Commitment, growth spurts and double standards

com·mit verb
1. To do, perform, or perpetrate.
2. To put in trust or charge; entrust.
3. To place officially in confinement or custody, as in a mental health facility.
4. To consign for future use or reference or for preservation.
5. To put into a place to be kept safe or to be disposed of.
6. a. To make known the views of (oneself) on an issue. b. To bind or obligate, as by a pledge.

com·mit·ment noun
1. The act of committing or the state of being committed.
2. Dedication; application.

dou·ble stand·ard noun
1. A rule or principle that is unfairly applied in different ways to different people or groups.

It's not every day that walking into an eye surgeon's office instigates a flood of memories that suddenly hit you. Hearing the old address we'd lived in as a family read back to me alone triggered an uncomfortable, reminiscent punch in the gut. It had been seven years since we'd stepped foot in this office and seeing my old signatures with my previous last name left my mind with no choice but a rapid progression of flashbacks of all that has changed in seven and a half years.  The only response I could muster to this flood of emotion was my new name, new address, new phone number while handing over her insurance card.

Despite a stressful morning involving symptoms that applied to everything from a migraine to diabetes, to a stroke and being asked about my family history of glaucoma as they're examining my daughter.  It appears that her annual November growth spurt affected her vision after being without glasses for five or six years now.  I'm still puzzled over the sudden onset considering her eyes were "perfect" with her last exam just six months ago.

I awoke with an extra child in my house at 6:15 this morning and drove off with my carpool kids, like I do every day (but not usually so early!) to return home to get my day organized, check bank account balances, shower then begin to work.  But the phone call that came in from my daughter stopped that To-Do list dead in its tracks. A phone call to the newly relocated sperm-donor of this lot didn't yield any helpful results other than "too busy today but I guess I can cancel my afternoon" with this predictable reaction to his schedule being thwarted even if it's his day off.  Luckily I'd had a cup of coffee and shoved those leftover Swedish fish into my purse.  I dumped my calendar, emailed my clients and spent the afternoon in two different doctors' offices, two towns away (if I wanted the insurance to cover it), spending money I don't have to spare on copays, while chauffeuring her brothers to their regular commitments, even dragging along the fifteen year old dog who wouldn't stop coughing today in hopes that we could squeeze in a trip the veterinarian.  You know when you haven't showered yet, are still in the clothes you wore the previous day and are driving through a fast-food joint at 7pm to order cheap Mexican food that you've done the best you can under the circumstances.  My friends are always generous with their compliments on my super-mom commitment but all I could muster in response today was "my cape needs a break."

We still faced hours homework with a dilated pupil, the pets needed food and fresh water and I still needed my morning shower.  I survived and didn't even cry. I didn't even swear. I don't even want to see my bank balances now. Luckily the day would end with a simple recommendation that we see an ophthalmologist for a new prescription for eye glasses.  We'll find the money - we always do.

"Don't measure yourself by what you have accomplished, but by what you should have accomplished with your ability."~John Wooden

During the course of a day like this, there are hours of down-time while sitting in waiting rooms with other urgent needs' patients so we girls jumped on our social sites and thumbed through threads of our friends, distracting ourselves from the temporary unknowns while killing time.  I stumble across a post involving a dog I had previously posted who was in search of a home.  As of this morning, according to this post, he now had one week to find a home. One week. "It was the dog or the husband", something to that effect, so I piped in with my comments in regards to the word "Commitment" and left my two cents lingering on her page for all the social media world to see:

What my foster dogs show my children and my boyfriend is that they won't be thrown away for being too hyper, too needy, too annoying.

What happens when the hubby wears out HIS welcome?

It was just a foster dog; not a pet. He'd only been with them for a few months, 11 months old now, but he'd worn out his welcome and was headed right back to where he started his journey: the shelter.  She said it was her idea, not her husbands and he'd had enough.  This story is far too common and these dogs are never truly rescued.

Exhausted as I am, I went through eighteen pages on my old petfinder account to reminisce about all the dogs, their stories and how they touched our lives; one of which sticks out because she was a daily challenge; three years in our care and we did, finally, find her the perfect home.  Many, like Leila, had issues - either medical or temperament. Some ultimately had to leave us before their adoptions for those reasons but they left this earth in a warm home with food in their bellies and affection for the time they were in our care. The blind puppies, born without eyes, that at adoption events would receive comments and remarks such as "what good are those?"  Ailing, senior dogs dying of cancer, just needed a place to stay to die in peace instead of coming down with kennel cough, being scared and alone in a cement cage with steel bars.  Some left us despite their age finding forever, loving homes if even for just a short while.  The aggressive ones, the scared ones, the maimed and the injured ones.  My small army of volunteers showed commitment to these homeless, helpless animals for which I can only feel admiration and respect some living in our homes for the better part of a year with our motto being "until or unless they find a better home."  Even though they were just foster dogs.

"When you foster, you agree to take a homeless dog into your home and give him or her love, care and attention, either for a predetermined period of time or until the dog is adopted."~ Jane Harrell

I end the day feeling melancholy from the events, conversations and emotions of today. I end the day wondering if I commit too much - is that even possible?

I end the day knowing that my kids know and trust that I will do any and everything they need within my humble means.

I end the day confident that I understand the meaning of the word commitment.

But I'm left wondering if other people do... Or is this world simply full of people who cling to their comfort, their gain, their own rules and their own standards of commitment at their convenience. Am I simply to navigate my life around their double standards?

All I know to do is commit.