Shhh! I’m trying to listen to myself!

Paper tigers can scare you as much as real ones!

Why is it we think our kids can escape the struggles we’ve spent our entire lives battling against? That’s what I kept thinking as my 10 year old son’s “talking doctor” explained to him that some kids have “worry brains” that always imagine the worst case scenario in every situation. So when I called my husband last night and asked him to meet me down the block so that our puppies didn’t become dinner to a wandering pack of coyotes I’d encountered, my son was certain that the phone call that led my husband out the front door was a tragic announcement of the demise of both myself and our beloved canines. It took several hours and a great deal of cognitive determination on all our parts to calm my son and finally coax him into bed.

But as I listened to him retelling the story today, there was something unnervingly familiar about his process; almost an eerie sense of deja vu engulfed me. Why? Because he is me! The anxiety. The worry. The incessant voices predicting doom and gloom. My first “talking doctor” called it “catastrophizing.” My son’s dramatic reactions are no different from the way I respond when instead of returning home at 6:30, my husband doesn’t arrive until 7:30 and I take myself step by step through the difficulties I will have to face as a newly widowed mother of two young boys.

I can’t help it. I tell myself irrational stories that scare the bejesus out of me. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember. Frankly, it amazes me when I meet people who don’t live in this type of constant agony. I try hard to contradict the voices that drone on in my head. Sometimes I’m even able to convince myself that whatever impending tragedy awaits me is merely a “paper tiger” as my dad used to say when I was a little girl and my anxiety first surfaced.

But somehow I conveniently forgot about brain genetics when I decided to have children. I guess if I’d realized that my sweet young babies would one day grow up to battle the same mental demons that have pursued me with such unwavering commitment all these years, I might have thought twice about having them. But then where would I be?

Maybe there’s a cosmic challenge here, a symbolic gauntlet that’s been laid at my feet. I need to stop the worry voices in my own head so that I can guide my son to a place of peace and ease within himself so that he doesn’t spend the rest of his life held hostage by a bunch of menacing voices whose only purpose is to keep him from becoming the amazing person he’s meant to become.

Hmmm…easier said than done.

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It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…

Not such a beautiful day in our neighborhood

OK, I couldn’t make this stuff up. We live in this neatly polished Scottsdale community. What bothers me most about it, is the neatness and the polish. It’s just not who we are. But you’ve heard all the reasons why we make the compromises we make; “it’s a beautiful, safe, gated community where the kids can ride their bikes and play across the street at the neighbors.” Only problem is that our kids don’t ride bicycles and in the decade we’ve been here, we haven’t met a single neighbor — until now.

About three months ago we got this email from one of our thoughtful, considerate neighbors: (Please note that the names have been changed to protect me from further litigation – already had to learn that lesson the hard way — and also name changing entitles the writer to make a far more interesting and evocative name selection with much greater potential to rile and enrage readers.)

“Mrs. Gettleman,

I reside directly behind your house. Over the past few weeks, both my wife and I have heard your two dogs barking several times.

Today at 3:15p.m., I walked back in the common area to ascertain if the dogs were barking due to a snake or wild animal. I saw none. I also rang your doorbell, but no one was home.

Please see that the barking is remedied.

Adolf”

I wrote back:

“Dear Adolf,
We are very sorry about the dogs. They are puppies who get very excited when they hear things they cannot see. We are trying out several anti-barking devices and have recently hired a new trainer to help us curb their barking. We have been very successful controlling the barking at night and while we are home. But apparently there is still a problem when we are out.

We apologize for the disturbance and will do our best to rectify the situation.
Mrs. Gettleman”

But of course the story doesn’t end here. We’ve gotten a slew of emails over the past few months and the gloves have definitely come off. Adolf’s apparently formed a posse of noise Nazis who patrol the neighborhood and report back to the HOA every time a dog barks, a child cries, or a husband and wife have too volatile an argument.

Here’s the latest email from one of Adolf’s comrades (I’ve left in all the punctuation and spelling errors for your amusement):

“Mrs. Gettleman,
Your dogs are out of control and the barking all afternoon today was terrible
I understand that other neighbours have complained and that they all have a program of documentation. I don’t really want to document and call the scottsdale police but i must tell you that noise reached a brutal level today.and we may not have a choice
We have been here for awhile and have heard the dogs bark and bark
without any adult intervention. It is not right nor fair in such a nice
earea asthis. I am asking you as nice as i possibly can to control the dogs and their barking. I heard from another neighbour that they are young but that was
like months ago and as soon as they go outside they bark and bark. My wife wants to record the barking for the police however i told her that if you know how bad it really is and how upset all the neighbours around you are getting you
will take some action. Unfortunately some dogs are meant for farm areas
where they can roam and bark unlike this little
community and the houses so close.Please keep them inside and stop the barking .
Heinrich”

We promptly responded:

“Heinrich,
Thank you for alerting us to this situation. Except for rare occasions, when we are not home, they do not bark at all. So we could not have known it was still an issue. We have installed a dog run away from the rear of the property. We have installed an anti-barking device. And we have methodically trained them using proven behavioral techniques.

