I have always had a difficult time labeling myself. I've stated before that I'm a walking dichotomy. Even in high school I was never specifically ONE thing or ONE type of person. The only two things that I have not hesitated to call myself, at least not since March of 1998 and October of 1999 are "dog trainer" and "Charles's wife". I began training dogs a little before 1998, but went at it as a full time career with no holds barred as soon as I learned I had scored an A+ on my final exam at National K-9. Don't hate.
There have been lots of other things I have done, achieved, experienced, whatever. I've run two half marathon races. I ran the distance of a full marathon just yesterday. I'm running another half marathon race one week from today and my first full marathon race will be November 3rd. I have a difficult time referring to myself as a runner. I've earned a black belt in Kung Fu. I'm waaaay out of practice these last four years, but even at the top of my game I'm not sure I ever referred to myself as a martial artist. I love to paint and sell prints of my work for money and allow people to commission me to paint portraits of their dogs and their loved ones, but I have a hard time calling myself an artist. I've worked as a vet tech, but I'm not an LVT. And acting? Let's not even go there.
Today I was driving my four-year-old son to the park. His Pre-K class has a little "pet" this year, a stuffed dog named Nomad. Nomad goes home with and experiences the life of a different child in his class each weekend. On Monday, the child is supposed to return Nomad to the class along with their contribution to his life story: pictures and an outline of his weekend at home with them added to a 3-ring binder behind the weekend before spent with another child. So Nomad was going to the park with us. Parker mentioned that Nomad was scared of wolves and coyotes. I might know a little bit about canids, so I patiently explained that there was no reason to fear either. He asked what coyotes ate, and panicked for our future puppy when I gave him an honest answer. I patiently explained that we wouldn't let that happen, and Boss (our adult German Shepherd) would certainly help keep any puppy we get safe. He asked me if I had ever seen a coyote in person. "In fact I have." I responded. He asked when. I told him the story of the time I was delivering a dog to a police department in a rural area south of Atlanta when a coyote went streaking past us in broad daylight and how odd that was. The K-9s didn't even have time to react. Parker became very concerned. Nearly in tears, he said "I don't WANT you to do that! Why would you do that?" I was confused. "What do you mean, buddy?" I asked. He said, "I don't want you to drop dogs off to the police." Wow. Suddenly I understood. He really had no clue what I did pre-Parker. He has seen me work dogs, but...
Pre-Parker I trained all sorts of dogs. I dealt with all sorts of behavior problems. I did Search and Rescue training, I did Service Dog training. I didn't care if the dog wanted to eat my face off or became a sniveling peeing mess the first time we met. I was determined to better the life of every dog and owner I trained. But my favorite thing to do was Police K-9 training. Taking a puppy (or more difficult--an adult dog that was "donated"), raising it, and training it to perform multiple tasks with speed and precision is, to me, the culmination of a working partnership. For crying out loud, I remember delivering a dual-purpose K-9 to a department and doing a recertification for another when I was like seven months pregnant. The kid was there! How could he NOT know...Plus, not to toot my own horn too loudly, I think I'm a pretty darn good dog trainer.
When my husband and I decided to have a child I wasn't looking to become a Stay-At-Home-Mom. Not at all. I counted on doing what tons of mothers do: the fantastical juggling act of being mom, wife, homemaker, AND wage earner. Boy did life throw me a curveball! When I was about five months pregnant we learned that Parker had a congenital heart defect called Tetralogy of Fallot. Not only did the cardiologist recommend he not go to daycare, the cardiologist told us our baby boy could not be allowed to cry before his first (and possibly second) surgery or he might go into cardiac arrest! There wasn't a daycare that I contacted that would take him. Rightfully so. Daycare was out. Staying at home with Parker all but one day a week--God Bless my Mother-in-Law--was in. Fast forward a birth, an open-heart-surgery, and a 1st birthday later we're clear to go to daycare. Grandma enjoys her days with the wee one, so it's daycare two days a week. I'm back to working three days a week and I'm pretty happy. Life likes to throw me curve balls.
My husband got a promotion, and with it a one-way ticket to North Carolina! Yeah, Charles! Since that promotion, I've been fortunate enough to not HAVE to work. I love North Carolina. I love our neighbors. I love my son's preschool. I continue with my dog shampoo and with my art because I love it, and I've trained a few dogs here and there, more to help out friends than anything. I have a website but I don't "advertise" the training anymore. Do I miss it? Absolutely. The first thing I start to say anytime someone asks me what I do is "dog trainer". I'm involved in a few online groups for dog trainers and try to participate when I have something of worth to offer (and when it's too much fun not to). Will I go back to training dogs on a more full-time basis? I sure hope so.
Back to today: Parker was in the backseat listening intently and asking questions at all the right times when I did my best to explain how I trained dogs to work with the police and then trained the police to work with the dogs. After I had satisfied all his questions, he asked simply "Why don't you do that anymore?" Without hesitation, I said "Well, buddy, if I did I wouldn't have as much time to spend with you." There was silence in the backseat. A single glance in the rearview mirror nearly brought me to tears. Parker was looking out the window with a smile on his face that tied his ears together.
Definitely add "Parker's Mom" to the things that truly define me.
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