It is only fitting my last post was about vulnerability, because today I am excited to share a post I wrote for a much bigger blog than my own, Offbeat Families. The coolest part about writing this post was hearing from others that I am definitely not alone in my overwhelming desire for children. The least cool part is admitting my obsession.
However, I am happy to report the fever has diminished a bit since I wrote this piece a few weeks ago. I don’t know what happens to our brains as women. It seems to be getting worse and worse each year… Babies, babies, babies.
I find it mildly disturbing that even pictures of myself as a baby make me want to be a mom. It’s a sickness. 😉
Last night I deleted a post because it felt too vulnerable. An hour later, a friend sent me an email with this Ted Talk. Perfect timing, and a great listen.
“{T}he people who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe they’re worthy of love and belonging. That’s it. They believe they’re worthy… What they had in common was a sense of courage. And I want to separate courage and bravery for you for a minute. Courage, the original definition of courage, when it first came into the English language — it’s from the Latin word cor, meaning heart — and the original definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. And so these folks had, very simply, the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others, because, as it turns out, we can’t practice compassion with other people if we can’t treat ourselves kindly… The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful.” – Brené Brown
Good news, I’m done blogging about dogs. I realized I was a little obsessed there for a moment. Just imagine what I’ll be like when I have children. Save yourselves.
To make amends, I offer you my favorite song of the week. Here’s the challenge. Go about your business with the song playing in the background but stop every time you hear the words Barbra Streisand and have a mini dance party. If that doesn’t make your Monday happier, I’m not really sure what will. And, chances are, you won’t be able to control yourself and will have to keep dancing.
I know, I know, you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. You just can’t wait to find out what we named our dog. Nothing more exciting has ever occurred in the universe.
Drumroll…
Wait, I’m sure the picture in your reader already gave it away.
We kept his name as Odin, *but* with a catch. Oats came in first in the polls, (70 votes, wow!). So, he will be Odin with the nickname of Oats, which works great, because, like I said, the long O sound catches his ears every time, (must have been destined to be Olivia O’Bryon’s dog, right? Enough long O’s for you?). Okay, really he’s more of my husband’s dog, but that’s beside the point.
And, in the spirit of any good marriage, it definitely checked the compromise box. Alex liked the Norse mythology behind the name Odin, so he keeps it, and I don’t have to call him the prefix odi- (aka hate). So, welcome Oats/Odin to the family. Everyone needs a nickname or two, right?
I know what you’re thinking, wait, his name was already Odin– but, his tag said Odi before, so he did officially receive a name change.
Looks pretty comfortable with his new identity, the Norse god of magic and also the father of Thor, (fitting, seeing how one of the suggestions was Thor). But, he’ll be Oats to me. Which reminds me, thanks for all the great name ideas! We had fun reading them here and on Facebook.
Yes, I’m serious. As soon as I realized the root Odi means hate, I was over his name, (the curse of being a fifth grade teacher)… But, we’ve spent all weekend trying to find the right one and, well, it’s hard work. I swear our kid will have four names someday before we find the perfect fit.
I am part of a generation often accused of being too self-entitled. While I agree hard work and gratitude should be part of the equation, I also stand firm in my opinion that each and every one of us deserves greatness. The definition of greatness may vary from one to another, but whatever that greatness is, we deserve it.
I always thought I believed in myself. Then I realized this belief is contradicted by the guilt I feel in whatever I have, achieve, desire. Since I was a little girl, I have confused guilt, humility, and gratitude. I finally get it, if only for a moment. Guilt should not accompany success won through hard work and thankfulness. You can lovingly serve others without losing sight of your own worth.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to seethe in all the parts of my life I want to change, and, to my shock, the seething felt amazing. I let anger I never knew existed escape my soul. I realized my worth and felt no guilt in my desire for greatness. What a concept, self-worth and desire without guilt. I was a girl on fire, ferocious and proud. So much gratitude. I hope it lasts.
