Electioneering

It's all politics, all the time around here tonight. TheDad lives for this stuff and is even ignoring an upcoming nor'easter in favor of election returns. Little Brother's school had a mock election today among grades 4 and up, so he's interested in watching the elections as well (though I suspect he wants to stay up late so he can play Minecraft with the news in the background.

And Middle Sister asked what channel would have the elections (pretty much everything but ESPN, kid) because she's taking US History 2 this year and her teacher expects the class to pay attention to this. Along with a real-life civics lesson, she's also getting a geography challenge; her teacher gave the kids unmarked outline maps and wants them to label the states according to the results.

He'll get no argument from me, but my older two kids missed the geography boat in their early educations. I insisted that Big Brother sign up for a geography class in high school and he later conceded that he'd learned a lot of important information.

When Middle Sister complained that she didn't know which states were which, I informed her that she'd be selecting Geography as her first-choice elective next year, and if she didn't, I wouldn't sign her course-selection card. There was loud protesting, but I'm not giving in, even though Grandma stuck up for Middle Sister and said that it's not important to know where the states are. (Thanks for that.)

Big Brother said he'd pass on watching election returns at college, because he figured that watching these in a public place could get tense. Besides, he's got stage crew.

And I've got a couple of interesting books and a bowl of Halloween candy to occupy my attention. I voted, and there's nothing I can do about this now.

Posted with Blogsy

Twenty Years Ago Today

...my older son was born.  As with all new parents, there was a learning curve.  We had to figure out that he wouldn't break when we dressed him, that the 5-second rule applies, that you need to wait that extra second after a toddler falls to see if he's really hurt or if he'll just pick himself up and keep going, that not every sore throat is strep, and that if you intend to keep your sanity, you're going to have to hide The Little Engine That Could.

image credit

We learned that we didn't doom his academic career by waiting until he was 4 to send him to pre-K (3 afternoons a week), that the policy of "if you don't like the sport you don't have to sign up again after this season is over" is a good one, that Boy Scouting is well worth the time and effort, and that despite his nearly-nocturnal lifestyle, he can still manage to make the Dean's List.

We've been letting him go a little at a time ever since his first day of kindergarten when he was the kid tossing "gotta go!" over his shoulder as he ran to line up at the door.  But he'll always be a part of us.

Happy 20th birthday, Big Brother!

Spot On

As always, the Zits comic nails life with a teenage boy.

He returned home from college 3 weeks ago. Last night he asked me if I'd seen a certain item of clothing. I hadn't. He said he knew he'd brought it home from school...I suggested it might be in his footlocker.

He replied, "Didn't you empty that out?"

Uh...NO.

Still-unpacked bags and crates of class notes litter his room and beyond. I imagine it'll stay that way until August 19 if I let it (he returns to school on the 20th.)

Time to crack down. He's a good kid--a real good kid. But he's definitely got a clutter problem.

The Countdown is Over

Tomorrow Big Brother is off to school.

The weather promises rain--and it's been raining all day. Go figure, the first rain we've really gotten this summer. I won't be able to strap a footlocker to the top of the van in the rain. So it looks like we'll be taking 2 cars to move him in to the dorm, since his electric bass and lots of other things take up a lot of room.

The favorite dinner has been cooked and eaten, and right now about 15 teenagers are noisily hanging around my living room, so nobody's going to get much sleep tonight.

People are telling me to have lots of tissues handy. That's not how I roll. I'll just keep busy. Busy, busy. Then I won't have to think about anything or worry. Busy, busy.

It's going to be very different around here. Last time I bought chicken for the freezer, I packed it in meals for 4 instead of meals for 5. That's going to be our reality. Not sure I'm ready for that reality, but it's here.

Mom Gets Sentimental

It's Graduation Day, which ranks right up there behind flu season and the DVD release of a tearjerker chick flick in total tissue sales.

This is the first of two graduations in our family in a span of eight days, so the tissues will be in short supply indeed.

Tonight Big Brother will graduate high school and will be launched into the big, exciting, and even a little scary world of college and beyond. I couldn't be more thrilled.

He'll be attending LaSalle University in the fall, which I believe is a wonderful choice for him. When we went to the school's open house, I was impressed by the level of personal attention the students and prospective students received. I don't want my kid falling through the cracks, and I loved the environment the university created. The university's neighborhood, not so much...I'll worry about that part of it, but moms need something to worry about.

