Things I Miss

I miss being a kid...

Sitting in a laundry basket or a big box while my big sister pushes me across the carpet, sliding down my grandmother's carpeted stairs on my butt, or shuffling my feet across the carpet while wearing my big fluffy slippers and shocking the heck out of one of my sisters.

Laying my cheek against my Grandma Marge's cool arm, which smells of Chantilly powder, as she sings to me and calls me Princess Julianna of the Netherlands, listening to her play a waltz on the piano or a polka on her accordion.

Sitting in my Grandma Dorothy's office, at the big conference table, and learning to write my name, with the sound of printing presses and the smell of ink in the background.

Hopping into her huge black Lincoln convertible and sitting on the armrest while she drives to the post office, then to her cottage, or sliding around in the big back seat and giggling with my sister. Hoping to pass the farm with the "circus horses", which weren't really circus horses -- the horse was not really trying to climb onto the other horse's back, I realized much later when I was a teenager. 

Having a never ending supply of coloring books and paper dolls, because my grandfather's publishing company produced them.

Hanging on the monkey bars in our back yard, the one we saved our pennies for in a big plastic pink piggy bank. The day we cut it open was so exciting. Riding my 3-speed bike as fast as I can down Michigan Avenue, around Ohio Terrace or on the path at the creek, feeling free and thinking it would be so much fun to drive a car someday (not knowing nothing is as fun or as free-feeling as riding a bike, even a 3-speed).

 
Hearing my parents play cards and laugh with their friends while I lay in bed at night, with the lingering after taste of purple cool-aid and Ballreich's potato chips.

Playing Barbies and eating cupcake batter with my best friend Kelley, then watching Andy Williams or Tom Jones on the black and white TV, while her mother sings along with a silly love sick look (I now understand).

Grandma's cottage, with the feel of the seawall railing, all warm from the sun and scratchy from the sand, the sound of the waves and the fog horn in the morning, the porch door slamming. Walking on the pier or the beach while holding my grandfather's hand.

Polishing the slide in the park with a piece of waxed paper to make it faster. Hoping Uncle John will push me on the swing because he makes it go the highest, over his head even. Rinsing the sand off my feet at the faucet by the back door, but never really getting all the sand off. Singing and dancing on the fireplace hearth, in front of the andiron owls with their glowing eyes, as my sister and I pretend we are the singing Aldridge sisters from the Lawrence Welk show.

The coolness of the grass under my bare feet, late in a summer's evening, as the lights start coming on in the houses but no one wants to stop playing hide and seek or kick ball. The smell of lighting bugs in a jar.

Mom making Thanksgiving dinner as we watch the parade, the TV getting all fuzzy when she uses the mixer to mash the potatoes; the next day making "TV dinners" with the leftovers by heating them in the oven in old pie and TV dinner tins. They came out all dry and crispy.
  

The huge family Christmas parties, when my Grandpa Gene or Uncle George plays Santa, handing out bags with oranges, candy canes and a wooden toy, but not wanting the paddle ball toy because as soon as the ball falls off it turns into the paddle my dad uses to spank us.

Playing BINGO with the older ladies and giving my mom the dish cloth I got as a prize. Checking out what's going on in the finished basement with the men who are laughing about something I don't quite understand -- maybe it's about the Playboy Magazines I saw hidden there. Hoping Grandpa Howard will play the "Night Before Christmas" movie on the 16mm projector soon, if it works, but settling to play "bartender" with my sisters and cousins until it's time. Heading home and hearing the man on the radio say an unidentified flying object has been spotted over Sandusky and it might be Santa.

Pretending I'm asleep so my dad can carry me into the house after a long car ride.

Sometimes I'm tired of playing adult.  I'm tired of making sure there is milk in the refrigerator and toilet paper in the cabinet.  I'm tired of being the one to make sure everyone has a balanced meal that suits all their tastes. I'm tired of timing showers around loads of laundry and dishes so we don't run out of hot water.  I'm tired of helping with school projects and hunting down missing homework. I'm tired of cleaning bathrooms and pulling weeds. I'm tired of going to bed early just to get up early so I can work all week to help pay the bills and not have anything left over for a little fun...or a new bike.

Sometimes I think it would be so nice to let it all go and just ride a bike. But you know that feeling you had as a kid, when you came inside from playing all day, and your bare feet are cold and dirty, your stubbed toe hurts, your banged up knees have grass stains, you have itchy bug bites and you are tired and hungry? So you take a hot soapy bath, put a band-aid on your toe, put on your pjs, and curl up on the couch with popcorn to watch the Wonderful World of Disney or Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.  That's the feeling I get from being a responsible wife and mom. It makes me feel secure, warm, and content at the end of the day. So does taking a shot of whiskey every once in a while, just like Grandma did.