Our first dog was purchased from a breeder as a scrappy 6-month-old puppy. He was the last of his litter and his picture on the internet was love at first sight. Sure we had to potty train him, but he came with no emotional baggage. He was secure, feisty, and ready to love.
This scrappy picture from the internet stole my heart.
Odi, on the other hand, is a completely different dog. We are probably his sixth placement, (wherever he started, pound, rescue group, adoptive family, rescue group, us). The family who adopted him before us returned him because he was taking their 3-year-old son’s toys. I can imagine it was more than just the toys.
I laugh that unlike Simon, Odi is an actual dog. He likes being outside, exploring, getting into trouble.
Odi is a ball of energy in the mornings. He wants to play for hours. He has marked in our house. He chews. He scratches at invisible pests even though he has been flea-free for days. We’re helping his tummy overcome the stress of a new home with a bland diet of rice and boiled chicken fed four times daily. There was a moment on the beach yesterday where he looked around and did not recognize anyone. He bolted back toward the car, stopping to see if a stranger was anyone he knew by tapping her ankles with his paws. She looked startled, I got there just in time for him to turn and wag his tail. Thankfully he remembered me.
Put simply, Odi is work. Adopting a dog sounds so beautiful, a saved life, a happy home. And, it is these things, with time. But the work comes first. He offers so many glimmers of a wonderful companion. He plays with Simon without aggression, he sleeps happily in his crate, he is affectionate, calm with people, gentle. He gets Simon to move his butt off the couch. He plays fetch. He loves the backyard. Everyone who has met him has been in awe that we’ve only had him for such a short time, that such a happy, well-mannered dog was homeless.
He is amazing, but he also requires more work and patience than a dog who has never been abandoned. He hates getting in and out of cars. He refused to walk into Petsmart. One out of a hundred people makes him cower behind our legs as though we’ve crossed paths with an evil witch. He likes dogs the most. It is clear he has a history we will never fully understand.
Friends with similar stories give us hope, reassuring us their now well-adjusted dogs were no where near as calm after only a week. Odi is calm, I’ll give him that. I just have to admit I thought rescuing a dog would be a little easier. I don’t regret it and I’m sure his list of challenges is minor compared to many others like him. I’ve already fallen under his spell. He just requires more energy than our lazy little guy lying on the couch next to me. But, I guess that’s why we got him in the first place…
Odi is definitely special. We’re hopeful the love and consistency will pay off.
Spring break ended in a blink. I finished four books, adopted a dog, wrote my last essay to clear my teaching credential, watched two movies (Sessions + Ruby Sparks), went to yoga, submitted two short writing pieces (one was accepted!), and walked by the river. Yesterday, the grand finale, we packed up the dogs and drove to Muir Beach, our favorite hike.
The pet-friendly beach is leash free and the huge hill promises a view down the coast toward San Francisco. I used to look forward to the Pelican Inn as our after hike reward, but now I recommend just the beach. The Pelican is too crowded and the food has lost its magic. Still, Muir Beach was the perfect way to end a week off, even if that week disappeared faster than I’d like.
About a month ago, yoga cat disappeared. We were sad. Our dog was sadder. He destroyed long-time favorite toys, sniffed every inch of ground on our walks, and just looked generally depressed whenever he was left home alone. He and yoga cat used to play chase to pass the time and we almost always found them in the same room, together, when we got home.
Lacking the chase exercise, he began to put on weight. Suddenly, the dog door he had used for years was a little too small. I finally drew the line when he got stuck. Yes, stuck. His harness was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or got the pomeranian stuck in the dog door, depending on how you look at it.
My husband had been trying to convince me he needed a friend for weeks. I was reluctant. What if Luna came back? Did we really want the added expense and work of another creature in our house? Did we feel like potty training a puppy? I was staunchly on the no side, but my husband persisted and I gave in. It would be his dog. He had to pick it out, do the work.
