My Mothers Day

I debated whether or not to write this. I have decided to go ahead and write it. This will not be a post that exemplifies Brent and I's good qualities, rather the opposite. Although I'm not quite at the point of laughing about this I am able to see the humor in it so I will share.

My first Mothers Day I wanted to look great, and be on time to church and sit in the chapel! I started getting ready early to be able to accomplish both goals! I showered, shaved, did a body scrub, applied a little self tanner, I pulled out the flat iron AND the eyelash curler! I took my time getting ready and felt it paid off! I made sure Croix's clothes were ready so as soon as he woke up and finished eating we could get him dressed. We were all looking great and headed out the door 10 min before church starts! It was a Mother’s Day miracle! I headed into the garage with Croix to get him buckled in while Brent grabbed keys and turned off lights. As I came into the garage I hit the door opener. Brent was trying to get out of the house and keep the dogs in. He was unsuccessful! I hit the button as soon as I realized, not quickly enough though, Rusty was gone. I told Brent don't worry about it. Someone will find him, keep him for a few hours and we can get him after church. (This is what always happens, I never go looking for him anymore. I either cannot find him and come home to a message that someone found him or get a call while looking so I just wait for the call now. Someone always calls. Rusty always makes his way back home). Then I saw it, Brent switched into his super stubborn, mode where he doesn't hear a word I say. This does not come out often, but when it does there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to snap him out of it. Brent was insisting we needed to go look for Rusty. I tried from the first moment I saw the stubborn arrive to make it perfectly clear I did not want to be late for church, especially not because we were looking for Rusty!! I even stomped my feet! It did not work.

We were in the car driving around the neighborhood looking. I'm getting madder and madder by the second. I'm throwing out anything I can think of as an option. "Drop me off at church so I can get a good seat, and you can come back and look for him. Let me take the car, you can continue looking and I'll come back after sacrament meeting for you. Take me home and I'll walk and make it there before you find Rusty" He didn't hear a word. Just kept driving and looking.
Finally we spot that naughty dog. Brent drives up to Rusty, opens his door and calls Rusty's name, only for Rusty to dash away. We drive some more spot him again and Brent pulls up next to him, I unbuckled Brent so he could get out and go get Rusty. Brent just sat there and called his name. Oh the furry! I don't think livid is even an accurate description of how I was feeling! At this point I lose it! I'm screaming (yup I became a screamer. I think this is the first time in our almost 5 years of marriage I have ever screamed) I’m telling Brent he has to get out of the car. Rusty is never going to come and willingly jump in. He knows we're going to take him home, and he's going to be in trouble. I tell Brent he'd better get out because I'm not running after Rusty in my high heels!!!

We spot Rusty again. Brent pulls up, has me open the door and call for Rusty who then proceeds to dash away. By this point I am mad beyond what I can even handle. I get out of the car. Slam my door. Get Croix in his car seat, slam that door. I head home. I was to livid to even think. I didn't know what I was going to do, but there was no way I could sit for one more moment in that car watching the clock tick away, making me later and later for my first Mother’s Day church service!

As I'm walking, or maybe huffing, steaming, bulldozing down the road on my way home, who do I see but Rusty. He is checking out the plants by the pool. A nice man noticed that I was going after him and hollered at his daughter who was in the pool to see if she could get Rusty to come to her. Sure enough he did. I go, grab Rusty by the scruff of his neck (I always do this when he is in trouble. It's what mother dogs do to their pups when they are in trouble so dogs understand that means they are in trouble) and head home. I'm pretty sure the nice man thought I was killing Rusty since he is an extremely vocal dog and was yelping and making all sorts of noises (I swear he's like I child who you grab their arm firmly and they are yelling, you're breaking my arm!). I was too mad to even try and tell him, those little details about Rusty and that no, I was not going to kill the dog, my husband maybe, but not the dog.

So here I am, in my high heels, all dressed up, flat ironed hair, curled lashes, in the hot Phoenix heat, caring my child in his car seat in one arm and my naughty dog by his scruff in the other hand fuming down the street! Oh what a sight the three of us must have been! Little me, wriggling, noisy Rusty, and sweet Croix getting caught in the middle of such a mess, clip clopping down the street! Can you picture it! Go ahead, laugh! I would, I probably will....someday.

Brent and I have since made up. He apologized, as did I. We both agreed maybe we need to not be so stubborn and more willing to listen to each other in those types of situations. Reasons unknown to me Rusty remains a part of the family.