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Friday, November 19, 2010
My Pets Are As Messed Up As I Am!
If my brand of religion included past lives then ,without a doubt, at least one of mine would have been of the canine species. I, like many of you, have a powerful affinity for animals. Dogs,in particular, make my heart skip a beat. However, I seem to attract the deranged, neurotic variety. As a matter of fact, if there is a willful, quirky dog within a 20 mile radius it will show up on my front porch. You might blame my neurosis on how my pets behave but, then your getting into the chicken or the egg argument and I assure you, it's got to be a little of both.
I had always envisioned having a dog like Lassie or Benji but, instead mine were more like the German Shepherd in the movie "K9". When I was 15 years old my parents finally gave into my plea's for a pet and bought me a beautiful male GS puppy. Upon bringing him home we quickly, realized we had some serious work ahead of us in the obedience department. Like all puppies, he enjoyed chewing to help alleviate his teething pain. When I arrived home from school and saw that half of our deck was missing I became alarmed. He also had "munched" on the screen door, the BBQ grill and had started to work on the siding of our home. There was an element of spitefulness in what "Enzo" chewed. If you put him outside, he chewed off all of the screens on the windows. If you locked him in the laundry room, he would chew off the chords to the washer and dryer. If you locked him in my room he would eat off the door to my closet then, one by one, eat off the soles to my shoes. If this wasn't enough he seemed to have emotional issue's ,as well. If he got in a "mood" he would go sit in my parents shower facing the wall and ignore ,any and all, plea's to look at at me. He was the "rock of Gibraltar" and short of picking him up(did I mention he grew to be 120lbs) he would sit there until he got over whatever was plaguing him.
I decided it would be a fun experience to take him to an obedience class. I entered our "class" with high hopes. This was short-lived as I entered the room with all the other "doggy/human" pairs sitting quietly waiting for our teacher to begin. Enzo pulled me,using all of his body weight, towards a kind woman with a Labrador. He lunged, full throttle, in attack mode, at this kind woman. The look of terror on her face was one I won't soon forget! After, this we were sequestered, for the remainder of the class, to the back of the room. Enzo was fitted with a "pronged collar". I started getting a sick feeling in my stomach.
Our first exercise consisted of teaching our pets "off". We were to hold out a hot dog and our "best friend" was supposed to "ignore" it. I've always heard of animals having a "conniption" but, I have never been an audience to an episode like this. I can only say that nothing can prepare you for it. Enzo's "shackles" on his back stood up vertically. He began salivating like 'Cujo" and using every ounce of his strength, pulled away from me, pronged collar, obviously, irrelevant. As the entire class sat in horror, he ,at lightening speed, managed to grab every hot dog out of the humans hands. Then, he jumped up on the instructor, and grabbed the entire package of hot dogs, and ate it in one bite, plastic and all! Needless to say, we did not obtain a graduation certificate that day, for passing the first exercise. Consequentially, we were asked to "never step foot in that building, again!"
In all fairness, I was fifteen years old when I became Enzo's "mommy". For those of you who knew me at this time, it was at the height of my teenage angst. However, as time as gone on it has become apparent that deranged animals seek me out. Through the years, I have had a dog that ate concrete,a dog that "humped" as a favorite pastime, with a special preference for purses, dogs that , when you called "come" would run the other direction. I had a cat that had separation anxiety, and would leave me a "present" if I closed her out of the room I was in. On the bright side I did have a poodle and a parakeet (Nik & click) who were the best of friends. The bird would "ride" the poodle and they would "sing" together as a way of bonding.
As I lay awake at night picturing what it would be like to have a "normal" pet, my chihuahua keeps trying to "hump" my leg, even though I repeatedly push her off. I sit, trying to ignore the fact that my big dog has been licking my pillow for the past 30 minutes. As bazarre as my pets have been, they add such joy and folly to my life, even if, at times, it is perverse. I've read books and tried umpteen amounts of training methods, all to no avail. Maybe, I am the one that needs training. I think, just like humans, our pets come with numorous quirks and personality challenges. I think mine would be the "Jersey Shore" variety. I am sure if you asked the parents of the kids on that show, they would focus, blindly, on their kids good points. For whatever reason, my pets have been the dysfunctional, slightly eccentric kind. I think my focus should be one of acceptance, instead of trying to fight this well known fact. They certainly add flavor to my life and even if they stubbornly, dig their heels in when I ask the smallest of commands, a quick lick on my ear is all it takes to remind me of why I love them so~
I had always envisioned having a dog like Lassie or Benji but, instead mine were more like the German Shepherd in the movie "K9". When I was 15 years old my parents finally gave into my plea's for a pet and bought me a beautiful male GS puppy. Upon bringing him home we quickly, realized we had some serious work ahead of us in the obedience department. Like all puppies, he enjoyed chewing to help alleviate his teething pain. When I arrived home from school and saw that half of our deck was missing I became alarmed. He also had "munched" on the screen door, the BBQ grill and had started to work on the siding of our home. There was an element of spitefulness in what "Enzo" chewed. If you put him outside, he chewed off all of the screens on the windows. If you locked him in the laundry room, he would chew off the chords to the washer and dryer. If you locked him in my room he would eat off the door to my closet then, one by one, eat off the soles to my shoes. If this wasn't enough he seemed to have emotional issue's ,as well. If he got in a "mood" he would go sit in my parents shower facing the wall and ignore ,any and all, plea's to look at at me. He was the "rock of Gibraltar" and short of picking him up(did I mention he grew to be 120lbs) he would sit there until he got over whatever was plaguing him.
I decided it would be a fun experience to take him to an obedience class. I entered our "class" with high hopes. This was short-lived as I entered the room with all the other "doggy/human" pairs sitting quietly waiting for our teacher to begin. Enzo pulled me,using all of his body weight, towards a kind woman with a Labrador. He lunged, full throttle, in attack mode, at this kind woman. The look of terror on her face was one I won't soon forget! After, this we were sequestered, for the remainder of the class, to the back of the room. Enzo was fitted with a "pronged collar". I started getting a sick feeling in my stomach.
Our first exercise consisted of teaching our pets "off". We were to hold out a hot dog and our "best friend" was supposed to "ignore" it. I've always heard of animals having a "conniption" but, I have never been an audience to an episode like this. I can only say that nothing can prepare you for it. Enzo's "shackles" on his back stood up vertically. He began salivating like 'Cujo" and using every ounce of his strength, pulled away from me, pronged collar, obviously, irrelevant. As the entire class sat in horror, he ,at lightening speed, managed to grab every hot dog out of the humans hands. Then, he jumped up on the instructor, and grabbed the entire package of hot dogs, and ate it in one bite, plastic and all! Needless to say, we did not obtain a graduation certificate that day, for passing the first exercise. Consequentially, we were asked to "never step foot in that building, again!"
In all fairness, I was fifteen years old when I became Enzo's "mommy". For those of you who knew me at this time, it was at the height of my teenage angst. However, as time as gone on it has become apparent that deranged animals seek me out. Through the years, I have had a dog that ate concrete,a dog that "humped" as a favorite pastime, with a special preference for purses, dogs that , when you called "come" would run the other direction. I had a cat that had separation anxiety, and would leave me a "present" if I closed her out of the room I was in. On the bright side I did have a poodle and a parakeet (Nik & click) who were the best of friends. The bird would "ride" the poodle and they would "sing" together as a way of bonding.
As I lay awake at night picturing what it would be like to have a "normal" pet, my chihuahua keeps trying to "hump" my leg, even though I repeatedly push her off. I sit, trying to ignore the fact that my big dog has been licking my pillow for the past 30 minutes. As bazarre as my pets have been, they add such joy and folly to my life, even if, at times, it is perverse. I've read books and tried umpteen amounts of training methods, all to no avail. Maybe, I am the one that needs training. I think, just like humans, our pets come with numorous quirks and personality challenges. I think mine would be the "Jersey Shore" variety. I am sure if you asked the parents of the kids on that show, they would focus, blindly, on their kids good points. For whatever reason, my pets have been the dysfunctional, slightly eccentric kind. I think my focus should be one of acceptance, instead of trying to fight this well known fact. They certainly add flavor to my life and even if they stubbornly, dig their heels in when I ask the smallest of commands, a quick lick on my ear is all it takes to remind me of why I love them so~
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Wednesday, November 17, 2010
You Know You Are Getting Older When....
1)Upon running braless, people hear you coming and confuse you with a galloping horse. 2) You feel hungover & "ate up" after a late night even though u didn't bother to drink. 3) When staying up late watching TV, you see an infomercial about a bun and thigh clencher and, just for a moment, consider dialing the number on the screen. 4) You have classifications of clothes in your closet ranging from "comfy clothes" to "Jeans that I will fit in again one day" that you have saved to "inspire" you. 5) You start sounding more and more like your mother when disciplining your kids. 6) People try "not to look" if you spontaneously break out in dancing at a party. 7) When your parents come for a visit they walk around with a "perma-grin" because your kids are talking to you much like you spoke to them when you were a kid. 8) If you decide to "party" with your friends the recovery period slaps you in your place for an entire week versus a day or two. 9) Seeing pictures of yourself makes you do a double take because, you start resembling grotesque caricatures of yourself, that people get done when going to the fair. 10)"Going to a Party" is more likely to involve "spongebob" or "Dora" than it is bongshots and playing the cardgame "Asshole". 11) Cleaning takes 3 times longer because half the time is spent walking into rooms and forgetting why you're there.
