Weighing the pros and cons of a dog's haircut

Dogs + babies is a combo that many people have an opinion on. The baby-only set seemingly count the days until you get rid of the furry flea bags in favor of your snuggly friend of the human variety. Avid dog owners are often far more interested in the emotional state of your dogs since the baby arrived than the drooly, noisy, fetch-inept bundle you recently welcomed into your home. And then there are those of us with the babies and the dogs. We are mostly just tired.

Do we regret getting dogs? Let me answer your question with a question: Can you capture a rainbow in a jar? I'm not sure where I am going with this - as I pointed out, I am quite tired - but I think it's that both are unanswerable and neither are particularly useful. To the dog naysayers, I must be honest: you are right. Dogs are very difficult to add to having a new baby, and the automatic priority that your child will have makes their burden difficult to swallow many times. To the pro-dog folks: we have 'em, we still love 'em, and no one is making Schnoodle mittens around here ... any time soon ...

Besides Sugar's intense fear of doors swinging, items dropping on the floor, her collar, her leash, being kicked off the bed, baths and the baby, she's not so bad, I guess. Then there is Billy with his psycho-somatic stomach troubles, triggered by guests leaving, the baby crying, thunderstorms and fireworks, resulting at times in colon-control issues, bleeding ulcers and massive vet bills. We get by with him too. But it's the dog grooming that has really put us over the edge lately.

As you'll see in the picture, they look positively dapper. And with good reason. We take them to an inordinately expensive Hund-salon, two train rides away, where we are verbally abused and chided for our dog care practices. Because they are poodle mixes, hair cuts are not optional. We tried an at-home solution once with some horse clippers when we were at Will's parents' farm, but that ended up taking a very long time to end up with a very strange looking dog. Not to mention that Will decided to get clever and carve a "B" into Billy's fur, the results of which were closer to mange than hair art.

We found the Hund-salon shortly after arriving, its primary selling point being that the owner advertised in and spoke English. After picking up my dogs the first time, 9 months pregnant, panting from the trek across ice and through several inches of snow, only to be told that my dogs had been in "terrible condition" and that I would be charged extra, I sighed deeply and resolved not to return. But then I saw the dogs. They looked fantastic, and I could tell by their demeanor that they were treated very well. The next time I arrived in as much snow and ice, this time with a 10 week old baby strapped to me. Same speech, but again, happy and gorgeous dogs. So then I decided to ramp up my own dog grooming practices, and the next time the groomer was thrilled with me! (Thrill is expressed rather solemnly in Germany, but trust me, she was thrilled.) The thing is, those 3 seconds of praise cost me 20+ hours of dog brushing over the previous months. But, I've persisted, reasoning that it's good for the pups anyhow.

This most recent time, however, marked the end. We can handle criticism over our lack of care for Sugar's matting coat. You can tell me that Billy's nails are too long. Though our perspectives are different, I can see your point. But this last time, Will was put through a hard sell on ... dog strollers. He said to me "They wanted us to buy a stroller. For the dogs. We are not going back." You see, this was a point when his baby priorities reared up in stark contrast to dog priorities. Though we try to live diplomatically in the worlds of both dog lovers and proud parents, the canine extremists drove us too far this time.

Wish us luck in finding an adequate dog groomer. I don't think we're in the market for a great one any more.

Our tiny crocodile

9 months old. 8 teeth. At least 2 more on the way currently. You may or may not know this, but that's a lot of lethal power for a baby of this age to be wielding. I've been told to brush her teeth. Hah. I can stick a tooth brush in her mouth if I get my timing just right, but it just ends up being a few seconds of her freakishly strong jaws clamping down on the handle whilst giving me the side eye before I retreat. Brush a 9 month's teeth, indeed. I find I have to warn mothers that my angelic baby could amputate the digits of their curious children. Not out of malice. Just in the name of science. But the scars are the same. This condition has allowed her to enjoy her food more than many of her peers; recently she sampled some avocado sushi, piercing through the seaweed like a hot knife through butter. At least I know no one will be stealing her maraca in Gymboree.

