My (Pre-Child) Parenting Failures

I was distracted from my mindless internet-ing by LouDog's attempts to snuff his way out the front door.  Assuming this was yet another attempt at his most-favoritest-game-ever Escape and Run Away from Mom, I rushed to the front door to strangle him catch him before he could force his way out. 

And I was greeted with this:



......


Huh.


Yes, that is my front door.  And yes, that is my dog.  Outside of said front door.  I haven't the faintest idea how she got out there.  Not a clue.  Good dog parenting moment: I didn't even think I had put her out yet today.  I have no idea how long she was out there, but I do know it had to have been for quite some time.

Which, not to sound a bit older than my twenty-five years, is terrifying with the way people drive around this neighborhood.

It's starting to dawn on me that, if my dog parenting and child parenting are at all similar, I may not be the best parent.  Spencer and I already had a blinding flash of how inadequately prepared we are to be parents when we watched our four year old nephew and ten month old niece for a night.  One night.  With a 1:1 ratio and completely rested going in.  We utterly lost that battle.  It wasn't even a close fight.  I will admit, there was even some infighting among our troops on the battle-weary drive home that day.

Earlier today, LouDog wimpered at me for a full fifteen minutes.  I tried to put him outside; he barked to come back in.  I had already fed them.  I checked their water bowls.  No clue what he wanted.  At a complete loss, I -- in a kind and gentle, motherly sort of way -- flung my hands around and asked him WHAT his problem was.  He head-butted my hand, which, in case you're a cat person, is the universal dog sign for "pet me."  He wanted pets.  We bounced all over the house for fifteen minutes.  For pets. 

And this is how well I've taught my children to share:


So you see, I suspect parenting may not be my strong suit.  

But, at least, I give great doggie bum scratches.