We also agree that noise pollution needs to be controlled. There are at least two other dogs that we hear with loud barking which need to be restrained. When we are outside, we often hear other dogs in the neighborhood. We are wondering how you know that only our dogs are barking? More importantly, we find the incredibly loud voices of he Goldberg’s in their backyard very difficult to handle. The regular conversations are loud enough, but when the laughter gets going it is very disturbing. I believe the positioning of the houses causes an echo chamber effect that magnifies sound amplification. There have been times when we could not even sit out side because they were so loud that we couldn’t hear each other speaking.And frankly, their humor tends to be rather blue which when broadcast across the wash creates a very uncomfortable situation for our children. Maybe you can e-mail them and remind them to either whisper or not speak at all when in their back yard.

Once again, thank you for the notice of our dogs. We will continue to work on subduing their barking.

Debra Gettleman”

This came next:

“Mrs. Gettleman,
I have been patient. But it has been nearly three months since we last communicated. You may not be aware, but both my wife and I work from home.The amount of distraction from the noise generated by your dogs and your children at certain times of day is affecting our ability to engage in our work and personal activities both inside and out.

I respectfully request that the barking issue be addressed before we are forced to take legal action. We simply want to enjoy the beauty and tranquility of this lovely community.
Adolf”

“Adolf,
Let me start by reminding you that this is in fact a “residential” community. If you are having trouble working, maybe you should consider getting a real office somewhere where children and puppies are not allowed. You seem like the type of person who would be very comfortable in a fluorescently lit office cubicle for 8 hours a day. Or better yet, you could take your friend Heinrich’s advice and go live on a farm far away from other people altogether.

We must admit that we hear barking and frolicking children too when we are outside. But that is in fact part of living in a neighborhood. As for my children, they are in school everyday from 8 to 4 and then have various after-school activities. We assure you that the screaming you hear is not from our house. In fact, we know where the screaming originates. But unlike the tactics used in Deutschland in the 40s, we refuse to turn in our neighbors and join this noise pollution witch hunt that you and your colleagues have embarked upon.
Debra”

“Dear Mrs. Gettleman,
I have tried to be kind and patient. But your tone of hostility is undeniable.You leave us no choice but to pursue legal and civic action against your children and animals.

Adolf”

“Dear Adolf,
Bring it on! There isn’t a court in this country that will punish us for having happy kids and dogs who make noise once in a while. I highly suggest you get some
proof that it is in fact our dogs and our children disturbing your curmudgeonly cosmos.

With all love and sincerety,
Mrs. Gettleman

The funniest part of this whole story is that we’ve been seriously thinking about moving. We were trying to decide if we should move or just do some massive renovations on our home. The more irked I get, the more I’m leaning towards months and months of loud, dusty digging, jackhammers, and construction. I sound mean and vengeful. I know that’s what you’re gonna say in your comments. But come on, it’s one thing to lock people in a gated community and take away their personal mailboxes. But to regulate their kid’s enjoyment or charge them with disturbing the peace because their dogs bark when a coyote passes by. You have to admit, this is excessive.

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Puppy deja vu

I’ve lost my mind again. Remember how we decided to get a puppy and everyone thought it would send me into a psychotic tailspin from which I’d never emerge? Well, it didn’t.

The fact is we got lucky. We got the one and only perfect puppy on the planet. It’s true. She has yet to do anything wrong. I”m not joking. This puppy is like from heaven. She’s never chewed up anything. She learned to use the doggy door in like an hour and a half and has not had any accidents in the house. She has the most gorgeous ebony coat and does not shed even a single hair.

I am madly in love with Maggie. The only issue is that she LOVES the company of other dogs. She adores us and everything. Finds people delightful and loving. She’s very affectionate with humans. But there is a deep, intense joy that eminates from within her when she gets around other dogs.

While we were out of town she vacationed with her foster mommy who had 3 or 4 other dogs. She was in her element. She did clearly miss us. But she played from sun-up to sun-down and had the time of her life.

Maggie just seems a little down these days

Now that she’s back, I think she’s kind of depressed. I can see it in her eyes. They’re just a bit listless

. She’s lost some of the spring in her step. She just seems like she’s lonely, no matter how much love and attention we give her.

So I think the only answer is another puppy. My sister hung up on me when I told her I was thinking about it. Everyone says I must be insane. The fact is, this is not what I necessarily want. I am liking having a dog for the first time in my life. But I never imagined myself the owner of more than one of these playful pooches.

But now that I am devoted to Maggie, I feel obligated to do what is right for her. Without a doubt, she needs a companion. It’s like her soul’s calling is to connect with another canine. What kind of person would keep a living creature from it’s truest, deepest purpose in life?

