Braving Boys

Danny told me recently that he is going to teach his dad to play the piano. He’s become quite the pro since starting lessons in July (he and big bro Joe rocked their first recital in December), and he’s discovered he has the tools for teaching others.

“That’s great!” I responded. “You can teach me, too!”

His response: “No, it would be too complicated for you.”

This from the boy who paid me the nicest compliment last week — he said I look 14, not 40.

I think it’s a compliment, anyway.

Never a dull moment in a house with two growing kiddos. Here, some more bits about boys:

Someone once told me the appropriate time to talk about sex with kids is when they start asking questions about it. Well, on the way home from the grocery store one day, Joey asked a question, and I answered, and while there’s a lot more we need to cover on the topic, let’s just say he now knows exactly how the baby is made, and he’s declared that he will definitely be adopting his children.

Joey is 10 now, and I realize, sadly, that we are halfway done with him (well, in the controlling, we-are-in-charge-of-everything-you-do kinda way). If all goes according to his plan, in not so many years, he’ll be living in a condo on the beach, with a pet, a boat, and a bunch of hot babes. He’ll be working in a boat store, and he might let his little brother live with him, although he’d prefer him as a neighbor, and WOW, this is pretty heavy stuff. Yes, we still must advance through puberty, driving, dating, and who knows what else, but the prospect of an emptying nest is darn sobering.

Danny is 7, going on 8, but acting a lot like 4. A therapist told me years ago she believes the 7-year-old has a foot firmly planted in toodlerhood, and Danny, on some days, could be her case study. Whining is his specialty, and if he must cry out in protest, he’ll do that, too. Overall, though, he is a sweet, smart, loving boy. His teacher reports he is her model student (a terrific turnaround from last year’s pinching and underwear incident), and his “brain cage,” as he calls it, holds so many fantastic facts and figures that we are mostly in awe of our second born, whose latest passion is the ipod Touch he got for Christmas. Uh-Oh, I just heard kids should have no more than an hour or two of daily screen time. He’s not going to be happy about that.

This Christmas marked a family travel milestone for us. We stuffed loads of gear and ourselves (plus one grandmother) in a rented van, and we headed for New York to see an uncle, aunt, and four cousins. New York, if you aren’t aware, is 21 horrendous hours away from where we live, and for someone like me, who doesn’t like to be on the road for more than two hours, the lead-up to this adventure can cause some distress. But I ended up managing just fine, and the sights and stops along the way (like Washington, DC) made for an experience that exceeded my expectations. Bonus: A blizzard, and the boys had never before seen snow (or felt such freezing cold weather), and what a treat that was!

Also on the boy radar: The guys are taking turns going to Gator basketball games with dad; school Read-A-Thon starts on Monday, which is good since all four of us need to hit the books more; mountain biking has commenced; fishing and boating are tops when the warm temps return; taking a break this season from sports, but flag football is up next this Spring; and gosh, so much more lies ahead. Will it be tackle football? Not sure, but I do know I’m up for anything. Well, except camping.

Following the mechanics of 4th grade expository writing, 9-year-old Joey wrote a four-paragraph essay for his Nana.

My Nana Rocks
By: Joey Donaldson

Do you have a family member who rocks? I do. My Nana rules the school. One thing that puts her at the top of the list is that she’s cute. Another reason why I think my Nana is so spectacular is because she is super strong like a lion.

Whistle! Whistle! Here comes my never-cuter Nana. One thing that makes her look so spiffy is her short haircut. One time, she thought of getting a little trim, so she got in her shiny, silver SUV, raced off to the hair salon, and returned home with a shorter ‘do. When she got back and paid me visit, I said, “Is that my 30-year-old Nana?” You’d never know my Nana is actually 63 years old. She looks as young as a spring chicken. Maybe it’s her red-hot lipstick that makes her look like a supermodel. Sometimes, my Nana can get a little frazzled by her treacherous dogs and her endlessly whining grandchildren, and on Thanksgiving Day, well, she was pretty upset. My cousins and I were playing with a super big bouncy ball, and I launched it up as high as I could, causing the humongous ball to zip across the kitchen counter and crash into a plant, which flew in the air and then smashed into a pure white and yellow deviled egg. My Nana knew what to do. She sprinted to her bedroom, smeared on some lipstick, and returned refreshed and looking as cute as a button. The best part is none of us got in trouble! As you can tell, my cute Nana rocks!

