I’m having a case of empty crib syndrome. My youngest is turning 8 in two weeks and after 18 years of swaddling babies, reading picture book bedtime stories, and teaching ABC’s, I have no baby, no toddler, no preschooler. My son is 4 foot 8, into Mario Wii games, wrestling, and gross boy words. My daughters are 13 and 18 so way beyond the cute and cuddly stage where we’d dress up dolls and had mock strollers and highchairs strewn across the living room.
I miss babies.
I miss babies.
Sometimes, you will catch me watching an episode of PBS’ Arthur all by myself. It borders on pathetic. The problem is that I don’t want another baby. I’ve already been there, done that — three times! But I want something to nurture, and I think I’ve found the perfect solution.
OK, for the sake of full disclosure, I already have a dog, a beautiful lil Chihuahua mix. She was abused when we adopted her from a North Shore Animal Mobile unit four years ago, and bears a long scar on the top of her head. It has taken her this long to stop squealing whenever I put my arm up in the air to scratch my head or reach for a cup. That is how abused she was.
She is very cute and the kids dress her up and treat her like their baby. She is loved and receives loads of attention.
But she’s so small. I grew up with Rottweilers and German Shepherds so to me a Chihuahua was great when we were in small apartment but now we have a house and large yard, so I need a regular sized pooch.
I want a big, sloppy, gigantic dog who will sit next to me when I’m writing, and then hit the park for a long run. I want a dog who will bark like a beast when the bell rings but turn into a mushy friend when she hangs out with us at night.
We’re headed to yet another adoption event today. We’ve gone to a few but have only seen small dogs so far. I’m hoping that I come back with a new addition.