As a young buck, the idea of having any kind of routine was poison.
I assumed “routine" meant biding my time in a cubicle for eight hours a day, coming home to a TV dinner before waking up to repeat the process for the next 40 years or so.
Boxcar Clay wanted to wake up to a new adventure or opportunity each day.
But the older I get, the more I like having a routine.
A few weeks ago, the universe tossed a little black dog into my lap. A puppy of unknown origin.
Overnight, my established routine of waking up “slow” in the morning was quickly upended.
Now, once that puppy's feet hit the ground, it’s a mad dash to get her outside to allow her to do what I’d prefer to be doing myself.
It’s been many years since we’ve had a puppy, and one quickly realizes things aren’t going to be the same as they were before.
Kind of like a newborn baby, you get things done while they’re asleep or somehow contained.
For the last few years, I’ve been practicing morning meditation on a daily basis. It’s certainly improved my mood, my patience and my attention span.
Now, this puppy aims to extensively test all three.
My attention span has taken a beating. When the puppy’s in the room, my eyes stay locked on her. She’s either highly entertaining or on the cusp of potentially destroying something we’d rather keep.
And reading isn’t easy when there is a whirling dervish at your feet, sparring with the elder dog in a spirited game of “bitey face.”
Walking both of them at the same time is another kind of challenge. Huckle, an 80-pound border collie/ Burmese mix, prefers to amble at a reasonable clip while stopping to smell every damn patch of English Ivy or pine straw.
Lady, who isn’t quite living up to her name just yet, still believes birds and squirrels are easily attainable and is up for eating anything she finds.
In my effort to find a routine for our walks, I drop Huckle off at home after a mile and forge ahead for two more with Lady.
This new routine could work.
My son loves a routine. He turns 14 next week, and his routine revolves around taking up the bathroom for hours each evening, much to his sister's annoyance.
With both of them, I’m working hard to find that middle ground between micromanaging and free-range parenting.
We live in a world where social media tells us that we’re entitled to happiness, material wealth and whatever we believe is right. It’s also a world of extremes and zero-sum expectations regarding winning and losing.
Managing kids who are exposed to that is a challenge.
When it comes to a child who isn’t taking something well, I try to relay this wisdom:
"The quality of our life is determined by our mind’s response to the circumstances of our life. It is not determined directly by the circumstances."
In other words, you’re ultimately responsible for your happiness, not anyone else.
And it’s not what happens, it’s how you handle what happens.
As a parent, telling your kids to get used to uncertainty seems a little harsh when they’re already dealing with enough changes. You want them to know that their home is a place of unconditional love where no matter what befalls them, someone has their back.
But make no mistake, change is inevitable, and some changes are coming faster than ever.
One of my favorite quotes is from “Deadwood’s” Al Swearengen who once mused, “Change ain’t looking for friends. Change calls the tune we dance to.”
And getting off the dance floor isn’t an option.
So when Beth sends me a picture of the latest casualty of puppy teething, my number one question these days is, “Can we fix it?”
If we can, great. If not …
Serenity now.
Clay Neely is co-publisher and managing editor of The Newnan Times-Herald. He can be reached at clay@newnan.com