Big Brother has really grown a lot during his school career. During his primary-school years, he was a very cautious kid. He wasn't one to take risks or go on "scary" amusement-park rides. And when presented with a choice of doing two fun things that happened to be mutually exclusive due to schedule constraints, he'd agonize over which thing to pick.

This same kid was voted "Most Likely to Become a Pirate" by the senior class. On the class trips, he rode every roller coaster at least once. There's a full-page picture of him in the yearbook dangling from a rock-climbing wall, and he's learned that he loves whitewater rafting and canoeing.  He took flying lessons for a while, earned his Eagle Scout rank, and in the span of one short year learned to play the guitar well enough to secure a music ministry scholarship for college.  Now he's working on the mandolin, bass, and banjo, and is figuring out how to build his own didgeridoo.  (I don't know if that one's going to college with him, though!)

Over the years, Big Brother has grown in many ways.  His lawn-mowing skills have progressed from decapitating a forgotten Fisher-Price person to completely shredding the cap to our sewer-drain cleanout pipe, as well as at least one tennis ball.   His artistic achievements include stamping, in 6-foot letters in the snow, "PANTS ON THE GROUND" in front of his school (yes, that made the yearbook too).   He has built couch-cushion "bunkers," snow forts, cardboard-box forts for Little Brother and for his own friends when they participated in the 30-Hour Famine, Homecoming floats, stage sets, and Habitat houses in Philadelphia and post-Katrina Mississippi.   He has made toast over the flame of an Advent candle and helped his Boy Scout troop win the Iron Camp Chef competition.

I'm very proud of Big Brother and looking forward to seeing what the next few years will hold for him.  I'm going to miss him when he is off at school, but I'm very excited for him at the same time.  (And think of all the money I'll save when I don't have to constantly stock up on pretzels and Dr. Pepper!)  Congratulations to him and to the whole class of 2010!

Sigh

It's Prom night for Big Brother.

Due to a multiple-schedule conflict, I am unable to attend "Promenade," the two-hour-plus pre-prom event at his school. I was not invited to stop at the house where the bus that his group of friends rented would be picking them all up.

So I have no pictures. I wasn't even here to see him leave.

I hope he remembered the flowers--the ones I had to order yesterday because he hadn't remembered the flowers.

I was hoping to be able to show up at his school around the time that the prom bus did, so I could at least see him and his friends as they headed in the door.

For that, I have to depend on a text message from my son regarding the timing of said arrival. I haven't gotten that text yet. And I have to go get Little Brother at his friend's house in 15 minutes, get him and Middle Sister fed, and then take Little Brother to the cemetery where the Cub Scouts will be placing flags to honor veterans, in advance of Memorial Day.

Big Brother doesn't seem to care that I'll be missing this. He seems to prefer it. And I can understand that, because I'm like him, playing many things close to the vest--especially big rites of passage.

However, now that I'm on the other side of the fence, I know just how hurt my parents were when I excluded them, in whatever way, from my own rites of passage.

Growing up is tough. Even when you're 44.

The Real Thing

Grabbing the milk when we were ready to sit down to dinner, I noticed some writing on the red cap. After I poured my glass of milk I flipped over the cap to read it.

"Organic."

"Drat, I bought organic milk," I complained, turning the milk bottle around to see if the label matched the cap. (It did.)

"So what's wrong with that?" Big Brother inquired.

"I paid twice as much for the same gallon of milk," I explained.

He responded, "At least you know it came from real cows."

It Does Take a Village to Raise a Child

Lest you think I am in any kind of agreement with Hillary Clinton on this subject, I am not. A more accurate rephrasing of Mrs. Clinton's position would be that it takes a state to raise a child. And I'll never buy that.

The village, however, is another matter. Now that Big Brother is 18 and getting all set for his high-school graduation and enrollment at LaSalle University, I've been reflecting upon everything that the village has done, and meant, for him--and for me as his mother.

In our world, the village (outside our own immediate and extended families) is composed of three parts: church, school, and Scouts. In no case did we abdicate our parental responsibility and leave church, school, and Scouts to pick up the pieces. But church, school, and Scouts influenced our son, and our parenting, in many ways. All three were truly part of his growing up.

