Can this guy adopt me? Can I invite you to my wedding? Something.
I’m having this similar issue with my poor puppy. Koda is the sweetest baby girl Aussie-Border mix. She has recently developed skin mites because of her anxiety. I’m hoping I can start implementing some of these tips to make it better for her.
As you may know from previous posts, I have a new dog. Pierson is a Border Collie and/or Australian Shepherd mix who was rescued from a park where he had been living as a stray. He has fit very well into our home, but as the days go by we are seeing some problems develop. One of those issues in my dog is separation anxiety.
From what I understand about the Border Collie or Australian Shepherd is that because these dog breeds have such a close affinity with their owner, they tend to get distressed when they are away from them for any length of time. Since I work at home, I am around my dog all the time. So obviously my dog has drawn close to me. And now, whenever I leave, I hear him whine desperately after I shut the door.
Now that I have observed this separation anxiety issue…
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We all have those moments where our world comes crashing down, where the things that are happening to our fellow man are so horrible that we loose faith. Today was one of those days for me personally. Its hard to remember that we need those dips in our life to understand how great the highs are.
Now for those of you criers out there (don’t be ashamed I’m one too) grab your tissues. This really warms my heart:
You hear it all the time in stories how people from oppsite backgrounds meet and fall in love. That’s me. Sometimes it can be such a blessing and others a curse.
I grew up in a strict household where yes I did have advantages that others did not. My mother, though, was a single parent who worked very hard and happened to make a very good living doing so. So yes, I had the expensive things but I was never allowed to abuse or misuse those things. I went on the trips overseas; however, that’s like most people going to their family houses. Europe was where my family was. The big emphasis in my life was on education and when we moves to a place that did not meet my mother’s standards I was moved to a private school. Now none of this was a free ride, I had to earn it all and maintain straight A’s.
My fiance however, grew up underprivileged. His parents could barely take care of themselves so it was mainly his elderly grandparents that took care of him and his brother. He used to spend all his extra time trying to get and find odd jobs, ultimately supporting his family from the age of 15. He never had nice things. Presents (to this day) come from the swap shop where Grandpa pays $1 for everything.
He didn’t grow up the way I did. I’ve never been to a laundry-mat and he’s never been to 5 course dinner meal. I feel uncomfortable siting anywhere but at the table for a meal. He will eat chunky soup out of the can-cold while standing in the kitchen.
We give and we take and we are still trying to find that balance that works for us. But its hard and frustrating at times. It doesn’t help that I have a hot temper (curiosity of my biological father) and he is so laid back at times that it borders the not caring line.
I hope we will find out what works before we get married but for now I will fly off the handle when he destroys something my mother gave us and he will continue to ignore my pleas for help with the chores.
As you can tell I”m obviously far from being alright currently and still more than a little frustrated with him . I know you can’t change a person but I your approach. I’m thinking that I will wait to see what he will do when there are no clean clothes, food cooked or anything along those lines for him. On the other hand; his patience might be stronger than mine…
The other weekend after a hellish day of things going wrong left and right I convinced my fiance to come dust off and come out with me for my friend’s birthday. Neither one of us much felt like it and for well deserved reasons.
My friend K. is amazing and funny- and she just turned 31! So out celebrating with her she proudly proclaimed several things. 1) I’m apparently hilarious and she needs me to come out more often. 2) That anything I write should be dubbed something along the lines of small but loud.
I guess there is something to be said for growing up the way I did. I was always the smallest of my friends and family. My best friend growing up proudly coined the saying small in size, loud in volume. All of which I take with a smile; for at least I am memorable. And if the worst thing I am is loud well then I think I’m doing pretty well.
Side note though: the words big & loud bring back flashbacks of the 90’s cartoon movie ‘Cats Don’t Dance’ (http://youtu.be/pB0n7KTyEdI if you want to see what I’m talking about) So I seriously went around the rest of the weekend dying to see this movie again.
Now this just burns my biscuits.
I could rant and rave. I want to. Unfortunately that will only get me so far. Let me see if cooler heads will prevail by the end of this.
First and foremost: a police officer is a symbol of a good guy, an average day hero. How many of us grew up in a day and age where our heroes weren’t’ the people being paid millions of dollars for a sport but the people saving lives, such as: police officers, firefighters and doctors? I know I did. I was told if anything should ever happen to find a policeman. Yet there are apparently some parents who threaten their children into behaving by saying things like “if you’re not good, I’m going to call the police and let them take you away”. Are you kidding me? You’re going to sit there and teach your child to fear the police instead of setting rules and boundaries of your own?
But who is the first person we call when we need help? The police. When a gunman’s rampage was wreaked havoc inside a school, who was called to save them? The police. When the children were scared about going back to school, who stood outside their buildings to let them know they were safe? The police.
Now you’re going to tell a father of a child, that he can’t wear his work clothes/equipment when dropping his daughter off?
