Sometimes I am worried that my new neighbors will think I’m a miserable hag, because they only hear me yelling at my toddler and my dog all day.
We live on a road now, not a cul-de-sac, and Owen is really itching to run into the street. I can see him eyeballing it every time we step out. Or he wants to run into our neighbors perfectly manicured lawn. And I had a perfectly manicured lawn growing up. One does not simply put toddler prints in freshly mown grass. So, I’ve gotta raise my damn voice. I envision that my retired neighbors think I’m the worst.
Then I yell at the dog. To simply stay outside for an hour. “Go play Molly, You are a DOG!” and Molly sits by the door, scratches it and whines. Because she’s the world’s worst dog. But in my dreams I’m like, super nice, and all I do is whisper sweetly to my pets and children when I get upset, kind of like the soothing kiss of Michelle Duggar’s voice.
“Sweet baby of mine, please do not run into the street which is in direct defiance of my orders to you. Just tip toe over here, sweet angel.”
“Oh, dog that I love, could you just maybe play in the yard? This nice fenced in yard we made sure we had just for you? Maybe you could lay in the grass. Rest your dog head”
But instead I go “GET OVER HERE OWEN RIGHT NOW GET INTO THIS… NO!!!! DO NOT GO IN THE STREET!” <pause for me to sprint like a Kenyan marathon runner>
“GO PLAY OUTSIDE YOU ARE A DOG. A DOG FOR GOODNESS SAKE!!! GO PLAY!!! IF YOU SCRATCH THIS DOOR AGAIN SO HELP ME…”
And so, I think I must be a very pleasant neighbor to have. Especially because all my neighbors seem to have gleaming pure bred dogs which they walk. Every day. But I don’t feel bad. I just don’t.