Frilly Little Girl Thing

Emma is a girl, yes. But she doesn't wear a lot of bows or dresses. I don't get her "all dressed up" very much. I've never painted her nails. I've never even put her hair in a ponytail. I feel a little guilty for this. People are always pointing it out to me or asking why I haven't, as if I have neglected to demonstrate her girl-ness. I'm not sure why I haven't made more of an effort to do those things. She's only one and a half. It's not too late, and I know that I will do some of those things. I always figured I would do all of them. I'd rather not say it's because I'm too lazy. I don't think I'm a tomboy, but neither am I the girliest girl in the room. I don't get my nails done. I don't wear dresses very much. I don't wear a lot of make-up. I don't get my hair done very often. I can get ready in 30 minutes.

I think having twins has made me a different mom than I would've been otherwise. I bet I would've done all of those things. I would've been shopping for girly clothes all the time, dressing her all up in those frilly little girl things. Wouldn't I have?

Having a boy and a girl at the same time changes things. I want to treat them the same. But I'm learning that it's not really possible. I have noticed a few double standards in my own actions and in my mind...like it's okay for Emma to wear Ethan's shirt or bib around the house, but not for Ethan to wear Emma's. I have never, nor will I ever, put Ethan in Emma's clothes. If all of Emma's clothes are dirty and she wears something of Ethan's, I do feel a little sad and if someone is coming over, I will find something else for her. It makes me stop and think about the gender roles, the inequality of the sexes, and the messages we send to our kids without even thinking. We do treat them a little differently even though we love them the same. I want to validate and respect their differences and I want them to be equal. I want to prepare them for society's expectations, but not succumb to society's pressure and stereotypes. How will I ever balance these concepts?

When she is able to verbalize her questions, will Emma ask, "Why do I have to wear this bow and Ethan doesn't?"
Will I answer, "Because you are a girl, honey...because you are a pretty girl."

Or will she ask, "Mom, why didn't you put a bow in my hair more? Why didn't you paint my nails or put me in frilly dresses?"

What will I say?

I think I will say, "Emma, I didn't because you are enough. You are more than enough. Your smile is the frilliest little girl thing you'll ever need. I love seeing you just the way you are. I love it when your hair is a mess. I love it when you have food all over your face and in your hair. I just want you to know that being you is all you ever have to be."

In Dog Years

For as long as I can remember, I have loved a dog. The first dog I ever loved hated my ever-loving guts.  There is a picture of me at about 3 years old holding her very awkwardly, with my arms under her front legs and her back legs dangling below. Poor Nutmeg. I am smiling proudly, and she is showing her teeth. That counts as a smile, right? I loved her so much even though she hated me. I followed her. I bribed her with treats. I pursued her every day. I found all of her hiding places. My family swore that my face would be mangled. I kissed her even though she snarled. I was only bitten on the finger a few times. She must've loved me a little.

She lived to be 20 years old. In dog years, that's 140! By a more modern calculation, it's 93. The formula for that is no longer 1 human year = 7 dog years. According to one source, it's now "10.5 dog years per human year for the first 2 years, then 4 dog years per human year for each year after." How very scientific.

In Nutmeg years, I learned to keep loving even when it seems hopeless.

I adored a pug named Winston. I got him when I was about 12. He was easy to love. He was affectionate and good. He was funny and so energetic. For the first three or four years of his life, it was hard to get a good look at him because he was so black and so fast.
One time a visitor asked, "Is it a dog?"
In Winston years, I learned to be silly as much as possible. I watched as he aged, older and slower and grayer. It still breaks my heart when I think of the day that I had to say goodbye. He was wearing his Thanksgiving sweater.

I was in college when I met Fabian. I was volunteering at a local non-profit, no-kill animal shelter. He was a very lethargic puppy in a pen full of craziness. I brought him home against my parents' wishes and discovered that he had some issues. He must have been a victim of abuse very early in his life. He was terrified of the fly swatter, the broom, loud sounds and any sudden movements. I took him everywhere, and slowly, he loosened up and started to trust me. My favorite memory of him is when I took him on the pontoon boat. When I jumped into the water to ski, he cried the whole time until I was safe in the boat again. In Fabian years, I learned to be patient and to tread lightly.

Rodney also rescued a dog that came wandering into Homeland, the grocery store where he worked. He just couldn't turn him out and worry about him being hit by a car. Buddy was very beautiful, hyper and needed lots of attention. People said he looked mean, but he was a big ol' sweetie. He made me feel secure when strangers approached or when we were out on long walks.

When the babies were born, I began to worry about the dogs and how they would adjust to the new hierarchy, to my new priorities. I feel guilty still because I know the dogs weren't getting the attention they needed. I probably forgot to feed them a time or two. I probably left them outside all day a time or two. It hurts. I'm sorry. Fabian and Buddy got old together. I wish I could've led them through their elderly years with nothing to fear, nothing to lose and nothing standing in the way. But I couldn't. I had to protect my children from the danger they presented. Buddy and Fabian would've wanted to leave this world as friends and as loving companions. And they did.

People always told me that I wouldn't love my dogs as much after I had kids. Not true. But it is true that I love my babies more. My heart grew by a hundred times when I became a mommy.

But it was in dog years that I learned how to love unconditionally. It was in dog years that I learned how to take care of someone who needed me.