I just spent about 30 minutes pondering what kind of dog would be most compatible with my lifestyle. Shamelessly wasted time. It’s Sunday. I already have a dog. Admittedly, she’s in the last leg of the race, gently drifting down like a golden leaf. We’ve already decided we’ll try life dogless for a while after she leaves us, and see how that sits. I’m good with that. Our life feels crazy. We’ll miss her, but no need to increase mayhem right now. So – why the wandering thoughts?
First, I have a pseudo-obsession with French bulldogs. I love the personality of every one I’ve met. Their cuteness factor is overwhelming, and Pinterest has been instrumental in perpetuating this useless pining (pine-ing, not pinning!) Then, I saw a baby French bulldog, in a snuggle carrier, in the store the other morning. I stopped to talk to the lady who was baby-wearing him. I asked, “I’ve heard they don’t do well in the heat, is that true?” And just like that, my relationship with French bulldogs ended. She told me, on a good day, one of the dogs she has can last 30 minutes on a walk in the heat before he needs to be carried. We live in the desert. This makes no sense. Now, I must fill this empty pine-hole.
Second, I find I am much less plagued by mom-guilt these days. A specific and yet untraceable sequence of psychological jello wrestling events has led to freedom! Instead of standing around on Sunday morning thinking anxiously about what an asshat mom I am, and looking on Pinterest at various articles about how I might be able to shape my children into more reasonable versions of themselves, I am wasting my time exploring new Team Beard Fantasy Dog draft picks. Also looking at my husband’s junk.
In fact, several weeks ago, I erased most of the “your child is a lunatic and here’s how to make them behave better” pins off my Pinterest montage, having realized that children are indeed lunatics, and I am a lunatic, and if I remember to practice what I preach, we will all come through without any house fires or massive defects in self esteem. Possibly.
I did not delete the French bulldog images, and I did make a new board, of *Hugs.* Last year, I would have felt so embarrassed to have a Hugs board, that I would have never even thought of it. I mean, social media is a tool, I need to use it proper-ly. I must show I am a serious and professional woman! But now that I am assured in my asshattery and lunacy, I may as well also come out as a cuddle-o-phile. I am a serious, professional, asshat-lunatic, who likes to cuddle. If the shoe fits…
What am I saying? In a nutshell, after almost three years of guided self-discovery, my prize is Advanced Comfort using Pinterest for useless comfort endeavors. It’s hard earned, and I’ll take it. I can take myself less seriously, for the first time in my life. I can waste time, and my blood pressure doesn’t rise as a consequence. I’m less concerned with doing every single minuscule aspect of every single thing correctly, as dictated by a punitive and rigorous set of fabricated rules.
I’ll share what happened last night. History review: Last year, I would have said something about inappropriateness, and maybe curbed what I saw. Unless I was intoxicated. Instead, I laughed and cheered with friends as our children (male and female) took turns holding a sprinkler up, yelling at the top of their lungs, “I have 6 penises! Look at all my pee!” Which quickly became, “Now I’m really barfing!” as they held it up in front of their mouths. I think my husband actually encouraged our son to “pee on your friend, get him!” Life is crazy. I, for one, did not know the other side of the mountain would look like this, but it’s certainly easier to navigate.
