive, move on, and face the rest of the day with optimism rather than digging into that anger and stress and chaos and staying there.

JM: Do you tell a lot of jokes in your house (got any good ones for 11-year-olds? How ’bout 7-year-olds? Toddler jokes?)?

MF: Actually, I am a horrible joke teller. I can tell really funny real-life stories, but as far as memorized jokes go? My repertoire has maybe five jokes and I am sorry to say they are all dirty, except for the one about the pig with three legs…stop me if you’re heard this one…

My five-year-old tells a lot of knock-knock jokes, which are hilarious because the punchlines he comes up with make no sense at all.

JM: Is your book part of a trend to celebrate motherhood? There was a rash of books that appeared at the same time about the dark side of motherhood. It was almost cool to complain about how much motherhood made you miserable. Have we emerged from those dark ages?

MF: Gosh, I hope so. I think the early days of the Internet were almost intoxicating: Finally, I can admit that my kids make me nuts sometimes and I think Mommy and Me is totally boring! But after a while the stories we were all telling swung so far toward the complainy side that people almost looked at you suspiciously if you claimed you were happy to be a mother. I’m not going to suggest motherhood isn’t a lot of hard work and doesn’t have its drawbacks, but moms can be happy, and can make choices that help us live happier lives.

JM: I get the sense that happy moms aren’t afraid to ask for help. What are some of the ways that you get help? And how have you learned to be able to ask for it?

MF: This is vital. When I was a newer mom I had this “every woman for herself” mentality and thought it would look like I was admitting weakness or incompetence if I asked for help with my children or anything else. As time has gone by I’ve learned that asking others for help actually does them a favor, because now they know they can ask YOU for help, too! And our kids really benefit from being part of a larger “village” that can love and care for and watch out for them as they grow. I’ve still got an independent streak, but I now have a much easier time asking my mother-in-law to babysit, asking a neighbor to watch my kids in the yard for a minute while I run in to answer the phone, or asking my husband to run out to the grocery store just because I’ve had a hard day and don’t feel like it. Helping each other out makes the world a better (and happier) place for everyone.

JM: What do you think the most important take-away message is from your book?

MF: Be yourself. Honestly, I think if you are true to your own personality and values, it makes motherhood so much easier. Of course you can let motherhood shape and change you for the better (for instance, I learned the importance of some gentle structure after having children—before kids I fancied myself as a completely free spirit, which doesn’t work as well when you’re trying to meet deadlines and take good care of multiple children!). But I have tried to make changes that make sense for me and my personality. For example, I use very simple organizing systems because I know that’s what works for me.

But overall, I try to hold on to what’s important to me, not necessarily anyone else. I value creativity, innovation, and self-sufficiency highly. Another mom might value academic success or tradition more highly. That doesn’t make her right and me wrong or vice versa—but if we are both true to ourselves, we will be better, happier moms than if we tried to change our deepest values.

HappiesMomCoverWant to know more about Meagan? She blogs at www.thehappiestmom.com and you can follow her on Twitter at @meaganfrancis

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[ 7 comments ]

Will You Gaze Lovingly At Your Kids Tonight?

March 18th, 2011

Gretchen Rubin, a New York City based writer and author of The Happiness Project, and her husband have a very sweet tradition.

Every once in awhile after they’ve put their two daughters to bed, Rubin’s husband says to her, “Come on, let’s go gaze lovingly.”

They tiptoe. Jamie slings an arm around Gretchen’s shoulder. They stand for a moment together and gaze lovingly as their daughters are quietly sleeping.

These days my 11-year-old is going to bed later than I am. When we open the door to our room we invariably wake the baby, who’s a light sleeper. But just thinking about this idea makes my heart ache with how sweet and right it sounds.

Tonight James and I have a date: to gaze lovingly.

Do you have a sweet tradition in your family that helps you remember how much you love your children?

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[ 15 comments ]

How Much Should You Pay the Babysitter?

March 9th, 2011

My daughter, the one who wants to get her ears pierced, charges $2/hour. She began her childcare career as a mother’s helper, playing with her little brother’s friend while a parent was at home. But now she’s a full-fledged babysitter. She’s taken a “When I’m in Charge” class at the American Red Cross and she has lots of experience with her younger siblings. She would know what to do in an emergency and she’s very responsible. She’s the kind of babysitter, I imagine, who puts the toys away and tidies the kitchen after the kids are in bed.

