If You Knew Him at all, You'd Have a Hard Time Believing Any of This....

For all that this is MY blog, I don't think I've ever really talked about ME.  Sure, in the beginning there were the cute little posts listing random facts about me, but not a lot about what actually makes me.... me.  And mostly, that's okay. I mean, this blog is supposed to be the place where I get to brag about, or maybe even whine a little about, my boys without anyone interrupting me. Or contradicting me. Or sidetracking me. (Let's face it, I can get sidetracked easily enough on my own, thankyouverymuch.)

But here's a thought.....

Would my boys be the boys they are if I wasn't the me that I am?  Which makes me wonder sometimes, how did I get to be the me that I am?

Don't worry. I'm not really going to give you a long, drawn out, boring backstory on myself.  Most of any of it has no real bearing on the here and now. But..... I had a conversation tonight that made me take a really long look at just what parts of the me then went into the making of the me now. 

A conversation with the one brother guaranteed to make me scream, cry, pull out my hair, roll my eyes, and set the phone down because I'm not getting a word in, anyway. All within the first three minutes of the conversation.  *sigh* He may be a puke, but I love him.

I won't get into the whole thing. But I will tell you that as surprising as it is, this man (heh.... I typed "boy" first, then literally reminded myself--out loud--that he's 36. Which really means he's not a boy, doesn't it?) has some occasional flashes of observation, philosophy and insight that just blow you away. Tonight was really no different. Well, actually....it kind of was.  If you call the fact that for the first time in...oh, I have no idea when but I suspect it's somewhere in the neighborhood of 36 years, he told me that he was proud of me. He believed in me. He was proud to be like me.

It started with him telling me that my boys were boys he was proud to claim as nephews. Well, duh. I could have told they would be. It morphed into him telling me how proud he was to claim me as his big sister.  He told me that despite every single negative crud-bucket-y thing that had ever happened in my life since I acknowledged adulthood, I was not a failure.

I repeat.... I am NOT a failure.

And would you believe that despite having worked that logic out on my own, I have never actually believed it. I mean, look at the facts. Here I am, almost 38 years old, and I've never outright owned a single thing since I graduated high school. We are still renting a house, no clear ability to purchase anything anytime before my grandkids (may they not arrive for AT LEAST ten years) graduate high school. We only have one vehicle, while the other one sits -- useless and so unable to run that even the spiders won't touch it -- in my driveway. Oh yes, and we still owe money on it? We struggle from paycheck to paycheck, trying to remember which utility company sent which disconnect notice on what day; and was that date yesterday or today? We work hard to convince our boys that receiving gifts at Christmas, especially anything remotely resembling what the actually wanted, is a highly overrated custom?  And yet....and yet....

My brother, who can't stand to be around me for longer than 15 minutes (and sad though it is, I really am not making that up), believes in me. Believes that my boys are who they are, which is basically astounding and amazing young men, because of who I am. And that who I am is someone who not only has done her best, but is someone that HASN'T FAILED. 

I need to keep saying that in all caps. Otherwise, I'll let myself believe that it wasn't actually said.)

In life, all I have ever really wanted can be summed up in just a few bullet points:

• I wanted kids that I would get phone calls and emails about from other parents, teachers and people in our community, telling me how polite, well-mannered and thoughtful they were.
• I wanted a husband that would stick by me, no matter what hell we had to get through to at least pass on the fringes of heaven.
• I wanted a career I could take pride in, and have longevity in.
• I wanted to NOT live in an apartment forever.

Well, let's recap my life with these dreams.....

• I have those kids. If ex-girlfriend's parents can corner me in the grocery store to ask if he'd take their daughter out again; and if every single teacher, despite being frustrated with the grades he squeaks by with, can gush about what a wonderful kid my Bug is, and how he's always the first one to make friends with the new kid or open the door for a teacher; well then, it looks like my boys are so totally living up to my expectations.
• In just a little over two weeks, I will be celebrating 18 years of marriage to someone who stuck around when it would have been so much easier to walk away; someone who is still the first person I want to talk to when something is going wrong, when something is going right, or just when something isn't going anywhere at all and we need to liven it up a bit!
• While I might have been in my current office only a little over a year, I HAVE been in this industry for over 16 years. See? Longevity.
• And while we may only be renting, not working towards owning the thing, it is still a HOUSE, with a yard and a garage; and NOT an APARTMENT. 

And most of all, we're all happy. And I didn't fail. I will not fail.

I am not failing.