He found a pure-bred border collie puppy down in Modesto. My gut said no. I didn’t want a puppy and I was nervous about having such a smart, possibly high-energy dog. So, I did what any good wife would do and got back on Petfinder to look for a decoy. Success. A wire-haired terrier with grey polka dots on her ears. She looked a lot like Simon’s favorite girlfriend down the street. The dog was supposed to be Simon’s new friend, after all.
My husband, the good sport he is, approved of a quick trip to Elk Grove to check her out at a sanctuary for homeless pets. Poor creature, she was a mess, and Simon had zero interest. He is breed-ist and prefers dogs with poofs similar to his own. Fortunately, in the back of one of the dog runs, Alex spotted our new dog, a border collie mix who patiently wagged his tail while all the other mutts howled in pandemonium.
Our gentle boy.
Alex asked if he could be brought out. It was love, for Alex at least. For Simon, well, he still didn’t show much interest, but as the dog checked him out, they showed no aggression to each other, which is unusual for Simon with boy dogs. This dog was one of the gentlest we had ever met. Even the roaming cats were of no interest to him. As Simon barked like a mad man each time a cat crossed our path, Otis did nothing but wag his tail. All good signs, we decided.
Turns out our pal Otis was the spoiled beast of his previous rescue family, but he kept taking the toys of the three year-old child and it was just too much for the family to handle. He had gone to obedience training, received every medical service imaginable, even had a DNA test to determine his breed combination, (apparently schnauzer, border collie, and cocker, but I’m not convinced). In his year and a half of life, he somehow ended up on death row at a pound and then was rescued by this animal group, adopted, then returned.
The two week trial sold me. Here was this dog with all these pluses, if it didn’t work, we could bring him back. We felt like he picked us. He was so happy to see us through that chain-linked fence, so patient as he watched Simon and wagged his tail. On the car ride home, he snuggled his new friend the entire way. Last night he slept without objection or a single noise in his crate. Today he and Simon stomped around the backyard for hours while I did some spring yard work.
And I thought I was Simon’s best friend…
I wasn’t sure if it would be hard to love another dog like I love Simon, but I think Otis will at least come close. He’s eager to please, kind, and affectionate. He loves Simon like he’s known him forever. Somehow he makes our home more complete, happier even, I guess my husband was right.
The only part we don’t agree on is his name. Alex wants to call him Odin after a pagan Norse god. I immediately took to calling him Oats and Odi for short, which for me goes more with Otis. I guess this dog will have two names, depending on which family member you ask. Although, really, we have both been calling him Odi, so I guess that’s his name. And, it does have a pretty great song to go with it, Odi, Odi, Odi, Oh! Smart boy that he is, his ears already perk up when it plays.
Alright, he does have one bad habit for us to break– he seems to think the planter box is for play… And, yes, there is a reason I did all that yard work, winter left our backyard a mess.
I wanted to write some sort of blog post for my husband’s birthday… At first I was thinking something sentimental, some story from our past. Then I decided, why not blog about homeownership. He’s working to expand his blog to include more personal touches, hopefully I helped!
My first guest-blogger just so happens to also be my wife, imagine that good fortune to get such an established blogger over here typing for me! She plans to return with more stories about homeownership and I plan to include more personal touches like these on my blog going forward.
***
We bought our first home three and a half years ago, the summer before we got married. My husband had just graduated from SF State and I was an economic analyst down in Berkeley. We wanted to move back to Sacramento, our hometown, where for the rent of our 650 square-foot, one bedroom apartment on busy Shattuck Avenue, we could own a whole house with a yard and three bedrooms. We had visions of dogs, lazy backyard barbecues, and maybe even someday, children. I had visions of no more homeless people waking me up in the middle of the…
Last year, my spring break was magical. We went to Carmel, ran with the dog on the beach, dined in fancy restaurants, spied on fish at the aquarium, and ate German food with friends on a rainy evening in SF. Like I said, magical.
