The great mystery of motherhood

Our friend Cailean posted a blog about her children's personalities and how much influence she had/didn't have over them. She used a great art analogy, and it inspired this image that I just can't get out of my head. To me, being a mother is like being an artist. Except that as you work, your strokes take on a life of their own, moving across the canvas, shrinking, expanding and changing colors. I was bound and determined that I would raise peace-loving boys. At four and six, they love soldiers, superheroes and weapons of any kind. I had to laugh as our hometeacher walked out the door last night, trying not to slip on the little metal balls that are the "bullets" to Brigham's slingshot. He had spilled them all over the front step. Eric said something like, "Yeah, we like to throw those out when people come over, make it a little challenging to get into our house." :) Currently there are two arrows stuck into the shingles on our roof, evidence of little Eric's attempts to shoot a bird. And yet.....something tells me they'll grow up to be loving, gentle husbands and fathers. I guess that is the great mystery of motherhood...how much influence do you really have? What parts did you create and what came with them into this world? Personally, I plan to take credit for all the good things and blame the rest on genes:).



And, I just had to post this picture of our poor, depressed dog. You see, he got neutered a few weeks ago, and we were supposed to watch him and make sure he didn't lick at the stitches. You try watching a golden retriever h-bent on licking his crotch every second of the day while trying to make sure your sons aren't shooting arrows at the mailman. After about a week, Eric noticed that there was "stuff" oozing out of the wound, so I took him back to the vet, who claimed he had never seen a surgical wound get this bad. I looked at my feet and cleared my throat a lot. Mustang had to have another surgery to cut out the infected skin and re-stitch the wound. This time they sent us home with an "e-collar", pictured, since we had proven ourselves to be such inattentive pet-owners. You've never seen a sadder dog than Mustang has been these past few weeks. He's not allowed to roam around in the backyard or go running with me, which is his favorite thing to do. And he has to run around all day with a giant white cone around his neck. As I write this, he's having his way with a stuffed jack-o-lope. I just don't have the heart to take it away from him...he has so few pleasures left in life. Only one more day until he gets it off, thank goodness!