    

A Doggy Dish

We've been thinking about getting a dog for several years now. We felt our 12-year old daughter Laura would make a great dog owner because she's so eager to have a companion and loves animals. Although my husband is a skeptic, I figured if I laid out the responsibilities of dog ownership and helped her understand all that is required of having a dog of her own, and had her agree to them, she would follow through with few problems.  We could even have her sign a contract, with everything spelled out in detail, including what would happen if she didn't live up to the expectations.

We see that many of our friends have dogs and seem to love interacting with them -- and they make dog ownership look really easy. I see their Facebook posts all the time. Their "little bestie" cuddled at their feet in front of the fire and looking adoringly up at the camera. The family photos with the kids holding the dog.  The cute doggy with the sweater romping through the snow.  The dog sitting at the window waiting for a family member to return. I could imagine having a lazy dog lying on our front porch, or following Craig when he's out working in our 2-acre yard, playing ball with Laura or learning new tricks at the agility course I imagined we would build some day, greeting me with a big doggy smile when I get home from work.

I figured a dog would be a great companion for me too. My husband Craig is a quiet guy who likes his alone time, watching sports, old TV series, car shows and the History channel. Also we have very different sleep schedules. I'm an early riser and sometimes get a little lonely in the quiet of the house when he and Laura sleep in.  I could imagine a dog lying in the kitchen watching me make breakfast, getting up every once in a while to come see what I'm doing. Or lying next to me on the couch while I read, my hand on it's head. I think about it riding with me into town with its head out of the car window, taking long walks together on our country road. Sounds lovely, cozy and easy.

My romantic notions of having a dog

are pretty much as realistic as my

romantic notions of having a husband...

Can you tell I have never owned a dog? My parents took one in when I was in college but that's my only experience of living -- part time -- with a big, clumsy, fat, smelly, stubborn red-headed Irish Setter named Lucy. I roll my eyes when I think of Lucy. 

So during Christmas vacation we got a dog.  Henna is a rescue dog from the local shelter and was a bargain, only $25 instead of $95, because of a holiday sale and the over abundance of dogs. "Housebroken, well-mannered, good with kids, 2 1/2 years old, wormed, vaccinated, fixed, medium-sized sheltie mix, " is all we knew about her. She was sweet and soft, henna-colored, with cute perky fold-down ears and big brown eyes lined in dark brown. We think she might be sheltie or border collie mixed with Chow.
 

We've had Henna Renee

two whole weeks now and this is

what I've learned about dogs and dog ownership so far:

1. Expect the unexpected. We brought her home two days before Christmas -- a few hours before Laura came down with strep throat, five days before my husband got the flu, 9 days before it turned into pneumonia. He's still home in bed. Even with all the preparations before hand -- a crate, food and water dishes, treats, collar, leash, 20' line, toys, dog bed, old blankets, baby gates, plastic bags for poop, dog shampoo, flea drops, plans for training -- something will not go as planned.  Laura didn't get to bond with her as she had hoped because she was so sick and I had to take over the feeding and walking duties.  She didn't even have the energy to play or cuddle with Henna, for several days. As a result, Henna now follows me everywhere and looks to me as the pack leader, the alpha female.   

2. Dogs are tricky.  They make you think they understand "sit", "stay", "come", because they do it every time you give them a treat, but when they really don't want to listen to you they won't "sit", "stay" and "come".  They make you believe they will always stay right by you when you unhook them from the leash before heading into the house, but just once they decide it would be more fun to run helter skelter down the driveway, up the road and behind a neighbor's house instead, and ignore your panic stricken "come!" command and "treat!" pleading. I remember when Lucy used to run away from my parents' house and rummage around in the local bar's trash dumpster.  A regal Irish Setter she was not.

3. Kids are tricky. They find ways to make you think they understand the expectations, but when the time comes they find all sorts of ways of getting out of chores then look at you like you have snakes crawling out of your ears when you say, "But you agreed to the terms". They don't see the 6 mounds of poop in the yard, don't see the empty dish, don't hear the dog pawing at the door to come in, and they have a way of quietly disappearing behind closed doors so they don't have to deal with a pup who wants to play.

4. Always add a "No complaining or you lose your iPod" clause in that contract. No matter how well you spell it out ahead of time in black and white, picking up dog poop looks much better on a paper contract than in real life to a 12 year old. So does a 6:30 am walk in the dark and windy cold mornings, especially on snow days when there is a 2-hour delay.

