to, Too, TWO

Two years ago, Jaxson William Paul Barry’s arrival came just in time to prevent me from seriously jumping off a bridge. His mother signed me up for babysitting duty and anything else she could think of to get my mind off me and on our family's new bundle of joy. Since his arrival in 2008, he and I have come a long way. Jaxson, the tiny newborn, was incapable of anything but eating, drinking, peeing, pooping, sleeping and crying. Today he is a healthy, totally movie star adorable two year old. His Auntie C, after losing dear Paul, was almost in the same shape as the newborn. I remember sometimes eating, definitely drinking, sleeping and crying, (other bodily functions a given.) But, here we both are, two years later in fairly good shape. He can count to ten, I can, too. He can zip through a mall faster than the speed of sound, I can, too. He can eat very few vegetables and lots of ice cream….I can, too!

Sometimes I see him a few times a week and sometimes a few weeks go by without a meeting. Recently, two weeks had come and gone. It’s incredible what happened to that little kid in such a short time. He came in the house talking more, performed beautifully when his mother asked him to count to ten (uhn,ta,te,fa,FIVE,ss,sss,ah,NINE,te...) and was no longer content in the stroller while his mom and I later tried to shop. I never knew it is so much fun to watch a kid develop. In that span of time, he also got game, so to speak….pulled a Mike Tyson on a little kid at daycare, knocked him down and bit him. It happened to Jaxson about a year ago. Apparently what goes around comes around, but the consequence was having to listen to many stories about how biting hurts, how pushing isn’t the desired method for taking back a toy and what a real time out is all about. Not funny… (but funny!) He understood the lesson because his mom said he wouldn’t even bite his food for two days!

His parents are doing a terrific job and it's fun to watch how they all interact. I can’t imagine his angelic face without teeth in a few years, or what he will be like as a big brother one day. And how it will break his mother’s heart when he undoubtedly will someday decide his family is no longer cool. But growing and changing is how life works, or is supposed to.

And talk about embracing the magic of newness. Just think about being two. Some compelling developmental force propels or pulls a child through the tunnel of knowledge without choice. Their brains must be like sponges, developmentally controlled by what they see, hear, feel, taste and smell.

I’ve discovered there absolutely is no sound on earth as sweet as that of a laughing child. I don’t care how bad you feel, it is like Ben Gay for the inner soul. Jaxson owns a laughter that inspires me, a cry that is a reminder life is not perfect, and an inquisitiveness and peacefulness that gives me hope for the upcoming years.

Happy birthday Jaxson.Barry.com. Upward and onward! Can’t wait to race you though the next year.

Love, Auntie C.

The Art of Argument and Balance of Debate

In the past few weeks and on more than one occasion, the topic of argument has come up in conversation. How we learn to argue sets the course for how we deal with differences of opinion the rest of our lives. I grew up in an average middle class family and my parents were healthy debaters. That isn’t to say they didn’t get along, they had 7 children so they got along at least 7 times in their 50+ years, but I swear they were the forerunners for the sitcom characters Edith and Archie Bunker. When they got into heated debate and I would ask them to quit arguing, my mother would say, “Honey, we’re not arguing, we’re discussing.” Their style was to take a position and defend it until h*ll froze over.

Does the desire to try to control an opinion often times overrule common sense? Do we respect other opinions regardless of ours? Agree to disagree? Or argue until it freezes over?

Are kids learning to solve or just to argue? Maybe debate should be an ongoing requirement of school curriculum. Sophistication of the home environment and parental maturity doesn’t necessarily determine whether a child will learn to argue and solve differences constructively. When a small child wants something he can’t have, an adult intervenes and explains the reasoning of denial or sharing. When a fight ensues with a peer, we tell our child to look for the fair ground and work out the difference. But when mom and dad are in full blown, ‘I’m not changing my mind no matter how long I’m cut off’ is when a child really learns are art of the fight and/or subsequent resolution. So to prepare kids for the real world of public and private debate, a conscious effort to teach constructive resolution should be foremost. Most of my generation can argue with the best of them, but can we really say we’ve learned how to resolve or agree to disagree? Kids need to learn to win when right and lose when wrong but when there is no meeting of the minds, to resolve without hurt feelings and anger. That’s the real art of the lesson. (I know you are all thinking I live in a dream world now that it’s only me and the dog.)

Winning should be the objective, but only to a certain point. With thought, maybe we can teach generation XX to win, or lose, or agree to disagree with respect. In the heat of battle, that final controlling word, the one that breaks the camel’s back, or worse, a friendship, may not be that important.

All dogs Go to Heaven

Until Thursday, Gunnar, a sleek, silver gray Weimaranar, was an earth dog. He belonged to my sister and her husband and was 5 months old when they rescued him from an abusive family. He was 6 years old when he stepped over the line of safety and was put down. For the 5 and a half years in between, he was worked, cared for, protected, reprimanded, and loved more because of the major insecurities he developed in the first few months of life.

Lynne's goal was to retrain Gunnar to be happy and secure. Years of obedience schools, Animal Rescue League work, hospital pet therapy and lots of love made her as good a rescuer as anyone. But as hard as she and her family tried, Gunnar's early development to mistrust could not be reversed. He began his life in the household of argumentative people and another dog who was mean and abusive. He learned self preservation the hard way. It wasn't until his second home did he show any signs of trust. Lynne and Tom were diligent in keeping him safe. They knew Gunnar was a dog negatively impacted by human failure. A door left open, a fence to dig under gave him a way out. Not only would he run rampant, but his suppressed insecurities would spring to the surface as well. Gunner's increasing unpredictability forced Lynne come to terms with those failures and make the heartbreaking decision to euthanize.

Pet ownership demands responsibility from beginning to end. Cohabitation in a friendly environment with other animals and humans has to begin immediately and continue forever. If abused or neglected, the probability of negative socialization is very high. And as Lynne and Tom proved, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn't put their abused Humpty Dumpty back secure again.

The ultimate accountability lies in the decision to let a dog go that shows all the signs of potential harm to himself regardless of the amount of love. I watched my sisters' tears fall on Gunnar’s peaceful head while we quietly waited for the Vet‘s euthanizing shot. It was then, at that sight of the two of them, one in pain, the other so relaxed, I understood it was only in her presence Gunnar would ever feel completely safe and secure and, therefore, be trustworthy. Anywhere else, he was fearful. She had faced the sad fact that not every single time could she depend on herself to keep the crucial door to danger closed. Human failure. Human responsiblity.

It comes from the highest authority that all dogs go to heaven. I have to think Gunnar is now running as far as his strong legs and beautiful stride will take him. The only difference is he now races through heaven’s endless wheat fields with blue skies above. I hope there are rabbits for him to chase; ones with no flesh, only wisps of spirit to give him the thrills of his heavenly lifetime. That strong, handsome guy earned his freedom.

A DOG IS A GENTLEMAN; I HOPE TO GO TO HIS HEAVEN SOMEDAY, NOT MAN’S. ~MARK TWAIN