Here’s the thing about parents. We are not an elite group of highly trained, intelligent and experienced human beings that were hand-picked by someone important or official who knew what they were doing. We are merely very average, very confused and just as surprised as you are that we have such an awesome responsibility set before us each day.We did not have to take any classes for this job, nor did we have to fill out an application or prove our worth in any way. In fact if you’ve adopted a pet from the Arizona Humane Society lately, you have been interviewed with more scrutiny than the average mom or dad on the street.
My family was basically turned down the first time we requested to adopt our new cat. We weren’t willing to guarantee them that this cat would never step one foot outside our back door. We were, to our detriment, just being honest. I have three kids in the house, and a cat has much faster reflexes than they do. If a cat decides to sneak out the door, the cat is most likely going to get out.
I told the A.H.S. people that I would do my best. But that apparently, was not good enough. Without signing a paper stating to the effect that this cat would NEVER, EVER under ANY circumstances step outside the door… we could not take our new cat home.
And we left, without the cat.
The next day after much griping between my husband and I, we resolved to get that fuzzy orange thing home no matter what the cost. So we returned. We found a new person to show us the cat, and we lied. “We promise, oh great entity that saves umpteen animals from death’s door each day, that this cute ball of fluff will never see the light of day”.
What a terrible thing to do to an animal, really. To keep it inside and never allow it to explore the sweet smell of grass or to chase all the crunchy, juicy bugs of the world. But we’ve made a promise and so far we’re sticking to it.
What promises have I made in regards to my children though? I don’t remember ever signing a letter stating that I would keep them out of the street, away from water or to use gallons and gallons of sunscreen on them each summer.
But then again, maybe I did. Maybe the moment the doctor puts that wet, wiggling wonder into our arms, our hearts write a little signature on their tiny little lives that we will do everything in our power to keep them safe and sound until they are grown. A little silent ceremony between us.
“I take you, Nick and Emma; for better or worse, for richer or poorer, through midnight stomach aches and a hundred dance recitals. I promise to love you and cherish you, for as long as you both shall live. Amen.”
And unlike the cat, these promises I know I will never break.
