Braving Boys

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!

Donaldson / #91

It turns out that Joey doesn’t much love football. He doesn’t hate it, but it’s become pretty clear that if he had his choice, he’d be on a boat — with his dad, a fishing pole, and a cast net. He likes fishing so much that standing for a few hours at the kitchen sink cleaning shrimp qualifies as fun when compared to two-hour practices. It’s actually the practice he doesn’t prefer. Games are better, and we’ve even spotted the guy pretty pumped up after each of his team’s three wins.

The coaches warned us at the beginning of the season that tackle football could very well be the toughest thing our kids have ever endured in their nine years of life. The grueling conditioning, old-school coaching, hot temps, hard hits, and colossal time commitment would build our boys into men, they declared, and sure enough, it’s tough stuff out there on the field.

Ready to block!

It’s not the physical demands that bother Joey, though, and I watched him just last week come from behind 30 teammates while running, pushing himself to first place on the first lap, and second on the second lap.

He’s not lazy. He’s not slacking.

He’s just. not. that. into. it.

Still, he’s going to finish, and I happen to think that’s what makes him most like a man. He’s not complaining (anymore), and he’s fulfilling his commitment — three practices per week, one game per week, and a healthy diet that keeps the big boy a bit below max weight so he can play in each game. Yep, tough stuff.

Joey’s not sure he will ever be a superstar in the world of football. But maybe he will. It’s still early in the season, and he’s only 9, after all. Plenty of time on both accounts for a change of heart. For now, however, I’m just plain proud every time I watch my kid suit up and do his thing. I’m not sure I could do it as well.

Four words for you, Joey.

Boy.
You.
Are.
Amazing.

Don’t ever forget it.

Yes, that's a black-ish eye, but not from football, just rough play.

Let me preface this post by telling you that my 9-year-old kid has not yet been fully uniformed and padded and protected and knocked around on the football field, and, yes, of course, I am scared to death that he will soon be jolted around to the point of tears and serious injury, but so far, he’s just been conditioning his big-boy body for a season of tackle football.

By conditioning, I mean he’s been running, jumping, racing, weaving, bear crawling, crab crawling, sitting up, pushing up, attacking dummies, and then doing it all over again. And again. Then one more time. For two hours. Sometimes more.

Almost every day, Joey is soaked in sweat and fatigued to the point that he can’t fall asleep. This is tough stuff — the hardest he’s ever had it in life. And here’s what I have to say about it all:

So far, I love tackle football.

It’s not the hours on end I’m sitting on a field overrun with ants that nibble constantly on my ankles. It’s the not the 4PM dinners we’re eating to prep for 6PM practice, or the rushed night-time routines when we return home at, oh, 8:30 or 9PM. It’s not my messy vehicle, the dirty clothing, the relentless reminders that Joey must lose 2 pounds if he wants to play in the first game.

Nope.

None of that makes me terribly happy.

It’s the way Joey works on that field that fills me with joy. He might complain at home about this sport that he chose (the first one he’s ever picked all by himself!), but as soon he as steps those cleats into the dirt and grass with 35 other boys, he becomes a man. No whining, no slacking, no eye contact with mom and dad. The kid just digs deep, and he works. And when he comes home, after he takes his long, hot shower, he has a certain bounce in his step. It’s not like he’s announcing that he’s enjoying himself, but I see it. And it’s something pretty special.

I keep telling Joey how proud I am of what he’s doing, and I’m guessing he’s going to get sick of hearing it. Like, soon. So I think I’ll shut up, watch from the sidelines, and simply marvel at what football can do for my child.

Monday starts conditioning with gear — that means pads and helmets, mouth guards, chin guards, everything. Maybe then my tune will change, and I won’t be so thrilled with what football can do for my guy (think: bumps, bruises, and brain boo-boos).

For now, though, one week into our new team sport adventure, I am encouraged, inspired, in awe of the baby who rarely participated at playgroups, the toddler who kicked and screamed at gymnastics class, the boy who refused team sports until last year, when we finally nudged him to try basketball.

Proud.

That’s all.

Just proud.

Photo: JSmith Photo, Flickr

My boys can be very dramatic at home. Joey just told me yesterday, “It’s not so fun to clean the boat, mom. I’d rather spray sunscreen right in my eyes!” For those who know just how much he hates sunscreen, this is a pretty powerful statement. Is it safe to assume, then, (given the flair for exaggeration) that Joey and Danny might shine bright in drama camp?

I think so.

And that’s why I signed them up for a one-week, all-day theater experience. The director of things told me that lots of kids are dramatic at home. It’s because they are comfortable. The key is making them just as secure on stage. So that’s my wish for this week: that my boys find drama just as fun while standing before an audience as they do performing in private quarters.