And that? Is the absolute most wonderful thing ever said to me. Ever.

Our Butterfly Effect

It occurs to me that I do more thinking about life, and how choices and actions affect not just your own but those around you as my children get older.

I was sitting in the stands this weekend, talking to the Teenager’s best friend, Junior. We were watching Jock compete in a decathlon. (Side note: holy heck that is a grueling competition! The athletes were all jelly by the time things were done!) As Junior and I sat there, I could see that something was bothering him. He’s normally a pretty cheerful kid when he’s around us, but this time something was off. Being the nosy mom that I am, I asked.

Wanna know something pretty cool? He actually told me.

Anyway, turns out that Junior was fighting with his parents. And stressing over where his life is headed, what direction it should go, and the fact that he just doesn’t know WHAT he wants to do with it. He wants to make a difference, but he just doesn’t see how he ever can or will. Junior’s told me before how my Teenager has been a good influence on him, getting him to stop doing self-destructive things just by watching the choices Jock was making in his own life. Being the clever meddler that I am, I shamelessly used my boy as an example of how you can make a difference without being the center of the World’s attention.

I told him that although the Teenager might not have the most book smarts, he pushes himself to do the best he can do so that he can play sports. He has a goal in mind for his life, and knows there are certain things he has to do to get there. He is determined, he is focused, and he is stubborn. And then I asked Junior what he thought Bug thought of his big brother. He idolizes him, he told me. Wants to be just like him.

Now, take Bug’s book smarts and creativity, combined with Jock’s determination, focus and stubbornness. Do you see the possibilities for Bug? What if Bug goes on in life to invent something that changes the course of someone’s life? Do you realize that would be because he was trying to follow his brother’s example of making the right life choices? Junior, everyone – EVERYONE – touches someone else’s life. Everyone creates a ripple effect. Your choice is simply whether or not you want your ripples to be positive or negative.

Junior and I talked for just a bit longer, and I told him that when we dropped him off at his house after the meet he needed to go and make things right with his mother. Moms put up with a lot of crap from most of the world; we shouldn’t have to put up with it at home. He told Jock later that I had really gotten to him, and that the first thing he did when he walked in the door was to apologize to his mom and tell her he loved her.

I’ve talked before about my conviction that everyone influences people. I am so proud of my boys for the positive ripples they create on a daily basis.

Things I Could Have Avoided By Having Only One Child

There are times when I really do wonder just why I ever wanted to parent more than one child. Days when I question just what wonderful things I *think* I'm seeing in that damn teenager I have. Days when all my buttons are pushed at the same time, and I just want to take my pillow and go hide in the farthest corner of my closet with my favorite book, my favorite adult beverage, and possibly a small TV with Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure playing on continuous loop. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

It's no great secret that Bug wants to be Just. Like. Jock. Seriously, he would turn himself into his clone if he could. He agonizes over the distressing fact that he was not born as Jock's twin. It really frustrates him sometimes that he doesn't share any physical characteristics with his brother, outside of the obvious boy-ness appendages. Don't misunderstand, he loves his individuality. He just wishes it was an individuality he could completely share with Jock.

And so he gets a girlfriend at the same age as his brother. He wants a cell phone at the same age as his brother. He grabs his brother's clothes and tries to wear them before Jock realizes they don't fit him anymore. And as soon as Jock DOES admit to outgrowing something, Bug snatches that article up before Jock even finishes the sentence.

Normally, Jock manages to just ignore all of this. Yes, it irritates him. There ARE five years between them, remember, so it's not like they can really share too much at this point in their lives. However, there are times when Jock morphs into what can only be termed as an ASS. (And I shudder to think what will be led here by the search engines for the use of that word.)

Bug had some money burning a hole in his pocket, and so yesterday we went shopping. What he wanted more than anything was a pair of aviator sunglasses. Just like Jock's, of course. And we actually found some, so of course we grabbed them. Then we headed off to pick Jock up from football practice. (Side note: this might well be a good example of why it would be good for him to be driving himself. This whole thing could have been avoided that way. Or maybe he should start schmoozing his driving friends for rides.) Jock comes strutting down the hill towards the parking lot (yes, it was strutting. He's a teenage boy; I don't think there is another walk that breed is capable of), gets to the truck and takes a look at his little brother sitting there, proudly wearing his new shades.

Well, I can't wear mine anymore.

