I was violated last week. Someone walked onto my porch, right up to my front door and walked away with Max's stroller. I was out of the house for about 3-4 hours. That stroller had sat on the porch, inconspicuously mind you, for weeks. Max and I enjoyed regular walks. He loved climbing into it himself and riding around while I tried to raise my heart rate, we loved listening to music on my phone while we walked to Super Babcia's (his great grandma) house. We would get ready to go somewhere, anywhere, and he always asked if he could ride in his stroller. And some asshole (sorry) has taken these little joys away. I am livid. It's not about the stroller itself. Yes, it cost money and that's a shame. We certainly don't have money to leave on our porch for people to take as they please. But truthfully, Max will be 3 in March, so how much time did we have left with that stroller anyway? Not enough for us to even consider replacing it right now. But someone took that decision away from us.
I had my car broken into last year because I (stupidly) left my purse on the front seat and locked the door. I was devastated. I felt stupid, robbed on so many levels, angry, sad (I loved that bag!) frustrated at all the work that had to follow to get a new driver's license, new bank accounts, etc. I was angry that I had photos of Max in my wallet and God knows where they were. My baby's pictures were in a dumpster somewhere or in a puddle being walked on my strangers or wherever. In the digital age, I didn't lack for more copies. But the idea that someone saw his little face and continued to rob his mommy with no regard that she might be so in love with her child that she would even want his photos to be safe, well it is reprehensible.
And now someone has stolen FROM my baby.
My little guy has to learn about the bad in this world at way too young of an age. He has asked where his stroller is and he did so before I had decided how to handle it. So I was honest with him and decided to use it as a teachable moment. I left his stroller on the porch where I thought it would be safe. But someone saw it there and really liked and made a bad choice and took it from us. He knows it's not nice to take from others, so I was hoping this was relatable. Thankfully, he wasn't as upset as I thought he might be. I was still heartbroken to have this conversation with him. At 2-1/2 years old.
The plot thickens...
On a whim, I decided to check craigslist.com to see if the idiot who stole the stroller was dumb enough to put it up. Two days after it was taken, the exact same brand, line, and color stroller was listed on there. However, it was listed by a consignment shop who uses the online classifieds to advertise what they've acquired. I'd like to think that people from the consignment shop aren't trolling neighborhoods looking for items to sell at their shop. So I'm pretty sure that whoever took it, sold it to the shop. The timeline works. Unfortunately, our stroller has no distinguishing marks that would help me identify it even if I walked into the store. I am debating if I should call them and ask them when it was brought in. I don't expect to get it back; like I said, it's not about the stroller itself.
I am trying not to get in my head and second-guess our decision to buy a house here. Dave keeps saying to change it rather than run. But what could I have done differently? Get to know our neighbors to become part of the community? Done. Make our house look lived in and that we care about where we live? Done. Lock my doors, have motion lights, be aware of my surroundings? Always. Not leave my stroller on my porch? I suppose. Not the most convenient way to live. Not leave my house unattended? Not going to happen. I won't live in fear. But I will probably live in frustration for a while.
Two 911 calls in 2 weeks...hopefully this week is quiet.
***UPDATE***
So, I told Dave I saw the stroller on craigslist. He was less than thrilled, obviously. On Monday, he was getting fitted for a tux for a college event, and the tux place happened to be next door to the consignment shop selling what was likely our stroller. He (bravely) went in and found the stroller, which still had my iPod arm band in the console so he knew it was in fact ours. He spoke to the woman working (the owner) and explained the situation. Apparently the woman was mortified and very upset that this had happened. After noting she would take a loss, she told Dave he could take the stroller back. He asked if she knew who sold it to her; she said she did, but she wasn't comfortable sharing it with him. Which was fine by me. She, however, knows who sold it to her (if it's not a fake name and address) and she won't buy anything from him again. I called the cops to follow up on my report and explain what happened, hoping they would interview her and nab the guy. (Yeah I just said nab.) But the lovely officer never returned my call. Which is really more unfortunate for the consignment shop lady, since she's the one taking a loss. We got our stroller back. It doesn't erase the fact that I had to explain to Max that there are bad people in the world and that those bad people may hurt him. But it did give him a chance to see his Daddy as a hero, which I have a feeling, will be the first of many times.