12) You can remember what it was like when microwaves and cell phones didn't exist. 13) The act of sleeping ,in and of itself, causes you pain. 14) You start avoiding the sun instead of baking in it like a Thanksgiving Day Turkey. 15) You begin trying to calculate how many calories are burned during a good romp with your husband. 16) You remember when reality TV meant watching "The Real World". 17) People confuse you with a homeless person when you go out to get the paper. 18) While yelling at your children(and trying your hardest to sound authoritive) , you sound like an idiot because you call them by the wrong names or combine their names. EX. Jenn or Alana= "Jalana"
12) You can remember what it was like when microwaves and cell phones didn't exist. 13) The act of sleeping ,in and of itself, causes you pain. 14) You start avoiding the sun instead of baking in it like a Thanksgiving Day Turkey. 15) You begin trying to calculate how many calories are burned during a good romp with your husband. 16) You remember when reality TV meant watching "The Real World". 17) People confuse you with a homeless person when you go out to get the paper. 18) While yelling at your children(and trying your hardest to sound authoritive) , you sound like an idiot because you call them by the wrong names or combine their names. EX. Jenn or Alana= "Jalana"
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Saturday, November 13, 2010
Top O The Morning~
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Friday, November 12, 2010
"Like Oil & Water"
Prior to Nik and I getting married, we were both warned that our difference's might cause a divergence in our familial life. Equally, he and I, both have issue's with wanting to dominate and control. As I'm sure you can imagine, our marriage has hit some rough patches along the way. It started literally, from the day we were married. My wedding was a beautiful and heartfelt occasion! It also lasted three hours long, was in another language & we didn't get to say the part about " I pledge allegiance to the dothness, for which it stands, to honor & obey, forever more, in sickness & in health". Well, whatever vows sound like, anyway, that's not part of a Greek wedding ceremony. The fight for the upper hand started with an old wives tale & has continued on ,since. There is a part, during the ceremony, that if I managed to step on Nik's foot, during the precise moment, that the priest said a particular phrase, then, henceforth, I would have the upper hand in the marriage. If Nik managed to beat me to it, then, it just meant that it was a silly old wives tale. Did I mention the fact that the ceremony was in Greek and,at the time, the only Greek words I knew were "hello" and "no sex tonight" so he ,most definitely, had the advantage.
The pictures from this day are hysterical! From all the foot stepping we were both in tremendous pain!! Do not underestimate toe pain! Those little suckers swelled up in my shoes within the first five minutes of the ceremony and I would not have been surprised, if my shoes would have needed to be cut off my feet, by the end of the night!. I am sure Nik's friends thought that he looked dazed and confused because they had given him Ecstasy the night before and kept him out until the sun came up. My friends, on the other hand, believed that my pained expression was due to something completely unrelated. They knew that I was secretly four months pregnant and blamed my strange facial expression's on being tightly girdled and thus unable to inhale fully. To this day, the battle of who won that little game has yet, to be determined.
Over time, these type's of issue's leaked into our life in many ways. The traditional upbringing my husband had versus the free-thinking ,hippie childhood I had growing up certainly, came to play in our parenting methods. I wanted to be very matter of fact regarding the kids body parts, while Nik felt we should just pretend they didn't exist. One day, my daughter exclaimed that "her china needed a shower because she wanted to keep it from getting tinky!" All the blood rushed from my husbands face and I can't remember the exact tirade but, it involved words like "convent" and "chastity belt". I'm guessing, he wanted me to make up cutsie names like "girlie bits" for Lexi and "Unit" for the boys. We better figure out the solution soon because Alexia is convinced she has a penis and that she can pee "tanding up" and since we can't come to an agreement ,on the proper term, I can't correct her.
The other way that our respective upbringings have challenged us is our opposing view on pets. Don't get me wrong, Nik likes them. However,his mom believes they're dangerous, walking, breathing disease infestations. He never had a family pet. I didn't think this mattered until the day we brought our first child home from the hospital. Nik began spraying lysol all over the parameters of the rooms that the dog went into. It got so bad that the paint began peeling off the walls of our rented apartment. To make matters worse, he began washing the dog daily, in antibacterial hand soap. Our min- pin looked like a cross between a hairless cat and a piglet. The dog looked pathetic! When we took him out for walks, people tried to look away from the sad looking creature that, was our family pet. The only exception was this sweet, elderly neighbor whose sight was clearly failing. She asked me for the name of my breeder. She actually thought he was supposed to look like that! I've tried to comfort Nik and help him realize that when it comes to kids and pets, death isn't lurking on every strand of pet hair. The situation exacerbated when I brought home a cat. Nik was sure the little kitten was just standing in wait for us to doze off in a slumber so it could suck the life out of us! He honestly believed that they're evil creatures sent here from satan to suck out our souls, while we sleep! I have yet to figure out a convincing rebuttal to this since you can't use logic with such an irrational claim.
On the bright side of my husband and I being so divergent, our kids get the best of both worlds. I'm hoping they will grow up to be very polite, bright, children who are ,also, free thinkers. Nik fears the worst with all our mixed messages and thinks they might be stuffy,disturbed adults that own time shares at nudist colonies. He wakes up vaguely mumbling,every so often, saying something about Alexia being stuck in a place that she uses her "girlie bits" flagrantly, all about the town. I try to encourage him by exclaiming that, it was he, who won the foot stepping battle at our wedding, while I keep my fingers crossed tightly, behind my back. At which time, he denounces my generous offering with a kiss on the cheek while also, managing to cross his fingers, somewhere out of my view. Our life may not be one you would pick but, marriage comes in many flavors. Any good cook will tell you that combining ingredients that seem like they shouldn't mix can be tricky! With a little imagination ,however, and a large serving of patience it can result in something that ignites all your senses that will be passed from generation to generation.
The pictures from this day are hysterical! From all the foot stepping we were both in tremendous pain!! Do not underestimate toe pain! Those little suckers swelled up in my shoes within the first five minutes of the ceremony and I would not have been surprised, if my shoes would have needed to be cut off my feet, by the end of the night!. I am sure Nik's friends thought that he looked dazed and confused because they had given him Ecstasy the night before and kept him out until the sun came up. My friends, on the other hand, believed that my pained expression was due to something completely unrelated. They knew that I was secretly four months pregnant and blamed my strange facial expression's on being tightly girdled and thus unable to inhale fully. To this day, the battle of who won that little game has yet, to be determined.
Over time, these type's of issue's leaked into our life in many ways. The traditional upbringing my husband had versus the free-thinking ,hippie childhood I had growing up certainly, came to play in our parenting methods. I wanted to be very matter of fact regarding the kids body parts, while Nik felt we should just pretend they didn't exist. One day, my daughter exclaimed that "her china needed a shower because she wanted to keep it from getting tinky!" All the blood rushed from my husbands face and I can't remember the exact tirade but, it involved words like "convent" and "chastity belt". I'm guessing, he wanted me to make up cutsie names like "girlie bits" for Lexi and "Unit" for the boys. We better figure out the solution soon because Alexia is convinced she has a penis and that she can pee "tanding up" and since we can't come to an agreement ,on the proper term, I can't correct her.
The other way that our respective upbringings have challenged us is our opposing view on pets. Don't get me wrong, Nik likes them. However,his mom believes they're dangerous, walking, breathing disease infestations. He never had a family pet. I didn't think this mattered until the day we brought our first child home from the hospital. Nik began spraying lysol all over the parameters of the rooms that the dog went into. It got so bad that the paint began peeling off the walls of our rented apartment. To make matters worse, he began washing the dog daily, in antibacterial hand soap. Our min- pin looked like a cross between a hairless cat and a piglet. The dog looked pathetic! When we took him out for walks, people tried to look away from the sad looking creature that, was our family pet. The only exception was this sweet, elderly neighbor whose sight was clearly failing. She asked me for the name of my breeder. She actually thought he was supposed to look like that! I've tried to comfort Nik and help him realize that when it comes to kids and pets, death isn't lurking on every strand of pet hair. The situation exacerbated when I brought home a cat. Nik was sure the little kitten was just standing in wait for us to doze off in a slumber so it could suck the life out of us! He honestly believed that they're evil creatures sent here from satan to suck out our souls, while we sleep! I have yet to figure out a convincing rebuttal to this since you can't use logic with such an irrational claim.
On the bright side of my husband and I being so divergent, our kids get the best of both worlds. I'm hoping they will grow up to be very polite, bright, children who are ,also, free thinkers. Nik fears the worst with all our mixed messages and thinks they might be stuffy,disturbed adults that own time shares at nudist colonies. He wakes up vaguely mumbling,every so often, saying something about Alexia being stuck in a place that she uses her "girlie bits" flagrantly, all about the town. I try to encourage him by exclaiming that, it was he, who won the foot stepping battle at our wedding, while I keep my fingers crossed tightly, behind my back. At which time, he denounces my generous offering with a kiss on the cheek while also, managing to cross his fingers, somewhere out of my view. Our life may not be one you would pick but, marriage comes in many flavors. Any good cook will tell you that combining ingredients that seem like they shouldn't mix can be tricky! With a little imagination ,however, and a large serving of patience it can result in something that ignites all your senses that will be passed from generation to generation.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
" I GET BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS"
I felt the need to go off topic again. My mood greatly influences my subject matter and this week I felt the need to go off the beaten path.
Today, I want to examine how much friendship has impacted me throughout my life. As a woman, I can't imagine going through life without the bond & camaraderie of my friends. Is this something that is unique to just me or is this need one that is universal? Watching my daughter with her first BFF inspired me to ponder the beautiful, sometimes complex desire to connect with other human beings in this way. As I glimpse at her & her friend hugging each other and jumping up and down as they share excitement for having matching shoes I recognize myself, when I was 4 years old. That was the age that I was blessed to connect with my my oldest girlfriend. While her and I are obviously not genetically bound, I can not imagine how my life would be in her absence.
