Singing Boy

May 18th, 2010

Danny is such a good singer, and I really don’t think I’m saying that just because I’m his mom. He’s got that raspy, throaty sound, and when he belts out his favorite tunes, I just marvel at what he can deliver. He’s not convinced he’s all that good, and so he sneaks at singing, turns his vocals into baby babble when he knows we’re watching, and he flat out refuses to let us record him. “Hot Dog” was the last time we got a video camera near him.

Danny thinks football is in his future, because, well, he’s winding up his first season of flag, and that’s how he knows he probably has a shot at playing center as a pro. But me, well, I think he’s more likely to be a performer of some sort. And just as soon as I capture some more audio of my singing boy, I’ll be sure to share.

For now, though, just imagine a 6-year-old boy watching this video (his No. 1 pick at the moment), and cranking out the lyrics like a superstar.

Boy Art

April 30th, 2010
"Robots!" by Danny (6 years old)

"Robots!" by Danny (6 years old)

Boy. Garden.

April 10th, 2010

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Quote: Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com

We planted a garden last summer, and while it looked promising for a good long time, ultimately, it failed. I think we got one pepper. And a few small tomatoes. But our corn never materialized. And cucumbers never surfaced. And. Wait. We had sunflowers. Yes, sunflowers.

We’re trying again this year. Actually, we are not trying. Joey is. He’s done it all — prepped the soil, dug little trenches for seeds, sprinkled them into the dirt, covered them, mulched walkways between rows, labeled and placed sticks near their respective fruits and veggies, and now, we wait. and water. and wait. and hope like heck that small animals and bugs don’t tear the whole thing apart, because Joey will just be overjoyed if his garden grows. And so will his great grandma, all the way up in Heaven, probably wearing her own straw gardening hat and admiring the work of the boy she knew for only two years.

Hard Boys, Soft Mom

April 9th, 2010

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I’m soft. I know this. And I’m OK with it. But it kind of goes against the grain of what John tries to teach the boys. Example: the other day, while at a lake for some fishing, Joey and Danny started whining about sunscreen. They hate it, especially the kind that sprays, because it gets in their eyes. So, we do our best to slather faces without blinding them, but as it always turns out, they are gun-shy and get all worked up about the event.

John is sick of it.

“You guys need to get hard,” he told them.

“Here’s how I do it,” he declared, then pretty much sprayed the stuff directly into his own baby blues to prove his point.

Explanation: John is a Marine, and he’s encountered some rough living. There was a period of time in boot camp when he was so hungry, he’d eat from sugar packets in the mess hall to fill the void in his gut. He hiked until his feet bled, marched until he couldn’t see straight, and for months on end, he was worn down and challenged to the core. He’s hard. He can spray sunscreen in his eyes.

Getting hard is good. It’s preparation for life’s tough times. It’s why Joey should eat fish, even though he doesn’t like it — because maybe, one day, fish will be the only thing available. It’s why learning to defend yourself is key, because when you’ve got to fight for your life, you’ll be ready.

I get it.

It’s just not me.

  • I don’t like sunscreen in my eyes either. Bug spray is yucky, too.
  • I do like fish, but I don’t like Chinese food, and heaven help me if, one day, it’s the only thing available.
  • I don’t want to camp — I like running water and cozy beds too much — and I don’t want to climb a rock wall or a mountain or jump from a plane, a cliff, or anything, really.
  • I am hesitant to play a “real” game of football with Joey, because he weighs 90 pounds and his power is pretty amazing.
  • I shy away from “real” games of basketball, too, because I’ve had few balls smack me right in the face, and ouch!, that really hurts. (I am up for a mean game of catch or P-I-G, however).

Don’t get me wrong. I can be tough. I’ve white water rafted, parasailed, driven a jet ski, completed a few ropes courses, traveled Europe all by myself, run a 1/2 marathon, pushed two large babies from my body and fought breast cancer.

Still, soft is my fall-back.

This worries me, and sometimes I fear my boys will come to know me as the wimpy mom. It’s why I choose to engage in some battles. Will I ski down a snow-covered mountain when we finally take a ski vacation? No. But I am fully prepared to let the waves knock the crap out of me during our next beach trip. I’m also on board this year for a very long road trip (in one cramped mini-van), even though my better judgment says, “Don’t do it.” And this summer, I’ll take on one-too-many roller coasters with my little theme-park thrill seekers, even though these rides give me a throbbing head and wobbly knees.

It’s a good thing there’s a John and a Jacki in our family. It’s like we’re the anchors supporting our family tree. John is at the top (of course, he climbed up there), I’m at the bottom (because I don’t want to climb up there), and Joey and Danny are right in between, observing the qualities that define their parents and deciding which ones to embrace.

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My wish is that Joey and Danny do get hard. I hope they also realize that, at times, it’s OK to be soft. Because really, I’m convinced there’s value in both.

Easter Wall and Messy Boy

April 5th, 2010

Goodbye, birthday wall.
Hello, Easter wall.

We painted over the birthday wall.

