(June 25, 2008)
My sister Trudy is more than ten years my junior. I used to help my Mother change her diapers, and would babysit for her and my two other sisters. Obviously, due to the large gap in our ages, Trudy and I didn't spend much time together once we started growing up. (I was hanging out at Night Clubs when she was watching Sesame Street.)
When Trudy was fifteen, my parents and sisters moved to Florida. After she graduated High School, Trudy began working at a very well known Insurance Company as a Claims Adjuster, meeting all types of interesting people. She traveled extensively, and acquired a taste for designer labels. She had a wardrobe that would knock your socks off, and the figure to fill them out properly. Trudy lived the life of the Successful Business Woman, and SEX AND THE CITY could have been written with her in one of the lead rolls.
A little over four years ago, Trudy met her future Husband, Ronnie. It was love at first sight, and soon they had eloped to Aruba. A few months later, Trudy announced she was pregnant with their first child! She was thrilled to show off her ever-growing tummy in the finest designer maternity wear. She knew she’d have to make some changes in her life soon: she’d be trading Manolo Blahnik shoes for sneakers from WalMart, and Prada for Pampers, but she was determined to be a good mother, regardless of the sacrifices.
When Brandon James was born, Trudy was a trooper. She delivered him like she was always meant to be a Mommy, and her friends and family gathered around to welcome the new baby home.
With help and guidance from my Mother and Trudy's Mother-In-Law, Trudy and Ronnie hit the ground running and were doing a fine job adapting to their new roles as parents. I was amazed Trudy was not grossed out at the sight of baby spit-up, drool and mustard yellow baby poop. She put on a surgical mask to dull the smell and disinfected what needed to be disinfected like a pro.
Her former training and organizational skills from working at the Insurance Company kicked in, and before long the new parents and their son were on a strict schedule. She was back in shape, went back to work, put Brandon into Day Care, and ran the house like a tightly wound clock. I was proud of her.
Two months ago, Trudy and Ronnie welcomed a second child into their lives. Their daughter, Brooke Addison was born. Brandon, now almost three years old, was a proud big brother! And yesterday, my Mother told me Trudy and Ronnie adopted a black Labrador Retriever Puppy!
Now I was impressed. Here was my little sister, all grown up and married with two young children, running a household, worked a full time job and was housebreaking a new puppy simultaneously! Wow! She was a regular Super Mom!! The Martha Stewart of Mommies!!
Since we are both busy with our completely opposite lifestyles, we don’t get the chance to get together as much as we would like, but we do chat often on the telephone to play ‘catch up’ on the latest news.
Our conversation this afternoon went pretty much like this:
Me: Hey Tru! Mommy told me you have a new puppy! What did you name him?
Tru: The name he came with is ‘Diesel’, but we’ll probably change it. Maybe I’ll let Brandon name him. It can’t be as bad as ‘Diesel’.
Me: Diesel? As in Truck? Diesel Oil? Diesel Engine? Vin Diesel?
Tru: Yeah. Isn’t that dumb? They named him at the Animal Rescue Shelter where we adopted him.
Background: Brandon, beginning to cry, and the volume begins to grow louder and more frantic by the millisecond.
Me: What’s wrong with Brandon?
Tru: I don’t know. He’s in his bedroom playing. Unless there’s blood, he knows not to bother me.
Me: Kids are so much responsibility. I don’t think I could handle a kid. I think I’d prefer a nice big palm tree instead. Less maintenance. And less expensive. You don’t have to send a palm tree to college or anything.
Tru: Yeah, kids are a handful sometimes, but as long as I keep them on their schedules, it’s okay.
Background: Brandon, screaming at a high pitch only achieved by practiced two-year-old boys.
Me: Kids are fine in short doses, I guess. Once they’re cleaned up and made nice. I don’t like them oozing and being loud.
Tru: Nah. They’re not so bad. After a while you get used to it. You just learn to tune it out.