How relevant are our bonds with our friends. The obvious answer makes sense as we journey through childhood & adolescence. It's role has changed as I have matured but,it's legitimacy has not. While I don't want to downplay the role of family I can't stress enough the importance my friendships have meant for me. As I made the change from child to woman these bonds were tested on numerous occasions. Our complexities and inner turmoil won out,at times, over our loyalty to one another. Over time, I have had the honor & privilege of meeting some magnificent and awe-inspiring people! They have brought so much to my life and their mere presence has nurtured me in ways they, most likely, can't comprehend.
My friends have grounded me during the times that I grappled with my conscience. When I've been contending with major personal trauma I have found it difficult to "see" a way out. They, tenaciously solicit my choices so that I dig deeper and start to require more from myself. This is no easy task as I've been described as adamant & extremely stubborn. My natural defense mechanisms will betray me unless I am interrogated. I have a feeling that I'm not alone in this. Being a first-born comes with its disadvantages, one being, a domineering & egotistic view, at times. I sincerely treasure those that love me enough to challenge me. Sometimes, I am my own worst enemy. My friends have consistently reminded me to keep my pride in check.
In my darkest moments, where I have lamented my woes and agonized over my mistakes my friends have been the one's who have been my lifeline. Their positivity has nourished me through my most toilsome and oppressive days that have brought me to my brink. Sometimes, it's a simple gesture like a quick hello from them that reminds me that my journey through life is not one that I need to navigate alone. While life is at it's most treacherous it is far more compliant when you have good friends in your corner.
I read an article recently that was explaining how much women benefit from healthy friendships. It struck me, because, while innately I was aware of how I felt, seeing the results of the study heightened my awareness in a way that I couldn't have done on my own. It explained that women who develop strong friendships ,in life, live an average of ten years longer than those who do not. I don't know about you but, I'll take another ten years! Further, it explained that if a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer and has, at least one, solid friend to lean on while going through treatment her odds of survival go up substantially. The last fact that I can recall from the study was one that I find to be the most captivating because it's about perception. A woman is asked to climb a steep hill. She was then asked how long she thought it would take. When paired with her closest friend her answer was invariably shorter even though the distance was equivalent.
That statement is tantamount to the others because it so closely resembles how I feel. It crystallizes my recognition of how indebted I am to those who have trusted me to share their journey with them. An eloquent quote I've heard recently, sums up friendship by saying "A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you can't remember the words". For today, I'll leave you with that....
Today, I want to examine how much friendship has impacted me throughout my life. As a woman, I can't imagine going through life without the bond & camaraderie of my friends. Is this something that is unique to just me or is this need one that is universal? Watching my daughter with her first BFF inspired me to ponder the beautiful, sometimes complex desire to connect with other human beings in this way. As I glimpse at her & her friend hugging each other and jumping up and down as they share excitement for having matching shoes I recognize myself, when I was 4 years old. That was the age that I was blessed to connect with my my oldest girlfriend. While her and I are obviously not genetically bound, I can not imagine how my life would be in her absence.
How relevant are our bonds with our friends. The obvious answer makes sense as we journey through childhood & adolescence. It's role has changed as I have matured but,it's legitimacy has not. While I don't want to downplay the role of family I can't stress enough the importance my friendships have meant for me. As I made the change from child to woman these bonds were tested on numerous occasions. Our complexities and inner turmoil won out,at times, over our loyalty to one another. Over time, I have had the honor & privilege of meeting some magnificent and awe-inspiring people! They have brought so much to my life and their mere presence has nurtured me in ways they, most likely, can't comprehend.
My friends have grounded me during the times that I grappled with my conscience. When I've been contending with major personal trauma I have found it difficult to "see" a way out. They, tenaciously solicit my choices so that I dig deeper and start to require more from myself. This is no easy task as I've been described as adamant & extremely stubborn. My natural defense mechanisms will betray me unless I am interrogated. I have a feeling that I'm not alone in this. Being a first-born comes with its disadvantages, one being, a domineering & egotistic view, at times. I sincerely treasure those that love me enough to challenge me. Sometimes, I am my own worst enemy. My friends have consistently reminded me to keep my pride in check.
In my darkest moments, where I have lamented my woes and agonized over my mistakes my friends have been the one's who have been my lifeline. Their positivity has nourished me through my most toilsome and oppressive days that have brought me to my brink. Sometimes, it's a simple gesture like a quick hello from them that reminds me that my journey through life is not one that I need to navigate alone. While life is at it's most treacherous it is far more compliant when you have good friends in your corner.
I read an article recently that was explaining how much women benefit from healthy friendships. It struck me, because, while innately I was aware of how I felt, seeing the results of the study heightened my awareness in a way that I couldn't have done on my own. It explained that women who develop strong friendships ,in life, live an average of ten years longer than those who do not. I don't know about you but, I'll take another ten years! Further, it explained that if a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer and has, at least one, solid friend to lean on while going through treatment her odds of survival go up substantially. The last fact that I can recall from the study was one that I find to be the most captivating because it's about perception. A woman is asked to climb a steep hill. She was then asked how long she thought it would take. When paired with her closest friend her answer was invariably shorter even though the distance was equivalent.
That statement is tantamount to the others because it so closely resembles how I feel. It crystallizes my recognition of how indebted I am to those who have trusted me to share their journey with them. An eloquent quote I've heard recently, sums up friendship by saying "A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you can't remember the words". For today, I'll leave you with that....
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Memory Lane-
As, my 35th Birthday approaches I have begun to take inventory of myself and have felt the need to take a walk down memory lane a bit. So much has changed in my life on an exterior level but, what about the inside? Internally, the 30's have been an awaking of sorts for me. All the fears & doubts that plagued me as a teen seem to have been washed away and I am finding an inner strength I never knew I had. How many of you feel "If only I had known then what I know now?"
Its not even a matter of knowledge as much as, a sense that I used to feel discomfort in my own skin. Much of my adolescence was spent scrutinizing myself. I pined for lucidity. for simplicity, mostly for validation. As much from myself as from others. I acted out in ways that were unbecoming & always detested the reaction I would get ,back then. My teens were all about craving. I found myself stretching boundaries in both my familial relationships and in the powerful friendships I had cultivated. I was so self important that I didn't really value my impact on other people. Let's just say that I burned a lot of bridges. Looking back, I feel a huge sense of sorrow for my choices. I sincerely hope that those that knew me understand that my lack of self awareness was why I had so much trouble.
Becoming a wife and a mother has truly humbled me. The maternal drive in me forced me to give pause to my tangibility. Motherhood was so inundating at first because I had been so hedonistic as a young woman. My feelings of entitlement handicapped me for a very long time. My atonement came with the first breath of life my son breathed. Holding him, I could feel the optimism in me turn on. The profound love I felt for my children transformed my soul in the deepest part of me. The unfolding that has come about from maturing makes me elated for what is yet to come. I relish the daily challenge of problem solving and facing life. My twenties were when I learned what it meant to have "substance". Previously, it meant the chemicals I put into my body to alter my awareness. My belief had been that life was ,somehow enhanced by exploring the world of different mood-altering substances . This idea began to grow stale over the passage of time. I wake up constantly with gratitude for the simple act of being alive. The only negative to this is my cognizance of the fact that life is unpredictable. I am extremely aware of it's fragility. Loving so unconditionally and being open means I am vulnerable to loss. I try to keep my fears and doubts in check but, I see my parents and try to imagine them in 20 years. Since birth, my greatest fear has been losing my parents. Since becoming a mother, this fear is compounded by my natural worries for my offspring. The same goes for being a wife. Love is sincerely a leap of faith on every level.The saying that "each day is gift" has taken on a whole new meaning. While I have no hand in the length of my life, I certainly can control it's quality. With this in mind, I glimpse towards my fragmentary existence with conviction. I yearn to maintain this as I age. I anticipate that this optimism will become even more a second nature as the process of maturing continues to shift the paradigm of my life's view. Isn't this what we all desire? This will be my ambition for my 35th year. This will be what I set my heart upon.
Its not even a matter of knowledge as much as, a sense that I used to feel discomfort in my own skin. Much of my adolescence was spent scrutinizing myself. I pined for lucidity. for simplicity, mostly for validation. As much from myself as from others. I acted out in ways that were unbecoming & always detested the reaction I would get ,back then. My teens were all about craving. I found myself stretching boundaries in both my familial relationships and in the powerful friendships I had cultivated. I was so self important that I didn't really value my impact on other people. Let's just say that I burned a lot of bridges. Looking back, I feel a huge sense of sorrow for my choices. I sincerely hope that those that knew me understand that my lack of self awareness was why I had so much trouble.