We painted over the birthday wall.

to make room for the Easter wall,

We made an Easter wall.

and one messy boy!

End result: one very messy (and happy) boy!

Book by a Boy

April 2nd, 2010
Bear and the Cow / By Danny

Bear and the Cow / By Danny

People sometimes ask me when I’m going to write a book, and I always say I’m not sure I want to. I mean, all that work. It just seems so daunting.

Maybe I should follow in 6-year-old Danny’s footsteps, because the other day, he said he was going to write a book, and, well, he just plopped down and wrote one!

“Bear and the Cow” (he is both author and illustrator) goes like this:

Bear and the Cow

Bear and cow are walking.

Suddenly they saw a fox and they ran away.

They ran as fast as they could and the cow got lost in the woods.

Bear got lost.

Then they got saved.

The end.

Boys Who Blame

March 25th, 2010
Photo: Kristi Anastasi Collins

Photo: Kristi Anastasi Collins

Six and nine. Must be just the right ages for assigning blame — at least in our house. And while the 6-year-old guy does his fair share of shifting fault, I must say that the 9-year-old has the skill down pat. He should, he’s been practicing it for years. It goes something like this:

Parents: “Joey, why did you trip your brother?”

Joey: “I didn’t.”

Parents: “Yes, you did.”

Joey: “No, I didn’t.”

Parents: “We saw you do it!”

Joey: “I. did. not. trip. him.”

And he’ll stand his ground until the bitter end (even though we saw it!), which often leaves us dumbfounded and praying this trait is soon extinguished and replaced with the honestly we preach every chance we get.

We tell our boys they’ll always be in less trouble for being honest (even if it reveals poor choices) than if we learn they are lying. Will they catch on, jump on board and evolve into the truth-telling boys we know they can be?

Probably.

It’s perfectly normal for school-age kids to cover up and duck out of taking responsibility, say some exerts for Parents.com. It usually happens when they know Mom and Dad would disapprove of something they did, and since they are not great at anticipating consequences, admitting wrong-doing can be overwhelming. The bottom line: for our kiddos, understanding rules and consequences is still a developmental work in progress.

Gosh, this makes me feel so much better. I was starting to wonder where this tendency was coming from.

Because.

Well.

I knew it couldn’t be my fault.

A Boy Book (which is fine for a girl, too)

March 16th, 2010
"Cat Nights" by Jane Manning

"Cat Nights" by Jane Manning

Danny and I read a cute little book last night, and sandwiched inside the covers of this library find is an old Irish legend. We thought it was fitting, then, that we tell you about both the book and the legend (because good kid books are kind of hard to come by, you know, and because it is almost time for that special Irish holiday).

The Book: “Cat Nights” by Jane Manning. Felicity loves living as a witch by day and a cat by night. She can’t turn herself into a cat for too many nights, though, because if she does, she’ll become a cat forever. Does Felicity choose the forever life of a witch or a cat? You’ll have to read to find out!

The Legend: The phrase “cat nights” came about because apparently, a witch could turn herself into a cat 8 times, then she could still return to her witchy self. But if she turned a 9th time, there was no going back. That’s where “cat has nine lives” comes from. And since cats like to prowl around on hot, summer nights (like in August), nights at that time of year are referred to as “cat nights.”

Yep, we liked this book. Check it out, because you might, too.

Bearded Boy

March 15th, 2010

Joey (9 years old): “I think my beard is coming in.”

Me (the mom): “Oh, really?”

Joey: “Yes, look!”

He pointed to some blond peach fuzz on his neck (sweet, delicate, little-boy fuzz. Not a beard, just fuzz), then continued:

“Do you think it’s a little strange that I’m getting a beard?”

Me: “It is a little early.”

Joey: “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

Yea, me either.

Boys and Bike Week

March 8th, 2010
Bike Week 2010, Daytona Beach, Fla.

Bike Week 2010, Daytona Beach, Fla.

Among all of the duties we have as parents, exposing our boys to all sorts of stuff is a priority. That’s why we took them to Bike Week 2010 on Saturday. Danny’s had some “I love motorcycle” moments in his life (one Christmas, all he wanted was a toy dirt bike, and he always picks motorcycle racing when he games at my sister’s house), and Joey is usually up for anything car, boat or bike-related.

Now, don’t get me wrong — I really prefer that my guys don’t ride motorcycles at all, ever. Still, I thought the Daytona Beach event would be exciting. And for moments, it was (The Naked Cowboy and monster-sized snake were hits).

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The Naked Cowboy and The Snake Guy

But Danny mostly moped, claiming his legs were too tired to walk up and down Main St., and Joey, well, he just wanted to get to the water to throw his cast net. And when I asked them both at the end of our maybe hour-long tour of this 69th annual extravaganza if they could see themselves as bikers when they grow up, the response was an overwhelming NO. And so we headed to a favorite fishing spot in Ormond Beach, where Joey and John dabbled at the shore and Danny sat with me in the car, playing his Nintendo DS. The game?

Yamaha Supercross.