Yesterday morning started as most mornings--coffee, laundry, a little quiet time, and a run. I was actually feeling pretty good..
As I was out running my music was interrupted by Caroline's ringtone. "Mama, where are you?" I heard her quietly say. "Out for a run--everything okay?" A sob escaped her throat, "No, I feel terrible; my head hurts, my throat hurts, and my legs ache. Please come home." Uh oh--this can't be good. She's up early and asking me to come home. I headed straight home and my suspicions were confirmed as I entered the den. There lay Caroline, no TV on, no phone in her hand (and I'm pretty sure it hadn't been surgically removed which I believe may be the only way to remove it), she was just quietly lying there with tears streaming down her face. I immediately took her temperature and it was rising to above 100.
As the daughter of a doctor, I learned early on that doctor offices have a great time making fun of people who call a)all the time and b) when it's just a cold, so I am programmed to never call before 48 hours of illness (unless there's asthma involved of course--learned that lesson the hard way). But I knew the flu could come on quickly and I knew they could prescribe tamiflu within the first 24 hours and I knew I hadn't taken Caroline to get a flu shot. So I picked up the phone.
I began explaining to the receptionist that I don't usually call on the weekends, I don't usually call the minute the children are sick, I hate to bother her, and maybe we don't really need to be seen today but I just wanted to run it by her. (I'm suspecting she was rolling her eyes and wondering why this crazy lady felt the need to unburden herself as she was watching all the other lines lighting up with equally--maybe not equally-neurotic mothers. And by the way, it was her job to answer the phones--if these crazy parents weren't bothering her she wouldn't have a job.) She pleasantly responded, "Sore throat? Could be strep she should be seen." At this point I felt I should make a complete confession, "Could it be flu? She hasn't had a flu shot." DEAD SILENCE Perhaps it was only a few seconds, but I felt like it was an eternity and that she was probably marking in large red marker on the front of our file "NO FLU SHOT AND IT'S DECEMBER" Again pleasantly, but a little less patiently she replied, "You didn't get her a flu shot? How old is she?" "13" I responded wanting to add but she's 5'10" and outweighs me, plus she's kind of sassy and we're really busy--oh and did I mention I'm a priest? Anything you want me to do for you? Instead we made the appointment, and I was secretly relieved that I had to go to work and Chris would have to take her and get the stare that comes when the doctor learns your children haven't had their flu shots--yep, it's happened before.
As SK was driving me to my car I told her that if Caroline had the flu I would call her and she would need to immediately go get a flu shot. "By myself?" she asked with a tone of utter astonishment and disbelief. "Yes by yourself; I've got to go to work. I have baptismal prep this morning." (Probably with a baby who has had his flu shot.) "I can't go by myself," she retorted with an accusing tone that seemed to say, what kind of mother are you that makes your child go get a shot by herself--oh yeah, the kind of mother that also doesn't take her children to get flu shots the day they come out. "Sarah Katherine," I calmly said trying to regain any credibility I had as a preventive health care mother, "You are going to college in 9 months; you have gone to the doctor before by yourself. And need I remind you your over 18." "But," she humphed "It was never for a shot."
I returned home as the boys were getting out of bed. I repeated my instructions to them about flu shots if Caroline was positive, and then I told Chris about making her appointment (leaving out the guilty pleasure I had that I wasn't the one taking her in) As I got to the part about the long pause after the confession of not having had flu shots, Boss said, "You know that lady was probably thinking 'what a shitty mother--wonder if she even loves her kids?'" He certainly knows how to heap burning coals upon an already guilt ridden soul--I couldn't even correct his language. "Yeah," William added, "And didn't Pop remind you about that last weekend when he was here for Caroline's play? I think he told you several times and stressed how important it was. And," he added just to punctuate the importance of the conversation, "he's a doctor." Feeling very chastised I thought to myself, "Yeah he stressed over and over to get ya'll flu shots but apparently he didn't take quite the same amount of time with his advice on how NOT to have four children in four years and he certainly never taught me how to surgically close your mouths as you entered the teen years! Now that would have been useful advice.) William continued, "I think even Babah told you the other day." Oh the joys of having divorced parents--double the advice in double the time. "Anyway," finished William, "I'm not going today; I'm not getting a shot on my birthday." "You'll be lucky if you have another," I thought as I slunk out of the room.
The good news is that Caroline doesn't have the flu or strep--just a regular old virus. (You know the kind that the nurses make fun of you for bringing your children into the office immediately upon the start of symptoms?)They tested her for both, "First they stab and choke you," she told me, "And then they scratch your brain sticking a long q-tip like thing up your nose all to tell you there's nothing they can do--just drink fluids. And now I can't even go to Owensboro for the birthday party--you won't let me." she added with an accusing tone. I may not be good at getting my children flu shots, but apparently I am personally responsible for viruses. Glad I'm responsible for something.
