How To Earn The Title 'Worst Parent Of The Year"

There are a lot of really bad parents out there. I'm sure you've seen them. They scream at their cowering children in public; They indulge in whatever they fancy at the moment while their child goes without basic necessities; They ignore their children. I have always tried to avoid being a parent in this category, and I'd like to think that I have largely succeeded. Despite my many imperfections, to this point, I have avoided being one of those parents. I once saw a woman come tearing around a street corner pushing a stroller while a little girl, probably about four years old, was skipping along ahead of her. She was the cutest little girl. The mother called out to the girl. Did she use her name? Oh, no. She used a form of the "F" word. And she continued a steady stream of f-bombs for a good minute while she screamed at this poor child who had done nothing wrong. I wanted to grab her up in my arms, and RUN. What I am about to tell you is something that might make you want to scoop my children up and run away with them. We have become bad parents.

A few weeks ago we decided to get a puppy. We have been avoiding this for the entire 13 years of our marriage. We have put up with a constant onslaught of begging since Cassie could talk, as a puppy is all she has ever wanted. We have cited many reasons for not having a puppy; moving, allergies, landlords, time, effort, money, responsibility, vacations. Some of them still existed, some are now retired. What made us finally jump into this world of pets? Well, I still don't know exactly. It has something to do with watching our kids play with my in-law's dogs. It also had something to do with wanting to give them something they really wanted. So we did it. We gave them an early birthday present.... an adorable little Lab Mix puppy.

They were thrilled! They promptly named her Chase, and we began our happy little adventure. After a few days, I headed out of town with the girls for a planned visit to family, and the puppy stayed home with Jesse. When I returned home Jesse showed me a batch of hives that had broken out on his forearms. Hmm. We couldn't figure out what could have caused it. Within a few days of returning, my minor allergy symptoms began to multiply. Even on a steady daily stream of Flonase and Zyrtec (my normal allergy cocktail), my eyes were itchy, my nose was running, and I began to cough. Each and every time the puppy would touch me, I got a hive in that area of my skin. That's pretty bad, considering the fact that as the mommy around these parts, most of the puppy-care was my responsibility. I figured there wasn't much to do, so I enforced our puppy rules like a Nazi (no puppy in the kitchen, bedrooms, living room, or dining room. Only in the Family room, hallway, and laundry room), I washed my hands hundreds of times a day, and I showered every night before sleeping. It didn't work. I began sleeping in the living room because my worsening hacking cough was keeping Jesse up, I had to take off my wedding ring because my hands swelled, and I was feeling all-around bad.

Chase, meanwhile, grew into a fun little puppy! We were able to teach her to sit, lay, and come using hand signals, and our voices. We potty trained her, and taught her to "go potty" where we wanted her to go on command. She doubled in size and weight in 3 weeks. She knew to sit to enter and exit doors after us, and she knew to go "night night," running to her crate at night.

Finally, after listening to my incessant, increasingly asthmatic, Tuberculosis-sounding cough, and witnessing the constant barrage of hives that had become normal on the landscape of my arms and legs, Jesse said what I hoped wasn't true: "We have to do something with Chase." I argued at first, because I couldn't imagine how we could actually find a new home for Chase, and how we would live through telling our girls. Jesse insisted, comparing our allergen-infested home with a prison I was stuck in. After much thought and prayer, we began to quietly seek out an option, and God provided one right away. Our good friends, who have another older dog and a large dog-heaven yard agreed that they wanted a puppy, and they took her. It was as good an option as we could have hoped for, since we visit these friends at least once a week.

It was awful telling the girls. The tears streamed for quite some time. Even though they understand that their mother needs to breathe, the girls still had a tough time with letting the puppy go. When it came down to it, they were very gracious handing their precious puppy over to their friends. I was wishing for three straight weeks that we hadn't gotten the dog, because we could have avoided hurting our kids like this; but Cassie told me that even though it turned out badly, she was glad we had her even for just a few weeks.

So, to any parents out there who may have an inkling of allergies.... do not get a pet. Ever. Even if they really beg, and even if the dog is really cute. To my children, I am ridiculously and hopelessly sorry, and I hope that you won't hold this against me until the end of time.

And now I am off for another day of attempting to sterilize my house. Yesterday I vacuumed each and every room, stripped all bedding, wiped every single surface of 5 rooms, steam vacuumed 5 rooms, changed the air filter in the HVAC, washed 8 loads of laundry and mopped 3 floors. All that in 100 degree heat to avoid re-contaminating clean rooms. Today I will steam-vac the remaining rooms, clean outdoors, re-mop every tile surface, and continue working on the mountain of contaminated laundry. And I will also feel guilty.