Becoming a wife and a mother has truly humbled me. The maternal drive in me forced me to give pause to my tangibility. Motherhood was so inundating at first because I had been so hedonistic as a young woman. My feelings of entitlement handicapped me for a very long time. My atonement came with the first breath of life my son breathed. Holding him, I could feel the optimism in me turn on. The profound love I felt for my children transformed my soul in the deepest part of me. The unfolding that has come about from maturing makes me elated for what is yet to come. I relish the daily challenge of problem solving and facing life. My twenties were when I learned what it meant to have "substance". Previously, it meant the chemicals I put into my body to alter my awareness. My belief had been that life was ,somehow enhanced by exploring the world of different mood-altering substances . This idea began to grow stale over the passage of time. I wake up constantly with gratitude for the simple act of being alive. The only negative to this is my cognizance of the fact that life is unpredictable. I am extremely aware of it's fragility. Loving so unconditionally and being open means I am vulnerable to loss. I try to keep my fears and doubts in check but, I see my parents and try to imagine them in 20 years. Since birth, my greatest fear has been losing my parents. Since becoming a mother, this fear is compounded by my natural worries for my offspring. The same goes for being a wife. Love is sincerely a leap of faith on every level.The saying that "each day is gift" has taken on a whole new meaning. While I have no hand in the length of my life, I certainly can control it's quality. With this in mind, I glimpse towards my fragmentary existence with conviction. I yearn to maintain this as I age. I anticipate that this optimism will become even more a second nature as the process of maturing continues to shift the paradigm of my life's view. Isn't this what we all desire? This will be my ambition for my 35th year. This will be what I set my heart upon.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Boys Versus Girls
When I became pregnant with my 3rd child, it was a stark contrast from my first two. Everything started to smell rancid to me. With both my son's pregnancies I craved odd foods & the only thing that was off limits was eggs.With my daughter's pregnancy the air smelled foul! The eating process took on a life of its own as I simultaneously feared & craved food, while forming the little human inside me. I had something called hyperemesis with Alexia. This meant that I grew accustomed to vomiting so often, I began feeling empathy for those with eating disorders. I vomited so violently that I wet my pants every time it happened. I remember the first time I had to strap on an adult diaper. Pregnancy taught me to be thankful for having all my faculties, and to have a whole, new respect for my good health. It also taught me that I had little control ,as far as, how my body would react to different stimuli. From the get go, I suspected that I was having a girl. This made it all worthwhile, since I wanted to have the experience of having a daughter. My mom & I have a close relationship. It was this, that got me through the many months of hell.
There is Greek saying that says that you can tell the sex of the baby you're having by how you look throughout the pregnancy. The idea is that by having a female child you pass on your beauty to her while pregnant. Let's just say, if we went with this idea, there was no doubt that my offspring was female. I also, got something called melasma. It's called " the mask of pregnancy". I look at pictures during this time and feel the need to hug my husband. It wasn't pretty! This, countered with the fact that three is a good number, is why Nik & I have decided to close the door on future babies. I can't imagine going through this process again.
Having three kids has presented some issue's ,however. Three is an odd number. Alexia gets pulled into a daily tug-of-war of being on "team Nik" or "team Andy". Nikolas has no shame! He straight out bribes her by offering goods like his snack or a coveted toy to win her loyalty. Andreas is more subtle. He makes up secret handshakes & tries to convince her that Nik is secretly taking her allowance money(which, unfortunately, he is the actual culprit since she confides in him where it's hidden). She is four so she has yet to figure out this minor detail.
The other issue I have is that because Alexia has only brothers she wants to be a boy. She doesn't like to be called "pretty". She will correct, even strangers, by saying she is "handsome & awesome". Anything containing feminine undertones is considered depravity to her. For the past few months she has been trying to pee "tanding up". Our bathroom toilets already were getting a beating because Andy & Nik wake up at night and try to aim while still in a dream state. One night, Andreas literally pee'd next to the toilet, all over the floor. He said he was dreaming that he was outside because our shower curtain has a "spring scene" with plants and flowers on it. Thankfully, Alexia is starting to realize that she just isn't equipped with the right unit for vertical urination.
I try to quiet that little voice that creeps up when holding a friends baby that says "you want one for yourself". I try to remember all the challenges I have had when bringing a new life into the world. As I've mentioned before, God has a sense of humor, so he makes us get amnesia. This has to hold truth because if a woman could remember all the sleepless nights and aches & pains clearly, she would give pause to doing it all over again. I think it's worse for some than others because people like "Octomom" seem to have been dealt the worst of this affliction. Well, her and the TLC family,the Duggars. This woman might need to go see someone because she's so far on the left of the continuum that shock treatments might need to be considered. When you have so many that you need to ask half your kids to "take on a buddy" you might need to rethink your mental health. Last time I checked, having more kids to help parent the existing one's seems a little odd. From a logical standpoint this theory seems a bit like "the tail wagging the dog" wouldn't you agree?
Thankfully, so far, my memories of experiences ,while faded, have stayed neon in my mind. Nik(my husband), on the other hand, may just need to strap on a pregnancy suit for a day, but, that's a whole other blog.
--
There is Greek saying that says that you can tell the sex of the baby you're having by how you look throughout the pregnancy. The idea is that by having a female child you pass on your beauty to her while pregnant. Let's just say, if we went with this idea, there was no doubt that my offspring was female. I also, got something called melasma. It's called " the mask of pregnancy". I look at pictures during this time and feel the need to hug my husband. It wasn't pretty! This, countered with the fact that three is a good number, is why Nik & I have decided to close the door on future babies. I can't imagine going through this process again.
Having three kids has presented some issue's ,however. Three is an odd number. Alexia gets pulled into a daily tug-of-war of being on "team Nik" or "team Andy". Nikolas has no shame! He straight out bribes her by offering goods like his snack or a coveted toy to win her loyalty. Andreas is more subtle. He makes up secret handshakes & tries to convince her that Nik is secretly taking her allowance money(which, unfortunately, he is the actual culprit since she confides in him where it's hidden). She is four so she has yet to figure out this minor detail.
The other issue I have is that because Alexia has only brothers she wants to be a boy. She doesn't like to be called "pretty". She will correct, even strangers, by saying she is "handsome & awesome". Anything containing feminine undertones is considered depravity to her. For the past few months she has been trying to pee "tanding up". Our bathroom toilets already were getting a beating because Andy & Nik wake up at night and try to aim while still in a dream state. One night, Andreas literally pee'd next to the toilet, all over the floor. He said he was dreaming that he was outside because our shower curtain has a "spring scene" with plants and flowers on it. Thankfully, Alexia is starting to realize that she just isn't equipped with the right unit for vertical urination.
I try to quiet that little voice that creeps up when holding a friends baby that says "you want one for yourself". I try to remember all the challenges I have had when bringing a new life into the world. As I've mentioned before, God has a sense of humor, so he makes us get amnesia. This has to hold truth because if a woman could remember all the sleepless nights and aches & pains clearly, she would give pause to doing it all over again. I think it's worse for some than others because people like "Octomom" seem to have been dealt the worst of this affliction. Well, her and the TLC family,the Duggars. This woman might need to go see someone because she's so far on the left of the continuum that shock treatments might need to be considered. When you have so many that you need to ask half your kids to "take on a buddy" you might need to rethink your mental health. Last time I checked, having more kids to help parent the existing one's seems a little odd. From a logical standpoint this theory seems a bit like "the tail wagging the dog" wouldn't you agree?
Thankfully, so far, my memories of experiences ,while faded, have stayed neon in my mind. Nik(my husband), on the other hand, may just need to strap on a pregnancy suit for a day, but, that's a whole other blog.
--
Monday, October 25, 2010
-Tricks Are For Kids-
As this time of year approaches there seems to be a little bit more spunk in every ones step! Maybe, it's the cooler weather but, even our dogs become more hyper and act a little odd. When the boys were young I'll never forget an incident I like to call "The Binky Blunder". Nikolas was so enamored with his Papeela(the Greek term for a pacifier) that he, literally, stashed them like a crackhead does with his drugs. Who ever thought that I would have to buy so many of these peculiar contraptions that ,at times, I wish I would've picked a brand and bought stock in it. With them "hiding" in our couch, in car seats, and all over random corners of our home I knew it was going to be a major challenge to curtail their use. I used to wake up at night sweating and guilt ridden after having dreamed of Nikolas growing up with teeth that just grew out horizontally from his face because of my negligence as a mom. They were so vivid and horrific that I even went so far as picturing strange mechanical headgear gadgets that you might see in a movie like Mel Gibsons "Mad Max;beyond the thunder dome". Since, becoming a mom I've realized my guilt makes my imagination go into overdrive. I have been told that I also have a flair for the dramatic.
So, after watching an episode of "Supernanny" I was inspired to try one of her methods of removing Nikolas's crutch but, I added my own spin to it. Supernanny said to gather the pacifier's in a bag that u would hang from a tree and leave over night for the "Pacy fairy" to take and replace with a toy. This seemed simple enough but, Nikolas wasn't into folklore and was born as cynical as a juror during the O.J. Simpson trial. So, my version of the Binky charade was that we would hand out these gathered binky's while trick or treating( It was wrapped in Ziploc! No need to gross out the neighbors!) We would explain that ALL kids did this when they turned 2 as a right of passage. I thought that since Nikolas couldn't really talk yet he was too young to compare notes with anybody. While giving up his precious commodity ,my hope, was that the promise of candy would entice him enough to give up his papeela.
As we dressed Nikolas in his Sponge Bob costume he acted like zoo animals do when they sense a tornado is coming. He was agitated and kept crying no matter how cheery I tried to act. He ran from me when I tried to brush his hair. He screamed when I tried getting the sponge bob costume on and did the "dead as a door nail" trick. This is where your child becomes freakishly heavy and limp upon picking them up and falls ,heavily, to the ground. I think kids must have had a secret meeting about this trick, as I see it used all the time! It's a great tactic to piss off mothers everywhere! We have pictures of this day and in all of them Nikolas is purple, screaming and sweaty wearing his sponge bob costume.
By the time we had approached the first house I had cheated and already given him candy just so we could leave the house. After we had handed out flyer's to our neighbors explaining the situation they knew the drill. After we approached the first home Nikolas began screaming nonstop. His tantrum reached a decibel that is was so loud that it literally enters a grown persons central nervous system and begins to aggravate their eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. People began to loathe my son! One woman actually offered to pay me to move on to the next house. We didn't even make it up her driveway.
