A few weeks ago, my husband and I started taking improv classes together in the evenings. I highly recommend extracurricular activities for all the married folk out there. Couples classes in particular are a great way to get away from the kids and learn something together. In the last couple years, Hubby and I have taken a few classes together and it’s really helped rekindle our friendship since the kids were born. It’s like we’re dating again, but that’s a whole different post…:)

This improv class is geared towards exploring the mind and having fun. A lot of the games we play aren’t even theater-related. One game we played was to simply have a conversation with another person on stage about what’s been going on our life that week. One girl, a very pretty one in her mid-twenties, spoke about how she just returned her dog to the pound. She explained that she didn’t realize how embarrassing it is to pick up a dog’s poop when you walk it. She just didn’t like the puppy enough to go through that chore every day.

Are you serious?!?!? That got me riled up. As some of you know, I recently took care of a very adorable puppy for a week, so I have some experience walking dogs and everything you have to do afterwards. Even I knew beforehand that cleaning up after a dog goes potty is not a very pleasant thing to do. I quickly calmed down my anger when I realized that this young woman doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t have kids yet. She hasn’t yet learned about wonderful phenomenon of backwards rationalization. You don’t have to love a puppy to want to pick up it’s poop. Picking up it’s poop is what makes you love it.

Let me throw some Psych 101 at you guys. (My mom will love that I’m finally using my Psychology degree.) Curbing a dog is not an activity that anyone in their right mind would choose to do on their own. But if you own a dog, it’s just something you have to do. So your subconscious starts spinning this line: “I don’t like curbing a dog, but I do it anyway. Therefore, I must really love the dog.” Substitute “dog” with “child” and you have the root of all parental love. You wouldn’t clean someone’s poop unless you really loved the pooper, would you? I didn’t think so.

When I was pregnant with my oldest, my mom told me, “you’re going to love the kid so much, you’ll even love his dirty diapers.” No kidding. Maybe not the actual diapers, but the metaphorical $h*% you have to go through is part of the joy. I think about all the messes and the stresses I’ve gone through as a parent, and how its only strengthened my bond with them. Dealing with kids troubles only makes you love them more. Although, at times, I certainly have wished for for three perfectly clean and well behaved angels, I wouldn’t trade my poopers for the world. I’m sure every mother feels the same.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I just heard my son break a window…