A mom’s point of view: That fun-loving, chair-chewing ball of fluff? She’s perfect
It was only a matter of time before I wrote about the newest addition to our family, our puppy, Lila (pronounced LEE-la, which means “lilac” in Spanish). She is a bichon-shih tzu mix, also known as a “Teddy Bear,” and she is 6 months old, which developmentally puts her somewhere in the toddler years.
Experts have identified predictable stages of cultural and relational adjustments, including the honeymoon (which is usually the shortest stage), the power struggle or hostility stage, knowledge/awareness and acceptance. Life events such as getting married, having babies and moving to a new city require such adjustments, and I would add getting a puppy to the list.
The honeymoon stage with Lila was wonderful. We all wanted to play with her, take her for long walks, and my kids fought over who got to hold her. A steady stream of friends bearing gifts came through our home, everyone wanting to see the new puppy. We thought it was adorable how she loved to grab our socks and shoes, running around with the items blocking her vision. And when she cried in her crate, heart-wrenching sobs, the first couple of nights, it broke my heart, because I knew that she was missing her pack, calling for them to come and find her.
As is common, the honeymoon stage was brief. Our daughters stopped fighting over who got to hold her and began to argue about whose turn it was to take her out or walk her. We were stuck at home, not able to be gone for more than a few hours at a time, and we discovered that Lila loves to eat everything: paper towels, shoe laces, corners of rugs and cabinets. She destroyed our kitchen wicker chairs, and has eaten things I never imagined a dog would eat. Things I cannot even write about. And after several nights of hearing her cries, with sleep-deprivation settling in, I hit the hostility stage head on. I’m sure even my neighbors heard me yelling, “Enough already!! They aren’t coming for you, so just be quiet and go to sleep!”
Before we brought Lila home, I picked up a few books from the library, including “How to Raise the Perfect Dog: Through Puppyhood and Beyond” from the best-selling author and star of National Geographic Channel’s Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan. The title initially intrigued and excited me; who wouldn’t want a perfect dog? But I should have known better. I’m a sucker for any book that promises perfection. My frustration mounted as I read about how Millan’s dogs sit at the mere raising of his index finger, when I couldn’t even get the leash hooked onto Lila’s collar without her biting me.
My oldest daughter called attention to my inconsistent comments about Lila one day when I was gushing over how adorable she is. “Just look at how cute she is. She has such a fun personality, so playful and affectionate.”
“You do realize, Mom, that yesterday you were saying what a pain she is, and how she is wasting so much of your time?”
My daughter was right; my comments from one day to the next were contradictory and confusing. I was on a roller coaster, with each curve and loop bringing me closer to acceptance, as I began to recognize that Lila, like everything worthwhile in my life, is a mixed bag. Take marriage and parenting: both are more difficult and more rewarding than I ever expected. Friendships, work, service. Every fulfilling thing in my life has joys and challenges, both good and bad in the mix, like two tracks running parallel to each other. I set myself up for profound disappointment when I expect that any relationship, any stage of life, or any experience will be perfect.
The holidays are certainly no exception. If we have a quiet, peaceful Christmas at home, with just our family, we enjoy our time together, but miss our extended family. If we travel or have guests come during the holidays, we love the company and have lots of fun, but it is always more chaotic and stressful. I have found a connection between our level of enjoyment and our level of expectations: when we place unrealistic expectations on ourselves, on those we love, and on our experiences, we are often disappointed. If, however, we accept our imperfections as well as the shortcomings of those around us, if we make allowance for things to not go right, our disappointments are diminished; gratitude and joy abound.
Christmas this year with Lila will be special, no doubt. She has become a part of our family. We still get a kick out of the way she loves to eat ice cubes, how she barks at her reflection on our stainless steel garbage can, and the way she rolls onto her back so you can rub her tummy. This holiday, we will enjoy some great food and family moments. We will play our favorite music, watch our favorite Christmas movies and bake lots and lots of cookies. We will reflect on the sacred wonder of Christmas, serve others, and give thanks. And you know what else? Elements of the holiday dinners I prepare will not turn out quite right, Lila will most likely destroy the wrapping on the presents under our tree, eat things she is not supposed to eat, and I will be repeatedly tripping over her in the kitchen. And my daughters will probably fight again on Christmas morning over who gets to put baby Jesus on our handmade Advent tree. (The irony of this may still be lost on them.) Our family is far from perfect, which makes Lila the perfect dog for us.
In closing, I’d like to share a poem written by my youngest daughter’s friend, Maeve, age 6.
Ode to LilaLilaShe is super fluffy.She is super puffy.Who is it?It#146;s Lila!Oh that Lila, she is a licker.I like Lila. Lila is nice.ŸBecky Baudouin lives in the Northwest suburbs with her husband, Bernie, their three daughters, and their puppy, Lila. She blogs regularly at beckyspen.blogspot.com. 22002933Lila, pronouced LEE-la, is a bichon-shih tzu mix who is playful and affectionate.