The People Who Live In My Head: Life's Like A Box of Puppies...

The People Who Live In My Head: Life's Like A Box of Puppies...: I’ve often described my life growing up with 8 siblings as being “like a box of puppies”.   I think that was – and is – still an accurate de...

Life's Like A Box of Puppies...

I’ve often described my life growing up with 8 siblings as being “like a box of puppies”.  I think that was – and is – still an accurate description.  The 9 of us all have very different personalities, but it’s clear that we’re from the same litter.

Just like a pack of puppies, there was a lot of activity in many different directions.  Sometimes one puppy would stray too far or annoy another puppy.  Each and every time, that deviant puppy would be barked at, nipped on the nose, and brought back into line by the other puppies.  The same was true for my brothers and sisters.  We may have spent days exploring and testing boundaries but we always came back to the box at the end of the day where we would nestle down, snuggling, sometimes laying on another puppy’s head, and sometime “borrowing” another puppy’s favorite toy.

All these years later, we’re off in our own boxes, some with our own litters, but when we come together, we revert to the puppies we’ve always been.  I never felt the need to foster too many friendships out in the world because I had everything I needed built right in.

I guess I always knew that we were a little different in terms of family size, but I was well into adulthood before I figured out that my siblings and I had something really unique and special in the way we relate to one another.  My mother often receives compliments about the way her “children” (we’re all middle aged at this point) interact.  We not only enjoy each other’s company, but we’re more likely to laugh than to argue.

I don’t know what the secret is.  My mother is a nice person, who raised nice people with the Golden Rule as her guide.  Maybe that’s all there was to it.  Maybe it was magic.  Whatever it is, I just didn’t know we were unusual until I watched other siblings interact.  I have definitely judged anyone I’m getting to know by the way they treat – or even talk about – their sibling(s).

When I became a mother, I did my best to lead by example in the way I treat others.  When I introduced a sibling to the mix, I made it very clear to my first daughter that this new little person will "maybe make you mad sometimes, and you may want her out of your stuff sometimes, but she will ultimately be all you truly have in life and that is a gift to be treasured".  I certainly didn’t expect miracles, but assumed that was just a good nugget of advice to tuck away for later in life.

My two girls are as different as night and day.  But you know what?  They’ve become their very own smaller box of puppies.  They bicker and complain about one another as you’d expect an 11 year old and (almost) 8 year old to do.  But at the end of the day, they come together in the box.  They have their own rooms but sleep together every chance they can.  They stay up too late, talking and giggling and plotting to take over the world.  They look out for one another not because they are expected to, but because it’s instinctual and they want to.

This has all happened right under my nose and I suppose I was aware of it, but it didn’t fully register until we had annual pediatrician appointments the other day.  I’ve been in the habit of scheduling them together every year for my own convenience.  I never gave it a second thought until the nurse asked if I wanted them in separate exam rooms.  I asked the girls.  They were very emphatic with their “No!” – they wanted to be together.  When the doctor was talking to the 8 year old, the 11 year old answered the questions.  And when it was the 11 year old’s turn to get a couple of shots, the 8 year old asked if she could sit on the table with her sister and hold her hand.

The nurse commented to the girls that it was so great that they were such good friends.  Then, this old school pediatrician, who has known both of my girls all their lives, just sat back and watched them together, then told me “Great job, Mom.  You’ve got a couple of best friends there and I don’t see that every day.”

What’s the point of this story?  I don’t know.  Maybe a bit of bragging, but maybe it's just to say that in these times of people lashing out at one another, it does a heart good to see love in action.  Knowing that, for now, at least (because God only knows what the teen years hold with these two), I’m doing something right gives me hope for the rest of the world.

This year, all of my puppies will be gathering at the beach to honor my mother’s birthday.  I can’t wait to climb back into the box, and I know there will be room for my two pups, too.  Maybe that’s the key to world peace:  more puppy boxes.