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As I recently wrote in my Mother's Day post, moms are often under-appreciated.
I remember my mother one time talking ruefully about the occasional thanklessness of being a mother. She talked about how, with a baby, as a full-time mom, she did everything for
that baby. Ate, breathed and slept that baby; fed the baby, changed it, held it, stayed up all night with it, etc.
And how one day, after putting in all that effort, the baby opened its little mouth to say its first word and what came out was... "Dada"
I am beginning to understand what she was talking about.
I spend pretty much all day one on one with the puppy; I wake up and give him breakfast, I take him for a walk, play ball with him in the backyard, clean up after him, and then do it all over again for lunch. The first few days he was living with us, I slept on the airbed in the office and took him out to pee and poop every three hours.
Not to mention how much time I spend thinking about him, worrying about him, even when I'm not with him.
My point is, I spend a lot of time and energy on him, and yet, when it comes down to it, at the end of the day who who gets all the kisses, all the biggest tail wags, all the uncontainable joy?
Yup, you got it: Dada.
When Steve comes home from work, Tuco throws him a ticker tape parade. He jumps up, he whimpers, he wags his tail so hard he can't remain upright, and he licks every available part of Steve he can find.
This is not to say that Steve does not do a lot with the puppy, too, because he does. He takes the puppy out to pee in the morning before work, and when he gets home from work he doesn't even have a second to sit and relax before he is consumed by puppy madness.
But still, I feel that, as Mom, I often get the short end of the stick.
The first time we gave Tuco a bath, Steve and I put him in the kitchen sink and Steve held on to him while I shampooed him and rinsed him off. When we were finished, I got a towel, wrapped Tuco in it and held him in my arms while drying him off.
Such love I gave him, such cooed words of praise. But did he give me any kisses? Oh no...he ignored me. He would only kiss Steve, only take treats from Steve, only let Steve pat him.
Why, I wondered? What had I done? Steve and I both gave him the bath...in fact Steve was the one forcibly restraining him in the sink, but did he hold that against Steve? Of course not! Somehow, the whole bath trauma was all my fault!
He kept giving me such looks of hurt and betrayal, looks which so clearly said "How could you? I trusted you? I thought you loved me." It was just unfair.
It was even worse when we sent him to daycare the first time. He came home and wouldn't come near me, even going so far as to run away from me when I approached (this picture is, in fact, of him hiding from me under our coffee table), again giving me looks and, with his big brown eyes, silently calling me a doody-head.
Once again, Steve was exempt from the blame. Daycare was clearly all Mama's fault, all Mama's idea. I can only imagine how he's going to look at me when we get him neutered. Those looks, I can guarantee, will be priceless.
My wine for Mommy Thanklessness is a 2006 Schramsberg Brut Rose. This Napa Valley bubbly is a vintage rose, so is only produced in particularly good years. This Brut Rose is predominantly made from Pinot Noir grapes, with Chardonnay rounding out the flavors and adding apple and spice notes to the cherry and strawberry that tickle your nose and dominate the palate.
It's lovely as an aperatif, with a meal, or savored with fruit and cheese on a hot summer day.
Plus it's pink, so not only is it yummy, it's also pretty. Which makes me feel a little better when my puppy is blaming me for the fact that his tail won't chase him back.
