Snow in Southern California?

Many years ago, when my sons were young (and I was as well), I thought it would be "fun" to hatch some chicks in my classroom.  I calculated how long it would take, counted backwards, determined when to begin, found a source for fertilized eggs, and plugged in the incubator. My students were so excited. Unfortunately, my calculations were wrong, and we began spring break with chicks still ensconced in their shells. Dismayed, but no less determined, I brought the incubator home. The chicks hatched here, and Keenan and Riley loved watching them peck their way out of their shells. Within a few days we had the sound of little fuzzy chickens emanating from our dining room.

The cuteness soon wore off as I realized how messy they were, and how much chick poop would accumulate in their box.  One day, after collecting the dirty newspapers in the box, carefully placing them in a paper bag to take out to the trash, I was momentarily distracted (or trying to multi-task) and left the bag in the middle of the kitchen floor. Returning to the kitchen, I was shocked to see that Riley, who was probably only about 2, had picked up the bag and spun around the room with it, scattering chicken shit everywhere! The emotions that ran through me ranged from surprise, disgust, despair, and anger. I didn't laugh, I didn't smile, I didn't think it was funny.

Flash forward about 19 years to this morning. Mornings lately are difficult. I'm not so young anymore, and a bit achier than I used to be upon rising. The puppies, now that they are almost exclusively eating puppy kibble, are prolific in their eliminations, and the clean up is wet, and smelly.  While they are unbelievably cute, it's hard to see that when you are literally mired in poop.

I did have help this morning from a very patient husband. The normal 45 minute clean up was reduced to about 20 and I was looking forward to a walk with Rudy and mama Lily. As I chopped up meat treats for the walk, I could hear the playful growling, barking, and rustle of paper from the puppy nursery. I sighed, thinking that I would have some cleaning to do upon my return since the pups have decided their favorite new toy is newspaper. I strolled in with my coffee in hand and was stopped in my tracks. The sight before me rendered me speechless: it had snowed in my guest room!

Before me I saw the results of what happens to a Nature's Miracle Puppy Pee Pad when attacked by 10 5-week old pups!  Shredded beyond recognition, the layer of absorbent material reduced to pea-sized particles of snow-like "fluff", it clung to their fur, the towels and blanket, floated in their water and was literally everywhere. Again, my emotions ranged from shock, anger, dismay, and frustration as I attempted to clean up. Each wipe of my towel resulted in a new snowstorm of white fluff. As I wiped each puppy, the fluff resettled on another. I almost cried. Holding back the tide of puppies, I continued to attempt to clean them, wipe up the "snow" and restore their pen to a semblance of clean.

A small section of the San Diego snow!

When I eventually walked the two adult dogs down the path, I reflected on the mess I had just rectified and recalled the earlier chicken mess of years past. It occurred to me that small incidents that, at the time, are overwhelming and seem larger than life are simply the spice and seasoning of our lives.  The chicken mess is now a funny story of a time when our boys were so much younger. As they have grown there have been other times of "spice" that have seemed to be immensely huge and earth shattering that in fact have only been an experience to either learn from, or to recall with a smile.


The puppies daily challenge me, and I am often overwhelmed. But even now, hours later, the snow story seems very funny and cute. The lesson for me is one I struggle with: many things happen in life over which I have no control. Worrying too much about these doesn't solve anything, and certainly doesn't make me feel any better. I work each day to attempt to learn this lesson, and I am more successful some days than others. Just as my sons have grown up too quickly, and I often yearn for the easier days of their youth, so too the puppies grow. The day will soon arrive when the house will be quieter and cleaner, and I will find my feelings of fatigue replaced with feelings of longing. The time is now to enjoy these 10 fuzzy, warm, cute bundles of love, and to accept the mishaps as "seasoning" to this unforgettable experience.