Ever since I was young, I have never been a fan of animals. My aunt had a large, energetic, balding dog named Fluffy that I was sure was out for blood every time we went to her house. I had other family members who had an array of pets, including cats who left paw prints in the butter. My grandma had a dog with the same name as my mother who she would chase after with Glade air freshener whenever it farted. Oh, I have have experienced pets, my friends.
People who I worked with as a young adult laughed at me. They thought I had a problem. One woman told me that she couldn't believe that someone as kindhearted as me would not like animals. It seemed impossible. Don't get me wrong, I tear up at that Sarah McLaughlin "Arms of An Angel" save the animals commercial. Who doesn't? I do not have a heart of stone. However, it always struck me as funny whenever someone took their dogs to Petsmart for a photo with Santa or talked about animals like they were people. It's not my thing. If it's breathing and it's not human, I'm not into it. Period. End of story.
So, my loved ones were rather taken aback a few weeks ago when I permitted EACH one of my daughters to bring home a kitten from the babysitter's house. I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking either. I think that the allure of being "The Best Mom Ever" was the main factor playing into this whole scenario. Both of my girls love animals, especially cats. Why, I can't say. It's certainly not genetic. They do remind me of Pet Sematary, but there's something else.
Regardless of the animal, species, whatever, I am completely disgusted by animals. I don't want to be. I want to be able to pet someone's dog to be polite and not run to the bathroom to wash my hands or use hand sanitizer. (P.S. I am sneaky about this as to avoid hurt feelings). I want to not have a panic attack when a cat hair gets on something. But I can't. So, I thought that two cute kittens might be the secret to my healing process.
Not. even. close. The kittens were allowed in the house for exactly 22 hours. They stayed the night in the back room, used the litter box, roamed around the downstairs when we were home, and my kids loved every second of it. But, all it took was one "dropping" in the litter box to make me realize this was definitely not the life for me.
So, I gathered up the kittens and their belongings and took them to the garage. Sawyer was upset at first, but I showed her the kitty litter scattered in my back room and was just honest. I told her I couldn't deal with it. It was too much. I had a ton of other stuff to take care of, the house, them, cleaning, cooking, and adding a pet to our shoe box of a house just wasn't what I needed.
She was a little disappointed, but she helped me move her precious pets and said she understood. She promised to visit the kittens daily when she got home from school, and not a tear was shed. The girls put the kittens in the pet bed with a blanket, said good night, and so began Olaf and Sparkle's life in the garage, and my life as an candid mom.
As soon as we got in the house Sawyer said, "Mom, Harper and I are going to get in the shower now. We'll play for while because I know you're going to want to sweep and mop the floors."
I have a seven-year old mind reader. Not really. I have a seven-year old that KNOWS her mother. That's exactly what I did. I Pinesoled my little heart out and rested easy, knowing that the kitten traces were gone from my house. The girls go visit the kittens every day after school. The kittens are happy, the kids are happy, and my husband can deal with the garage. I might not be a pet person, but at least I can admit (sometimes) when my limit has been passed.
At that moment when she told me that I was about to clean, I understood that she SEES me and HEARS me in a way I had never noticed, and it's not always flattering. There's no sense sugar coating or concealing it to her or anyone else. Sometimes I am a better mom when I say no. It's hard. I want to tell my kids yes to every sleepover, playdate, dessert, etc. But, if I'm going to be honest with them and myself, the answer can't always be yes. So, I have allowed myself to tell my kids that they can't have or do something because it is too much work for me. Maybe, this will enable them to see that if they pitch in more and take care of some responsibilities-clearing my plate a little-I might be more likely to yes in the future.
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