Today was Day No. 1 of Drama & Musical Theatre, and it seems all went well. Joey is now channeling Fabian, Danny is Troy, and they both will practice lines all week for a performance on Friday evening. They’ll also sing and dance. I can’t wait to witness it all, especially after Joey’s reaction as we pulled up to camp this morning:

On the outside of the gymnasium where we checked in was a sign that read, “Welcome to The Hall.” The school is called Oak Hall, so this makes sense. But Joey put his own spin on things: “Welcome to Hell,” he announced, hesitant to attend this week’s festivities.

Hell, it was not. Danny’s first-uttered words at pick-up were, “Mom, I liked it!” And Joey already has several of his lines committed to memory: “Yeah, I’m nervous too! Even my teeth are sweating!” and “Hey, Duke! It must be hard finding shoes that fit those two left feet!” He delivers his words with emotion and enthusiasm, and he hasn’t once complained about a trip back to “The Hall” tomorrow.

And so.

The show goes on.

I had the pleasure of turning 40 on June 20 (really, it’s a pleasure, because it means I’ve lived for five years after breast cancer).

And I’m not in the least bit disappointed that the package I opened from Joey contained something I’d already owned for several years. Nope. I found it entirely sweet that my 9-year-old boy wrapped up all by himself my little pink laptop and power cord and had the present waiting for me on the kitchen table the morning of my big day.

Even better, though, was the card he made.

“Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you,” he wrote. Then he described me, in list form:

nice
funny
awsome
sweet
beautiful
good
good at everything
smart
helps a lot
is very cute
has a good attitude
healthy
skinny
not fat
awsome at losing pounds
a good person
good at her job
greatful

Laptops, yea, they come and go (and maybe come again!), but cards like this one, well, they have real staying power.

Thank you, Joey. I love you, too!

Summer 2010

Someone asked me the other day how my summer is going, and I responded that’s it’s going great, because most times, it’s pretty darn swell. We stay up late, sleep late, and we’re dabbling in piano, tumbling, and drama. We’ve been to the beach, the pool, a few lakes, a movie, and we’re headed for football season come August 1. What’s not to like about a flex schedule, plus all sorts of fun stuff? OK, so my boys don’t love my mandatory reading and writing, but it’s not that much, really, and I think they might even secretly like it.

So, yea, summer is going great. But it’s not entirely peachy and, so, it seems only fair that I confess another truth about these 70 unstructured no-school days:

My kids are making me crazy!

Here, my friends, is what is driving this momma mad:

Stop it, Joey! Stop it, Danny! Stop it, Joey! Stop it, Danny! All day long.

Can we get a toy? Can we get a toy? Can we get a toy? Buckets of cars, trucks, Lego, action figures, Webkinz and more are stuffed into our playroom and boy bedrooms, but there is apparently still a burning desire for one. more. Ben. 10. Guy.

Do I hafta? Do I hafta? Do I hafta? Do I hafta go to the pool? Do I hafta ride my bike? Do I hafta go outside? Aren’t kids supposed to like this stuff?

Just a little bit longer! Just a little bit longer! Just a little bit longer! Just one more TV show, one more Wii challenge, one more computer game. Who exactly bought all this electronic gear, anyway?

Then there’s the whole issue of listening. Sometimes, they do it. Most days, is seems, they don’t.

At risk of sounding like a whiner, I’ll stop there. And I’ll morph this post into something positive.

Yesterday, I asked my Facebook friends for a little insight. I wrote in my status update:

Why is it that my kids can be so perfectly behaved for other people but so rotten for me?

Sixteen comments came spilling in, several of them claiming “love” as the answer.

Huh?

Yes, love. The general idea is this:

You’re “safe” Jacki; they know that you will love and forgive them no matter what! Other people — they’re not so sure, so they are going to behave the way you’ve taught them to. / Melissa

What perspective, and just what I needed. Now, I’m not saying they won’t still push my buttons, and I won’t ever yell so loud I give myself a headache, but I really think this is going to help me. When they behave for others, I’ll know they really are listening to all I’ve taught them. When they misbehave for me, I’ll know my unconditional love for them is what allows them to display the raw and uncut versions of themselves. It’s no different, really, from how we all act — a little better in pubic than in private.

OK, this may sound a bit strange, but thank you, Joey and Danny, for your misbehavior. I had no idea how well I was loving you. And now that I know, I think our summer days might get a little bit better.

And no, I’m not buying another toy!

Listen up, boys!

