Remember when you were a kid and you would say when I’m an adult I’ll …
go to disneyland every day
eat ice cream for dinner
never go to bed
etc, etc, etc
And your parents would say just wait, when you’re an adult you’ll find out you have to go to work every day, and pay the mortgage, and the car payment, put dinner on the table, etc, etc, etc.
Sure they were right. But those things aren’t that hard really.
Why didn’t anyone ever talk about what’s really hard being an adult. Making the choices that you hate for because it is the right thing to do for everyone involved. That’s what sucks about being an adult.
I spent a good hour yesterday bawling like a baby after I rehomed my two dogs. It made sense logically. They were not getting their needs met with us, not since I started home schooling my kiddo. And the situation was not going to improve anytime in the next several years. Home schooling is only going to get more time intensive, the subjects that are hard for the kiddo will only get more complicated. The house must be cleaned, I can’t afford a cleaner. Food bought, meals cooked. These things are not negotiable.
What is negotiable is this: the dogs, my health, my attempt at a writing career. Which one to give up? Which one do I stop spending time on? This is the part that is hard about being an adult.
Clearly, I picked the dogs. I met with a couple who was interested. They brought their current dog with them, he was healthy and friendly. They seemed nice. I let them take my four legged babies home. Then I cried, all the way home, and for some time once I got home, until she sent me a text, with picture of my four legged babies happily laying on the deck at their place.
This morning my house felt empty. My son wanted to talk about the dogs again, it’s how he processes. I managed not to cry but it was a struggle. And then I got a phone call from the new owners, they took the dogs to the vet this morning. Suddenly I feel so much better. They are responsible enough pet owners to get their new babies immediately checked by the vet. Of course, I knew the dogs were healthy, but they checked.
I think everyone will be happier in the long run and quite possibly in the short run for the dogs. They have a new four legged playmate, a huge forest to run in, owners without children who spend their free time hiking and camping.
My husband is already perkier (he doesn’t like pets).
My son gleefully announced, “I forgot to put my shoes away and the dogs didn’t chew them, because the dogs aren’t here,” this morning.
I will eventually finish grieving. But for now, please ignore the occasional fat tear that sneaks down my cheek.