Hug vs. words

My husband is an amazing man. He loves me so well. He knows how to make me smile. Even more, he knows how to make me laugh... uncontrollably... with little effort. He often shares timely encouragement, and he tells me I'm beautiful (even with a belly these days).

When I'm upset or frustrated, it's hard for anyone to console me with words. Usually, Steve settles for a hug and that helps. A simple hug from my husband can recenter me and remind me this too shall pass. He's tried words for these moments... not helpful. I get defensive and all bent out of shape because, "why is he trying to fix this, can't he just listen?" So unfair. Poor guy. After being bruised by my emotional defenses, you'd think he'd just resolve to say nothing at all, stick to the hug in these kinds of circumstances. It's safe, it soothes, it works.

...

Recently, we started the dogs in a remote collar training program. The hope is to gain a little more control of our excitable pups especially in light of baby Norris coming. Riley's main area of improvement involves approaching other dogs while on leash, especially big, male dogs. He often gets a wave of male dominance when he sees another dog coming and has a tendency to lunge. Just one long lunge and a deep woof to go with. Some days we have no problem, others he is more prone to establish himself. Earlier this week, we were doing some training in the front yard when my neighbor walks down her driveway with her little Boston Terrier. Before approaching, I gave Riley a number of commands, waited until he responded consistently and was calm, submissive. Our greeting went rather well. We continued to chat, talking about the dogs, weather, and upcoming holiday when another neighbor with his giant husky, Boris, came walking down the street. I should have removed Riley from the situation, just moved away so Boris could pass peacefully. This is Riley's main trigger and biggest hurdle in training. For whatever reason, I had a sense of hope that he would just sit there calmly, obediently while... LUNGE! Boris barked fiercely. And rightly so, this 85lb beast who resembles Scar from the Lion King just made a move toward him. It took only seconds for each owner to control his/her dog, but the damage was done. I was mortified, shamed, and ticked at myself for clinging to false hope and not reading the signs (Riley was sitting when Boris walked up but not calmly, very on edge, not focused on me, which is what the training is all about, looking to and responding to the owner with the help of the remote collar). I failed. And I set him up for failure. My other neighbor was seemingly unphased and told me not to worry about it. I apologized to Boris' owner later, but I still felt terrible. Are we those neighbors, with that dog? Must lay this down and move on, ugh. When Steve got home that evening, I recounted what had happened. Of course, I wasn't looking for an answer from him, just a listening ear and the old reliable hug. Instead, he said, "Yeah, that's why we're doing the training." Ok, yeah. Hug? Nope. "I mean, you can't bring a recovering alcoholic into a bar." Wait, what? [Husbands, this is what not to say to your pregnant wife who feels like a total failure at the moment because she can't seem to properly train her adult dog and if she can't do that how on earth can she raise a CHILD!?] By God's grace, I did not respond. The comment rolled off and by the end of the night, I was feeling more motivated than defeated. The next evening at dinner, I brought up the "words of comfort."

Helene: "Remember when you said that to me?"
Steve: "Was that bad?"
Helene: "Think about it."
Steve: "Well, the bar just came to you."
Helene: "Yeah, that's what all recovering alcoholics say."

We had a good laugh, but babe, just a hug would suffice next time.