Working Mom Guilt (of a very particular breed)

by Shari on March 26, 2011

My family is digging my new job.

My husband is ecstatic to have some help with the, he might get another payday loan no credit check. (This is a man so thorough and thoughtful about our finances that he once said, in utter seriousness, to a friend who asked for a small loan, "I'm glad to lend you the money on a conventional loan. But just know that I'm taking it out of our charity fund, so if you don't pay me back, you'll be taking the food out of the mouths of African children.")

My kids are quite happy about the Private Funding House I can now afford without siphoning the money out of their college savings.

Chandy, our pug, is enjoying the slightly more expensive dog food we can now afford.

And by slightly more expensive, I mean that there is a trace of meat in the kibble as opposed to the "Bow Wow By-Products" brand she was eating.

This leaves only one family member who is struggling with because of the new arrangment.

Our other pug, Schilling.

Screen shot 2011-03-26 at 5.03.50 PM

In case you didn't know, pugs were bred to adorn the laps of Chinese sovereigns during the Shang dynasty and continued to grace the thighs of royalty across the globe (see Princess Ekaterina Dmitrievna Golitsyna, above).

And apparently, this heredity has programmed into pugs' walnut-sized brains a desperate need to have their overly-exposed sphincters nestled into the legs of a human, crown-wearing or otherwise.

So what is a pug to do when his favorite lap is now being dominated by a lap-top?

I recently built myself an office space on the third floor of our home. I now spend my days upstairs working with, while Schilling is confined to the first floor with only the snoozing, potbellied-pig-ish Chandy for companionship.

And the lap-less dog has rebelled.

First it was just the peeing on the dining room table.

But that wasn't completely new–I'd seen Schilling's jealous side once before.  I was having my morning spiritual time and he was visibly ticked that I wasn't paying enough attention to him. When I went out, he jumped onto the table, stepped over mail, keys and newspaper and very specifically lifted his leg on my Bible.

But now it was becoming routine–as soon as I headed up the stairs to work, he headed to the dining room table to piss out his protest.

I put up a barrier to the table, a.k.a. the place where we eat our meals and would prefer not to set our plates down in wee-wee, and he was unable to continue with this method of dissent.

So he started knocking over the trash can. And strewing out the contents for Chandy, the foodie pug, to devour, while he sat and watched, gloating like a mini-flat-faced dictator.

I put up a barrier to the trash can, a.k.a. the place where chicken gristle and used snotrags go to die, and this method of picketing was also closed to him.

So last week, he jumped up onto the kids' desk, jumped over to the countertop, downed three leftover St. Patrick's Day cupcakes, waited a few moments for utilmate digestion, jumped back onto the kids' desk and left his final statement.

A generous pile, with just a trace of green frosting still apparent.

In the myriad of "working mothers guilt" websites, there are a ton of articles telling you how to deal compassionately with a sulky child who is angry over you returning to the workforce.

There is not one that tells you how to deal with a sulky pug.

I've tried to talk to him. I've said, "Schilling, Mommy still loves you even though I'm working now. And I just want you to know, sweetheart, that if you crap on the kids' desk again, you're going the way of the Shang Dynasty–extinction."

He just looks at me innocently and I see in his large moist pop-eyes, the beginnings of a master plan to torch my upstairs office with urine and a carefully placed match.

And so I do what any good working mother does to her fur-children–put them in their cage and ignore their pathetic cries for attention.

Doggy Daycare be damned.

Educational resource:
Fellow animal lovers might be interested in vet tech schools!

{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }

Ameena March 26, 2011 at 8:11 pm

I remember the guilt I felt when I left Maya at daycare all day long! I can’t imagine how much harder it must be to leave your dog alone all day. :)
You crack me up! And I love that you no longer have to siphon your kids’ college funds for an ice cream. What a relief that must be! I love it.


katbron March 26, 2011 at 8:49 pm

Oh I love this! Those dang spoiled fur babies are the worse when they’re not the center of their mommy’s universe! Good luck my friend:)


CS March 26, 2011 at 10:34 pm

…And if you’re wondering, next time I visit, why I insist on bringing in my own food and eating on the front porch, THIS is why.


dusty earth mother March 27, 2011 at 5:08 am

Ah, yes. You make a good point, CS.


Jana @ An Attitude Adjustment March 27, 2011 at 5:53 am

My aunt has a pug. It died and then she got another one. I’ve called them growling pigs. This line, “their overly-exposed sphincters nestled into the legs of a human” is right on. How can you handle that? I just can’t. Guess I wasn’t royalty in a past life!


dusty earth mother March 27, 2011 at 5:56 am

Obviously you werent, Jana, because only royalty can handle the sphincter placement :-)


Alexandra March 27, 2011 at 8:31 am

Dogs are smarter than we will ever know.
I have always been damn sure of that.


Jenners March 27, 2011 at 4:15 pm

Well this just convinced me to never ever buy a pug! And I think you need to make some special time for him if you plan to keep your home from being utterly destroyed!


dusty earth mother March 27, 2011 at 4:58 pm

Well, it might feel slightly worse to leave your kid, Ameena. I guess. But did she poop on anything specific at the daycare to show her protest? I think not.


dusty earth mother March 27, 2011 at 5:01 pm

Thanks, Kath. Ill let you know if he adjusts or if Im going to cave and let him come up to my office.


Lady Jennie March 29, 2011 at 5:33 am

Oh my gosh, this was just filled with humorous images. I can picture it all. (Unfortunately all to well).
So funny about hubs and the Africa fund. I can picture that too.


Melissa March 29, 2011 at 7:15 am

I do love pugs. And French bulldogs. I grew up with Shitzus. Something about small dogs – the Napoleon complex, dare I say – can lead them to act out in all kinds of strange ways. Though I’m a dog person at heart, we have a cat. Who’s fairly easy. Apart from leaving plops of poop in our bedroom. By accident. I think. Then again, it’s a cat, so it’s probably on purpose.


dusty earth mother March 29, 2011 at 8:29 am

TOTALLY on the Napoleon complex! And yes, the cat poop? Absolutely on purpose.


MAMA ROSE March 31, 2011 at 9:08 pm



Nike Shox R4 April 11, 2011 at 8:50 pm

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