Don't get me wrong, I'm no baby hater. I love the way they smell (with a clean diaper mind you), but they seem so complicated when shouldn't it be the exact opposite? There's no teenage crush to talk them out of, allowance to negotiate, chores to remind of, or arguments about the importance of hygiene. It's feed them, burp them, rock them, lay them down to sleep, change them aaaaand repeat. Seems simple enough, though surely exhausting. But the difficulty comes in the communication gap. They can't tell you what's wrong with them when they're screaming their heads off, which is exactly why they terrify me so. It's a guessing game filled with trial and error efforts to find the magic formula/motion/outfit/pacifier/lullaby/back rub/clean diaper that fits the bill and shuts the pie hole. Or that's how I imagine it to be anyway. I've never done this before and acknowledge that I am no expert on the subject.
The silver lining that has guided me through these last few months has been the reminder that pregnancy and infancy are temporary. I get very enthusiastic thinking of the fun to be had with a walking, talking toddler and beyond (minus the teenager part). I want desperately to teach my kid how to "potty" and wash their own hair, tie their shoes, read, write their name in cursive, ride a bike, throw a ball, be a friend, show compassion to people and animals, never give up, etc. I have catalogued ideas for fun activities for a boy or girl for years and stashed them in the corner of my brain for later reference like many women buy baby outfits and hide in a hope chest.
But that silver lining I've relied on got a serious reality check this past weekend when my family and I fostered a miniature pot bellied pig. Oy! Or, Oink, I should say!
That little pig hand delivered a wake up call regarding the challenges that lie ahead for me as a parent at any stage...not just infancy!
Miss Oink, previously known as "Respusha", was a gag birthday gift bought for a friend, by another friend. My husband and I were let in on the gag and being the animal lover that I am, I said that I'd be glad to take the pig off their hands if the gag lost its' luster over time. I may sound crazy....I'll give you that, but come on, who could deny this sweet, pudgy oink?
I have begged my husband since we bought our house and accompanying 4.5 acres to let me have some farm critters. I thought a pig was a fitting start to my collection.
Wrong, wrong, and WRONG!
Miss Oink was approximately 10 pounds of screaming, snorting, running, misbehaving, demanding furry beast. A friend made the comparison between Miss Oink and a toddler, and after further thought, I couldn't agree with her more.
Like a toddler, Miss Oink could walk on her own. And doggone it if she couldn't run, too - and FAST! Those four stubby little legs beat my arse and my husband's as we chased her through our front yard on the first night that she arrived and then escaped her leash. The only way we were able to catch her is because we got her cornered on the front porch and attacked quickly. We threw a towel over her and snatched her up, squeezing and holding on to her as she kicked and screamed bloody murder all the while.
Incidentally, I drew inspiration for Miss Oink's capture after I saw a mom do the same thing to her lollipop-fueled 2 year old in Winn Dixie. He was throwing his shoes at the produce and before he even realized what was going on, his mom had acted. I watched that mom very carefully as she wrapped her son up in a pro wrestling move/chicken wing and secured his tail in the front seat of the shopping cart. She was smooth. She didn't lose her cool once. She simply swooped in and handled business, or "bidness" as I like to say. I made a point to look down at my belly and issue a verbal warning to my own nugget: "Throw tantrums if you like, little one, but trust me, your mother here can out do you."
After her first stint as a free agent, Miss Oink backed out of her leash once again (shouldn't I have learned by now?) when out for a potty break. What ensued was a 2 hour marathon of chasing her through the yard, cornering her in brush, trying to lure her with food, and chasing her some more. Somehow, our two dogs also joined the party and began chasing her through the yard. It was chaos. Eventually Miss Oink was cornered in the crawl space beneath an old house on our property. Though I initally refused to go spelunking to retrieve the critter, my conscience got the better of me. So I adapted Miss Winn Dixie's strategy of shock-and-awe....only this time, I brought tools.
And it worked! Me + headlamp + mask + safety glasses + gloves + shock and awe technique = One caught pig.
Also true with toddlers - sometimes the only advantage you have is size and resource. Those 2 things are the only reason we were able to capture that pig. Pigs are ranked the 4th smartest animal behind primates, whales and dolphins. With those smarts and some more meat on her bones, Miss Oink could dominate. It became very clear to my husband and I as we slowly approached her ready for capture that if she were another 100 lbs, we'd be in serious trouble. She assumed her charging stance and snorting glare and dared us to come closer. Thankfully, we won that struggle, but it can't be said that Miss Oink didn't put up a valiant fight - much like that Winn Dixie 2 year old. They both protested adamantly, but eventually tired from the screaming.
Like most toddlers, Miss Oink could feed herself. She just made a mess.....which I cleaned up....repeatedly. She would root through her box with her nose and intentionally knock her water bowl over so that I had to clean and refill, clean and refill, yada yada yada. It was a game that she thoroughly enjoyed, and a cycle I couldn't seem to shake. I felt like I had to clean up after her no matter how many times I was rewinding myself and telling myself that I was only reinforcing her negative behavior....I kept doing it....and so did she.
And the last comparison I could find between Miss Oink and toddlers is their demanding nature. I made the grave error of introducing this pesky piglet to raisins in hopes of training her to sit and rewarding her for "pottying" in the appropriate spot outside. That plan backfired - big time. Not only did she not grasp the fact that the raisin came each time she did something positive, but she just shut down and refused to do anything until she got a raisin. Then she refused to eat anything other than raisins. No pig feed. No carrots or cabbage, despite gobbling them down the night before. Only raisins. And like many parents of toddlers (and swine) before me, I caved from pure exhaustion. I kept raisins in my pockets and issued them at the first squeal.
So, my newly revised silver lining is simply this: There will be tough times when I have no clue what I'm doing, but it will also be an adventure and an opportunity to learn, both of which I love.
And it's a good thing I enjoy learning, because I'm going to have to learn A LOT. I seriously doubt the family who adopted Miss Oink from us will be interested in taking on a miniature pot-bellied human, too.
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