Not your kids....

Today I was flipping through one of my favorite Facebook groups and I came across my inspiration for the blog today.  It’s something I’ve heard for years and probably have said myself but it is probably one of the most wrong things I have ever read in my life.  It’s like nails on a chalkboard to me and I feel, probably a lot of my fellow parents as well.  

The post was a vent from a horse lover and owner who was frustrated with her family and friends.  She was sick of people thinking she had money because she had horses and this led her to venting about her frustration with people telling her to just sell her horses because then she would have more money.  Her response grated across my admittedly raw nerves when she said, “I tell them to sell one of their kids then, because my horses are like my kids.”  Scccrrreeeeccchhhh.  Hair on the back of my neck rises and I know I have to back away from my keyboard before I type something I will regret.  

Your animals are not your children.  Yes you love them, probably an overwhelming heartbreaking amount even.  But they are not your kids.  Oh yes, I love to tell Pixie (the dog) that I’m her momma.  Especially since it drives Tim nuts.  But she’s not my child and my horses aren’t either.  They are my pets, my physical and emotional therapy, my lifesavers and my joy, but they are not my children.

Every single time I hear someone say that I think to myself, “you don’t have kids, do you.”  And if you don’t, I understand that you don’t get it.  I understand that you have no frame of reference and I try not to judge you for your completely inaccurate and insensitive comment.  You see, you don’t get it.  

You don’t get that your children literally become your world.  Your entire world from the moment that baby is placed in your arms, heck - from the moment you first hear the heartbeat or feel that flutter in your belly, that tiny human being is your entire world.  Their every thought, emotion, worry, desire, need, becomes yours.  Even your kids don’t get it.  They don’t get that every waking moment has your children in the back of your mind.  I can’t think of a single thing I do all day long where I do not have my own kids in the back of my mind.  

I get out of bed and think to myself about how many minutes before I need to make sure the kids are up.  I get in the shower and think to myself about how my kids take long showers and maybe Sophie didn’t put her towel away or maybe I wonder if she needs more shampoo.  And then I get out of the shower and think do I have time to do this or that before I share the bathroom.  Then I go to my room to get dressed, but I’m consciously listening to see if either of the girls is up yet and thinking about what I want to make sure to talk to them about before I leave for work.  Then they get up and it’s what are they eating for breakfast, what are they wearing, do they know the roads might be bad, what are the after school plans.  

Finally I leave the house and then I hear a song on the radio that makes me think of them or I think about something I forgot to tell them or what is the plan for the rest of the week?  Then I drive by a house I think they would love, or see a cat they might get a kick out of, or hear a joke I want to remember to tell them or….  I arrive at school and school makes me remember that I haven’t seen their grades lately, or the building is decorated for Christmas and I think they would love to see this.  Then my students say something and it reminds me of a story about something they said or did.  Maybe I even share with my students.  Then it is lunch and I wonder if they are eating lunch, are they wasting their lunch account money, they better not be getting ala carte again.  The afternoon has band and PE and music which reminds me of more memories of the girls and their exploits at school. As the work day winds down I think about what our afternoon plans are.  Will I be meeting Libby at the barn or will I be heading to one of Sophie’s games?  When does Sophie have practice, where do I pick her up, who is picking her up, when will we have dinner, what will I make for dinner?  

On the drive home I’m noticing all those things that make me think about the girls again and then it is off to a game or the barn or home to make dinner.  Then there is homework time, game night, watching TV, you name it.  Before bed it is making sure they brushed their teeth, aren’t staying up too late, have forms filled out, what’s the plan for tomorrow.  And even in the middle of the night, if I wake up it may be the first thing I wonder is how are the kids sleeping? 

Does it sound like I’m obsessed with my kids?  It should, because I am.  And I don’t think I’m alone.  I would venture to guess that there isn’t a parent out there that doesn’t make a decision for themselves without first thinking how it will affect the family.  Because that is being a parent.  

Yes, I think about my dog a lot.  Yes, I think about my horses a lot.  I have lost horses and it was devastating.  Ask anyone how I have coped with losing Levi.  I still haven’t made a memorial out of his tail hair because I’m afraid of ruining it.  I still talk about how fun he was to ride.  Ask anyone about Tuff and how hard it was to lose him all those years ago.  He was my first “child” before I had any idea what having a child really meant.  But it is nothing compared to the crushing grief someone feels when they lose a child.  I cannot even imagine and I never want to.  I honestly don’t know where those people get the strength to get out of bed in the morning.  

It is hard enough for me to contemplate Libby going away to college.  Oh I tease her that she’s getting luggage for her 18th birthday and I’m turning her room into a library.  But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  I literally get choked up and the tears start to brim when I think about her leaving home for more than a couple of days at a time.  My ex’s used to get pissed at how close my kids and I are and tell me that I’m too easy on my kids and my kids are too much like my friends.  Huh, funny thing is my kids aren’t assholes so I must be doing something right?  And yes, she is my friend but in my very special mother-daughter friendship kind of way. I’ve sold horses and missed them and enjoyed seeing them again with their new families.  But none of those emotions even comes relatively close to the overwhelming sense of fear and sadness, tinged with excitement for her, that comes to mind when I think about Libby leaving for college.

It physically hurts me to have to reprimand my kids.  Like I literally tear myself up about it later.  I have cried more tears over having to yell at or give consequences to my kids than I ever have about anything in my whole life.  When they are angry with me and tell me they hate me or that I’m a horrible mom, it literally strikes fear and sadness into my heart.  (It doesn’t stop me from taking away the phone and making them do their laundry, but it does suck.) I do it because I know it is what they need and is all part of being a good parent, but dang - does it suck.  A lot.  On the flip side, I get after my dogs or my horses and I don’t lose a wink of sleep over it and I don’t recall every shedding a tear because Pixie peed on the carpet and I told her she was a bad dog.  No matter how much she hung her head, slunk along the ground or tucked her tail between her legs.  

Before I had kids I saw movies, read books or heard people say things like “jump in front of a moving train” or “take a bullet” for someone and thought to myself how brave those people are because I could never be that person.  Then I had kids and realized that I am exactly that person.  When your kids are hurt, in danger or even being picked on, this weird and a little overwhelming superhero comes out in all of us.  They say “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”.  Bullshit - hell hasn’t ever seen a momma protecting her babies then.  That’s epic right there.  Again, I love my animals - but if it came down to a bullet or my horse, well - horses can be replaced and my kids need their momma.  I come first.  

I’m not a heartless pet owner.  I love my horses and my dog and my chickens, as much as anyone can love a pet.  But I love my kids tons more.  Bunches.  Heaps. Loads.  I can’t think of a word to even describe the depth of a mother’s love.  There is a TV show quote that just barely skims the surface of what that feeling is like.  

l mean, she's my child.

lt's like the blood running through your veins.

You don't outgrow it.

Never goes away.

The love.

The need to protect them from everything.

From everything.

Even from themselves.

They grow up.

They move out.

They change.

Become people you don't even recognize.

Make decisions and they think you don't love them because you don't understand.

But it's the opposite.

See, it's the opposite.

You fight for them.

Always.

You never surrender.

So no, your pets are not your kids.  They are members of your family, beloved members of your family, but not your kids. Not even close.