I’ve never been fragile. Born into a large family of semi-feral children, I learned to guard my food and my stuffed animals early. I mowed lawns, lifted weights, and fought dirty with siblings when necessary (also when unnecessary).
Sympathy and coddling were in short supply. Like most young women, I powered through feeling like crap when I had cramps, headaches, and nausea.
The “I can endure misery” mindset was helpful when I was pregnant. I continued working out and playing volleyball, since the endorphins helped me not puke all the time. I still walked my rescue dogs for miles. My only concession to pregnancy was lighter weights and no squats.
This astounded people.
Continue reading To Coddle, or Not to Coddle? (#246)
A few years ago, a thirty-something couple moved into the house behind us. They had two girls under age five and another baby on the way. When the mom told me that her husband once danced and sang on a table, I assumed she was indulging in nostalgia rather than foreshadowing.
Until festive lights went up in the backyard. This was followed by a disco ball, loud music, and the chanting of “Drink, drink, drink!”
Another neighbor called and asked where the frat party was.
“At the newborn’s house,” I replied.
Continue reading New Year’s & All That Noise (#243)
Some people shouldn’t have pets. Take my family. I had anywhere from 3-7 siblings when I was growing up. There’s no way a parent will notice a listless cat needs a vet visit when they don’t even know that child #2 has a chipped ankle because they’re busy bandaging the road rash of child #4, dragged an entire block by the dog they never had the time to train. Eventually, the ill-trained dog will be sent to the local doggie death center. The children will cry. The dog will be replaced by a bunny. Raccoons will eat the rabbit because it was left outside.
Welcome to the circle of life, suburban edition. Continue reading Problem Pet Owners (#213)
You know what’s weird about walking dogs? Everyone talks to you. Not just dog-lovers and dog owners, either. People who shouldn’t even be talking to you suddenly become your best friends.
Wait a minute, thinks some judgy reader. (You know who you are.) What kind of elitist are you, Autumn? Which people shouldn’t be talking to you?
Chill, judgy reader. I’m talking about children. Continue reading Little Latchkey Kids (#200)
You know what’s great about having dogs? Especially big dogs?
I can walk any time without fear. If I’m restless (or pissed at my in-laws) at 10 PM, I grab my dogs’ leashes and away we go. When I’m flanked by 70-90 pounds of dog flesh, people will cross the street to avoid me.
You know what’s not great about having two big dogs when walking 6 miles a day?
Poop. Continue reading Poop & Poison (#197)
Despite the title, no dogs were hurt in the making of this post. I promise you will not need tissues. You can continue reading without fear. I can’t stand stories where the dog dies in the end. Kill all the people you want, damn it, but save the dog. I mean, I thought the movie A Dog’s Purpose was the worst film idea ever. What kind of masochist wants to watch a dog die six times?
You’re sick, Hollywood. Sick.
Now, onto the dog-is-fine-I-promise story. Continue reading When Dog Met Car (#188)
There’s a quote I keep seeing on the internet, especially on websites for gyms, tattoo parlors, and personal trainers:
“The human body is the best work of art.” — Jess C. Scott.
If this is true, my particular canvas has gone to the dogs. Literally. Continue reading The Human Canvas (#145)