Bug slowly pulled his new sunglasses off his face, and visibly deflated right in front of me. So I looked at Jock and told him that was a truly craptastic thing to say. At which point, the teenage attitude flared up fully, and he ceased to be able to communicate in any way that did not involve a grunt in my general direction for a few hours. Which was fine by me, because I couldn't talk to him without wanting to pinch him someplace uncomfortable for being obnoxious.

The truly amazing thing about all of this, though? Is the way Bug managed to shrug it all off and make excuses for his wienie of a big brother. Bug now swears he knows, just knows, Jock was only joking around. How can this sweet, forgiving little boy keep thinking his brother is the greatest thing since seedless watermelon?

Jock better hope Bug continues to forgive him. Because as clever as Bug is, if he ever decides to turn all of his brilliance towards thoughts of revenge? I might end up with a bald-everywhere-oh-God-the-itching-and-why-are-all-my-clothes-suddenly-too-small-and-HEY!-is-that-a-camera-NO!-don't-post-that-picture-online teenager.

"I Shall Call Him.... Mini Me"

Certain times of my mornings are, shall we say.... less observant than others. I'm caught up in the routine of getting ready for my own day, and so maybe am not as focused as I should be on the start of my sons' days. This is neither good nor bad, and is certainly not open for anyone else's judgement calls. What it is, however, is a chance for Bug to stretch his burgeoning powers of sneakiness and brother-cloning.

Mom, can I wear this?

Now, as this boy is 11 years old, this is not something I often hear. Which is why it is guaranteed to catch my attention, and make me poke my head around the bathroom corner. Bug hasn't quite figured this out yet, which is probably the only reason he isn't yet getting away with things. Things like wearing his brother's favorite shirt from the baseball team to school.

I'm a pretty smart mama, if I'm allowed to pat myself on the back for a minute. I know that even though Jock most likely would NEVER have known that Bug wore his shirt (since Bug would have been home from school and changed long before Jock got home from football practice), wearing that shirt would not have been a good idea. Even if I were to wash it, dry it and put it right back where it was found, Jock would know. Somehow, someway, he would KNOW that Bug had been in his room and worn his clothes. So naturally, I told him that no, he could not wear his brother's shirt. I know, I know. I'm a horrible mother.

Poor Bug. All he wants to be in life is Just. Like. Jock. Seriously. He wants to eat like him. He wants to dress like him. He even decided on the time frame for the first girlfriend because it's the same time frame his brother had HIS first girlfriend. Coach and I have no frame of reference for helping him through this; we're both first borns. We know how to torture younger siblings, not how to hero worship an older one.

Jock only makes it worse, you know. Bug might be able to get past thinking that teenager is the coolest thing EVER if Jock just stuck to being obnoxious to him all the time. But no! He has to go and randomly throw in moments where he's (you aren't going to believe this... I witness it and have a hard time believing it!) NICE. Times when, for no reason at all, he'll go out and help with pitching practice or have one of those "big brother" conversations. Obviously, Jock has a master plan to keep everyone guessing as to his true nature.

In the meantime, I'll keep protecting Jock's wardrobe from Bug, and keep encouraging Bug in his choice of role model. On the positive side? Jock quit putting holes in all of his clothes YEARS ago. So when they do get passed down? They'll look just the same as the day Bug first tried to scam them into his closet!

Did You Miss Me?

I have to admit, it was a rather nice weekend without the Internet intruding on our lives. Coach wasn't glued to ESPN or some other sports tracking website. Jock wasn't spending hours searching for new music to download. Bug was saved the psychological scarring that would come with those cartoon images we all know are pornographic even though they won't admit it. I was able to enjoy several un-connected days actually connecting with my family.

But now, well, we're back. And we didn't need to adopt a new modem, either. I won't go into detail on what the actual problem was. Let me just impart the knowledge that my Internet carrier is stupid. And rude. And apparently modeled after someone's mother. Because when asked WHY they did what they did? I was told....


Because we can.


No lie, that's a direct quote from some seriously-lacking-in-customer-service, will-work-for-pennies-on-the-dollar-in-some-third-world-country representative told me this weekend.


Gah.

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Remember this post?


It happened again. With no prodding on my part to force that overly-cool teenager to spend some time with his little brother. In fact, I was at the other end of the house for a while before I walked in and discovered the race in progress.

Fortunately for me, and for all of you out in blogland, I was able to grab the camera. Naturally, the boys weren't as cooperative as they could be, but I persevered. We've known for ages now that Bug idolizes his big brother and will do just about anything to get Jock to pay attention to him. I've long suspected that Jock secretly enjoys spending time with Bug, as well, even though the natural state of his teenager-ness precludes his openly admitting that fact.