At church, Big Brother learned about sacrifice and about ministry. He grew up watching me particpate in music ministry; he was an altar server during his middle-school years, and in the past year he's gotten quite involved in music ministry himself. He plays in the folk group at our church, in the contemporary group at another church (with his friends) and at school. He'll continue that next year. He's gone from a cautious beginner at guitar to being unafraid to tote that same guitar, as well as a mandolin and a harmonica, to church--and he's learning as he goes. All of this would not be possible without the acceptance and welcoming spirit of the adults in our folk group. They know that you have to start somewhere. They know that teens are the future of the Church. So they make sure to nurture the gifts of any teen who wants to sing or play with us.

Big Brother is completing his thirteenth year at Catholic school. He's had more than his share of outstanding teachers who are there for the love of it--they're certainly not there for the salary! He's been challenged and inspired, and he's definitely the better for it. He's part of a school community in which the principal will hear of a kindness a student has done for a teacher or staff member--and take the time to send that student a handwritten thank-you note.

At Scouts, from the time he was a first-grader in that Tiger-Scout t-shirt right up until he earned his Eagle Scout rank, he has been challenged to live up to the high ideals of Scouting:
A Scout is trustworty, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.
He's encountered many committed leaders whose own sons are long done with Scouting--but who give up several hours each week (and one weekend a month for camping) to pass along these ideals to the next generation of boys.

Without this village, our son would not be where he is today--and neither would we, because his village is our village. We are thankful to be part of it--and hope that we can be a part of someone else's village as well.

Senior-Mom-itis

Two of my kids will be graduating this year: one from high school, the other from eighth grade. And I've got Senior-Mom-itis.

Both my graduates have senioritis pretty badly. My daughter's teachers aren't helping; there's not much homework being assigned these days. And once Big Brother made the commitment to accept the very generous scholarships offered him by LaSalle University, it was like a switch had been flipped.

Turn him over--he's done.

I'm just as bad. Today is report-card-and-conference day at his school. They don't mail these report cards home; parents must show up at school and pick them up. If they want to, they can have a short conference with any of their child's teachers as well. I usually take advantage of that. There's almost never a problem, but it is nice to go in there and hear nice things about my kid from several teachers. Conference day is good for my ego.

I think, though, that my ego's going to survive without today's conferences. Big Brother has three A's and one B in his four classes. He's only got six weeks more of school. He's done. And I'm done. I'm proud of his hard work and thrilled that he's been accepted into a good college and rewarded for his studies and other commitments. So I'm going to pick up his good report card, thank the secretary who's handing them out at the door, and head back home.

Committed and Challenged to Serve

Big Brother has been offered a "jackpot" scholarship package by LaSalle University, which was my top pick for him even before scholarship offers were on the table. I was impressed with the university for many reasons, not the least of which was the interest in the prospective students that was displayed by professors, department chairs, deans, and others at the Open House we attended last fall.

One of the three scholarships Big Brother was offered at LaSalle was academic: a half-tuition award. The second was the Community Service Scholarship, requiring a separate application, special recommendations, and a personal interview. This one offers money toward tuition and a perk: he'd be guaranteed a spot in a certain (air-conditioned) dorm. All the Community Service Scholars live in this desirable location and participate in certain activities as a small community. In return, he would commit to 10 hours per week of community service.

Finally, he just learned yesterday that he is also offered a Liturgical Music Scholarship. He's been playing the guitar and mandolin at Mass for just under a year (the first time was last Easter) and he's scored a scholarship for this! Clearly I went to the wrong college, because I was never offered a scholarship for doing something that I willingly did for free, twice every weekend. In return for this scholarship, he will have to commit to playing at a certain number of campus Masses.

I won't have to worry that he isn't making time for Sunday Mass now.

What impresses me about these two (non-academic) scholarships is that they are offered at all. Clearly the University wants to make a point: by rewarding service such as community service and music ministry, the University shows how important and valuable such service is. I know that my son, given the opportunity, would find a way to continue working with Habitat for Humanity or other service organizations, and I'm quite confident that he's going to want to keep participating in music ministry (something he does twice every weekend, at two different churches, just because he enjoys it so much). He would do that without any financial compensation. But he is being challenged now, by these awards. His challenge is to make time in his student's schedule for serving others, to balance his commitment to schoolwork with his commitment to the community, to give up some of his free time that might otherwise be spent playing video games and instead use it to help others.

So I'm proud that he has received these offers and excited about the opportunity he has been given. What a gift!