In hindsight,maybe Halloween wasn't the best time to try weaning my son from his comfort source. Picturing my beloved son growing up looking like Gomer Pyle was what fueled my insanity. After all was said and done, Nikolas found another papeela stashed in my pillow while I was sleeping that night so ,apparently, my plan had some holes in it. His minor addiction actually passed quite naturally about 6 months later when his cousin teased him for being a baby for needing one. Just like that, he decided that he was too mature for this silly fixation, without any forcing on my part. I realized then, that being a good parent means allowing your kids the space to do things on their own time table. I have learned when to step in and when to back off, as we have both grown into our roles as parent and child. It's definitely a work in progress.
Parenting is filled with tons of trial & error's like this. Books can only prepare you so much. Some can even mislead you. I learned this the hard way after reading a book on attachment parenting. It described a parenting method that made it sound as if my kids and I would have this naturally occurring ,organic bond, like you see with animals on the discovery channel. The key was to keep them "attached" to you ,physically, as much as possible. This book is the reason that I haven't gotten a full nights rest in 9 years because I let my kids sleep with me like a litter of puppies. Obviously, I didn't think it through, very well ,when I brought my wee, swaddled ,infant into our bed at night. Now, sleeping ,for me has turned into a fiasco because my kids are either oddly violent at night or I need a bigger bed. I had envisioned us all sweetly nuzzled together as we drifted off to sleep being lulled by the sweet sounds of gentle breathing. Instead it's my daughter yelling out at her brother ,savagely in her sleep,the comforter somehow getting pulled halfway off the bed, and my chihuahua sneaking inside my pillowcase and growling when I roll over on her. I wake up by being elbowed in the ear and my big dog breathing his sour, stinky breathe in my face. I guess you could say it's organic, even natural, but, not what I had in mind. Even if they start out in their own beds, somehow, by morning, they all manage to quietly crawl into my bed while I'm asleep. I need to revisit this issue soon, as it's become clear that my sleep environment no longer belongs to me. I wonder if it's time for me to tune into Supernanny to see if she has a remedy for this issue?
So, after watching an episode of "Supernanny" I was inspired to try one of her methods of removing Nikolas's crutch but, I added my own spin to it. Supernanny said to gather the pacifier's in a bag that u would hang from a tree and leave over night for the "Pacy fairy" to take and replace with a toy. This seemed simple enough but, Nikolas wasn't into folklore and was born as cynical as a juror during the O.J. Simpson trial. So, my version of the Binky charade was that we would hand out these gathered binky's while trick or treating( It was wrapped in Ziploc! No need to gross out the neighbors!) We would explain that ALL kids did this when they turned 2 as a right of passage. I thought that since Nikolas couldn't really talk yet he was too young to compare notes with anybody. While giving up his precious commodity ,my hope, was that the promise of candy would entice him enough to give up his papeela.
As we dressed Nikolas in his Sponge Bob costume he acted like zoo animals do when they sense a tornado is coming. He was agitated and kept crying no matter how cheery I tried to act. He ran from me when I tried to brush his hair. He screamed when I tried getting the sponge bob costume on and did the "dead as a door nail" trick. This is where your child becomes freakishly heavy and limp upon picking them up and falls ,heavily, to the ground. I think kids must have had a secret meeting about this trick, as I see it used all the time! It's a great tactic to piss off mothers everywhere! We have pictures of this day and in all of them Nikolas is purple, screaming and sweaty wearing his sponge bob costume.
By the time we had approached the first house I had cheated and already given him candy just so we could leave the house. After we had handed out flyer's to our neighbors explaining the situation they knew the drill. After we approached the first home Nikolas began screaming nonstop. His tantrum reached a decibel that is was so loud that it literally enters a grown persons central nervous system and begins to aggravate their eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. People began to loathe my son! One woman actually offered to pay me to move on to the next house. We didn't even make it up her driveway.
In hindsight,maybe Halloween wasn't the best time to try weaning my son from his comfort source. Picturing my beloved son growing up looking like Gomer Pyle was what fueled my insanity. After all was said and done, Nikolas found another papeela stashed in my pillow while I was sleeping that night so ,apparently, my plan had some holes in it. His minor addiction actually passed quite naturally about 6 months later when his cousin teased him for being a baby for needing one. Just like that, he decided that he was too mature for this silly fixation, without any forcing on my part. I realized then, that being a good parent means allowing your kids the space to do things on their own time table. I have learned when to step in and when to back off, as we have both grown into our roles as parent and child. It's definitely a work in progress.
Parenting is filled with tons of trial & error's like this. Books can only prepare you so much. Some can even mislead you. I learned this the hard way after reading a book on attachment parenting. It described a parenting method that made it sound as if my kids and I would have this naturally occurring ,organic bond, like you see with animals on the discovery channel. The key was to keep them "attached" to you ,physically, as much as possible. This book is the reason that I haven't gotten a full nights rest in 9 years because I let my kids sleep with me like a litter of puppies. Obviously, I didn't think it through, very well ,when I brought my wee, swaddled ,infant into our bed at night. Now, sleeping ,for me has turned into a fiasco because my kids are either oddly violent at night or I need a bigger bed. I had envisioned us all sweetly nuzzled together as we drifted off to sleep being lulled by the sweet sounds of gentle breathing. Instead it's my daughter yelling out at her brother ,savagely in her sleep,the comforter somehow getting pulled halfway off the bed, and my chihuahua sneaking inside my pillowcase and growling when I roll over on her. I wake up by being elbowed in the ear and my big dog breathing his sour, stinky breathe in my face. I guess you could say it's organic, even natural, but, not what I had in mind. Even if they start out in their own beds, somehow, by morning, they all manage to quietly crawl into my bed while I'm asleep. I need to revisit this issue soon, as it's become clear that my sleep environment no longer belongs to me. I wonder if it's time for me to tune into Supernanny to see if she has a remedy for this issue?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
-Sibling Rivalry-
Today's topic has been one of the biggest thorns in my side since I became a mom! My sister and I are 10 years apart so I didn't understand how prevalent it was until I became a parent, myself. When my husband and I got married we would brag about how we wanted "a ton of kids!" I guess we never noticed the sarcastic smiles and the silent snickers of the veteran parents who knew better.
Sibling rivalry creeps up early ,too! My firstborn had it down by the time he was 18 months old! His cleverness would have shocked most adults! If he saw me hand a new stuffed animal to his baby brother he would, quick as a flash,grab it from his chubby little fingers while simultaneously replacing it with some random toy he didn't want. His baby brother didn't even realize the coveted toy had been hijacked! The smile on my eldest sons face was so palpable it could fill a room. Eventually, this no longer worked. Andreas became increasingly aware, as babies tend to do, and started catching on to his brother's trickery. As they have grown, these situations have become more intricate.
With my husband's job pulling him away from home 10 month's out of the year this leaves me being the lucky one who gets pulled into the kid's little tug-of-war's most often. My male children are so territorial of me, I think that the next logical step might be them urinating in a circle around me to shield off the other with his scent! I hope it doesn't come to that but, I am learning not to underestimate the serious nature of these disputes. Is it normal that,upon entering my minivan I found duct tape forming a barrier that divided it in half? How many other family's have to use rulers to measure cake sizes to ensure equal proportions? Do all siblings wait for the other to go to bed to pillage their backpacks to see if the other has some valuable treasure inside it?
Even our family pets get pulled into the action! The boys play a game called "Who's your master?" Each boy stands on opposing sides of the room while making exaggerated hand gestures. They both yell loudly and in an animated fashion trying to out do the other.If this wasn't bad enough, both boys have pockets filled to the rim with dog treats. Our big, male dog excitedly runs from boy to boy lapping up all the attention. Our tiny female chihuahua just sits defiantly in the center of the room as if to say "no way buddy, I'm not choosing either one of you as my master!"
I find myself getting cold sweats when we are out in public and they begin the familiar banter that plays out like a broken record. My nervousness is a result of seeing how quickly they can go from "Mommy, he's sitting in my seat" to "Mommy, he hurted me in the head!" I find it extremely uncomfortable to have to play referee outside of my home. I feel like people think we're the Beverly Hillbillies. Then, there are the kind folks who try to help by telling me how they have heard of this place that you can send unruly boys called "The Pea Farm". Apparently, you pick pea's from sunrise to sunset and get to experience a hard days work. Huh, it seems like child labor laws might close a place like that down. In retrospect, maybe they were making that up. I would look it up right now but, I have to go...Nikolas has super glued our chihuahua to his side of the room!
Sibling rivalry creeps up early ,too! My firstborn had it down by the time he was 18 months old! His cleverness would have shocked most adults! If he saw me hand a new stuffed animal to his baby brother he would, quick as a flash,grab it from his chubby little fingers while simultaneously replacing it with some random toy he didn't want. His baby brother didn't even realize the coveted toy had been hijacked! The smile on my eldest sons face was so palpable it could fill a room. Eventually, this no longer worked. Andreas became increasingly aware, as babies tend to do, and started catching on to his brother's trickery. As they have grown, these situations have become more intricate.
With my husband's job pulling him away from home 10 month's out of the year this leaves me being the lucky one who gets pulled into the kid's little tug-of-war's most often. My male children are so territorial of me, I think that the next logical step might be them urinating in a circle around me to shield off the other with his scent! I hope it doesn't come to that but, I am learning not to underestimate the serious nature of these disputes. Is it normal that,upon entering my minivan I found duct tape forming a barrier that divided it in half? How many other family's have to use rulers to measure cake sizes to ensure equal proportions? Do all siblings wait for the other to go to bed to pillage their backpacks to see if the other has some valuable treasure inside it?
