Ten Commandments of Dogs

I like this quote:

"The gift I am sending you is a dog, and is in fact the most precious and valuable possession of mankind." Theodorus Gaza

The other day, I had a visit with my dad while we were sitting in a doctor's office. He was lamenting their little, aging and aggressive dog's tendency to bite everyone in her path. He said (and I am not kidding,) "It makes me feel like I'm not a good parent."

As his only child, I thought about reminding him that he was and is a pretty phenomenal parent for me. But we were in dog mode; if I started talking about people stuff, he would not have paid attention.

My dad is the dog lover, although I must give my mother credit. For someone who was afraid of dogs, she let me get one early in my childhood and she has indulged my dad with his need to care for them. The joke is on her because she is now the one that announces to me, "They can't sleep without us." To borrow a phrase from Oprah, my parents do not consider these beings as pets -- they are little people with fur.

A friend sent me the Ten Commandments of Dogs:

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

Their dog still bites me. My mother avoids my dog because she is big and jumps. Somehow in the mix, we all own dogs and love them so.

Having a Spell

Last week, I met with several friends -- the workout girls. We were celebrating three birthdays and catching up on the various things in our lives. Just because my oldies are gone doesn't mean I'm not in touch with Oldieville. Some are facing surgery, some are hanging on in homes, some are waiting for the next shoe to drop. I look around at this girlfriend group and I'm certain they are willing to pick up the pieces.

We're all good friends, good daughters, good wives, good mothers/stepmothers. We all put on the chameleon suit and rise to the occasion. I looked around the table and realized that all of these women spend their days asking clients, friends, children, parents and friends: "What do you need; how can I help?" Then, she digs in and does it.

Big Sal's husband was hospitalized. Our doctor (saint-in-training) ran a battery of tests. He's probably healthier than 90 percent of the population.

She called us and said, "Pour me a margarita. He's just having a spell."

Smart women know when to stop coddling. They know when the coast is clear, your best course of action might be some laughter and a margarita with some friends.

Bratty Kids

The phrase "Zero Tolerance" is thrown around a lot. Schools use it in their policies about guns, drugs, etc. Sports organizations use it regarding drug testing or other forms of cheating.

I use it too. I have zero tolerance for bratty children. I do not blame the children, although they annoy me, but I want to slap the parents.

Before you think I'm jumped over the cliff into serious oldieville, I am not talking about babies with colic or a child in pain. I'm talking about the child on the airplane that is allowed to climb all over the seat, kick total strangers and throw the sippy cup (filled with sticky juice) in my hair. I'm talking about the child that interrupts adult conversation with some inane request -- only to divert the attention. I'm talking about parents who tolerate it.

In my childhood, my mother was usually the disciplinarian. But my father absolutely, positively refused to put up with whining. He is the most low key and calm man you would ever meet but this would send him reeling. Like all good parents, he didn't have to say a word. One look and I stopped. If a child can master a simple sentence, he can learn manners.

Maybe my next career will be teaching a course. I'll call it, "Mastering the Look."

Last night we had dinner and then played games. I don't remember what the baby said but he's old enough to know how to rib me. I shot him the look. The husband said, "And Mean Mom enters the party." (In his defense, it wasn't anything bad, I just like to know that I still have a sliver of power.) Now that he's grown, he just shoots the same look back to me which makes me laugh. He's mastered it.

When the baby was little, we did not hesitate to take him to restaurants. He loved to go out to brunch or dinner. Our little ritual was to sit in the car and remind him of the rules of proper behavior. No raised voices; no threats -- just a little refresher course.

Maybe I have plopped into oldieville. My mother asked me why we always prefer to eat in the bar of certain restaurants. It's not for the alcohol. It's because you have to be 21-years old. I refuse to spend my weekly allotment for dining out dodging sippy cups and listening to a screaming child.

When Children Multiply

One of the golden girls sent an email yesterday. Her area of the country had a freak snow storm and her children don't see much snow. All of a sudden, it's time for snowball fights and the possibility of building a snowman.

She has two children. At one point, there were four children in her yard. The next time she looked outside, there were eight children.

(I don't refer to them as my golden girls because we're old. It's because we've known each other forever and our friendship is golden.)

I don't know which one of us responded first but I know my fingers were flying across the keyboard and our friend sent the same message:

Enjoy it!
What fun to have a group of young people romping through the snow in your yard!

The Belle's stories about her boys and then her grandchildren still make me smile.

If you do the parenting job well, your children become self-sufficient. They go out into the world and carve their own way. On a snowy day, you might be holding a mug of cocoa and looking at an empty, snow-covered yard ... waiting for children and hoping there will be multitudes.