“I think you should raise your rates,” I suggested when Hesperus came home after a two-hour babysitting stint with four singles.

“Ut uh,” she shook her head. “Two dollars an hour is plenty. Besides, it’s not a good time for them to be paying me more.” (The parents of the 7-year-old she’s been sitting for most often are going through a temporary separation, and feeling the pinch of the economy.)

I remember my friend Katelyn remarking that it was cheaper to hire a sitter to watch her son while she cleaned her own house than to hire someone to clean. Yet we would all agree that having someone take care of our kids is more important than vacuuming the corner dust bunnies. Wouldn’t we?

Twelve years ago when we lived in Atlanta, I earned $12/hour caring for a 3-month-old (who slept for two to three hours every morning) when I lived in Atlanta. Today we live in a small city in southern Oregon where the rates tend to be much lower.

When I asked our current sitter how much she charged, she said, “Five dollars for the first child and a dollar an hour more for each child after that.” She’s in high school. She lives at home. She’s happy to have the extra money. Her rates are so reasonable I worry she’s being underpaid. Even so, our finances have been less than enviable lately and I’m often daunted by how much it costs to hire a sitter for more than a few hours.

Maybe it’s partly because I have mixed feelings about childcare in general (having spent a good chunk of my childhood missing my own mom and being cared for by nannies), but I’m often reluctant to pay someone for the job I feel James and I should be doing ourselves.

Readers, how much do you pay the babysitter? What do you think is a fair wage for childcare? How do you juggle the need for quality care with your financial situation? Please share your thoughts in the comment section below.

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[ 53 comments ]

My Daughter Wants Pierced Ears

March 4th, 2011

My daughter, who’s eleven and a half, is planning to pierce her ears when she is twelve. She’s been begging me for permission for years. I’ve been stalling.

My mother wasn’t allowed to pierce her ears because her father thought it was unseemly. My grandfather–who drank too much and talked too loudly–also believed only prostitutes wore anklettes. But when I was in second grade, my mother and I went together to get our ears pierced. I must have been seven, she was 38.

I’m not sure I even wanted pierced ears. But my mother did. And she wanted company.

A few months later she took me on a work trip to Toronto. We stayed with a friend, a scientist who wore billowy skirts and a scowl. My mom’s colleague had a parrot. I was fascinated by its sharp black talons, riot of colorful feathers, and cheerful, taunting squawks. While my mother worked, I played with the parrot. Our hostess let me take the bird out of its cage. It stood on my shoulder, careful not to dig its talons into my flesh.

But there was one thing the parrot couldn’t resist: the small sparkling gem on the lobe of my ear.

The parrot craned its neck towards my earring, pecking at it with its sharp beak. The first time I giggled. The next time it hurt. The third time I had to take out my earring because it was getting infected. Since the piercing was so new, the damaged skin closed back together to heal itself. I was seven years old and had one earring, like a pirate or a teenaged boy.

Part of me thinks to pierce your ears is a bodily mutilation, which it is. You put a hole in your flesh and insert a metal object into it. When a young man pierces 25 places on his face, most of us find it disturbing or even disgusting. How is putting holes in our ears or our children’s any different?

I re-pierced my ears at the mall years later. A gun at my lobe. Hold still. This will only hurt for a second. On the count of three. One–two–then a sharp and unexpected pain as the stud perforated my flesh.

This time I took better care of my ears. I cleaned the wounds three times a day with alcohol. They crusted over with infection but healed quickly.

I love wearing earrings. I love long dangling ones, big bold hoops, the gold filagree with rubies that my mother bought me for my wedding. My grandfather on my father’s side was a jeweler. Every time I wear a pair of earrings that he gave me I remember the pleasure on his face when he showed me his collection, his pouty lower lip, and the way he loved to make salads.

Still, I can’t help wondering if vanity is a good reason to cause your body pain? If the chance to wear earrings is worth putting holes in your flesh? There are always clip-ons, which is what my mother wore, for special occasions.

