Friday, August 10, 2012

The Moment I Knew

I have felt "ready" to make this huge step toward parenthood for a while, but I'm not sure that even I was entirely convinced. I don't think I knew what part of me was holding out. I had an "aha!" moment a few weeks ago, and now I'm so certain that I feel it in my bones.

I think that, up until a few weeks ago, I was thinking about parenthood from the perspective of making and having a baby.  I was thinking about how nice it would be to have someone need me. I was engrossed in the thought of my family "oohing" and "aahing" over something that I created. It was all terribly superficial, but it was all consuming. I'm much more mellow about it now, and I couldn't be more grateful for the chance to take the pressure off of myself.

The story begins with two pups. These two:
Big dog.
(P.S. This picture won a photo contest at our local new station. He's flipping adorable.)
Little Dog.
(She's my heart. She stole it as a pup and never gave it back.)

My husband and I were getting ready to go to bed two Sundays ago. The process includes kenneling the little dog, turning the lights off downstairs, and ushering the big dog into the bedroom upstairs. The big dog was, of course, chasing the little dog around and trying to flip her over with his nose so he could lick her nethers. He has been doing it every single day for the past 4 years. The little dog does not enjoy this in any way, so it's fairly common for her to bite one of his wrinkles to get him to lay off. Sometimes she beats him up pretty badly, but he has 40 pounds on her. We don't worry.

So, when there was a drop of blood on the tile, we didn't really worry about it. When it was followed by a  trail of a whole lot of blood, we worried a little more. When the dog was limping and everywhere he went included a POOL of blood, we were ready to freak out. Somehow, the big dog managed to knock his toe nail out of place, and it included a whole hell of a lot of gushing.

The point of this is not to gross you out. Actually, the dog injury isn't even really the point. It was our reactions. We could have freaked out. I could have done my famous "gagging so badly it makes other people gag", but I didn't. Hubs took the lead, asked me to clean the blood, and held the dog. Then, between the two of us, we found the injury, calmed the dog, and cleaned it up. We discussed whether to wait it out or rush him to the emergency vet. We decided to wait it out. We took turns keeping the dog still and calm. We glued the wound with super glue and made some makeshift bandages. Then, we took shifts at night making sure he wasn't bleeding or losing his personality.

There was no fighting or arguing. We just figured it out until the crisis was over. That's when I got grouchy and just wanted to go to bed.

Big dog laying down with his makeshift bandaged paw. 

But we were a team. There was a big problem, and we just fixed it. We had a gimpy dog for a few weeks, and now he's back to his old, dumb self.

We could totally do this parenthood thing. I know dogs aren't kids, but it's the closest thing we have. We love them unconditionally, even in the wee hours of the morning when we have to lay on top of them to keep them still and keep the blood off the carpet. We can do this.

We can totally do this.

We can do this.

Especially now, it's hip to be square kids.

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