But.....I now have proof.

At Least They're MY Monsters

Bug: Mom, I want a hat (in the interest of not giving away the secret to a Christmas gift here, the items mentioned will be description-less) and a jacket Just.Like.Jock's.

Me: Why? Don't you like being your own, individual self?

Bug: Actually, I think he and I should have a "Twin Day". I mean, we look almost alike, right? (keep in mind that my boys are 5 years apart, with coloring so different that if I didn't KNOW they had the same parents we'd wonder more about it)

Me: Oh sure. Almost exactly alike. (Hey! I can support a dream!) But why do you want so much to look like your brother?

Bug: Because he's cool. And I want to be cool, too.

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Jock: Hey, Mom? Do you have five bucks I can have for school tomorrow?

Me: Did you lose another ID card?!?! (that would be his THIRD since school started in August!)

Jock: No. *smirking* I wanted to get some ice cream at lunch.

Me: What about the money I gave you this weekend? You should have enough of that left over.

Jock: Well, sure. But that's MY money.

(and he had the nerve to actually look perplexed when I just shook my head and walked away.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jock (in a phone conversation with me): So, yeah. We just got home. (meaning he and Bug)

Me: Where were you?

Jock: Dad said that Bug could go to the park, but that I had to go with him. So I went up there with Bug and one of his little friends so they could play basketball.

Me: So what did you do while they were playing..... just sit there and watch them?

Jock (again, sounding like this should have been a no-brainer): Umm, duh Mom. I played with them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was tired and hungry, and consequently cranky, on my drive home tonight. My poor mother had the bad timing to answer her phone when I called, so she got stuck hearing all about my dinner dilemma. Eight pounds of hamburger in my freezer (what? I found it on sale for 99cents a pound!!), and only four hamburger recipes in my head. Of those, my boys actively fight against three of them, and we'd just had the fourth a couple of nights ago. And as much as my boys like that particular dish, there are only so many nights in a row you can have it before you run the risk of eventual hatred by said boys.

I was informed, ever so lovingly, by my mother (yes, I chose to believe the laughter she was struggling valiantly against was full of love, dammit!) that the life I am currently living has always been by my choice.

Well, sure, I responded. I can choose to suck it up and deal with finicky kids, husband and dogs; a too-busy-to-focus-much job at the moment; Christmas gift debt; and only one really good pair of heels for work..... OR.....

I could walk away from it all and relocate using the Witness Protection Program, never talking to any of them ever again.

No more whining about dinners.

No more bickering back and forth.

No more spilled drinks on the sofa, or crumbs all over the kitchen counters and floor.

No more late night, bad dream cuddles.

No more hugs to start my day.

No more random text messages during the day with smiley faces and silly notes.

No more "I love you's".


Hmm.... not really much of a choice, is there? It might not be the Garden of Eden, or all sunshine and rainbows, but it is MY paradise.

And I will always be here by my choice.

Teenagers and Whats Considered a Necessity

I guess in all fairness, this could just be something inherently wrong with MY specific teenager. But somehow I doubt it. I think when they hit 13, something short circuits in their brains and doesn't get rewired until their 20's.

My boys are a few years apart. I think I've mentioned that a time or two here. Jock is an all-important Freshman in high school, while Bug is just a lowly 4th grader. Who idolizes his big brother, by the way. Completely and totally. Bug would like nothing more in this world that to turn out EXACTLY like Jock. Does Jock see this as the compliment it actually is? In a word... No. Jock sees this as something that Bug does solely to be the bane of Jock's existence. The thorn in his side. The bump in his road of life. The pile of poo he stepped in. Graphic, yes. On target with the comments Jock actually makes? Totally.

Before Jock got his cell phone, I used to get phone calls at my office telling me what was going on. While bothersome, I could deal with those. They were free, didn't use up any minutes or anything. I even got them to limit them to one or two calls a day, because Mom has a very busy work life and they were going to get in the way of a paycheck that they both agreed was needed if they wanted to continue to enjoy things like a roof over their heads or food in their bellies.

Now? I get text messages from Jock every time Bug does something he has an issue with.

Bug won't turn the TV down.

Bug isn't doing his homework.

Bug blah, blah, blah....