Winter Cleaning

I guess Big Brother has resolved to take to heart the Boy Scout virtue: "A Scout is clean" because I just discovered that he cleaned out "his" car. I know this because when I walked into the kitchen, I found not one but TWO lunchboxes that had been hiding out in his car for the past few weeks.

But the icy packs inside were still cold.

Giving Thanks, a Little Early

Big Brother traveled to Mississippi with a cold and came back with airplane ear. So today I made a doctor appointment for him; this way he won't have to suffer through the weekend. The plan was, I'd pick him up at school to sign him out at 11:30. He wouldn't miss much class time that way.

The phone rang at 10:45; it was one of Big Brother's former teachers. She wanted to let me know that Big Brother had fainted during Mass, and that an ambulance had been called.

YIKES!

We only live 5 minutes away from the school, and I explained that I was taking Big Brother to the doctor today anyway. Did he have to go to the ER? The teacher passed the phone to the principal, who promised to hold the ambulance until I got there.

Let me tell you, it's pretty freaky to run out your front door and hear sirens that you know are responding to your child's medical emergency--and that will get there before you do. Naturally, I hit both red lights on the way to the school, but once I was in the school's long, narrow, windy back driveway, I set a new land-speed record (42 MPH in a 15-MPH zone, in the van. Usually my top speed is 37 in TheDad's zippy little sedan.) Let's just say it was a good thing that the police officers were already inside the school and not following me up that back driveway.

Running into the building, I was met by the principal, vice principal, several teachers and other staff members, some police officers and a paramedic--and a very pale Big Brother in a wheelchair. His worried-looking girlfriend was also in the hallway. I explained to the paramedic that Big Brother had a medical appointment in an hour, and signed the release form. Big Brother's girlfriend headed to his locker to get the books he needed for the weekend. His English teacher teased him about going to great lengths to avoid the vocabulary test scheduled in her class later that morning. The priest exited the auditorium and spoke with Big Brother, making sure that he hadn't scared him when he anointed him after his fainting spell.

I'm thankful that the doctor thinks Big Brother will be just fine; he was a bit dehydrated and has bronchitis. A Z-pack and plenty of fluids will get him past that. I'm thankful for the priest who took the time to anoint Big Brother and to stop by and see him after Mass. I'm thankful for the vice-principal who walked us to the van, just to make sure Big Brother was steady on his feet. I'm thankful for the teacher who called the house just after we got home, because students in her homeroom were worried, and for the teacher who told me to send her a text message after the doctor visit, because she was worried. I'm thankful for all the kids who texted Big Brother throughout the afternoon, checking up on him.

He's feeling fine now, and I'm just feeling grateful.

A Taste of Things to Come

I miss Big Brother. He's spending the week in Mississippi, participating in Project Hope and Compassion with 15 other students and 3 teachers/staff members from his school.

Being that he's very busy and cell-phone reception is spotty, we don't hear much from him. He did text me yesterday to say that he's recovering from the cold he's had for the past week and working very hard.

I miss having him around, though. Tonight's folk group practice will be a little less lively. Meal planning was tough--there was a lot of "Big Brother likes this. I should save this for when he's back from his trip." And I don't get to share a laugh with him over Zits comics and ThereIFixedIt.com.

I guess this is what it will be like next year when he goes to college.

I'm proud of him and what he's doing. I'm glad he's having a good time and getting this invaluable experience, helping others and building houses.

I still miss him, though.

Proof

...that Big Brother, who has had his driver's license for a full 8 days now, isn't in danger of getting any speeding tickets:

This morning I picked up the plastic-bagged newspaper off the wet front lawn, and put it down on the trunk of Big Brother's car while I chatted with a neighbor. I walked inside without the paper and didn't think about it again until Big Brother was long gone, on his way to school.

He made it more than half a mile to the jughandle, where he stopped for a red light and the driver behind him got out of her car, picked up the paper off his trunk and handed it to him.

I know he's not flying around the corners, or the paper would have sailed off by that point.

I'm thinking that this knowledge was well worth the 75 cents for the replacement paper that TheDad bought me.

Landscaping Woes

Last night, we were sitting at the Vacation Bible School Hot-N-Crowded Finale Celebration in a small church that appeared to have exceeded its fire-code capacity several times over.

And my cell phone rang. It was Big Brother, who had stayed at home, mowing the lawn. Things were so loud in there that I was amazed to have heard it ring, so I picked it up and said, "Send me a text message. I can't hear a thing."