So I’m looking for the second most perfect puppy in the universe.(and a new prescription for Ativan). Any suggestions on where to find either or both?

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The maternal myth

My mother wasn’t into mothering. It’s not that she didn’t love me and my sister. I truly believe that she did…er…does. It’s just that care-taking wasn’t her bag. She’s not a nurturing, selfless kind of person. I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on to bigger and better psychological traumas. I’m not bitter, really. I understand my mother’s limitations.

My mom did the best she could with what she had. (My husband says that too often I forgive major personality flaws using this line of reasoning.) But it’s really true. We’re all out there trying to do the right thing, trying to love our kids, manage our families, support our spouses, earn a living. It’s not easy. And we all excel at different tasks. My mother’s talent wasn’t mothering. In fact, she never kept a common house plant alive for more than ten days. But she’s great fun at a party. She’s charming and bright, and although she claims not to clamor for the limelight, she’s a source of unending drama and Lucy-like antics for all of her friends and family.

I realized something today though that I think can change me forever. You see, I walk around in the story that I’m her. I live in the myth that I’m not a good mother, just like my mom. I tell myself I don’t give enough, love enough, sacrifice enough. Ironically I only figured this out because of our new puppy. I mean I always feel loads of self-disappointment when it comes to parenting. I’m like a petri dish full of rapidly reproducing guilt particles. But I saw something today that was rather stunning.

I’ve never had a pet. (Big surprise, mom never wanted the mess or hassle). So in my never ending quest not to be her, we adopted this 3 month old pup who I feel more responsible for than both my 6 and 9 year old sons put together. I can’t seem to leave her alone for more than an hour during the day. This makes living my life more than difficult. So some days, like today, I take her with me all day. We go to the doctor, the therapist, the theatre. She sits through rehearsals, meetings, karate classes. And by the end of the day we’re both exhausted.

Tonight I went to take a bath and unwind and I felt this horrible guilt. I wasn’t spending the evening totally with her. Maybe she was let down. Maybe she was disappointed. Maybe she needed me and I was selfishly soaking in a tub of hot lavender water. Suddenly it hit me. This message of “you’re not giving enough” is the loudest, most consistent loop that plays on incessantly in my head. I hear it with regards to my kids, my husband, my work, and now my dog.

Maybe that idea of always falling short comes from the reality I experience in relationship to my mother. She has truly never been enough for me. My model of maternity is one that is always lacking, always just a few cards short of a full deck, a few fries short of a happy meal, a can short of a six-pack…well, you get the idea. But just because that’s what I know doesn’t mean that’s what I have to live.

I do a lot for my kids. I love them immensely. I play with them. I laugh with them. I spend time with them. But there’s always more time, more energy, more effort. If I keep focused on the time I’m not with them, I’m doing myself a disservice. It’s the same with Maggie, (the puppy.) She knows she’s loved. And my job isn’t to be everything to her at every moment of every day.

Maybe my mom wasn’t enough for me. Maybe her limitations taught me more about how to disappoint than how to meet expectations. But I’m a grown up now. And it’s up to me to decide where I choose to focus my energy and efforts. I can look at the kids and think, “I wasn’t with them from 8 to 4 today.” Or I can sweep them into my arms when I pick them up at school and love them more than I’ve ever loved them. What’s disappointing about that?

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Puppy-whipped

Levi and Maggie

I can’t leave my house. I am trapped by my puppy. It’s not that she (an outrageously adorable black lab mix whose pregnant mommy was rescued off the reservation) is holding me here against my will. She was potty trained in two days. She goes in and out of her doggie door like a seasoned Mastiff. She doesn’t need me to let her out. She loves playing with the bunnies in the backyard when we’re gone. She does well on her own. It’s just that I can’t stand being away from her.

I am, for lack of a better word, puppy-whipped. Snuggling with her is like nothing I’ve ever felt. I’ve stopped running necessary errands, have curtailed my work meetings significantly, I’ve even ceased running to the grocery store and have allowed our food supply to dwindle to a hardened block of Jarlsberg cheese and a few rotten strawberries.

What is happening to me? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t remember feeling this way about my boys when they were puppies…er…I mean, babies. I think I was so freaked out about every minute parenting detail that I could never relax long enough to enjoy my sweet little bundles of joy…or…sobbing, screaming, colicky newborns, as they happened to be.

The truth is, Maggie is a luscious little fur ball filled with nothing but love, cuddles and okay a few accidents in the house. But she doesn’t keep me up all night. She just curls into the chez at the foot of our bed and sleeps peacefully. She doesn’t have long, unending crying jags when she’s overtired. She just naps on my lap when she’s all tuckered out during the day. She doesn’t make me question my sanity by acting hungry every other second and then spitting up three quarters of her last feeding. She simply amuses me non-stop with her tail-chasing, bunny-hunting, peanut-butter licking antics.

What is not to love I ask you?