You get the drift. I should mention here that our texting plan is not unlimited. While Jock can text to his heart's content as long as he's "in the network", his father and I were grandfathered in on our particular plan, so we do NOT have unlimited texting. Even in the network. So while Jock SENDING the text is free, my RECEIVING the text--and sending a reply-- IS NOT. Jock has somehow failed to grasp this concept. So I feel totally justified right now in my reply, after having just received the following text message from my darling teenager:

Why is Bug wearing my old practice jersey? (Mind you... Jock has not worn this particular item of clothing in OVER.A.YEAR.)

My response? So that you'll have yet one more thing to WASTE A TEXT MESSAGE TO ME ON.

What did he do? Texted back an apology.

*sigh*

Growing Up

My kids are always trying to convince me that they're growing up. And truthfully, they are. Faster than I can keep up with them. And while often this creates some astounding growing pains, and severe separation anxiety on my part, there are times when its just downright amusing! Which is a good thing, since I'm much prettier when I'm laughing than when I'm crying. :) Really, I'm not a pretty crier. Some women are beautiful when they're crying. Me... not so much. My face ends up looking more like a toddler got a hold of it with their finger paints. But I digress.....

Ok, so Jock is only 14. Not anywhere near driving age. At least, not near the age in my book. In his, its only days away. He could do it now. I mean, he looks old enough, so why not? These are his arguments. So umm, yeah... future lawyer he isn't. :) However, this weekend his dad let him back the truck out of the driveway and then park in on the street along the sidewalk in front of our house. From the goofy smile on that boy's face you would have thought we had just handed him the keys to his very own car and waved him off. And he did a decent job, too. Didn't back over any neighbors, their pets, or trash cans, and didn't run into any other cars. He even remembered to put the truck in "park" before turning off the engine and removing the key (Which, considering the POS Coach drives, isn't always needed. Scary!). All in all, it really wasn't such a big deal. However, he's now considering an alternate career if the whole NFL star thing doesn't work out for him. He's gonna be one of those "professional driver on a closed course" guys for car ads. :)

Fortunately, Bug still knows he's years away from anything as cool as backing the truck out of the driveway. But he still wants me to know he's growing up. We were over at Grandma's house this weekend, and he wanted to go swimming. (Yes, we are still able to swim in outdoor pools this time of year in Arizona! Just means that the water temperature is closer to the the temperature your shower gets as its running out of hot water than it is to the temperature of a nice bath.) When I looked at him and reminded him that the water might be a *bit* chilly, he looked me straight in the eye, with as serious a tone as any 9 year old boy can get, and said,

"No worries, mom. I can take it like a man."

At which point I had to leave the room. Before I laughed. And that would have been bad, cuz he never really takes it well when I laugh at something he's meant so seriously. And then later the next day when he was telling me about it, and scoffing at my warning that it would be cold since it obviously wasn't, I heard his brother pipe in with this one:

"Oh yeah? Well, dad let me drive the truck."

'Cuz that sounded so much cooler than what really happened. "Dad let me back the truck out of the driveway" doesn't have quite the one-upmanship quality, does it? And I don't think you ever really outgrow that need to one-up a sibling.

Well, except for me. But everyone knows I'm better than my brothers. Just ask! :)

Couldn't Think of Good Title.....

Ok... so I'm trying. Really I am. :) But trying to keep up with this on a daily basis, plus work, plus try to pay SOME attention to Coach, and football for both Bug and Jock.....

Well, I'll just say that I can't fit into that Wonder Woman costume that Lynda Carter wore. :)

And I've noticed something since I started this blog, too. No matter what I'm doing, at some point I will wonder if its interesting enough to blog about. Or I'll find myself randomly shuffling ideas through my head to blog about. But I can never remember most of them. Think I'll have to start carrying a notepad around with me!

Here's a tidbit of randomness from my life..... whether you'll find it as amusing as I did at the time... *shrug*

When Coach and I were pregnant with Bug (like how I included him in that pregnancy? ha!), we took the advice of "experts" and tried to keep Jock as involved with the whole thing as we could. He went to my doctor's appointments with me, listened to the heartbeat, saw the ultrasound pictures, etc. We decided we'd let Jock name his baby brother. Now, that was not as big a risk as it sounds. We only gave him three choices. :) And they all had the same middle name. However, Jock felt extremely important after being given this job. And all was well. Bug's name isn't something too funky to spell easily, and people don't look at us strange when we introduce him. :) But now, after 9 years, we finally know the reason why Jock chose the name he chose! This weekend, while we were driving to Bug's football game, Bug asked Jock about it. Jock's reply?

"Cuz Bug was a good name for a puppy and I really wanted a puppy."

Ahhhh..... brotherly love. Can't you feel it?