If you’ve ever seen a lion pounce or show its power, then you can imagine the strength of my Nana. The girl can do 20 perfect push-ups at one time. Once, I jogged down to her house, and she was relaxing outside in her favorite Gator chair. When I stepped onto her driveway, I challenged her to do 20 push-ups. She said, “Bring it on!” She got down in her push-up position, and I said, “Ready, Set, Go!” She smiled at me and did 10 push-ups in five seconds. I was astonished. Then, before I knew it, she was done. She did 20 push-ups in 10 seconds. I gave her a high-five, and I saw her biceps pumping, so that told me she was really fit and strong. I guess she has proven she is one powerful person. Yep, she sure is. She’s even pretty mentally strong. S-E-I-Z-E. “I got it. It’s diagonal!” My Nana is like Einstein at word searches. One day, I came home from a day at school, and I had to do a word search, so I asked my brilliant Nana, “Will you help me?” She said, “Sure, Cupcake!” The first word was “fragile.” One second later, my Nana had it. “It’s on the third row, on the top of the page,” she told me. I joyfully responded, “Thank you!” In five minutes, it was all done. WOW! That was fantastic. I had a hunch she was feeling exhilarated. Not only is my Nana a whiz at word searches, she is basically smart all around. It must be because she reads a lot. One time, she read a whole book in one day! But that’s a subject for another story.

Give me a, “N.” Give me an “A.” Give me an “N.” Give me an “A.” What do you have? “NANA!” My Nana is cute. She is strong. She is the total package. My Nana is Rock-tastic!

Merry Christmas, Nana!
December 2010

Joey, No. 91

He was choked up. I saw him fight back the tears. But when we walked away from his very last tackle football game of the season on Saturday night, Joey told us, like he’s done a thousand times, that he doesn’t really like the sport at all, that he will likely never play again.

Well, maybe if he can play defense only, he’ll consider it, but mostly, he’s done with the game.

That’s fine. I don’t care if Joey plays again or not. What I care about is what he got out of the past three months.

Joey got an education in the fundamentals of football and a lesson in commitment — there were days when he wanted so badly to quit, but he toughed it out, finished, and earned a Pop Warner medal and trophy.

Joey got discipline, criticism, and praise. He got first place almost every time he ran laps with his 30 teammates, and he got to hardly ever come out of the game. He got knocked down, he got $5 from Dad for every game tackle, and he got bumps and bruises. He got the nickname “Big Bird,” he got skilled at football drills, and he got accustomed to playing in sweltering heat, and then, in the finger-numbing cold.

Joey got good at football, he got a passion for watching pro games on TV, throwing the ball in the yard with anyone he could recruit, and trying to tackle me in the grass, the living room, even the aisles of Walmart. He got to experience the thrill of team comraderie, he got to yell and scream in huddles, he got to be team captain.

Joey got a game jersey and wore it to school every Friday, he got dressed up for Halloween as a football player, and then, one week after scoring a bag full of trick-or-treat sweets, he got tears in his eyes when football came to an end.

I saw them — the tears.

And that’s how I know that somewhere deep inside his big body, Joey realizes football was not so bad.

I suspect he knows it was actually pretty fun at times.

He just won’t admit it.

That’s OK.

Because I know.

Scouts no more.

We should have waited to sign up Danny for Cub Scouts. We should have better investigated our suspicion that the organization discriminates against people who are gay.

But we didn’t.

We joined. We paid. We bought the shirt, and the neckerchief, and all the other garb. We went to a few meetings, were thinking about an upcoming camping trip, and then Bam!, there it was — a status update on Facebook by a friend linking to an article about a Texas dad told to take a hike from his leadership position because of his sexual orientation. Had he kept it private, all would have been well. But once it was known, the Scouts had to let him go. It’s in their bylaws, you know? No gays.

Don’t believe in God? Yea, that’s a problem, too.

The news made my stomach sink. John’s too. And so there was just no way we could continue on, knowing this belief system (apparently set in stone, enforced, and even supported legally) exists.

Boy Scouts of America director of public relations Deron Smith told CNN the nixed dad is welcome to continue volunteering his time, just not as a leader.

“The policy, as it is written, is that the Boy Scouts does not accept for membership avowed homosexuals,” he said.

He added: “This is not meant as a social commentary. We do not have an agenda that we’re pushing. We don’t discuss this with our kids. We’re simply an organization that feels like this is the right thing for our membership and we move it forward and we simply focus on our mission. It’s really that simple.”

Simple. Umm, I don’t think so.

And that’s why our boy will not be a Scout.

The University of Florida Men’s basketball team, ranked ninth in the first Associated Press men’s basketball poll on Thursday, scored a 92-58 win against Florida Tech last night. It was exciting, but not near as thrilling for Danny as it was to snuggle up next to mascot Albert the Alligator.

A boy and his piano

There once was a boy who attended a piano workshop. He wasn’t sure it was the instrument he wanted to pursue, but he faithfully showed up, and he plugged away at the lessons. Twice a week he went back, and on all the other days, he practiced. He did well, and somewhere during the course of his study, he started enjoying what he was doing. So did his brother, who glared at his mom from a bench on day No. 1, angry she was forcing him into this activity.