My wonderful family
Monday, October 22, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Little Man
I don't know when this happened, but I don't have a baby anymore. I know I've been warned, and I guess on a certain level I was prepared, even excited. But now that he's gone, I'm mourning him a little. Fortunately, the little boy that has replaced him is so fun and wonderful and exciting that I am too busy to fall into a depression over my loss. But sometimes when I watch with amazement all he is capable of and realize he doesn't need me in the same ways as he used to, I feel sad. Sometimes I even get a little teary. And then I scold myself because how can I possibly be sad when I have so much joy right in front of me and if I waste my time being sad about what's over, I will miss out on truly amazing things right now.
These crazy thoughts are the things no one tells you about when you become a parent. I've been told to "treasure every moment", "it goes so fast"....as if I can possibly do anything to slow down time. But those cliches helped me prioritize my life for sure. I haven't done theatre since I was pregnant. 2 and a half years. That's a HUGE leap for someone who did some form of theatre continuously since 1991. I helped out with directing a one-act this summer and I am diving in head first to directing a musical next month. I am incredibly nervous about this commitment and the time away from Max, but I am comforted that at least I am home with him now during the day so I won't be in a scenario of never seeing him for 2 months. But still. I love putting him to bed. I love our nighttime routine. He has just started to want to help make dinner. Who knows how these things will change by the time my show closes? And that is when I will mourn the precious hours lost and celebrate the shining star his Daddy helped him become in my absence. It's an emotional roller coaster, folks. But it's even crazier than they tell you.
These crazy thoughts are the things no one tells you about when you become a parent. I've been told to "treasure every moment", "it goes so fast"....as if I can possibly do anything to slow down time. But those cliches helped me prioritize my life for sure. I haven't done theatre since I was pregnant. 2 and a half years. That's a HUGE leap for someone who did some form of theatre continuously since 1991. I helped out with directing a one-act this summer and I am diving in head first to directing a musical next month. I am incredibly nervous about this commitment and the time away from Max, but I am comforted that at least I am home with him now during the day so I won't be in a scenario of never seeing him for 2 months. But still. I love putting him to bed. I love our nighttime routine. He has just started to want to help make dinner. Who knows how these things will change by the time my show closes? And that is when I will mourn the precious hours lost and celebrate the shining star his Daddy helped him become in my absence. It's an emotional roller coaster, folks. But it's even crazier than they tell you.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Puppy Love
Or rather...puppy guilt?
I don't like my dog very much. I love her and I would never give her away; at 9-1/2 years old, she'd never get adopted anyway and I could never hand her a death sentence. Not literally. I have threatened her with death on several occasions.
I used to like her. A lot. I chose her from the litter of puppies that had been abandoned in a dumpster. Apparently, being left behind to fend for yourself at a few (3?) weeks old has lasting effects because Roxie is just not right. She is sooo needy, it feels unmanageable most of the time. She has to be with us all the time. Even as I type this, I recognize that it sounds endearing, that she just loves us that much. I truly don't think it's that. If she is dismissed to another room while we eat because she is constantly underfoot, she barks. Incessantly. To the point that we weigh our options: which is worse, barking or hovering? We can't sit on our porch and leave her inside because the barking doesn't quit. Same with leaving her in the backyard while we are in the front of the house. No one can walk down the street, particularly with a dog, without there being a major disruption in our house. She insists on laying on our brand new furniture when we aren't home. She's eluded the barriers I've put up. She began chewing up (used) diapers on the floor and on our bed, taking them right out of the can. Recall that Max is now 2-1/2 and this habit began only about 5 months ago. She pooped and peed in our old house. This is not unusual for a dog, which I get. What was frustrating was that she ONLY did so in Max's room. Which happened to have white carpet. Just a few days ago, she brazenly ate a cupcake that Max was so proud to have made and so excited to eat. She ate it. Right off the bench I was sitting on as I fixed my shoe. I felt rage and Max's tears broke my heart.
She won't stay off our bed. This is our fault, admittedly. When Dave was in grad school, it was nice to snuggle with Roxie and have her keep my feet warm. But now, I don't need her to do that anymore. And she makes my sheets smell and sheds so much I want to change my sheets daily. This is the selfish part, I know. Those things didn't matter as much when I was lonely and cold but now my priorities have changed. That's my fault, not Roxie's. Which is why I dig deep and find some patience.
Priorities might have everything to do with this shift. Max entered and our world changed. Roxie's included. We honestly tried to include Roxie in our new family. We paid attention to her, petted her while we held Max, prepped Roxie while I was still pregnant, gave her extra attention when Max did come home. Roxie never took to Max. Max has always loved Roxie. The first time Max approached Roxie without her growling and moving away is disgust occurred at Christmas last year. Max was about 3 months shy of his 2nd birthday. 21 months of fearing Roxie would snap at our baby, of trying and failing to see our dream of a happy family with kids and dogs come true, of rising tension in the house due to these frustrations. Then praising the hell out of Roxie when she allowed Max to touch her. That praise, nor the praise that followed did not help it grow into a Hallmark dog-boy relationship. Not yet anyway. But Max is trying like hell. He just loves that dog.