I’ve told my daughter that she has to decide who will pierce her ears (a doctor? a teen at the mall?) and she has to pay for the procedure with her own money. She can’t wait. I have beautiful family earrings that will someday be hers. But I look at my daughter’s perfect smooth lobes and I wish she would change her mind.

At what age do you think it’s okay for a parent to pierce a child’s ears? Do you have pierced ears? Do you wish you didn’t? I’m eager to read your thoughts and opinions in the comment section below.

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[ 68 comments ]

Is This An Activity You’d Consider Doing with Your Daughter?

February 14th, 2011

Where should I sit? Three giggling 11- and 12-year-old girls were on the couch and two on chairs, with the four other moms in a horseshoe facing them. Everyone enjoying freshly baked chocolate brownies, the girls talking in breathless voices, the grown-ups friendly but a bit shyer and more subdued.

Hesperus and I were at the organizational meeting of our new mother-daughter book group. A mom of one of Hesperus’s best friends, who’s in a similar group with her older daughter, invited us to take part.

After nearly an hour of discussion the ten of us chose our first book: all 594 pages of Stephenie Meyer’s The Host.

I waded through the first two Twilight books but could not bring myself to read the third. I’d never choose to read The Host. But that’s what book groups are for—to encourage you to try genres, books, and authors you’ve never read before.

Halfway through, I’m enjoying Meyer’s epic of peaceful parasites (“souls”) who use human bodies as hosts more than I expected.

The group will rotate to a different house each month. The mother-daughter hosts decide on the book for the month it’s at their house (or bring in two or three options for everyone to vote on). I volunteered our place for the second meeting.

“Let’s make sure the house is really clean, okay Mom?” Hesperus says as we buckle our helmets and fetch our bicycles from back yard. I careen down the hill but Hesperus outpaces me once we turn south on Siskiyou. She races along, turning onto our street before I’ve even cleared the library, mouth open in a smile, heart pumping, limbs strong.

I sat next to the girls on the plush green couch and went back for thirds on the brownies. Now my daughter and I just need to agree on the next book we’ll read.

Related posts:
A Ten-Year-Old and her new baby sister
Two daughters growing up
The impact of No Impact

Are you in a book group? Have you ever thought of joining or starting a mother-daughter book group? Do you have any suggestions for books both 11-year-olds and 30- and 40-something moms would enjoy?

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“I didn’t think I was capable of all that rage”

February 11th, 2011

There’s a devastating article, Emily Bazelon’s “Shaken-Baby Syndrome Faces New Questions in Court,” in the New York Times Sunday Magazine about how some caregivers are being wrongly accused of shaking babies so hard they suffer brain damage.

It turns out that what we attribute to shaken baby syndrome is often caused by something else. It’s so upsetting to think about the women who are in jail for crimes they didn’t commit.

I was talking about the article with some of my mom friends. Though the evidence against shaken-baby syndrome is mounting, many of us admitted to each other we were familiar with that dark and horrible place where a baby’s crying filled us with impatience, or even rage. But we also realized that we were ashamed of those feelings and that we don’t usually openly talk about them.

“This is all such a taboo subject that almost everybody lies about and pretends it isn’t so. Kids can drive you to your very limits. Yes, we have no societal support, but yes, we also have too little realism; we like our images of parenting to be sugar-coated. Am I the only mother of a newborn who was scared to death she’d go crazy and smash her baby against the wall? I don’t think so, but I felt so alone and haunted by it and potentially dangerous.” –R.P., Texas

“Lily was so colicky. If I wasn’t literally jumping up and down with her in my arms or nursing she was screaming. There were several times where I had to leave her in her crib for a few minutes so I could get a grip. Before that, at the hospital, I’d had to watch a shaken baby video before going home and my husband and I were like, this is a joke. Then Lily cried like a maniac and I was almost thankful for that video. My very good friend was chief resident at Columbia’s children’s hospital and she saw some terrible things, but in the end she said she totally got how it can happen. Now that the second’s almost here, I’m more prepared. At least I know the colic will end and I know how to deal with it if indeed it happens again.” –P.B., New York