Writer Abigail Thomas offers on her blog various assignments for writers — budding writers, experienced writers, any writers, really. She sets forth a task, and the writer writes. Today, I grabbed this assignment:

Two pages of instructions to the child

Here’s what I wrote in my black and white composition book that I’m calling my summer journal. I write almost every day with my boys, who are penning their summer journeys, and while they wrote about boating and building a basketball hoop, I filled two pages with instructions to them. Here’s what I wrote:

• Listen. How many times have you heard that word?
• Follow the rules. They are meant for your safety, or someone else’s safety. If there’s a rule for something, it means someone has tried doing things another way, and it didn’t work out so well. Mostly, anyway.
• When someone says, “Stop,” please stop. Right then. Not after you pester a few more times.
• Love. It’s so much easier than hate.
• Be honest. You’ll always be in less trouble for telling the truth than if I discover you have lied.
• Admit when you are wrong. Not many people can do this, so you’ll be a winner if you do. Plus, you’ll feel so much better about yourself in the end.
• Aim for peace in everything you do, not conflict.
• Find something that helps you cope with life — talking to someone, a jog, a good book, singing (Danny!) — because there will be lots of bumps in the road. Getting over them is key.
• Be your own person. Don’t copy what you think you like about someone else. Just be you.
• Don’t bully, and tell us if someone is bullying you, so we can help you nip it in the bud right away.
• Don’t hit, punch, bite, or harm in any way another person or animal. Even the teeny, tiny grasshopper you think would look nice squashed on our back porch. Just leave living things alone. Please. Even though I’m aware that you are boys and that’s kind of what you do — squash things.
• Tell us everything. We’ll love you no matter what.
• Learn to take care of yourself. Example: Master the chore of laundry before you leave for college.
• Try new things, and finish what you start. If you don’t like something, don’t go back for more. But don’t quit midstream.
• Pick nice friends. If your radar says someone is a little shady, listen to it.
• Listen to your gut. If it tells you something isn’t right, it probably isn’t.
• Eat healthy most of the time. I know you love bunches of candy, and ice cream, and cookies, and cake, but use them sparingly, because what you burn off your little bodies now won’t disappear so fast when you are something like 40. Believe me. I know. Oh, and healthy food keeps you, well, healthy.
• Exercise as much as you can, because it’s good for just about every part of your body.
• Wear your seat belt, because it just might save your life. Oh, and I’m sorry I’m keeping you in the backseat until you’re 12, even though I was up front as a wee one (and without a seat belt, too). The back is just the safest place for kids, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you sit near the airbag and it hurt you.
• Wear helmets. And mouth guards. And whatever safety gear is recommended for all the sports that worry me so.
• Don’t cheat. It’s never worth it.
• Always work your hardest. It’s always worth it.
• Don’t tattle unless someone or something is in danger. Translation: Try to settle your scores all by yourself. You’re old enough to do this now.
• Rest when your body needs it. You’ll know when this time comes, because you’ll be cranky and crabby and little red lines will appear across the whites of your eyes, just like they do for Daddy.
• Wash your hands after the potty. Magic soap is OK, but real soap and water is my preference.
• Brush and floss well. Trust me, you don’t want to pay the dentist for more than cleanings. Dental work is expensive. Way expensive!
• Clean out your ears. That wax is yucky.
• Cut your nails. I know you try to get away with growing them long, but it’s not attractive. Promise.
• Keep your hair tidy. I realize you want it long and hanging in your face, and swirled here and there, but a clean, short cut is so much more impressive, and it helps you see better, too. Remember that lady in Publix, Joey, who complimented you on your nice, short haircut? My point exactly.
• Help others. It makes them feel happy, and it will soothe your soul, too.
• Say please and thank you. Always.
• Write thank-you notes. I mean real notes with your beautiful handwriting, pouring out your gratitude.
• Speak when someone speaks to you. I’m talking teachers, and other kids’ parents, and, well, not strangers who make you feel uncomfortable.
• Never approach someone’s car, or accept a ride, or agree to anything unless your dad or I tell you it’s OK. Joey, I am so proud of you for walking in the rain that day, even though a neighbor had offered to bring you home.
• Know your address and phone number.
• Stick up for your family members at all times. There’s safety in numbers, and we are a strong 4!
• Before you take any action or make any decision, ask yourself if it’s worth it, and determine what the consequences might be if you move forward. Regret is a horrible thing.
• Learn from my mistakes, and Daddy’s mistakes. That’s why we tell you stories about hiding glasses in the bedroom closet in first grade and the horrible vision that may have resulted from not wearing them — so you see what a silly thing it was to do.
• Find a job you love. That way, it won’t really seem like work.
• And remember this key instruction: No matter what, no matter when, you can always come home.
• Oh, wait, one more thing: Don’t ramble on. Just get to the point. Like I clearly did not do in this post (hey, I had to write two pages, just following the rules). OK, I’ll stop instructing. You start living.

Moments after laughing out loud at this video, Joey (9) shouted from the shower, “Mom, I made a mohawk.” Watch this, and I’m confident you will be chuckling right along with me!