Our vet told us that when you have a dog, you love that dog and she is your baby. Then when you have a baby, your dog becomes just your dog. A canine member of your family, but a dog nonetheless. Your baby is your baby and your dog is your dog. It was very comforting to hear that from her, as I know she is obviously a dog lover, and also and dog owner and a mom herself. But it doesn't help me solve my problems. I am running out of patience with Roxie. I love her dearly. I will be devastated when she dies. (Years ago, I vowed she would live forever.) But there is a dark and twisty part of me that will feel relief. Like that family member who is so old and needs so much care it's exhausting. You don't stop loving that family member and you don't want them to die but part of you will be able to breathe again.
I can rationalize it all I want. But I still feel the guilt.
And I'm not sure I want another dog.
I don't like my dog very much. I love her and I would never give her away; at 9-1/2 years old, she'd never get adopted anyway and I could never hand her a death sentence. Not literally. I have threatened her with death on several occasions.
I used to like her. A lot. I chose her from the litter of puppies that had been abandoned in a dumpster. Apparently, being left behind to fend for yourself at a few (3?) weeks old has lasting effects because Roxie is just not right. She is sooo needy, it feels unmanageable most of the time. She has to be with us all the time. Even as I type this, I recognize that it sounds endearing, that she just loves us that much. I truly don't think it's that. If she is dismissed to another room while we eat because she is constantly underfoot, she barks. Incessantly. To the point that we weigh our options: which is worse, barking or hovering? We can't sit on our porch and leave her inside because the barking doesn't quit. Same with leaving her in the backyard while we are in the front of the house. No one can walk down the street, particularly with a dog, without there being a major disruption in our house. She insists on laying on our brand new furniture when we aren't home. She's eluded the barriers I've put up. She began chewing up (used) diapers on the floor and on our bed, taking them right out of the can. Recall that Max is now 2-1/2 and this habit began only about 5 months ago. She pooped and peed in our old house. This is not unusual for a dog, which I get. What was frustrating was that she ONLY did so in Max's room. Which happened to have white carpet. Just a few days ago, she brazenly ate a cupcake that Max was so proud to have made and so excited to eat. She ate it. Right off the bench I was sitting on as I fixed my shoe. I felt rage and Max's tears broke my heart.
She won't stay off our bed. This is our fault, admittedly. When Dave was in grad school, it was nice to snuggle with Roxie and have her keep my feet warm. But now, I don't need her to do that anymore. And she makes my sheets smell and sheds so much I want to change my sheets daily. This is the selfish part, I know. Those things didn't matter as much when I was lonely and cold but now my priorities have changed. That's my fault, not Roxie's. Which is why I dig deep and find some patience.
Priorities might have everything to do with this shift. Max entered and our world changed. Roxie's included. We honestly tried to include Roxie in our new family. We paid attention to her, petted her while we held Max, prepped Roxie while I was still pregnant, gave her extra attention when Max did come home. Roxie never took to Max. Max has always loved Roxie. The first time Max approached Roxie without her growling and moving away is disgust occurred at Christmas last year. Max was about 3 months shy of his 2nd birthday. 21 months of fearing Roxie would snap at our baby, of trying and failing to see our dream of a happy family with kids and dogs come true, of rising tension in the house due to these frustrations. Then praising the hell out of Roxie when she allowed Max to touch her. That praise, nor the praise that followed did not help it grow into a Hallmark dog-boy relationship. Not yet anyway. But Max is trying like hell. He just loves that dog.
Our vet told us that when you have a dog, you love that dog and she is your baby. Then when you have a baby, your dog becomes just your dog. A canine member of your family, but a dog nonetheless. Your baby is your baby and your dog is your dog. It was very comforting to hear that from her, as I know she is obviously a dog lover, and also and dog owner and a mom herself. But it doesn't help me solve my problems. I am running out of patience with Roxie. I love her dearly. I will be devastated when she dies. (Years ago, I vowed she would live forever.) But there is a dark and twisty part of me that will feel relief. Like that family member who is so old and needs so much care it's exhausting. You don't stop loving that family member and you don't want them to die but part of you will be able to breathe again.
I can rationalize it all I want. But I still feel the guilt.
And I'm not sure I want another dog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)