mama don’t preach January 10, 2008

I recently started reading ParentDish (mainly because Sarah forced me to start reading All & Sundry and she blogs there too).

Recently Linda posted at ParentDish about how her relationship with her dog (her pre-baby baby) has changed since her son was born. I can 150% relate to this post and I was so grateful she wrote it. I’m ashamed to admit that our two dogs (a 50 lb. Australian Heeler from Train’s senior year of college, and a 6 8 9 lb. chihuahua that Train gave me for our first married Christmas) are much more of a nuisance than a blessing lately. The chihuahua especially was my precious little puppy, who I cradled and spoiled and even took to Key West for a week (on a plane!). I was obsessed with this dog and felt like he was a child. The Heeler, while he was a crazy lunatic dog as a puppy, has matured into a docile indoor dog with sweet sad eyes. Everything revolved around the dogs…vacations were avoided because I didn’t want to be without them. Parties were rearranged so that they wouldn’t be freaked out by the number of people in the house. When we were trying to sell our townhouse, Train took them to a friend’s house EVERY MORNING and picked them up EVERY AFTERNOON so the house could be shown while we were gone and I wouldn’t have to be without them in the evening. My only freakout during labor with Sherman was because I had not anticipated the dogs being alone at night while we were at the hospital, and tearfully begged Train to ask his brother to spend the night at our house.

Lately, the Heeler is always underfoot…either when I’m carrying a load of laundry and he wedges himself in between Sherman’s crib and changing table so I can’t get in the room, or brushing by Sherman as he cautiously makes his way down the steps, sending Sherman tumbling into the basement. Any time I sit down on the floor to play with Sherman, the Heeler paws at me for attention. His nails click as he rumbles down the stairs - which are right outside Sherman’s room - at 5:30 in the morning when I’m leaving for work. As for the chihuahua, he barks at every little thing he hears in and out of the house (especially anything that sounds like a knock, even if it’s just me banging my elbow against the soap dish in the shower), every time the door opens, every time Train comes into the room to go to bed after the chihuahua and I have been asleep…all the time. He’s always done this, it’s nothing new. But now we have a little boy who goes to bed at eight pm and takes a long nap on weekend days, and I feel like all day and night I’m shushing him. They both take food from Sherman, and a lot of times he willingly gives it to them, which is why the chihuahua weighs about 50% more than he should. We don’t walk them because it takes both of us, and it’s too cold/dark to take Sherman out. The chihuahua has already bitten Sherman once, enough to draw blood out of his tiny little hand.

Is any of this the dogs’ fault? Absolutely not. Would our house be emptier and more sad (with piles of food around Sherman’s high chair) without them as part of our family? Absolutely. Do I hope that once Sherman is old enough to play with them, everything will be okay again? Fervently. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with them on a day to day basis, when some days it’s all I can do to get to work, get home, and get Sherman fed, bathed, and asleep before even focusing on what I need to get done. Last night while eating dinner, I had Sherman on one side of me trying to kiss me, the Heeler on the other side staring up at me right at table level, and the chihuahua prancing around my feet. I almost screamed I felt so claustrophobic…all three of the creatures who depend on Train and I for survival just…hanging on me. (Of course, not for one second was I wishing Sherman would leave me alone…kisses from a very busy little boy are priceless even when covered in chicken and dumplings.)

AAAANNNNNNYWAY, that is totally not what this post is about (and the lessons I wish to teach Sherman about how to treat animals is a whole other post entirely). The reaction to Linda’s post was brutal, but not at all surprising. Most of the commenters could commiserate with her, while a few said they felt sorry for her dog for having to live where she isn’t appreciated, and one suggested that even being euthanized would be preferable to being Linda’s pet.

What this means is not that Linda’s pet care practices are so horrifying, it’s that we women love to pass judgement on others. A lot of you are terrific pet owners, and a lot more into your dogs and cats than I was ever into mine even before Sherman. It’s because of you that I feel ashamed, but I hope that you can understand that every person is different and does what she has to do to make her own life work.  

But when it comes to parenting, the judging hits a fever pitch. And there is a simple reason. To consider another mother’s methods inferior to yours is to feel superior, and what is more important than being a superior parent?

I am well aware of how judging others, and by extension, comparing yourself to them, is poisonous. If I were to make a New Years’ resolution, it would be to try to wean myself from this behavior. I really feel that since I’ve become a parent, and had to eat so many of those “I WILL NEVER…!” statements of my own, that I have really taken a much more open and accepting view of others, and even in that way, I feel better about myself. But I am not perfect.

There is a mother in Train’s hometown, who sometimes ends up at birthday parties and church functions of my in-laws’, who gives her toddler swe.et te.a in her sippy cup, and is always mystified by the fact that Sherman, who is three months older than her daughter, weighs less than she does. Of course this is just one example of some of the things she allows her daughter to do. She is a nice person, but I will admit that the choices she makes in her life/marriage/parenting are simply too astounding for Ditto and I to resist dissecting them. Does that make us bad people? YES. This woman, like me, is doing the best she knows how. But it makes us feel like Supermoms to see someone making choices that we deem to be…misguided. 

When the mother of the other little boy at our in-home daycare decided to put her son in a center after a minor miscommunication with our provider (leaving Sherman as the only kid in her care), I questioned whether or not I should put Sherman somewhere else where he could interact with other children, even though he was perfectly happy, safe, and healthy with Alice. It bolstered me to consider that the other little boy will probably come down with a lot more colds and viruses now that he is in a daycare center. So I was mollified by the fact that this 9 MONTH OLD might be sicker this winter because I thought his mother overreacted. WTF??? Don’t I know a million kids who go to daycare centers who are just fine?? This is the brutal, illogical game that mothers play.

Overall, I have at least learned to keep my judging to myself. If it is this ingrained female behavior that I have to consciously repress, the least I can do is not contaminate anyone else with my venom. For some reason, while most people are more bold with their criticism online where they can hide behind a computer, it is on the internet that I have learned to be more tolerant. Perhaps because I feel like I know more details about your lives than the ”strangers” that I interact with in real life. I know you are a good mom who wants to do her best in everything she takes on. I am also aware of this constant practice of bringing each other down electronically and it makes me want to stay out of that fray. It is easy for me to not only refrain from leaving a nasty comment (not least because I know you are a real person on the other end, just like me), but to avoid even thinking something ugly, because I’ve got my hands full with my family and the last thing I want to take responsibility for is raising your kids my way too.

It’s useless to bemoan this “sanctimommy” because for every nasty comment I see, there’s another one lambasting the original offender, and obviously that sort of vicious circle has not produced results. So I just do my part in refraining from passing judgement, and even waiting until asked for assvice.

Updated to add this link (from ParentHacks): The Parent Blame Game