Pandora’s Box, Part 4….the ungrateful child……

 

The ungrateful child, that would be me.  At least that is what I am questioning lately. ¿Am I just an ungrateful child–oblivious to what my parents have done for me?

There have been some horrific things that have occurred but I am not living in the past.

I have told my sister, it is not about the past, it is about the things that still occur in the present.

Should I forget about the mistress I spent the day with because my father gave me money to help me produce a play or a short film?

Should I forget about the things my mother has done (soon to be a future post) because she paid for my lasik eye surgery?

Do I forget the emotional hurts just because my parents have tried to make up for it through material things?

I am grateful that my mother helps (undermines) me with my business, but it hurts to have heard her say that the reason she finally agreed to go on the trip to Hawaii that I paid for was because it was the “least evil”.

Do we let material things make up for the sense of loss, hurt and abandonment that we have experienced?

I don’t have the answer but I feel like I am somehow an ungrateful child because I can not, at least in this moment get beyond the hurt.

Funny thing is that I told my mom I got the Hawaii vacation to show her that I am grateful for what she has done to help me and her response was, “material things do not make up for emotional hurts”………

…Missy’s Malaise aka Three Dog Night…..

 

Actually it was just one white dog with diarrhea, which is the equivalent of a three dog night.

So around 8:00 pm my neighbor notices that my dog has diarrhea.  Great, that’s just what I want to hear.  I am hoping it is a temporary situation.  Walk the dog at 2:00 am, still diarrhea.  Did I mention she is a white dog?

We go to bed, me on mine, she on hers.  I usually sleep better with the dog next to me but given her current physical malaise I did not coax her into my bed.

It’s a little bit before 5:00 am  and I awake to this rancid odor. She must have pooped in the living room, I thought. 

Dear God, it’s 5:00 am I just do not want to deal with this.  I roll over thinking I deal with it in the morning. Oh, by the way, she is now sleeping on the pillow next to me. I get up and decide to go to the bathroom.  I unknowingly find it, step in it.

Not in the living room, in the hallway.  My socks are covered in it.  I turn on the lights there it is. A yellow-brownish river flowing through the hallway.  Like it or not I now have to deal with it.

I can’t blame her it’s not her fault.  It might even be my fault. I ran out of dog food and instead of going to Target I decide to go to the corner 7/11.  In all likely hood I only have my lazy butt to blame. 

The thing is the day before I had left my purse/wallet/money/atm/license at my mom’s place in Granada Hills(about 70 miles from me), so the least amount of driving the better.

My badd, my badd, my badd…my dog, my dog, my dog…..

 I start to clean up the mess. I call out to her, Hey Missy let’s go for a walk.  She is not budging off of my bed.  I have to grab her by the collar and drag her poop laden butt off of the bed.  Then there’s the pillow she was sleeping on, a part of my comforter, a blanket…thank good I had a towel on my pillow from washing my hair.

 I walk the dog at 5:00 am and this lethal brown liquid just shoots out of her.  Did I mention she has white fur?  I get a wash cloth and shampoo and start cleaning her off at 5:00 am.  Truly the dedicated actions that only a mother would do.  My dog is confused, she does not understand and she hates water.

 Back inside to deal with the bed.  Needless to say there is a lot of laundry to be done tomorrow.  My dog’s bed get put into the living room.  The bedroom doors are closed.  My dog is standing in front of the bedroom door, expectations in her eyes.  She looks at me, she looks at the door as if to say what gives?

 She has never been banned from the bedroom before, not in all her five years and it’s her Birthday month.  She is very spoiled, however, I had to draw the line at the possibility of more diarreah on my bed.  Disgusting isn’t it?

 Morning comes, she still has diarrhea.  I cook her white rice, in the hopes it will cure her of this disingenuous malaise.  Problem is, my dog is fussy.  She only eats my mothers, spicy Puerto Rican Rice, she does not even eat chinese rice or Puerto Rican rice made by other people.  She only eat’s abuela’s rice.  It has been three hours since the rice was put in her bowl and it’s till there.  I have done 2 loads of laundry with 2 more to go.

 The dog is calmly sleeping on one of her dog bed’s in the living room. She has three–I said she was spoiled, right?

 I should probably wake her up and take her for a walk before the cycle starts again.

I am anxiously looking for a solid poop.  Those are the little things that bring joy into the day of a mom.  Things like solid poop and eating your food.  I don’t think you realize the anxiety a woman goes through when a dog/cat/baby does not eat, untill you have one.

Ok, I am not being sexist.  Maybe men feel the same way but that is not the impression I have gotten over the years.  I can’t exactly picture my ex-husband cleaning a dog’s butt with a wash cloth.

(Mental note do not use said wash cloth to remove make-up ever again.)

….did I mention the cat who refuses to use the litter box?……