Thought of the day: (Usually, I write a novella on this blog, but it’s been one of those “I’ll trade you my kidney for an hour of rest” days. Or an hour of quiet. Or ten seconds of all of the above . . . ) So, my little chestnut for this balmy fall week is that there are a lot of different kinds of love. Yes, there are the types that Hallmark execs have made a killing on, and there are the species of love that you can only experience once you hold a baby, kiss your first sweetheart, etc. In the pet world, a lot of people might say that love is a basket of puppies or the purr of a recently rescued cat.
In my world, though, love is being able to let your Poodle mix lie on your lap after you’ve paid several hundred dollars to have your carpet disinfected, deodorized, and cleaned better than Cinderella could ever have done it. For some reason, Isetta, you decided to exercise a premature lack of bladder control all over the floor in my sons’ room this weekend. Yes, the same weekend I was busy having the kids’ portraits done and the same weekend I was rewriting a 3,500-word book on the explosions of Krakatoa.
In fact, it was the same weekend before the weekend I’m hosting a massive Halloween/birthday party for my daughter, complete with a moon jump. Instead of planning for said bash, though, I was scrubbing wee-wee out of the carpet and spraying Lysol like someone who has an inhalant addiction.
I felt all kinds of emotions as I caught you skulking out of the bedroom for the umpteenth time Saturday morning. Horror at my stupidity for not putting up the baby gate. Anger that you have a huge backyard and a stay-at-home mommy who lets you out several times to run in it and do your business. Frustration that I can’t budget in enough hours in the day to do math homework, change diapers, write books, jog, and scour your accidents off the same floor where my toddler finds a bevy of fun objects to put in his mouth.
Now what do I feel? Love. I’ve forgiven you (if there’s anything to forgive really). I realize that I’ve already done far worse things in my life than make a mess on a carpet—though I hasten to add that none of my post-two-year-old messes had much to do with toilet habits. But I digress.
Your little mistake is far littler than most of the whoppers I’ve committed, and your love is far more unconditional. So, I love you right back and admit to myself that you’re well worth the cost of a carpet shampoo. Okay, okay—I did kind of write a novella here, but I made my point. Put that on a greeting card, Hallmark!
Here’s a quick video where I interview my daughter, Maria, about what she thinks we should do about Isetta’s “accident”…
Katie Marsico is a proud mother of 3 human children— Maria, 5, C.J., 3, and Thomas, 18 months. She is also the happy guardian of several furry, finned, and scaled pets.
Marsico has happily written for Tails since its inception in 2000 and is the author of more than 60 children’s books. She works from home, which is located in Elmhurst, Illinois (though she hopes that address will one day be changed to a location in southwest Florida).