Even our family pets get pulled into the action! The boys play a game called "Who's your master?" Each boy stands on opposing sides of the room while making exaggerated hand gestures. They both yell loudly and in an animated fashion trying to out do the other.If this wasn't bad enough, both boys have pockets filled to the rim with dog treats. Our big, male dog excitedly runs from boy to boy lapping up all the attention. Our tiny female chihuahua just sits defiantly in the center of the room as if to say "no way buddy, I'm not choosing either one of you as my master!"
I find myself getting cold sweats when we are out in public and they begin the familiar banter that plays out like a broken record. My nervousness is a result of seeing how quickly they can go from "Mommy, he's sitting in my seat" to "Mommy, he hurted me in the head!" I find it extremely uncomfortable to have to play referee outside of my home. I feel like people think we're the Beverly Hillbillies. Then, there are the kind folks who try to help by telling me how they have heard of this place that you can send unruly boys called "The Pea Farm". Apparently, you pick pea's from sunrise to sunset and get to experience a hard days work. Huh, it seems like child labor laws might close a place like that down. In retrospect, maybe they were making that up. I would look it up right now but, I have to go...Nikolas has super glued our chihuahua to his side of the room!
Monday, October 18, 2010
"Insufficiently Greek"
"Atleast, you're Greek so I can introduce you to my mom". I will never forget the time when Nik looked at me and nonchalantly said those words to me. If you're not familiar with the Greek culture they may sound shocking. I secretly chuckled to myself because Nik assumed that because my last name was Kousaleos I was as Greek as they come. The fact is, my Greek father adopted me when he married my mom when I was just 6 years old. My upbringing was deeply influenced by both of my parents and their inherent cultures. Nik's kind of reminded me of the movie " Goodfella's" only he didn't have to beat anyone up.
After I explained my lack of "Greekness" to Nik he took it in stride. However, he knew this might be a tricky situation for his parent's as they are first generation Kalymians & he was the baby of the family. He brought me to his big sister's house so we could collaborate with her about how to handle this delicate topic. She prepped me on certain subjects that may come up when I met her parents and offered to come with us when we had our first meeting together. I felt nervous but, tentatively hopeful that I, atleast had her on my side.
We went to a Greek restaurant in the downtown Tarpon Area. I practiced some Greek salutations in the car on the way to the restaurant. Everything seemed to be going pretty well until I saw what my future mother in law ordered as an appetizer. For lack of a better word it looked like a giant penis! It was pickeled octopus! To make a good impression I willed myself to eat it. Nik kept inappropriatly laughing because he knew how much this was out of character for me. He had heard the story of how my dad had tricked me into trying grilled octopus by telling me it was lobster. He had also heard about the ensuing tantrum & vomiting that followed when I had found out what I was actually consuming.Needless to say, pickeled octopus will not be a part of my regular diet.
I am proud to say that ,for the most part, Nik's friends and family embraced me so much that I felt taken a back by they their warmth & acceptance. They looked past the fact that the only Greek words I knew were mainly cuss words. They kindly schooled me the night before my wedding on some basic Greek wedding dances. My Greek relatives closed ranks and helped me to navigate this tightly knit community. I couldn't have asked for more!
As time passed, I have fallen in love with this rich culture! I am proud to be able to share it with my children. My in laws and I laugh about the pickled octopus incedent at family dinners.My mother in law affectionatly calls me a "Kalymia" which translates to "Kalymian woman". I absolutely love Greek food and even started putting lemon on my steak! (Greeks put lemon on EVERYTHING). However, after 10 years of marriage one topic has not been resolved but, something tells me, it never will. Nik seems to believe his heritage supercedes my Italian/Irish stock. His pride borders on narcissm. He proudly denounces mine as inferior while simultaneously bragging that his ancestors overpowered the Italians during the war. I counter that we both have beautiful traditions that color our family life & that ,while unique, both have similar value systems. Greeks are known for their fierce sense of pride. However, I could say the same for the Italians & Irish, as well. So, it seems, this is one of those marital spats that isn't meant to be resolved. Maybe, we need ten more years to figure it out.
After I explained my lack of "Greekness" to Nik he took it in stride. However, he knew this might be a tricky situation for his parent's as they are first generation Kalymians & he was the baby of the family. He brought me to his big sister's house so we could collaborate with her about how to handle this delicate topic. She prepped me on certain subjects that may come up when I met her parents and offered to come with us when we had our first meeting together. I felt nervous but, tentatively hopeful that I, atleast had her on my side.
We went to a Greek restaurant in the downtown Tarpon Area. I practiced some Greek salutations in the car on the way to the restaurant. Everything seemed to be going pretty well until I saw what my future mother in law ordered as an appetizer. For lack of a better word it looked like a giant penis! It was pickeled octopus! To make a good impression I willed myself to eat it. Nik kept inappropriatly laughing because he knew how much this was out of character for me. He had heard the story of how my dad had tricked me into trying grilled octopus by telling me it was lobster. He had also heard about the ensuing tantrum & vomiting that followed when I had found out what I was actually consuming.Needless to say, pickeled octopus will not be a part of my regular diet.
I am proud to say that ,for the most part, Nik's friends and family embraced me so much that I felt taken a back by they their warmth & acceptance. They looked past the fact that the only Greek words I knew were mainly cuss words. They kindly schooled me the night before my wedding on some basic Greek wedding dances. My Greek relatives closed ranks and helped me to navigate this tightly knit community. I couldn't have asked for more!
As time passed, I have fallen in love with this rich culture! I am proud to be able to share it with my children. My in laws and I laugh about the pickled octopus incedent at family dinners.My mother in law affectionatly calls me a "Kalymia" which translates to "Kalymian woman". I absolutely love Greek food and even started putting lemon on my steak! (Greeks put lemon on EVERYTHING). However, after 10 years of marriage one topic has not been resolved but, something tells me, it never will. Nik seems to believe his heritage supercedes my Italian/Irish stock. His pride borders on narcissm. He proudly denounces mine as inferior while simultaneously bragging that his ancestors overpowered the Italians during the war. I counter that we both have beautiful traditions that color our family life & that ,while unique, both have similar value systems. Greeks are known for their fierce sense of pride. However, I could say the same for the Italians & Irish, as well. So, it seems, this is one of those marital spats that isn't meant to be resolved. Maybe, we need ten more years to figure it out.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Reality Check
Today's topic is about perception. As a young woman, I always knew that one day I was going to be a mom. I had this preconceived notion of how this was going to come to fruition. If anyone knew me as a teenager they might say I was at the far end of the spectrum for teenage rebellion. I wish my hobbies included cheerleading & church instead of munchie pitstops and club hopping when I was young. I was swept up in the whole rave craze at the time and my selfishness and immaturity was apparent to all who knew me.
Even while I was telling off my parents and breaking curfew I was dreaming of the day I would become a mother. I used to see kids having tantrums in checkout lines at the grocery store and would ponder how much better I was equipped to handle such insolence. In hindsight, I see how rediculous this sounds. When you're young pride and naivety are your biggest road blocks. I now see my mother as the viking she is. She raised me with so much love that I soaked it up without ever questioning her struggles. Not until I experienced them myself could I clearly see their depth.
My sons were born 11 months apart. They were called "Irish twins" because of their proximal births. This meant that I had two babies who could neither walk nor self-soothe for a period of time. Needless to say, this presented some interesting challenges for my inexperienced self. The first being bathing. Would I always reek of baby puke and diaper wipes? I tried the obvious and jumped in the shower after pacing my infant sons nap schedule so that I had a short window of time to complete my remedial task. This is when I realized that these immature beings come equipped with a radar. Without fail, within minutes of turning on the shower one of them would wake up screaming. After, looking in the mirror and seeing my reflection I started to panic. I looked like I had been beaten with an ugly stick! I swallowed my pride and begged my mother for advice.
As I looked around my apartment I began taking in how wrong I had been about my mom. She had been where I was and somehow, made it look easy. As I sat on the couch crying while I wrapped my mind around my lack of prowess as a mom I heard a knock at the door.As I opened it, my mother stood smiling with two huge boxes next to her. Vibrating chairs, she said, would be my saving grace. She gave me hug and then proceded to fill my fridge with groceries. She then gave me a knowing smile and told me that this period in my life would challenge me but, she had faith I was strong enough to plow through it and face it head on. "One foot in front of the other, Jenn" she said. " Just take it one day at a time you will find your footing". Her praise and encouragement was just what I had needed.
As I washed the crusty stuff from my hair with my sons gently bobbing in their seats I had an epiphany. My mother's wisdom was hard earned through sleepless nights and many more selfless acts than I could ever comprehend.Her patience was something that she also had to grow into. As her family expanded and her responsiblities piled up I am sure she had felt similarly overwelmed at times. Motherhood humbles you in a way that nothing else can. It forces you to reach farther than you thought possible and to extend yourself everyday.I am thankful for the chaos, the giggles I hear from my sons room late at night,the little feet that pitter patter into my bed while I'm sleeping.These things combined with a hearty outlook gave me an abundant existance that I could never have imagined. Maybe, it wasn't the way I had envisioned it as a young woman. I've learned to adapt.I've learned to ask for help. I can only hope that one day my children will have the reality check I did and really "see" me as I now see my mom.One can only hope...
Even while I was telling off my parents and breaking curfew I was dreaming of the day I would become a mother. I used to see kids having tantrums in checkout lines at the grocery store and would ponder how much better I was equipped to handle such insolence. In hindsight, I see how rediculous this sounds. When you're young pride and naivety are your biggest road blocks. I now see my mother as the viking she is. She raised me with so much love that I soaked it up without ever questioning her struggles. Not until I experienced them myself could I clearly see their depth.