5.  Henna's a fan of Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off", evidently. A wet dog will mess up the whole house with wet, sticky, smelly dog hair, no matter how you try to contain her after a bath. I had to wipe down the whole bathroom from floor to ceiling, clean the mirror, wash the tub, wipe off the toilet, vacuum the stairs and entry hall (again), use a Swiffer on the entry walls and kitchen floor, and wash my sweat pants and t-shirt, 3 beach towels, 2 bath mats, and 1 tooth brush (sorry Laura). I then had to follow her around the house with a beach towel to make sure she didn't shake or jump on anything else.  She wanted to so badly, but after I ran after her and covered her with that towel every time she showed a sign of shaking, she soon gave up and asked to go out doors. Unfortunately it was too cold and she was still too wet, so into her crate she went.  Later I had to wash the bedding in her crate because it was damp and covered with sticky hair (I had just washed it earlier that day).  Henna-colored wet dog hair looks eerily like red dog hair, by the way.

6. Dog shampoo doesn't get rid of dog smell. Wet dogs smells like Lucy. That reminds me, I need to make an appointment with the dog groomer because I'm not going to try the bath thing again.

7. Dogs follow you everywhere and watch everything you do.  Every step, every bite, every open cabinet or door, every zipper, every page, every sip.  Henna even watches me make coffee...one step behind me to the right, unless I step back to the left, then she's there.

8. Henna doesn't appreciate my thoughtfulness. I bought a 20 foot line and attached it to the gate of our back deck, which is 20 feet from our back sliding glass door, which means we can slide open the door, hook the line to her collar, then she can run out the gate and 20 feet into the back yard.  Perfect.  Ingenious.  That's the theory at least. The reality is Henna wants me to stand by her every time she goes potty and doesn't want to go out back alone -- especially at 6:30 when it's still dark, it's windy, and there is a full moon.  Hook Henna up, shut the sliding door, Henna walks two feet, stops, turns around, paws the door, stands on her hind legs and plasters herself against the door, wipes her wet doggy nose on the door as she whines and dances, smearing wet paws across the glass. I've washed the door 4 times in 2 weeks.  Fortunately Henna rarely barks -- unless I shut the gate so she can't come back up onto the deck. 

9. Also, Henna doesn't want to chew her dog bone alone on the deck or in the yard, and husband doesn't want Henna to chew the bone in the house. Throw the bone out to the yard, Henna will fetch it, drop it at the back door, then paw at the door and whine.  Open the door, throw the bone back out into the yard, Henna will fetch it and bring it back to the door and ask to be let in. The sound of Henna pawing at the back door reminds me a lot of Lucy hitting my parents' back door.

10. Dogs really don't eat everything, especially not the food you buy them and put in their dish.  Everything else but. They will eat pretzel crumbs from the floor and the seat of my husband's Lazy Boy recliner, pieces of dog food that fell out of the bag (the same food I put in her dish) and are hidden under the dish, zucchinis on the counter that I am planning to make for dinner, old moldy stale bread we threw into the field, frozen dog poop, finger nail clippings, and other miscellaneous items, but not the food I put in their dish and intend for her to eat.  Finally at the end of the day, when they realize you aren't going to give them something else, they will grab a nugget of their dog food out of their dish and walk 15 feet across the vinyl floor, drop it on the carpet, crunch it into a million tiny crumbs mixed with doggy drool, until it becomes an ugly mess, then walk back for another piece. I remember once when Lucy inhaled a whole raw steak from stove top when I walked away for a minute to answer the door.  She also found the Christmas-wrapped box of M&M cookies I had made for my boyfriend and tore it open and picked out and ate all the M&M's, but left the cookies.  I vaguely remember her stealing the turkey carcass one Thanksgiving and eating the Herman cake my aunt brought one time when she visited.  It was one of those cakes that required her to do something to the batter every day for two whole weeks before baking it.

11. Dogs try to follow you even when they are in front of you.  They stop every few seconds and look back at you to gauge which way you are heading next, so they often weave back and forth one step in front of you, or stop quickly, or change direction, or turn around in a circle. Never a straight line.  This makes them very easy to trip over. Or step on. Or spill things on.

12. They always seem to love the person who wants them around the least, and they act annoyed by the person who gives them attention.  Henna wants to sit on Craig's lap.  Craig does not want Henna or any other dog on his lap.  Laura wants Henna to sit on her lap. Henna is not interested. Henna follows me everywhere. I don't really want a creature following me everywhere. I just got to the point when Laura doesn't follow me everywhere and I was really appreciating that freedom after 27 years of motherhood.

I know I have so much more to learn about owning and loving a dog. At the moment I'm not sure how I feel about that.  I do know I feel I have lost some of my freedom and the peaceful alone time I treasure. Everyone tells me it's all worth it because you get so much love back.  We'll see.

I'm sure I'll have lots of doggy tales to share and "new dog owner" advice to dish out soon!