My husband's best friend and his wife were visiting us over the weekend, and late last night we found ourselves deep in an alcohol-induced tell-all session. I love those. They can really go either way depending on what you're drinking and which day of the week it is, but being that it was good red wine on a mellow Sunday night, the conversation turned into a pretty sentimental reminder of what we love best about each other and why we chose to get married. Aaaawww.
So, I'll come down from my syrupy hangover cloud to share a love quote from another good friend's wedding:
Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like a volcano and then subsides and when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part, because this is what love is. Love is not the breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promise of eternal passion, and it is not the desire to mate every minute or every second of the day. That is just being "in love"which any fool can do…Love itself is what's left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.
Knowing what it's like to have and raise both, I've always been really flexible on the child-dog comparisons. There are undeniable parallels in training a dog and raising a child. Like how you have to punish them for misbehavior within three seconds or they don't understand why you're mad, and how it's better to divert and distract than just to say "no," and how you have to establish your role as the alpha before they're three or else they think they might be in charge. I'm not trying to demean my kids but honestly, the means are similar, though the ends may be a bit different.
There are those, though, and some in my own family, who blur or disregard the line between dog and child altogether. The dogs get an open invitation to join the humans at the dinner table, they only get a mild scolding when they accidentally pee on the carpet ("oh, you silly thing"), they make their way into most family photos, and take away a significant haul on birthdays and christmas. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's dreaded getting on a plane with the lady carrying her Pomeranian in a cute little plaid carry-on. I mean, come on.
I do feel like our dog has a role in our family: to teach our kids about responsibility and respect, to help me sleep peacefully when Jon is out of town, to clean up spills in the kitchen. But I don't feel bad about shutting her in her backyard, I try not to take her on vacation with me, she is NOT invited to dine with us, and she gets regularly ordered to lay down by every member of our family. She's a dog, and that's her place.
We do give her privileges, too. Like big bones to gnaw on and tennis balls to rip in half and baths (which fill her with glee). She gets to go in the kiddy pool, and if she's been really good, we bring her boyfriend over to visit.
I think one post about the dog for every eight or nine about the kids is fair. I'll spare you the puppy album.