My sons were born 11 months apart. They were called "Irish twins" because of their proximal births. This meant that I had two babies who could neither walk nor self-soothe for a period of time. Needless to say, this presented some interesting challenges for my inexperienced self. The first being bathing. Would I always reek of baby puke and diaper wipes? I tried the obvious and jumped in the shower after pacing my infant sons nap schedule so that I had a short window of time to complete my remedial task. This is when I realized that these immature beings come equipped with a radar. Without fail, within minutes of turning on the shower one of them would wake up screaming. After, looking in the mirror and seeing my reflection I started to panic. I looked like I had been beaten with an ugly stick! I swallowed my pride and begged my mother for advice.
As I looked around my apartment I began taking in how wrong I had been about my mom. She had been where I was and somehow, made it look easy. As I sat on the couch crying while I wrapped my mind around my lack of prowess as a mom I heard a knock at the door.As I opened it, my mother stood smiling with two huge boxes next to her. Vibrating chairs, she said, would be my saving grace. She gave me hug and then proceded to fill my fridge with groceries. She then gave me a knowing smile and told me that this period in my life would challenge me but, she had faith I was strong enough to plow through it and face it head on. "One foot in front of the other, Jenn" she said. " Just take it one day at a time you will find your footing". Her praise and encouragement was just what I had needed.
As I washed the crusty stuff from my hair with my sons gently bobbing in their seats I had an epiphany. My mother's wisdom was hard earned through sleepless nights and many more selfless acts than I could ever comprehend.Her patience was something that she also had to grow into. As her family expanded and her responsiblities piled up I am sure she had felt similarly overwelmed at times. Motherhood humbles you in a way that nothing else can. It forces you to reach farther than you thought possible and to extend yourself everyday.I am thankful for the chaos, the giggles I hear from my sons room late at night,the little feet that pitter patter into my bed while I'm sleeping.These things combined with a hearty outlook gave me an abundant existance that I could never have imagined. Maybe, it wasn't the way I had envisioned it as a young woman. I've learned to adapt.I've learned to ask for help. I can only hope that one day my children will have the reality check I did and really "see" me as I now see my mom.One can only hope...
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Myths of Parenting Exposed!!!!
Beware, if you have yet to enter the threshold of parenting this might frighten you out of it! Sure, people warned me of the changes my body would encounter. I had an inkling that my breasts might become more like socks with weights in them after nursing worked it's magic. Other veteran moms smirked when I touted how I wanted four children while pregnant with my first. In fact, I'm pretty sure they warned me of the many pitfalls of motherhood repeatedly. When your young, idealism tends to win out over practicality. I'd like to explore some of the myths of parenting that go so often ignored by our Utopian society.
One of the first falsehoods I encountered as a new mom is this inscrutable notion that breastfeeding prevents pregnancy. Where did this fabrication come from? I recall many things about my hospital experience when delivering my first born. The first being "the boob Nazi's". These were the women sent in my room under the guise of lactation consultants. There job, as far as I can tell, is to grab your milk-makers and shove them in your babies mouth! The next memory that sticks out is how I was told repeatedly by these women that breastfeeding(if done exclusively) prevents pregnancy. They seemed so knowledgeable and bold to be able to come into my room and perform such a task that I was fooled into thinking they wouldn't steer me astray. Kind of like when you're 15 yrs. old and choose to date a much older ,more experienced guy(I never did this, of coarse. It's just an example. Wink! Wink!). You, naivly believe he knows all the answers just because he's so confident.
I found out how wrong they were during my post partum check up approximately eight weeks after my son Nikolas's birth. I had missed my initial appointment that was scheduled as a six week check up . I remember how excited I was to show off my precious child. Unfortunately, I had a terrible doctor at the time who my mom and I referred to as "the bitchy troll" so I just focused on displaying him to everyone else. My mood was joy full as I entered the office. It felt nice to comb my hair and actually have time to rinse out the shampoo as my mom held my son while I got ready. Needless to say, the day started out promising. My memory is pretty foggy following my sons birth due to many factors including hormones and sleep deprivation. However, this day will forever be ingrained in my mind as the day I became cognizant of the fact that you can't trust everyone, no matter how confident they may appear.
The mood was light. Everyone seemed enamored with my boy. It felt validating. Then, "the bitchy troll's" face became instantaneously solemn. She informed me that I was expecting. I looked around for Ashton Kutcher, hoping I was being "punked". He never appeared. My mom began laughing! Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me but, it sounded like a baby doll who's batteries are low. It wasn't her normal laugh. The "bitchy troll" then proceeded to admonish me for not giving my body time to heal, as if this was planned! I can honestly say this turned out to be a blessing, as I can't imagine my life without my son, Andreas. At the time, however, it was a lot to take in.
The second myth I'd like to examine is that breastfeeding is a natural instinct. We have this romantic notion in our heads of feeding our infant without it being in any way difficult. Animals do it! They don't need any encouragement. Why would women, you might ask. I read baby books. I vaguely skimmed the section on nursing because I was eluded enough to think it was a no-brainer. Let me elaborate. There is an occurrence called a "growth spurt" that happens at approximate times during the first several months of nursing. This is a kind way of saying that your wee-infant will marathon nurse for days, to encourage milk production. It can catch you off guard if your not in the know because I, unfortunately, took it as a sign that my body was lacking somehow. After two days of this I began to crack. At one point, I thought about breaking out the solid baby food even though my son was only two weeks old. I figured he must be an anomaly. Maybe, he was a future line-backer and needed a special diet. Thankfully, my mother talked me out of this and suggested I introduce some formula. In hindsight, I regret my hysteria and wish I would've called the "boobie hotline" that the hospital supplied.
So you see, myths about motherhood exist. They confuse new mothers and make us second guess ourselves. Sometimes, they come from the most unlikely of sources so, as veteran moms, it's our job to expose them so others don't have to suffer. Even if we look like complete idiots, it's our duty to mention these dark fabrications. Most will likely do what I did and shun our well-meaning advice. That's ok. In time, they will learn and join the club.
One of the first falsehoods I encountered as a new mom is this inscrutable notion that breastfeeding prevents pregnancy. Where did this fabrication come from? I recall many things about my hospital experience when delivering my first born. The first being "the boob Nazi's". These were the women sent in my room under the guise of lactation consultants. There job, as far as I can tell, is to grab your milk-makers and shove them in your babies mouth! The next memory that sticks out is how I was told repeatedly by these women that breastfeeding(if done exclusively) prevents pregnancy. They seemed so knowledgeable and bold to be able to come into my room and perform such a task that I was fooled into thinking they wouldn't steer me astray. Kind of like when you're 15 yrs. old and choose to date a much older ,more experienced guy(I never did this, of coarse. It's just an example. Wink! Wink!). You, naivly believe he knows all the answers just because he's so confident.
I found out how wrong they were during my post partum check up approximately eight weeks after my son Nikolas's birth. I had missed my initial appointment that was scheduled as a six week check up . I remember how excited I was to show off my precious child. Unfortunately, I had a terrible doctor at the time who my mom and I referred to as "the bitchy troll" so I just focused on displaying him to everyone else. My mood was joy full as I entered the office. It felt nice to comb my hair and actually have time to rinse out the shampoo as my mom held my son while I got ready. Needless to say, the day started out promising. My memory is pretty foggy following my sons birth due to many factors including hormones and sleep deprivation. However, this day will forever be ingrained in my mind as the day I became cognizant of the fact that you can't trust everyone, no matter how confident they may appear.
The mood was light. Everyone seemed enamored with my boy. It felt validating. Then, "the bitchy troll's" face became instantaneously solemn. She informed me that I was expecting. I looked around for Ashton Kutcher, hoping I was being "punked". He never appeared. My mom began laughing! Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me but, it sounded like a baby doll who's batteries are low. It wasn't her normal laugh. The "bitchy troll" then proceeded to admonish me for not giving my body time to heal, as if this was planned! I can honestly say this turned out to be a blessing, as I can't imagine my life without my son, Andreas. At the time, however, it was a lot to take in.
The second myth I'd like to examine is that breastfeeding is a natural instinct. We have this romantic notion in our heads of feeding our infant without it being in any way difficult. Animals do it! They don't need any encouragement. Why would women, you might ask. I read baby books. I vaguely skimmed the section on nursing because I was eluded enough to think it was a no-brainer. Let me elaborate. There is an occurrence called a "growth spurt" that happens at approximate times during the first several months of nursing. This is a kind way of saying that your wee-infant will marathon nurse for days, to encourage milk production. It can catch you off guard if your not in the know because I, unfortunately, took it as a sign that my body was lacking somehow. After two days of this I began to crack. At one point, I thought about breaking out the solid baby food even though my son was only two weeks old. I figured he must be an anomaly. Maybe, he was a future line-backer and needed a special diet. Thankfully, my mother talked me out of this and suggested I introduce some formula. In hindsight, I regret my hysteria and wish I would've called the "boobie hotline" that the hospital supplied.
So you see, myths about motherhood exist. They confuse new mothers and make us second guess ourselves. Sometimes, they come from the most unlikely of sources so, as veteran moms, it's our job to expose them so others don't have to suffer. Even if we look like complete idiots, it's our duty to mention these dark fabrications. Most will likely do what I did and shun our well-meaning advice. That's ok. In time, they will learn and join the club.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
God Has A Sense Of Humor...
As new parents, Nik & I were bombarded with practical advice from well-meaning friends and relatives. The day we brought my first born home from the hospital I was constantly on edge for fear that they somehow knew how inept we were as parents.Everyone had seen how maladjusted our family dog turned out so I thought at any moment they would stop us from leaving the premises with a stern warning that we promptly enroll in a class of some kind.