Then I got the text: "The mower took out the cap for the sewer thing" (the outdoor sewer cleanout--a plumber was here Monday with a snake to take care of a clog. Guess the guy didn't screw that cap back on tight.)

I asked him if he could find any pieces. I get back: "Well its gone. The pipe has no cap" (Note the lack of proper punctuation there.)

Then I told him that we needed pieces so we could figure out what size the replacement should be. "Its. Gone." (I guess he just uses periods for emphasis. Apostrophes, however, are expendable in all circumstances.)

I'd be willing to bet that I'm the only parent to ever be interrupted at a VBS show, to be told that Lawn Boy had run over part of the plumbing. I was (silently) laughing my head off.

This is not the first time Big Brother has run stuff over. He mows like I vacuum. If you leave your Legos on the carpet, and I have given you fair warning that I'm vacuuming later, then it's bye-bye Legos. Big Brother ran over a Little People ship captain once, decapitating it. He's got a sick sense of humor, so he kept that captain's head. When he still had a fish, it was in the fish tank. A couple of weeks ago, it was a tennis ball, which he neatly cut in half. The next week, it was shredded all over the lawn.

I think it's safe to say that he doesn't have a career in landscaping ahead of him.

He did it!

Big Brother had his Eagle Scout Board of Review tonight. He is now an Eagle Scout! It's all over but the Court of Honor; we have to find out how all that works.

Resourceful!

Summer brings out the evil genius creativity in my kids.

Last week Big Brother cleaned out his closet. I use the term "cleaned out" loosely because I think it could use another 3 hours of attention. My idea of "cleaning out a closet" is taking everything out and only putting back what belongs. His idea is more like rummaging around in there and maybe finding something that doesn't belong, and then leaving it on the floor until he's tired of tripping over it and moves it back to the closet.

I digress.

He found the "fake fur" that he'd unbuttoned from his winter parka. It comes off so you can wash the jacket, but he's no fan of the "fake fur" so he just took it off right away.

He and Middle Sister decided that this long strip of "fake fur" looks like a weasel. She offered to hot-glue some googly eyes onto one end, and now Big Brother is the proud owner of The Most Awesome Weasel Ever. How many other kids have a stuffed weasel in their room?

I have the feeling that this thing is going to make its way into a lot of lockers at his school this fall...

Overheard

"God has mercy on rebellious pinecones."

Thomas will get the pinecone part!

Big Brother and Middle Sister are discussing the meaning of their names. Middle Sister is looking for a Confirmation name. Instead of checking out saints and finding one that inspires her, she's working backwards and finding names she thinks work well with the name she's already got, and what it means.

Maybe I should have looked a little further into the meaning of her name when I was choosing it in the first place.

A Boy Scout at the Easter Vigil is...

Trustworthy. He can be depended upon to build and tend the Easter fire in a safe manner.
Loyal. He honors his commitment to help the church that sponsors his troop.
Helpful. He cooperates with other Scouts and leaders in building the fire.
Friendly. He greets people as they arrive for Mass.
Courteous and Kind. He shows people a safe place to stand.
Obedient. He follows his leaders' and pastor's directions.
Cheerful. He performs this service with a smile on his face.
Thrifty. He makes the Easter fire from scrap wood and sticks that have fallen from trees.
Brave. He knows what to do when the wind blows the flames to one side.
Clean. He makes sure that the wind does not blow pieces of wood or kindling out of the fire area.
Reverent. He behaves appropriately during the prayers and blessings that accompany the Easter Vigil fire ritual.

And after the Easter candle has been blessed, and everyone has sung "Thanks be to God" and gone inside the church, he quietly roasts marshmallows on the coals of the Easter fire and shares them with the other Scouts who are helping with the fire.

He's Not Taking This Lying Down

To his credit, Big Brother has decided to search for some resources that rebut Al Gore's Inconvenient Truth, which will be shown and presented as gospel by one of his teachers.

TheDad and I did not ask him to do this. We did not order him to do this. He came to us and asked if we knew of any resources. He's already made it known to his teacher that he does not believe the global warming stuff, and he is preparing to back this up with facts.

He may take some flack, and there's always the chance that revenge will be exacted through the report card (I hope that won't happen, but you never know.) But I'm not going to stop him. I'll help him look for resources, and remind him to be respectful of adults in authority even when we disagree with their opinions.

It's all part of growing up to be an honorable young man--and that, more than a good report-card grade, is what I really want for my son.