This year, no big trip planned. My husband has to work, and I’m left mostly to my own devices. One of the blessings of a teacher schedule is that some of my breaks are spent at home. Back when I only had three weeks off a year, every one of those vacation days was spent going somewhere. Now, I have the time to unwind.
There is, however, a catch. I have found that if I just wing it and don’t use my time wisely, I get anxious that I am squandering my valuable time off. My solution, a long to-do list, which I’ll spare you here, (because some of it is not so fun, like lesson planning and writing my last darn State of California teacher essay). Instead, I’ll just give you my favorite pieces:
Yoga. I know you’re shocked. I plan to use up those darn Groupons I keep buying and luxuriate in yoga all week. That in itself is a relaxing escape from normal life.
Read. I’m a funny reader. People give me books all the time, and instead of waiting to start a new book until I finish whatever I’m reading, I usually get impatient and add the new book to the mix, which leads to reading six books at once. I’m excited to go sit on a coffee shop patio, enjoy the week-long 70 degree forecast, and read, read, read.
Dogs. Yoga cat disappeared. She’s gone, our dog is lonely. My husband wants to get him a friend. I might give in… Or just take him to the dog park with my teacher friend.
Day-trip. If I can’t spend the week somewhere, I can at least get us out the door for the day. Thank goodness Northern California is filled with so many amazing spots. Look forward to a post about one of our favorite adventures– a Muir Beach hike and a lazy lunch on the lawn of the Pelican Inn.
Write. Oh yeah, and maybe I’ll write something. I have lost my momentum, but I hope to find it again over the next week.
I know I’m fortunate to have this time at home. I wish we lived in a society that created more time for people to stop and enjoy life. I know we create what we want for ourselves, but it is a nice thought. When I lived in Spain for the summer, I was taken aback by how everything shut down for summer festivals and holidays and siestas and quiet shop-free Sundays… I hope you get a little spring break in there somewhere too.
My sweet husband surprised me with some spring break tulips, a great start to my week off.
I am an ADHD reader. Here is the pile of books I am reading simultaneously. My goal, finish them so I can start fresh.
I like cars, especially old ones. When I was a little girl, I would hold my dad’s hand as we walked through weekend car shows. We’d climb inside our favorites, I would sit at the wheel, hardly able to see a thing. I can still smell the old leather and gasoline. I was a little girl in a man’s world, my dad and brother’s. A die-cast, Porsche 9-11 Turbo Slantnose, red, sat proudly on my dresser. I assembled it on my own.
In high school, I learned to work on my 5.0 mustang, side-by-side with my husband, (of course, he was just my kid boyfriend, then). He loved cars. I wanted to prove I could do anything a man could do. My dad flew to LA to buy me that beast. I still remember the look on my senior project advisor’s face. He was an old man assigned to all the car projects. I was the only girl. I walked him out to the parking lot and showed him the ram-air I installed, how I changed the spark plugs, put in a new starter, modified the exhaust.
This weekend, an old gold Mercedes sat in front of my dad’s house when we pulled up. Not an unusual sight in our family, an unexpected vehicle with vintage flair. A new project, maybe, but not the usual variety. This one looked pretty slow. Turns out my dad volunteered to help sell the relic– nearly 40 years in the same garage. So much family history.
I was tempted to trade keys, cruise around town like a little old lady with the convertible top off, my big sunglasses, and dog in the passenger seat. I would definitely be the quirkiest teacher in the lot. The smell of that old leather almost sold me on its own. Maybe not the most sensible choice, but something I cannot explain. As I sat behind the wheel, I was transported back in time to when my aunt and late uncle were young, excited to have such a fancy new car, life somehow simpler with a tape-deck stereo. Didn’t hurt that the sun was putting on such an epic show in the clouds, time and life suspended momentarily.
oliviaobryon 