Bundle of Joy August 21, 2013

I got a taste of big brotherhood today. Literally. Her name is Alexis and she is the little person that my doggie pal Diesel oversees. She is two people months old today and she tastes delicious, at least by what I could tell by licking her cute little button of a nose. This was the longest bit of time we’ve spent together (my mom, Diesel’s mom Jessica, me, Diesel and Alexis) since she was born and I got the strangest feeling she somehow sensed she was not (technically) the only baby in the room.

I knew it was probably nonsense. I figured it was just probably the sense I got. It’s not that unlike me to misread a situation regardless of my good intentions. But then mom’s friend Jessica said it out loud and I knew that maybe (just maybe) I wasn’t imagining things.

“It’s like she somehow knows you have a baby in your belly,” she said to my mom.

And it’s true. Baby Alexis was the very embodiment of joy when she was looking at my mom. She smiled so much I was surprised her little baby cheek muscles didn’t give out. She was entranced by my mom and I was entranced by her. As I’ve never seen such a little person smile before, I was unfamiliar with the completely overwhelming sense of joy you get from seeing a whole little body smile. She was baring the most beautiful completely toothless smile I’d ever seen, but it was more than that. Her eyes were smiling. She truly was a little bundle of joy.

It was a far cry from earlier in the evening when she was dreadfully unhappy about something. Just as the wonderment of her smile took me by surprise, I didn’t expect the guttural reaction I had to the sound of a baby crying. It bothered me, but not because of the noise. It bothered me because I wanted to help somehow. I got as close to her as I could (usually this meant getting close to the person holding her) and sniffed and stood at the ready in case there was anything I could do to help stop the crying. It didn’t take long for me to realize there probably isn’t anything I can really do. (Unless I somehow figure out how to feed her, change her, or put her to sleep – wouldn’t that be a trick?). I think I might struggle with that when my little person comes along.

But I now know what I have to look forward to in terms of the bundle of joy this baby will be. And I know it’s probably nonsense. I don’t know how it could be true. Yet I hold the belief that baby Alexis was so happy (partially because she had at that point been fed and changed and was readying for sleep, but also) because she knows she will have that little person in her life someday too. What I felt in my heart as I saw those smiles and licked that little button nose is undeniable. I got a taste of big brotherhood today. And it tasted like joy.

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Flying The Freak Flag May 28, 2013

I’ve never understood why women wear high heels. Don’t get me wrong, I would consider myself fairly up-to-date with the fashion world thanks to various television shows and my mom’s slight obsession with a place called TJ Maxx. But (in general) I simply don’t understand why women would want to make the simple task of walking more difficult.

Heck, from what I understand about doggie booties, they do miracles in protecting our sensitive paw pads from the elements, but I’m still not sure that justifies their level of discomfort. Strap four inches of height to that? Forget about it.

I know (based on the ridiculous amount of shoes of various heights and colors my mom owns) four inches is not the norm. So you can imagine my surprise today when I saw the strangest thing on my walk around my pal Diesel’s neighborhood. We saw her at the same time, Diesel and I, and I could tell he was thinking what I was thinking. The woman was walking a collie and a small terrier of some sort down a major road in our community in four-inch wedge heels. I felt a bit like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes bulge out of their heads looking at this woman.

Why not enjoy your walk with your best four-legged pals from ground level? Why be so uncomfortable?

As these questions swirled around in my doggie mind, it hit me. I sure can talk the talk, but when it comes to walking the walk, I had definitely tripped up. Here I am, always talking about accepting (and even accentuating) the things that make us unique, and I am being judgmental of someone’s fashion choice? Shame on me.

Her reasons for wearing those (albeit incredibly uncomfortable looking) shoes are her reasons, and I have no right to question them. The scenery along the journey to self-understanding looks different for everyone, but the destination is the same. We are all at different points in our quests to get to first get to know who we are and then try not to be afraid of it.

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment,” suggested great transcendentalist thinker Ralph Waldo Emerson. To be yourself is to be a leader – in your life and the lives of others. My mental commentary on the woman and her four-inch heels was not reflective of my appreciation for the spices in my melting pot of life. It flew in the face of my positive outlook on all people, places and things. It wasn’t me.

After all, there’s a lot of things I don’t understand about this world I live in, but that doesn’t give me the right to analyze and critique simply because I don’t understand. That stranger woman’s shoe preference doesn’t matter in the overall scheme of life. In fact, good for her for being comfortable enough in her own skin to make a statement like that. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not suggesting we all go out and buy a ridiculous pair of shoes to stand out in our various parts of the world. Quite the contrary, in fact. I’m encouraging us all to look deep within, dust off our own personal freak flags, and fly them with pride.