Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The only time I'm not rushing is when I pet Sadie. For some reason she has the magic to make me slow down, press my face against hers to take in that sweetly dirty fur, and be wholly occupied with nothing else. I am happy in that moment. She is so happy that she yawns, stretches and walks away to eliminate the closeness I have created with a species who needs forward motion instead of overbearing people love and face smooching.
It's no secret that moms are busy. But in all my busyness as a mom I've been trying to slow down my thoughts. Let my body make lunch, wash sticky hands, open the mail, and sweep the most recent village of crumbs off the kitchen floor simultaneously, but my mind? I want her remember what it was like before multi-tasking became her only way of life. Before Rockville Pike became the autobahn.
So I took Sadie for a walk today without the kids. My ninjas had the children and were trying to get them down for naps so I figured lots of shows were being watched (my kids are masterful at stalling) or they were sleeping and I could guiltlessly take my time walking Sadie.
We went to the park and I kept track of my thoughts. They were all over the map. Stuttering even. Power bill - ack...we're out of checks, I forgot to find them in the house. Grayson's fever still up - call doctor or let medicine work for another day? New Wacky Walker leash probably will live longer than I will...what kind of horrible twisted thought is that ya big downer? Oh look, crocuses! And so on.
I forced those thoughts to sort themselves out a little. Money - outstanding bills all on office table. Relax. Health - children are built for survival. Grayson has an ear infection, not bubonic plague. Relax. Mortality - take a hike, I didn't need you then and I don't need you now. Five Senses - Oh look, crocuses!
Then I moved forward with Sadie as we both walked with purpose. She sniffed the underside of a leaf pile. Then got really interested in something heckling her from inside the grass. I just watched her do her dog thing. It was quiet for a few seconds when my thoughts tried to barge back in, those effers. I managed to hold them at bay by touching a spiky red leaf and plucking it off its branch of neighboring green leaves. I wonder if you had much longer to go before you fell off, I'm sorry I just ended you. And look at those little spines, what in the world are you so afraid will eat you to have been born with all this protection? Deer, I bet it's deer because nothing else can really reach you up this high. Ahhh, that's more like it, brain. You go with your single thought self.
I let the leaf helicopter down to an early grave when Sadie yanked me toward the bridge. She loves to check out the ducks in the water. There weren't any around so I let her go. I followed her upturned tail and watched as she capsized stones and piles of leaves with her nose. This dog was in sensory heaven. I took notes.
Smell: Fresh amber bark of a tree recently chopped up into round sections. Mix between Miller Lite and Home Depot
Hear: Water bubbling white over itself to get down the stream as fast as it could. Reminded me of first dates.
See and hear: Three young men pitching baseball in the field. One's voice was very much the coach - authoritative and serious even though they all looked to be the same age.
Oh look, the ducks! The shiny green neck of the mallard wiggled as he scooched himself onto the bank, away from the rushing water. The no nonsense bill swung right to stare at Sadie when he heard her feet gallop over the wooden bridge. "I won't let her see you, don't worry," I tell the duck with my eyes but Sadie had bigger fish to fry. She had locked on to to a squirrel that dared her to leave the edge of the wooden bridge. A brief delivery of mayhem ensued before the criminal squirrel shot up a tall tree and Sadie's back legs planted themselves against the getaway vehicle. She barked out a warning, a lie really, that she would surely tear its guts out next time it showed its ugly maw 'round this town. Sadie has never gotten a squirrel in all the eight years of being with us. She's practically vegan.
See? She makes us all forget about thinking too much. She's magic that way, I tell ya.