Back to Babydom: A Shaggy Dog Story

Those of you with small children, take heart: one day, you too will be able to go on bike rides with your family.  One day, you too, will be able to take your children to a restaurant sometime after 5:30pm.  One day, you won't have to supervise playdates, or clean those little sippy cup straws, or wipe anyone's anything.

Yes, it's true.  The baby days will be over and you will enter a new phase with your family.  A phase in which you can reason with your kids, hang with them, even. Family outings will not be of the barely tolerable  Chuck E. Cheese variety, but will be to do things you all enjoy - like skiing, or seeing PG movies, or really, anything that doesn't include insipid music, costumed characters, and a "theme."

When you reach that blessed day, when your kids stop having to go potty at the exact moment you've passed the last rest stop for 50 miles, DO NOT DO WHAT I DID.

What did I do?

 I went and got a brand new baby. One with whom I'll never be able to reason, or have a coherent conversation. One  I'll never be able to take him to any restaurant, any time. And I will forever be cleaning up his poop.  Because I got a dog.

Oh, not just a dog.  A puppy.  And let me tell you -- it ain't nothing like like it is on TV.  On TV, dogs are only there for two reasons:

1. Comic relief. 

As in, the dog who keeps on eating the daisies, or the dog who's always stealing your cookie when your back is turned, or the dog who steals your slipper and sets a hilarious slapstick chase in motion.

2. Hero Worship

Lassie.  Need I say more?  No? Well I will anyway: Imagine, if you will, a child in peril. Imagine another child, innocently playing at home when Hero Dog arrives: "What's that you say, boy? You're wagging your tail and barking to tell me that Suzy's in trouble? You want me to give you some kibble, scratch your stomach, promise never to make you take a bath again and then you'll bring me to her? Ok!"

So that's a TV dog.  A real life dog -- my real life dog - is here for other reasons: to wake me up in the night crying, to eat - not just food,  but shoes, and toys, and paper, and the seat cushion of my newly upholstered club chair, and most importantly to poop in my house.  And sit in it.

Yes, that's how I found myself the other day, digging out the baby wipes, and wiping my dog's butt. And a funny (only not really) thought occurred to me. Unlike babies, who eventually wipe their own butts and stop putting every single thing into their mouths, this dog will forever be doing this stuff.

Oh, he's cute and all.  But he's also POOPING IN MY HOUSE. I know that part will end.  (soon, right?) But right now, after a fall of Swine Flu and Pneumonia, I can't imagine what possessed me to add one more furry, chewing thing to my list.  My kids grew out of the baby stage and I replaced them with a perma baby. What was I thinking?

I did it for the kids, that's what I was thinking, which would be fine, if not for what my daughter said the other night at dinner: I can't remember what life was like without a dog" she said thoughtfully, "but I think it was better."

AHHHHHHHHHHH!

At least there's one thing the dog won't ever do that I'm happy about: he'll never be able to say infuriating things like that!

Original Post to NYC Moms Blog.

Nancy R. Friedman blogs about motherhood, aging, and her twenty year quest to lose the same ten pounds at Hip to Housewife