I had a burst of insanity last week.
My friend, Jana, got a puppy.
Her puppy was so cute, I decided I had to have one.
Her sister from the same litter was available.
Mother #4 is in touch with her inner dog.
So now we have a dog.
When we took the dog for his first checkup,
the doctor gave us startling news.
According to the vet, Jana's dog and my dog, born in the very same litter, have different fathers.
Now I understand something.
My children don't have different fathers.
Instead, my children, all born from my loins, somehow each have a different mother!
The first one had the uptight mother --
the one who sat next to the sleeping baby's crib to make sure he was breathing, who didn't let the baby have anything with sugar in it until he was two!
The one who worried:
Am I feeding him too much watermelon?
The second child got the secure mother --
the relaxed mom who knew that it was okay for him to eat a chicken leg at six- months, normal to have a tantrum at the checkout counter at K-Mart,
normal for him to push his carriage instead of sit in it.
The third one got the tired mother --
the one who was too tired to notice him jumping on the couch or breaking his foot or breaking his brother's foot or marking up the walls with the only permanent marker in the house.
And the fourth one got the "grandmother" mother --
the doting mother,
the one who thinks everything the kid does is cute.
For example: When this mother says that the peas and carrots are hot and he puts the food on top of his head and says hot, hot (instead of hat),she thinks it's hilarious.
Mother 1 would have scolded.
Mother 2 would have breathed deeply.
Mother 3 would have cleaned up somberly.
And mother 4 gets out the camera.
Mother #4 is in touch with her inner dog.
She can lie down and listen to music with her kids.
If she had a tail, it would be wagging.
(In fact, Mother #4 has been known to lick her children.
She says: They're delicious.)
They say that every dog has his day.
So does every mother!