“When my oldest was several months old, I remember reading an article by a woman who admitted wanting to take her baby by the legs and slam him against the wall. That article meant SO much to me as a new mother. It made the frustrations and anger that I faced feel more normal, which made me feel like I could cope a little better. I think there’s huge value in honesty about issues like this.” –K.B., Hawaii

“There were SOOO many times I scared myself by the anger and frustration I felt and by the fantasies I tried to get out of my head. I look at my boys now and wonder how I could ever have felt such crazy dangerous emotions. But then I remember the sleeplessness, feelings of being completely overwhelmed, anger over my husband’s constant travel, self-doubt, and just plain exhaustion. I wish someone had told me it was okay to feel that way.” –S.K., New Jersey

“My children regularly push me to my limits. I can see how people lose it.. I think most of us probably can (other than the parents who have these really obedient children. Mine are very stubborn and independent–not sure where they got that from–anyway.) A few years ago a mother was caught on film in a Kohls parking lot. They showed it over and over on the news and from what I saw it actually didn’t look that terrible. The child was all over the car and the mom was standing outside the car and reaching and slapping and it looked like a mess but having BEEN there I didn’t want to judge because we didn’t know the whole story. Anyway, I remember nodding along while everyone said, ‘Did you see that horrible mother beating her child in the parking lot!?’ and thinking that I hope I am never caught on film having a hissy fit…” C.J., New Jersey.

“I was a calm person before I became a mother. I even taught yoga classes. I think there were even people who admired me for being calm and together. And when my husband and I watched a shaken baby video–required watching by the hospital where we gave birth–we thought, “Of COURSE we would never do something like that!” Then we had a baby. My baby had colic. She never really slept. If I got 2 hours, it was a good stretch. Sometimes it was 1.5 hours. During the day she napped maybe for 20 minutes. Most of the time she was fussy. She needed to be held and while I was standing up. If I tried to sit down while holding her, she’d cry. I had to stand and move, either by bobbing my body or by walking. I used to push her in the stroller for hours. I would nurse her for hours. I would rock her for hours. I lost all of my baby weight in 12 weeks and ended the first year about 10 pounds lighter than I was when I got pregnant and I think it was because I never slept or sat down or rested. At some point when she was 5 or 6 weeks or so old, I was just exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep. That was my sole goal in life. But I never could do it. And her cries just set off my startle reflex. My whole body tensed up when I heard her cry. One night I woke and I swore I had just fallen asleep. I was in a rage. I stomped out of my room and into hers. I just wanted to shut her up. I wanted to throw her, smother her, hurt her, strangle her, squeeze her. I was feeling so much rage. I picked her up and the urge to shake her was so strong. I think the only thing that saved her life was that I always put her into the crib and picked her up sideways, with my palms under her shoulders and butt. Because of where my hands were, I couldn’t really shake her. She wasn’t positioned that way, and I never held her under the armpits. I just didn’t do it. So I was conditioned to pick her up in a way that prevented me from shaking her. The rage finally left me and I sat down and nursed her and sobbed that night. I was scared of myself. I didn’t know who I was. I was ashamed and mortified.” –A.B., Pennsylvania

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[ 5 comments ]

Is Your Attitude More Important Than the Facts?

January 11th, 2011

The news right now is worse than bleak. A new study has found that almost one third of American 9-month-olds are obese (can a baby be obese?), a nine-year-old girl was killed in the horrible shootings on Saturday in Tucson, Arizona, and I got a Facebook message last week warning me to keep my children away from one of my good friend’s colleagues–and a friend of mine–because he’s purportedly a convicted pedophile (”If you want more information, please call his ex-wife’s lawyer,” the note read).

It's cold and lightless in Ashland these days

It's cold and lightless in Ashland these days

Out my office window I see frost on the branches under a colorless sky. Ashland is gray and dreary this time of year. We turn the heat down so low at night there are goose bumps on my skin in the morning.

I don’t do very well in winter. When the baby wakes up it’s still pitch black outside. I stumble around the house looking for my glasses and shimmying into my jeans, bumping into furniture and swearing loudly.

Then I’m angry at myself because it will be my fault if the other children wake up, because Leone’s smile is so winsome and innocent, because it’s a fleeting privilege to have this time alone with her but instead of appreciating it I’m mad.