Background: Brandon, screeching in a frequency high enough to be heard only by animals and shatter crystal wine glasses.
Me: Is your new puppy eating your Son?
Tru: No. Brandon has a plastic rectangle from an old photo frame stuck on his head like a halo. He can’t remove it, so he’s banging his head on the walls to try to get it off.
Me: Are you serious?
Background: A loud BANG! Followed by an equally loud THUMP!
Tru: Uh huh. I think the shelves just fell down off the wall onto him. It’s finally quiet in there.
Me: Wow. You sure have him trained!
Tru: It’s the schedule. As long as I keep him on his schedule, everything else is a breeze. I just got done explaining why he can’t do wee wee on the puppy’s wee wee pad. That went well. I wonder if I can get the puppy to use the toilet so I don’t have to poopie scoop the yard every day.
Me: That sounds like a plan.
Tru: Hmmm… that’s interesting. There is a partially chewed earthworm making its way to a safe spot under the couch. Where the heck did he come from? Oh forget it. I see. Brandon must have brought him in with the pail of dirt he and Diesel dug up together from my front lawn while I was vacuuming the Cheerios from the Mini Van.
Me: How did the worm get pre-chewed?
Tru: I don’t know. The puppy, I guess. Or Brandon. It’s a toss up.
Me: Ew! That’s gross!
Tru: Well, at least he’s not one of those finicky eaters. I couldn’t stand to have a kid that was a finicky eater!
Me: Yeah. I guess.
Tru: (speaking to Brandon) Hey! Don’t do that! Brandon! Give your sister’s binky back! Hey! Don’t do that! BRANDON!
Background: Brooke crying loudly.
Me: What’s going on?
Tru: Nothing. Brooke was sitting in her chair, nice and quiet, sucking on her binky and Brandon came up and yanked it out mid-suck and tried to take the puppy’s temperature rectally with it.
Me: Oh. As long as it’s nothing.
Tru: I’m telling you, Barb. You get used to it. When Brandon is grouchy and cries for no good reason, he has to sit on his bed for a five minute Time Out. So now, when Brooke cries, Brandon runs to me pointing at the baby, telling me to put HER into Time Out. So I have to put the baby into my bedroom for five minutes. If I don’t treat them equally, they’ll grow up angry and shoot us all while we are asleep in our beds.
Me: True. I think.
Tru: Yesterday, Brandon took the baby powder and dumped the whole thing onto the kitchen floor and made snow angels in it. And this morning, he toilet papered the entire living room. He’s able to reach the counters now, so he eats anything left on top of them. Yesterday I caught him trying to chew the can opener.
Me: Good thing he brushes and has strong teeth.
Tru: Yeah. I’m starting to get the knack of this whole ‘Motherhood’ thing. It’s not so hard. I just have to remind myself not to pre-chew Ronnie’s dinner or cut his steak for him at the table. I don’t think I remember the last time I finished a meal without it either going cold or feeding it to Brandon. He has such a good appetite!
Me: I don’t know. I don’t think I could do what you do. I gag when the cat throws up a hairball. And I leave it for Joey to clean up or I’ll puke right next to it.
Tru: Nah. It’s okay once you get used to it.
Me: I don’t think I could ever get used to cleaning up puke. I used to change diapers, but now just the smell of them makes me nauseous.
Tru: It’s easy. Kids aren’t that hard to raise.
Me: Kids spit up soured milk, eat snot or smear it onto the refrigerator like it’s abstract art. If a kid wants to impress me, they need to change their own diaper and make me an Absolut Dry Martini with extra olives. THEN I’ll be impressed.
Tru: (speaking to Brandon) Brandon! No! Come back in here! Barb, I have to go. Brandon just stripped naked and ran out the front door again and the puppy followed him. Talk to you later!
Me: Have fun! Love you! Bye!
NOTE: A few days later, Trudy tried re-naming the puppy "LOUIE", and he totally ignored her. He would only answer when he was called "DIESEL". So I guess you can say the puppy chose his own name!!
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