Giving Thanks

I have recently heard of the passing of the loved ones of some friends of mine. It is never a good time, but right before the holidays makes it even worse. Kristin and Bryan, I am so sorry.

Of course it brings me back to the passing of my own father that happened over 3 years ago. Speaking briefly with Bryan (there's never much you CAN say) reminded me of feelings I struggled with after my father's death. I think immediately after a loved one passes, it's only natural that some of your first thoughts are of all the things you "should've, could've" done. I was so fortunate to have had some of my father's last moments. I helped him to bed the night before he died. And although I didn't know he would die the next morning, I did know it would be soon. I had a couple of moments to try to express my deep love and admiration for him.

My dad and I always had a kind of complicated relationship. I did have deep admiration and respect for him. I loved him deeply and I was grateful for the sacrifices he made, without question, for his girls. I never felt I gave enough back. I always felt like I held something back from him and I'm still not sure why. But on that last night, I finally understood. I understood that he knew how I felt. He knew.

Maybe that's just what being a parent is. Maybe it's just about knowing. You know your kids love you even when they say they hate you, or worse, are indifferent to you. You know inherently what's best for your kids. You know you will make mistakes and that your kids will forgive you. You know what "unconditional" means.

On that last night my dad said to me "I am the luckiest man". And now, I know. As a parent I know what he meant.

I know you don't have to hear "I love you, I appreciate you, I am grateful" to feel complete. Loving your child, giving your life to your child is enough.

Thank you dad, and mom. Thank you. I love you.

Here Piper....

Sometimes I catch myself speaking to Piper as I do to the dogs. I know, not good. Here's how I found this out: I'm sitting on the couch watching Piper play on the floor. The dogs are, of course, nearby. As Piper reaches for the Christmas tree to pull it down on top of her I say "NO!". Piper, Lucy (the lab) and Jojo (the Shitzu) all pause mid-action and look at me.

Then Piper turns back to the tree and pulls, Lucy goes back to licking Piper and Jojo returns to licking herself. Again, I say "NO!". This time Piper smiles and comes towards me for a hug, Lucy wags her tail and sheepishly stops licking, and Jojo, well she keeps licking (we all know who's the alpha dog).

As Piper comes to me I say "Good Girl" (which she now says back to me) and she giggles. Lucy then comes up to thank me for calling her a good girl. Jojo keeps licking.

"Get down!"
"Sit down!"
"Come!"
"Don't eat THAT!"
"Let's clean your poopy bum!"

These are all things that have come out of my mouth that I may have generated initially for the dogs...

Well I guess it's only natural. The dogs were kind of our first go-round at a responsibility similar to having kids right? I remember the days when that maternal protectiveness almost got me in trouble at the dog park, on walks on urban trails in Flagstaff, or in doggie obedience training. I remember thinking how much worse it would be with an actual child.

In some ways I was right. I would DIE for my child. Absolutely. I would throw myself in front of an on-coming train without a thought if it would protect her. (Not completely sure I would've done it for the dogs - sorry girls.) But in some ways I've mellowed a bit. I think I can thank the dogs for that. They were good practice for me. I've learned to hold back the maternal fangs until thinking things through. And Piper's "attackers" are usually other little kids who just don't know better yet, or are the unfortunate product of parents who don't know better yet. I just can't bring myself to "Fang - out" on another little kid. Although I'm not promising it will never happen. It's easier to go nuts on a mangy hound attacking your dog then a poor child who doesn't know better. Now sic that mangy hound on Piper and you have a different story on your hands.

Well anyway. We still love the dogs, dearly. They are now our dingy second-fiddle step children. But they take it in stride. And the truth is, we'd do almost anything but risk our own lives to save them. After all, we now have an actual child to take care of. And she doesn't shed as much.

Introduction

Some days, all I want is to brush my teeth without having my pajama bottoms aggressively torn from my body. No, not from my sex crazed husband, but from my dear 16 month old toddler. She is temporarily appeased when I hand her my round hair brush to play with, which she immediately uses to brush our labrador. At least it wasn't the Shit zu, that would've been fun to untangle.

I decided to write a blog because of an experiment I tried several months ago. It was called "mom of the year" - an invitation to the other mothers I know to share their proudest and not-so-proud moments of motherhood. The response was overwhelming, gratefully so. It seems as though many moms (and dads) have their moments when they think "What the HELL am I doing raising a child!?" But all these parents think that because they only want the best for their children...and that's what makes them great parents. That, I learned from my wiser and older, but not bigger, sister who has a gift for saying the right thing at the right time.

So I thought I would give it a go. Brooks, my loving husband, thinks this will be therapeutic. ("So you think I need therapy?"). But I have to agree. I know sharing those "mom of the year" moments were.

For my first entry I thought I'd explain the this picture. It's me with my daughter Piper Marlee. Yes, I have a black eye. No, it's not from an argument with Brooks - you all know who'd have the black eye in that situation. I'm the one with the temper. It's from miss Piper. Head butting me - sweetly.

This has lead to an experience I'd rather not have again. I've developed true empathy for individuals with abnormal "things" on their faces. The stares I have gotten are unbelievable. People have very poor sense of what is an appropriate amount of time to look at a stranger's face as they are walking by. After having the black eye for a couple of days I forgot about it. Until out in public. The first thoughts one day in the grocery store with Piper were, "Is he hitting on me?", "Did I cut in front of her in line?", "Is my fly down?". Then I remembered the "thing" on my face. Then I started to get angry about it (remember, the temper?) and started staring people down when they stared at me - daring them to just ASK instead of assuming the worst! The NERVE of these people being so RUDE! So I left the store in a mental huff. I got into my car and turned the rear view mirror where I could get a good look at the "thing" everyone was so rudely staring at.

Oh. Maybe it was the banana in my hair.....