It’s been nearly four months since that first lesson, and for two of those months, the boy and his brother have been taking private lessons from the man who taught the workshop. He says he’s impressed with what he hears, and so is the mom. What charms her most is that this boy, who would have rather been perched in front of a computer screen instead of learning to read music this summer, seems so natural at the keyboard. His little fingers know right where to go, he sways a bit to the sounds he creates, and much of the time, he doesn’t even look at his music book. Once he learns the song, it’s in his head, and he can crank it out on command. This skill — the memorizing of songs — has earned the boy double stickers on some lesson days, and he has collected 12 in all. This week, he turns them in for a prize. He doesn’t know yet what it will be (he’s secretly hoping it’s the adorable puppy living at the teacher’s house!), but on Wednesday, he will find out. He’ll also find out how well he does on this-week’s songs. Mom is betting he rattles off some beauties, and it’s pretty possible another two stickers will be awarded.

Way to play, Danny! You make your momma proud!

Photo: earl53, morgueFile

Joey is in fourth grade, and writing is the end-up, be-all of this stage in his school career. I love it, because writing, I can handle. It’s the math that throws me into fits of confusion. So, you can bet that when given the opportunity to help Joey master his skills with pencil and paper, I’m jumping at the chance.

Joey’s teacher told me Friday that practicing writing at home is a wise idea, so tonight, we sat at the kitchen table with a matching assignment, and we wrote, and wrote, and wrote, until we both had finished four paragraphs. Our challenge was to write clearly, to elaborate on details, and to use our sparkly words (first-grade terminology there!). I think we did pretty well, and what follows are the essays we completed. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I do admit that I edited for spelling and punctuation — but that’s all. And just a teeny, tiny bit. And the exclamation points: All Joey. The words, however, were not altered in any way. I promise.

Assignment: Everyone has enjoyed special days. Think about one day that was special to you. Now, write to explain why this particular day was so special to you.

By Joey

112 shrimp!

“Yes, I’m reeling it in. It’s a big one. Awesome. It’s a large mouth bass.” This is what I said to my dad when we went fishing at the St. John’s River. This was a special day because school was the next day, and I wanted to end the last day of summer on a good note. Also, I wanted to spend some time with my dad.

I don’t really like school, so I needed to end it on a good note. I like to think back on what I did this summer, and I am going to do that now. I went to get a boat and truck, I did drama camp, I learned to play the piano, I had a garden, and I played football. The best thing about the summer was the boat and truck. The most shrimp we caught on the boat was 112 shrimp! It took two hours to clean. The worst part of the cleaning was the veins. But the shrimp were delicious to eat, which made the last day of summer awesome!

I usually don’t get to see my dad much, so I wanted to spend a lot of time with him on the last day of summer. When I’m at home, he is usually at work, so spending about five hours with my dad each weekend is pretty nice. When my dad and I are on the boat together, we mostly shrimp, but in the meantime, we also use our nice poles. I help my dad dock up the boat. I help my dad dock up the boat because he needs to put the trailer in the water. We work on our boat 50/50 to make it a team project. Any day with my dad is a good day.

There have been many good times in my life, but this one was the best because boating and spending time with my dad are awesome things to do to end the last day of summer on.

By Jacki

Finished!

It’s hard to choose just one special day, because there are two most-special days in my life, and they are January 3, 2001, and May 30, 2003 — the days my babies (Joey and Danny) were born. So, in an effort to not play favorites, I’ll go with another day altogether — the day I ran and finished a half-marathon. This day rocked for two reasons. First, I wasn’t sure I could conquer such a feat, and I did. Second, I had a spunky and enthusiastic cheering section waiting for me at the finish line.

At one time in my life, I could hardly run around the block. Then, a fitness trainer friend challenged me to run for 20 minutes without stopping. I wasn’t speedy, but I succeeded. I kept at the running, and before long, I ran a 5K, which is 3.2 miles. Still, a half-marathon wasn’t even on my radar — until I watched a “Biggest Loser” episode and saw the contestants run a full marathon. Surely, I could master half of that, so I decided to try it. I trained for 10 weeks, running in the heat, cold, rain, and wind, and clocking as many as 12 miles before the big event. Then, on February 14, 2010, I pounded the pavement for 13.1 miles. It took me two hours and 12 minutes, and boy, was I glad when that was over. But WOW, was I elated to have scored such a grand victory in my life!

The shouting observers and on-lookers who filled the finish-line area were very motivating, but it wasn’t the people I didn’t know who made me jump for joy. It was my family people — my kids, husband, mom, sister and nieces. They yelled and waved fancy, hand-made posters at me. They greeted me with hugs and kisses, and their love and support warmed my heart, which was pretty important on this freezing-cold day — it was 29 degrees outside!

I bet a lot of people would count marathons as events that make for special days. I’m one of them. There’s just nothing quite like pushing myself physically to overcome something that seems sort of impossible, and to finish the journey welcomed by screaming fans makes for one seriously spectacular day!