How is it that I'm easy?

Its been three weeks since Peewee (aptly named by Mimi), joined our household, and he's settled in as though he's always been here. Chubba has taken him under his paw, and together they make forays into the garden, sniffing, doing their business and "reading the papers" as my ma says. They make a handsome couple and Peewee is never far from Chubba's watchful eye.

Persuading BH to get Peewee, was easy. "Chubba will teach him the rules" was one persuasion. "It will teach the kids a sense of responsibility" was another. Walking him won't be a problem as I always do it anyway, and in my own weird way I plan to train him with love, after all I've potty trained 3 kids and never lost my temper. I know, I know, like kids dogs and puppies need to know the boundaries, they need to know how far they can push and they need to know who's boss...and it isn't me! Peewee has me feeding him by hand. He just won't chow on down like most dogs but insists I sit beside during each one of his 4 meals per day. BH says that he doesn't do it to him so why do I have the problem?

"You're a pushover!" stated BH "Every time the kids do something naughty, you laugh. It's the same with the dogs...you think him savaging my shoes is sweet! You laugh when he dives into the paper basket and rips up the paper. You won't laugh when he gets bigger and he does it to amuse you and he starts gnawing on the kitchen units."

He's right though. Naughty things the kids do amuse me. I can't get angry because it shows their wicked humour and I'd rather a child with wit and personality than a child afraid to do anything because it may anger me. It's the same with the dogs. I don't see it as a struggle for power but as them expressing themselves. If it's dangerous, then that's very different.

I spoke with Marion, and she agreed with BH. "They need to know who's the boss. They need to have respect and they need to know how far to take it. My kids know who's the boss in my house" Marion rules with an iron rod. The kids do their homework on the kitchen table in front of her, they would never answer her back for fear of being banished to their rooms, and they never get dirty! I sometimes wish I could be as fierce, but then I fear a backlash later. In years to come, would they ever visit me? Would they remember the strict parenting and hold it against me? Would they love me? You see that is probably the real issue. I want to be loved. I want my children to love me when I'm an old lady. I want them to look back and say, "My mum was a lovely mother. She was kind to animals and children and everyone loved her". It's unlikely though that they'll remember my amazing sense of humour or my kindness to animals.

I'll most likely be remembered for my terrible taste in music, my inability to drive on a motorway and my horrendous shoe collection which dates back to 1989.

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