When my kids were very young, the thought of having to keep one more thing alive made me cringe. Our garden died. Any plant that was given to me as a gift died. If it weren’t for my husband and the gardening service, the lawn would have died too. I could barely take time to go to the bathroom when I needed to, so there was absolutely no way that anything that could be considered a “pet” was going to enter this home. Ever.
Until my youngest son turned 6. My baby, who had been previously happy to cuddle and hug, was growing up. I’d have to catch him as he ran by for a quick hug and often I’d end up hugging his back as he’d be ready to run away, off to the next thing. So it was around that time I was struck with this idea: I had to have a puppy. I just had to. It consumed my every waking thought. A soft, wonderful, fluffy puppy, like the one I used to have when I was a little girl.
I know most kids go through an “I want a pet” phase, but I had been so adamant and belligerent about “no more living things in the house” that my kids actually gave up. I knew that there was no way they would take care of a pet once the excitement wore off, no matter how much they claimed they would be responsible for it. They knew Mom was impervious. So what the heck happened? Hormones. It was a completely illogical, hormonally driven desire and decision. It is the only reasonable explanation. I even came across an article in Prevention Magazine about how many women feel calmer and more peaceful when they are nurturing – it gets the hormone oxytocin flowing and pretty soon, we are in the zone.
So why not consider having a third child?
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