The advice from my family was filled with words like mutual respect & open communication. My M-I-L gave me a different recipe for marital bliss that involved a huge Greek cookbook and a gentle reminder that in marriage "the husband is the head and the wife is the neck". As Nik and I entered our apartment that day my mind was flooded with all the recommendations of our loved ones as I lay my son down in his beautifully decorated room.
I think Bill Cosby best describes what parenting does to a couple in his stand up routine called "Bill Cosby Himself". He speaks of how children are born with "brain damage" and how it changes how parents look & feel over time. I, now a mother three, can see his logic. He also states how God has a sense of humor. I can honestly say the best advice I received was to sleep when the baby sleeps and not worry about the dust piling up.I can't say I listened to it ,at first, as I believed I was handling myself pretty moderately. Self-awareness seems to be the first thing to slip away as we settle into our role as parents. Certain changes begin to eat away at us, no matter how well prepared we think we are for them.
The first being sleep deprivation. Nik & I were quite the night owls in our early years so we thought we had that one covered. Boy, were we wrong! Let me just say that waking up with an infant every few hours for months at time is not the same as dancing til dawn with your platforms. At one point ,I left the house to go to the store with my son snugly in his baby sling. I kept wondering why people where avoiding my gaze as I passed them in the produce section. Finally, a kind women whispered into my ear to go to the restroom and look in the mirror.
I had grown so accustomed to just wearing my nursing bra that I had left the house without a top. Thankfully, the sling had covered most of me but, it was at this moment I recalled God and his sense of humor. I also began to see the importance of keeping mine intact. Another time, I found myself in the same grocery store with more customers trying NOT to look at me. This time I had fresh baby puke oozing down my back. I had been wondering why I kept smelling something foul and repeatedly kept checking my sons diaper. Goodtimes!
As I've come to accept how little control I have in life's little ebbs and flows the more I appreciate God and his sense of humor. It keeps me humbled and reminds me that life"s a journey. It's not where we end up that's important. It's about the experiences we have along the way. As, I write this now music is blasting. My sons are in their Halloween costumes break dancing.My daughter is in her brothers cop uniform trying to do a split. My chihuahua is trying to hump my leg and my big dog has somehow eaten off the back of my remote....I rest my case.
The advice from my family was filled with words like mutual respect & open communication. My M-I-L gave me a different recipe for marital bliss that involved a huge Greek cookbook and a gentle reminder that in marriage "the husband is the head and the wife is the neck". As Nik and I entered our apartment that day my mind was flooded with all the recommendations of our loved ones as I lay my son down in his beautifully decorated room.
I think Bill Cosby best describes what parenting does to a couple in his stand up routine called "Bill Cosby Himself". He speaks of how children are born with "brain damage" and how it changes how parents look & feel over time. I, now a mother three, can see his logic. He also states how God has a sense of humor. I can honestly say the best advice I received was to sleep when the baby sleeps and not worry about the dust piling up.I can't say I listened to it ,at first, as I believed I was handling myself pretty moderately. Self-awareness seems to be the first thing to slip away as we settle into our role as parents. Certain changes begin to eat away at us, no matter how well prepared we think we are for them.
The first being sleep deprivation. Nik & I were quite the night owls in our early years so we thought we had that one covered. Boy, were we wrong! Let me just say that waking up with an infant every few hours for months at time is not the same as dancing til dawn with your platforms. At one point ,I left the house to go to the store with my son snugly in his baby sling. I kept wondering why people where avoiding my gaze as I passed them in the produce section. Finally, a kind women whispered into my ear to go to the restroom and look in the mirror.
I had grown so accustomed to just wearing my nursing bra that I had left the house without a top. Thankfully, the sling had covered most of me but, it was at this moment I recalled God and his sense of humor. I also began to see the importance of keeping mine intact. Another time, I found myself in the same grocery store with more customers trying NOT to look at me. This time I had fresh baby puke oozing down my back. I had been wondering why I kept smelling something foul and repeatedly kept checking my sons diaper. Goodtimes!
As I've come to accept how little control I have in life's little ebbs and flows the more I appreciate God and his sense of humor. It keeps me humbled and reminds me that life"s a journey. It's not where we end up that's important. It's about the experiences we have along the way. As, I write this now music is blasting. My sons are in their Halloween costumes break dancing.My daughter is in her brothers cop uniform trying to do a split. My chihuahua is trying to hump my leg and my big dog has somehow eaten off the back of my remote....I rest my case.
Our Befuddled Beginning...
So, I bet you're wondering why I decided to make a blog about motherhood & crazy pets. I am sure they're a dime a dozen! What makes my life special? The truth is I think more mothers could relate to my craziness than they would like to admit. Let me start from the beginning so you can get a feel for our demeanor's before I share our experiences. I am thirty four years old. Ethnically, I am a product of a Brooklyn bred Italian-Irish clan. My great grandparents were "straight off the boat" and while proud Americans, they tenaciously held on to their culture. I am married to a loud, Greek man who will be the first to tell you all about his superior heritage. We met in 2000 at a cousins wedding. It must have been love at first sight as only a real man could find me attractive as I was wearing a shiny, fuscia bridesmaid dress.
So, we were both the "wild children" in our respective family's. We hung out all night together but, when the morning light reared it's ugly head I startled my future husband with a request. I felt it pertinent that he at least, come meet my father and shake his hand. Anyone who is from the Tarpon/ Clearwater area knows that information travels freakishly fast there. I knew family members would be questioning our whereabouts. So, we got in the car and headed towards the bridal brunch with good intentions.This is when Nik began asking me questions. How was my father built? Was he a big man? Did he enjoy mixed martial arts? Did he own any weapons? Then we did what any respectable new couple would do. WE FLED! He drove me straight to Tallahassee. The rest is history. We were off to a tumultuous start!
After we married, we were advised by concerned family members to get a pet. They were uneasy with the fact that we might procreate. So, we purchased the first of many deranged animals. We're not sure if they came into the world that way or they are a product of our influence. Regardless, people assumed the latter. Our puppy was a min-pin. He was adorable! He was a also a tad unhinged. He, like all puppies, enjoy chewing things. Lots of things, including cement, drywall, down feathers, rocks and various other indigestible objects. Being inexperienced pet owners we thought everyone had their vet on speed dial. I began reading pet training manuals. This is when I realized we were doing EVERYTHING WRONG!
He slept with us. Our first error. We kept his food bowl filled to the rim. An even bigger travesty, as these actions made it clear to him that he was an equal in the pecking order.It also made him look more like a deformed Labrador than a min-pin. He began humping everything. My husband called it a trick! He was proud that his dog, at least did ONE thing on demand. We also felt it was positive that he had the courtesy to look frightened when we entered the living room to find him eating our couch. Needless to say, people began to doubt our abilities as parents. This is when I found out that I was expecting. Nik & are were overjoyed! Surely, we had enough time to hone in on our parenting skills. I naively thought that all the answers were just a few miles away at the local book store. Nik, on the other hand, trusted that because I was woman, I would instinctively know what to do. He comes from a VERY traditional mindset in which Greek men should stay within their culture and be catered to. I come from hippie parents who feel that parents don't even need to be the same species much less the same ethnic background. They also taught me that men & woman are on equal playing Fields.You can see where there might be some turbulence in our future. This is where I will leave off, for today. I look forward to sharing many laughs with you as I describe our journey into parenting.
So, we were both the "wild children" in our respective family's. We hung out all night together but, when the morning light reared it's ugly head I startled my future husband with a request. I felt it pertinent that he at least, come meet my father and shake his hand. Anyone who is from the Tarpon/ Clearwater area knows that information travels freakishly fast there. I knew family members would be questioning our whereabouts. So, we got in the car and headed towards the bridal brunch with good intentions.This is when Nik began asking me questions. How was my father built? Was he a big man? Did he enjoy mixed martial arts? Did he own any weapons? Then we did what any respectable new couple would do. WE FLED! He drove me straight to Tallahassee. The rest is history. We were off to a tumultuous start!
After we married, we were advised by concerned family members to get a pet. They were uneasy with the fact that we might procreate. So, we purchased the first of many deranged animals. We're not sure if they came into the world that way or they are a product of our influence. Regardless, people assumed the latter. Our puppy was a min-pin. He was adorable! He was a also a tad unhinged. He, like all puppies, enjoy chewing things. Lots of things, including cement, drywall, down feathers, rocks and various other indigestible objects. Being inexperienced pet owners we thought everyone had their vet on speed dial. I began reading pet training manuals. This is when I realized we were doing EVERYTHING WRONG!
He slept with us. Our first error. We kept his food bowl filled to the rim. An even bigger travesty, as these actions made it clear to him that he was an equal in the pecking order.It also made him look more like a deformed Labrador than a min-pin. He began humping everything. My husband called it a trick! He was proud that his dog, at least did ONE thing on demand. We also felt it was positive that he had the courtesy to look frightened when we entered the living room to find him eating our couch. Needless to say, people began to doubt our abilities as parents. This is when I found out that I was expecting. Nik & are were overjoyed! Surely, we had enough time to hone in on our parenting skills. I naively thought that all the answers were just a few miles away at the local book store. Nik, on the other hand, trusted that because I was woman, I would instinctively know what to do. He comes from a VERY traditional mindset in which Greek men should stay within their culture and be catered to. I come from hippie parents who feel that parents don't even need to be the same species much less the same ethnic background. They also taught me that men & woman are on equal playing Fields.You can see where there might be some turbulence in our future. This is where I will leave off, for today. I look forward to sharing many laughs with you as I describe our journey into parenting.
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