What do you do when your child throws up in the sandbox at the park? First, you're grateful to dig it out of the sandbox staring at the prying eyes of other parents---what has your kid never puked in public before?? Well it might have something to do with the fact that indeed you had no digging tools for your kids--you were the unprepared parent of the day...and someone else grabbed a cooler lid out of the back of their car to help you dig out the volumtuous vomit of a five year old who just ate his second lunch...there is bleach you know...and you didn't leave it for someone to step in or one year old to put in their mouth after all...Thank God for friends at the park. And thank God he puked in the sandbox and it wasn't you by yourself digging it out of the carseat. Because the first time that happened you cried and called your mother. It really worked out well as far as vomit is concerned...and plus it was from coughing so there's a plus even as the other parents give you the evil eye...
Besides it makes you feel better about yourself because if you were really gone all the time you wouldn't be around ever for such momentous occasions. And with school, you're batting about .500 for being the one cleaning up the puke...which is still better than .999 it used to be. And you still get to be the one up all night and comatose at 6:05 am to fix breakfast and threaten to send everyone back to bed if they don't watch tv until 8 and when they do until 9 you don't complain.
You're still a good mother even if some say "you used to be". And you're kids feel good enough to be running around and cranky instead of sick and snuggly. And then you pull the card.
The card your gambling husband has been waiting for on the river: the puppy card.
I gave in.
Happily.
J has always been an animal lover. And finally when you're outnumbered 3 to 1 and doing something people consider crazy you do the smart thing and the fun thing. You just say yes.
Cheap golden retrievers in the paper...we went to the animal shelter a while ago and didn't have much luck. But we picked her out today. The only one I vetoed was the barking one and the one that had already chewed up the Wal-Mart sack.
Our compromise is that it will stay downstairs or outside. My housekeeping skills are pretty pathetic as it is...so doghair added to the kitchen is a no-go. Plus I will never share my bed with a dog. Snotty kids at times. But not a dog.
So it's happy times at our house. We pick her up the week after spring break. Lucy votes to name her Sleeping Beauty or Pink. Evan wants Sally, Little Star, Twinkle, Little Red...or my favorite "Why don't we just call her Tramp" (like from Lady and the Tramp) *he says with a sparkle in his eye* J says Ginger. I just say why don't we call her Goldie Hawn.
I fully expect three of us to sleep downstairs with her at some point. More sleep for me. I say.
Because they were so cheap, I was cheap and (like a lawyer) asked "the mother and father weren't brother and sister were they?". Josh blushed. The lady said "well, we have 10 don't we?" and "no they weren't". And actually she was very nice and marked the puppy with a bright orange fingernail polish that Lucy asked if she could have (my child has a penchant for fingernail polish). Josh blushed again.
And the anticipation is big in our house...if only J wasn't gone for 10 out of the next 14 days.
So 3 out of four of us are resting well now...and this last one... she will too if she can stop talking about herself in the third person....and figure out what the next property assignment is.
Josh has wanted a dog since we've been married. I have not. Law school has shifted the balance in many good ways and a puppy is one of them. Part of it was that Josh didn't want a dog unless it would be indoors. I don't keep my house clean enough to have an indoor dog. I hate when a house smells like dog and fur everywhere. But I guess we all try to recreate our childhood and our compromise was a golden retriever. I had a great golden retriever named Dore. She would pull us on our rollerblades and go down the slide on the playground and we'd take a bath with her and dress her up in all different types of outfits. One time when my brother was about 8-9 months old and crawling/pulling up. My mom called her (she always was really obedient) and she didn't come. Well when my mom came in the other room my brother had put his fists in her mouth and had grabbed her cheeks and pulled himself up. His little fists had grabbed her jowls and she didn't move because she knew he would fall if she did.