The kids are invariably late getting out the door to bike to school. Even when they’re early or on time, it feels like they’re late. Seven-year-old Etani dawdles with his socks and wants me to put on his shoes. Instead of being glad that he still likes it when I do things for him, I stuff his feet into his sneakers angrily, asking out loud if he will ever grow up.

It’s hard not to want to be somewhere else. Somewhere with warm weather, twelve hours of sunlight, no alarm clocks, no school, and no deadlines.

A few years ago I read a book about positive thinking and wrote down a quote on an index card: “Attitudes are more important than facts,” wisdom attributed to Dr. Karl A. Menninger, an American psychiatrist.

Fact: Ashland is cold and dreary.
Fact: there’s hardly any light this time of year.
Fact: some cat is using the raised beds as a litter box, leaving big hairy turds in the Brussels sprouts.
Fact: the gate was left open and the deer have helped themselves to all our parsley.

But these ridiculously mundane complaints don’t really matter.

I can think of it all differently:

Attitude: it’s so nice that it’s raining because we can snuggle on the couch drinking red tea from South Africa (mine with milk, Etani and Athena’s with honey) and reading Eragon;
Attitude: the wind is bracing and if I force myself to run in the morning the chill wakes me up, the baby in the running stroller doesn’t mind the cold, and the bike ride to school puts color in the kids’ faces;
Attitude: though literally dozens of their classmates are out with a barfy bug my children are healthy;
Attitude: it’s Monday and the beginning of a new week always holds new promise;
Attitude: the Brussels sprouts will survive the cat feces and even if they don’t, who wants to eat Brussels sprouts anyway?

But Etani and Leone don't mind

But 7-year-old Etani and 14-month-old Leone don't mind

The baby’s new phase is to take off her clothes, walking around the house fat tummy first. Forget healthy. Every time I listen to the news I’m grateful that my kids are alive.

It works. The sky outside my office is no longer ugly and nondescript, it’s open and inviting, clouds scudding across a blue expanse. The kids’ bickering becomes socializing and the cold house a reason to bake bread pudding. James tells me about the 20-year-old aid who courageously ran towards Representative Gabrielle Gifford when he heard the shots, propped her up so she wouldn’t asphyxiate on her own blood, and staunched her wounds with his own hands. There’s still hope that Giffords will pull through.

When my kids are grown, I’ll even miss these dismal winter mornings.

In the meantime, maybe next winter or the winter after that we’ll have the money to vacation somewhere sunny.

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[ 16 comments ]

Tick by Athena

November 19th, 2010

5-year-old Athena with the stray puppy we rescued in Niamey

5-year-old Athena with the stray puppy we rescued in Niamey

Earlier this week we we’ve been talking about how dogs are treated in Niger, and before that about whether or not our family of six should have a dog. Athena, my 9-year-old wrote a story about the dog we rescued in Niger when we were living there from 2006-2007.

Here’s Athena’s story:

One day, when I was six years old and in Africa, my mom and I were walking to school. I saw a dog lying in the street. She looked up when she saw us, and thumped her tail on the ground. She had sandy brown fur, and a big scar on her side. People in Niger don’t like dogs and throw stones at them. I thought this was one of those abused dogs. I petted her, then kept on walking.

When my mom came to pick me up, she told me there was a surprise at home. I raced home, and when I got there, the dog I saw was at our house.

We spent that evening pulling ticks out of her ears. That’s why my big sister named her Tick. She was scared of us at first, but after awhile she would jump on us every time we came outside. Then one day she went outside and didn’t come back. Every day from then on I left a dog treat under the gate. It almost always disappeared.

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[ 4 comments ]

On the (Mis)treatment of Dogs in West Africa

November 15th, 2010

Outside the Petit Marché in Niamey, Niger

Outside the Petit Marché in Niamey, Niger

Last week Tracy asked about the puppy we adopted when we lived in Niger.

Athena, who was five when we found the puppy four years ago, still draws pictures of our family with Tick in them.

When we went to her fourth grade conference, the teacher read us a story Athena wrote about finding Tick, caring for Tick, and losing Tick.

