I hate suffering...

       (She looks barely alive, but she was snoring while in this position.)

 

I’m sitting here at my desk in the work room. Behind me is the crate where Daisie is lying, glassy-eyed from pain meds, and occasionally whimpering in spite of it.

Oh the angst this causes!

It causes me to contemplate my years of parenting young children, and the similar trauma that their suffering caused. I would do ANYTHING to make sure that their suffering ceased, and they were feeling good.

The Farmer, on the other hand, didn’t care if they suffered. Well, that’s what I thought about his attitude. In fact, he had no problem leaving them to the consequences of their actions. He was more concerned that they be good than happy. Although, he did tend to get a bit out of balance on the consequences…

It’s obvious now that we were perfect foils for each other. If we made the effort, we could have balanced each other for a very beneficial parenting relationship.

But that isn’t what we did.

Instead, we each committed to proving that our way was the RIGHT WAY, and the other’s way was the WRONG WAY. In our quest for dominance, we became more and more polarized. I had to make up for his “harshness”. He had to make up for my “wishy-washiness”.

Young parents: don’t try this at home.

It was bad for our kids, and even worse for our marriage.

By the grace of God, we are still together, and our kids have become productive members of society.

And if you hear me say that God is great, I mean GOD IS GREAT! Because it could have turned out so differently -- And should have, except that God brought us to a point of misery that forced us to make changes.

So Monday, when I expressed my doubt about putting Daisie through surgery, The Farmer said, “Hon, I know she will be hurting more after than she is now, but her leg is weak, very weak, and we have to do it.” And then this morning when I said, “I’m doing everything the vet told us to, but she is still whimpering!” I heard, “It’s going to hurt. Just because it hurts it doesn’t mean anything is wrong…”

Finally, on the dog we are getting it right…

That seems a bit pathetic, but I’m just going to focus on the good in it. Too soon old; too late smart, as my dad would say.

I fear a complete role reversal when it comes to grandkids. I base this on The Farmer’s behavior with the grand-dogs. I can’t believe that when I chided Angus for an accident in the house AGAIN, and sent him to his crate, The Farmer actually said, “I don’t think he meant to…”

{insert look of incredulity}

This only goes to show that in youth we tend to take ourselves much too seriously. Age and experience have made us more willing to consider the other side of an argument, and sometimes, try it out.

And we are the better for it.

Oh, that grace was not so hard to come by…

Now, Daisie is trying to move to her other bed, which I have made cushy for her comfort, so I must go and help her along…I believe I shall try to get her to eat an scrambled egg…Some comfort things which The Farmer might not think to do.