9 months: Life's a Party

I met a mom the other day with her 6 week old daughter. I could not believe how tiny this baby was, nor that Edie was ever, ever anything like that. Those early days - when your circadian rhythm is robbed from you by a baby who knows not day or night, your baby doubles in size over the first 16 weeks, and a "clean" outfit for yourself becomes one that doesn't have a lot of urine or spit up on it - go by in a flash. They are miraculous and life-changing. But they are not, I must admit, all that fun. They are the dues a mom pays, with no thank yous and precious few moments of reprieve. And we gladly, exhaustedly, blindly pay them.

Now that E is 9 months old, the fun has truly begun. She's got party tricks, including fake coughing on command, like a tiny drama student trying out as Orphan #3 in Oliver Twist. She's begun to communicate, learning her first baby sign for "milk", saying "mama" (when she's sad & tired) and "nanana" for banana (when she thinks you ought to hurry it up with that banana). Edie sings loudly in every hallway and tunnel, eyes darting around as she enjoys her own echo. She laughs hysterically at Billy sniffing her face, at books with funny rhymes, and each time she manages to bite my nose before I can prevent this particular brand of carnage. Very good times. And with crawling around the corner, there's no turning back now.

[#1 - E and her pacifier. She never really took to them, but we found a couple last week, and she think they are very fun to tempt the dogs with. #2 - E and the 30 second headband. # 3 - Cowgirl baby enjoying the very short Munich Indian Summer.]

Grandma Sally to the Rescue

Imagine if you had two sets of hands, two times the patience, and twice the energy. Now imagine if all the doubled parts were much better than their originals. That sums up having my mother-in-law stay with me for five days while Will was out of town. If you have a trouble-making MIL, you may want to skip this entry. Having Grandma Sally stay with us was fantastic. I got to go to my yoga class, grocery shop by myself, take a trip to a clothing store alone, have a run in the park muy solita... you get the picture. It was like a vacation but without missing your baby.

Sally also helped me navigate Ms. E's first ever fever. Edie has the remarkable and tragic talent for staying awake more hours than usual when she is sick and therefore extra tired. So small one was flowing back and forth across the lines of sanity and insanity for several days. In fact, she is still marching on in this fashion as I type. Super-grandmom MIL kept baby happy and mommy a lot less nervous than she would have been. On top of that, Grandma bought and built a walker for her first born grandbaby. All of this and she even spent her birthday with us!

She stayed long enough to see her first born son arrive back home safe, sound & exhausted. Will did not arrive bearing gifts, per se, but he did buy a three-pack of toothbrushes from Rite Aid. The US didn't have as many bargains as he'd recalled. Apparently, inflation has hit Jimmy John's something fierce. But he did come manage to find that trio of brushes for $2.50, so we'll basically be making money as we scrub our gums with those off brand beauties. Thanks, hon!

We miss you, Grandma! Thank you for staying!

A Toy Store Story

Since Edie won't be able to spend this Christmas with her Grandma Sally, Christmas gifts came in October this year! The three of us ladies ventured to the largest toy store in Munich last weekend, where Grandma conjured up her wealth of toy knowledge from raising four children - the first of whom was the best, of course - to pick out some fancy new baby baubles. Anyways, our very own first pancake taste-tested a wide array of toys and is now the proud owner of a pyramid of rings and some Megablocks. Your cuddly grandbaby thanks you, and so does this running-out-of-tricks Mamma.

Mother's Instinct

I can't define a mother's instinct. And many days, I'm pretty sure I lack any of it. But I think it might be knowing that a 3 euro pair of baby shoes to chew on or a pack of toilet paper to bang on like a drum will make your baby happy enough to finish your errands without seriously harshing the mellow of your fellow shoppers.

Grandma & Grandpa Time!

Will's parents arrived last week for their second trip to Munich this year. Neither had seen Edie since she was two weeks old, so the times had changed around here. Where there was once a floppy, sleepy baby, there was now a wild arm-flapping, squawking, giggling little girl. Sadly, the weather wasn't as different from their previous February trip as we'd hoped. Bavaria is a whole lotta cold and rainy, and this from a Detroiter, mind you.

These first time grandparents deftly navigated the dangers of a shark-like eight-toothed eight month old, keeping her blissfully happy with swims in the hotel pool, trips to the zoo, and even bringing a box of Cheerios from the good old USA. (The closest Cheerios-type cereal here is like a box of tiny tongue dehydrators.) Grandpa Grissom headed back home yesterday, but with Will off on a business trip, I have the great luxury of having Grandma stay on with me and E for another 4 days.