In Niger most people don’t like dogs. One afternoon we went to visit the compound of a Togolese friend who had a puppy. A Nigerien woman who lived in the same enclosure gave the sleeping puppy a hard kick as she passed. Her son added to the puppy’s pain by smacking it with a stick. My daughters, who were playing outside with some of the children in the compound, came running to find me with tears in their eyes.

“They kicked the puppy and really hurt it and it wasn’t doing anything to them!” my 7-year-old cried. “Why would anybody do that?”

Cars actually swerve to hit dogs. Children throw stones at them. Adults chase them away with sticks. Most of the dogs you see on the streets of Niamey, Niger’s capital city, are so thin their ribs show.

I’ve heard a lot of explanations for why Nigeriens don’t like dogs. Some neighbors of ours gave their dogs away when a Muslim priest told them the angel wouldn’t bring the blessings of Ramadan to a home with a dog, because in the Koran an angel is scared away by the bark of a dog.

Niger is a country of abject poverty where people, who often don’t have enough food for themselves, keep domestic animals to work: donkeys pull loaded carts, camels are like mini trucks, traveling long distances laden with cargo, chickens are kept for eggs and meat, goats and sheep are raised to sell or eat. Herds of milk cows share the roads with the cars, foraging in the garbage dumps.

But what can a dog do in a desert climate where there are no predators to scare away from crops, no waterfowl to retrieve from rivers, and no sleighs to mush through the snow?

Dogs aren’t seen as companions in Niger. Instead, a dog is another mouth to feed.

They are “useful” only to protect a compound by barking and snarling at strangers.

Having a dog is a luxury that most people in Niger can’t afford.

Incidentally, having a dog is a luxury that some people in America who are struggling financially are also realizing they can’t afford. Since the economic downturn in this country many dog owners have found they can’t keep their dogs, and I’ve read about how humane societies have become overrun with unwanted animals.

I haven’t answered Tracy’s request to tell the story of the orphaned puppy that we nursed back to health. I’ll write more about it in my next post. I’m hoping Mothering’s site glitch will be fixed this week, so that I can also post some photos. Come back soon to read more!

Have you lived in a developing country or anywhere overseas? What was the attitude towards dogs?

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[ 12 comments ]

On Not Having a Dog

November 11th, 2010

DiwaliOn Monday we were talking about how to have a clean kitchen. Mama Em made an excellent point about how her dog helps with clean-up by eating everything the baby drops on the floor.

For more than ten years James and I have been talking about getting a dog.

James: They’re a lot of work.

Me: A dog protects you. I’d feel safer with a dog.

James: Especially Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Did you know they were bred to be lion hunters in Africa?

Me: You have to pick up the poop …

James: And they shed …

Before children we’d talk about having a dog in excited, intimate tones, the way we planned our ultra eco house and our summers in Europe.

Our house is a 1940s ranch with plastic floors and plastic carpets, peeling paint, and low ceilings. The one July we squatted at a friend’s crumbling, spider-ridden house in the center of France when the two oldest girls were still toddlers was one of the loneliest four weeks of my life.

And except for the stray we nursed back to health in Niger, we’ve never had a dog.

But lately–maybe because the baby, our last baby, just turned one–I’ve been pining for a dog.

James: I’m allergic to most breeds.

Me: Poodles don’t shed. They’re hypoallergenic.

James: Hypoallergenic is an advertising term. Our life is so overwhelming as it is. We can’t stay on top of the simplest things …

Me: A dog could lick up spills…

Maybe getting a dog is like having a baby. You can talk it over forever, fret over why it’s a good or bad idea, wonder if you’re really ready, and stress about the timing, but ultimately the desire to have one comes from a place within you that is anything but rational.

Not now but maybe someday? Maybe soon?

What do you think about having a dog? In your house, do you manage to juggle taking care of pets and children?

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[ 16 comments ]






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How to Deal with a Completely Toxic Person? posted by bubbledumpster, Sun, 25 Sep 2011 23:44:20 +0000
TOXIC Family... let's have it. posted by Imakcerka, Sat, 24 Sep 2011 12:55:34 +0000
my parents are coming to visit posted by Linda on the move, Wed, 21 Sep 2011 19:33:00 +0000
In a world of endless choices....how do you choose?? posted by youngspiritmom, Wed, 21 Sep 2011 07:36:13 +0000

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