Most officers work crazy hours averaging around 50-60 hours a week and that is before they have to go to court, write reports, and a million other things they do. The time that they get to spend with their family is precious. Not knowing Officer Urkov, I can only assume that this is his time with his daughter; their routine as father and daughter, for him to take her to school every day.
To the principal who asked the officer not to wear his uniform and gun to school anymore. Shame on you! Not only do you not have any right to declare what a parent can and cannot wear in the few minutes they are there to drop off their children. But the moment you found out he was a police office. A man who risks his life every day to protect your community; you should have said to him “I wanted to make you aware that some parent were concerned about you being armed and I wanted to make you aware of that. I did inform them that you are a police officer and a parent. Other than that, I just want to thank you for the service you do.”
And the school official who said: “We apologize that he took the discussion the wrong way perhaps, that was not the intent of the principal to offend him.” You need a refresher course on proper etiquette and discrimination. It’s like asking an ER doctor to not answer his phone while on call. Or a business man not to carry a briefcase because you don’t know what’s inside.
This father is an officer of the law; he has been trained and has taken a vow to protect the community. This “request” is an insult to all law enforcement families.
Something that no one has really thought of either is this: the issue was him openly carrying a weapon as police officer (and others) are allowed to do. There are plenty of other people, who are licensed, to carry weapons for personal protection. What about those people? Is this school now going to search everyone to see if they’re carrying? And who will they call about this- the same police they won’t let be there in uniform? Good luck with that!
Maybe this hits a little too close to home for me; after all I come from a military family. It also happens that the love of my life is one of those courageous people who believe in a greater good and put their life on the line every day. I spend most nights alone so that others may be safe. I kiss him as he leaves the door for work and I can never guarantee he will back in that door. But I am proud of that man, and blessed to be with someone who lives this crazy, hectic thing called life, serving others. It is because of this I know many officers and I’ve never been out and about with any officer (even in civilian clothes) where they did not still have their weapon on them. They are the watch dogs protecting the flock from wolves; they are not sheep.
This is obviously a hot button for me so I will leave you all with this:
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Matthew 5:9
I read this article today: http://www.today.com/moms/8-year-old-gets-sexist-book-removed-bookstore-8C11327618
It really got me to thinking. When I was eight years old I was just like this little girl. I was an avid reader (those pizza hut reader cards helped motivate a growing obsession I had with books) and I did not tend to like the A-typical “girly” things. But then again my mum was not the A-typical woman either.
Sure like every little girl I used to watch my mum get dressed up when she would go out. I was always struck with a sense of wonder as she donned beautiful jewelry and high heels. However, this was the same mum who after getting the family all dressed up for Sundays at church would then turn around when we got home and put on jeans and a t-shirt. She taught me about cars and sports. She let me climb trees and the came after me when I climbed to high and couldn’t get down. Growing up with all male cousins I was always one of the boys and my mum was never bothered by that. I wore baggie shirts and no one besides my mum cut my hair. I loved to camp, hike, play hockey and torment my babysitters* (all male I might add).
Now, I’m not saying that books of this nature should not be written; I’m just saying that I can’t see the benefits of separating these survival examples in what’s okay for a girl and what’s ok for a boy. Every child could benefit from knowing how to be a good babysitter (I believe that it teaches patience and understanding other family dynamics) and while I’m personally petrified of sharks it would be nice to know how to survive a shark attack. Why must we split these things into categories? Life is not simple; it is complicated and it’s in those complexities that we find adventure. Column A and Column B are not slots that we fit into at birth. Kids have that way of looking at life where they understand that. They do not see the world the same way adults do and they question everything. (Ask any parent about the ‘why?’ stage)
Why is it that we as adults, we stop asking why and follow the current? Some of the best moments of my life (so far) was when I was the exact opposite of what everyone expected of me.
*Side note: I should apologize to my babysitters (brothers: Matt & Adam; Brandon) for I made them work very hard for their money. Not content to play girly games or watch a movie; I made them play ‘mother may I?’, ‘red light, green light,’ ‘basketball’, etc. I also performed the ceremony for one of them to ‘marry’ my sister. If they ever read this I am truly sorry for what I put you guys through. On the bright side I’m sure your children can’t really surprise you with anything now.*
Low and behold I’ve now started something that I said I would never do. I said I would never be one of those people who blogs about their everyday life. I mean who am I? I’m no-one important- at least not to anyone outside my circle of friends and family. So why am I doing this?
Well fact of the matter is I’ve always been one of those people. I find solace and comfort in writing and expressing my feelings/opinions on things. I’ve always been that person who has to write out a list, compare pros and cons, anything along those lines. It helps if I can express myself in an emotional manner on paper (or via internet) so I can be more logical and calm in real life. Not that anyone in my day-to-day life would call me call (I’m sure you’ll find more on that later).
So here it is my brand new first ever blog. Be gentle and kind please.