Guess who's going to get flu shots?
29 December 2013
10 December 2013
I Refrained
Last night I drove home from work with a tinge of fear and a whole lot of guilt. Chris is out of town for the week and I'd been at EfM. It was almost 9 pm; I was exhausted, and I had no idea what I was about to walk into when I got there. All of the children except Caroline (and that in and of itself is fear inducing) had broken a cardinal rule of the house. The children know not to disturb me during meetings unless it is an emergency--read someone is bleeding or not breathing (both of which are not beyond the realm of possibility on any given day in the Doyle household). So when 15 minutes into EfM my phone rang, I panicked. It was Boss, "Mama tell SK she has to stop at Walgreens for me to get emergency food. I haven't eaten all day, practice was brutal and Case said there were emergency food things--emergency vitamins--at Walgreens." Not being drawn into their arguments is one of my daily goals (Boss and SK have already begun the separation process and it is heart breaking to watch--they've never fought this much--but that's for another blog), so I said, "tell her I said to just stop it's on the way home, and you be nice." I refrained for the sake of time to remind him about the bleeding/non-breathing rule, and I also pushed the questions of "When did Case become a doctor?" and "Why haven't you eaten all day." to the back of my mind. That was made easier when I reminded myself that at least he was stopping for a legal remedy. I did, however, text SK and ask her to please be patient and not let a fight break out. Her response, "I'm sick of him treating me like crap when he has a hard practice." I seriously almost laughed out loud, but I refrained from responding, "tell me about it." or "I feel your pain." Remember, I'm trying to limit the texts/calls from home, so I just responded, "I'm sorry. Try to be patient." And for the next hour my phone was silent until....
Around 7:20 the phone started blowing up with texts from William. "When are you going to be home?" "I'm stressed about exams and need help." "I need spare binders." Anyone who has had a 9th grade student going through high school exams for the first time can understand why my guilt meter was going strong and I was holding onto the panic cliff with two hands. (There is a very good argument to add exam stress to the bleeding and not breathing list of good reasons to interrupt me) Anyone who has had a 9th grade boy actually asking for help can understand why I had fallen from the cliff, was on the other side of the guilt mountain and making my way back up the next one. He texted me it was math and science he was most worried about--BONUS the lights and music went off in my head--those are SK's strengths. But, I remembered the irritation she was already experiencing so with a bit of pause and remembering that a) I had already asked her to be patient and b) I have recently purchased her quite a few new things (yes, I use bribery when it's necessary) I told him to ask her for help. So with all this swirling through my mind I drove through the dark night and up our driveway bearing said 3 ring binders William needed.
I walked in and only found the girls at the dining room table; they were laughing. I began to exhale. "Where are the boys?" I asked. "Oh Mama," started SK (I sucked that breath right back in), "they're already in bed." "But I have binders for William that he asked me to bring home." I refrained from saying, "that he broke the bleeding/non breathing rule to make sure I brought home." "Mama," continued SK, "He had to go to bed. We spent a long time organizing his Biology notebook, and it wiped him out. We've still got his math and English to go. He was so stressed he went into my room and took my color coded post it notes to use as dividers." (If he crossed the threshold of SK's room without permission, he truly was desperate.) "He was so stressed," she continued, "I couldn't even yell at him. Look at these notebooks; they're disasters. But it's okay we have this week to get him organized." I exhaled again and said a silent prayer asking that her benevolence would continue all week--Chris wasn't home until Friday. I decided it was safe to go upstairs take out my contacts which felt like sandpaper in my eyes and get ready for bed. But Caroline followed me....
As she walked in my room, where I was changing she began with, "Put some clothes on. Grouse." I refrained from reminding her that a) we all have to see her in various states of undress in places like say the dining room and b) that it was indeed my room. "Mama, I can't go to basketball tomorrow. It's dress rehearsal and I just can't miss any of it. I know it's a game but..." The standard Collegiate rule is that games trump rehearsal and rehearsal trumps practice. Just to make certain I texted the athletic director. My level of desperation cannot be described. It was 9:15 pm and I really don't like to bother people at home but these were desperate times in the Doyle household. He verified my understanding but added, "but this time we have allowed some exceptions." Seriously?!?!?! This is not the week for exceptions--I need rules dude! Caroline was pacing and shouting Rachel and Clara Stewart don't have to go to the game. I refrained from saying, "I'm not Rachel's and Clara Stewart's parent." Really refraining from that was pure self preservation as I was at that very moment texting their mothers while trying to ignore the voice in my head that said, "if everyone else jumped off a cliff would you?" (Keep in mind I had already fallen from that cliff.) Everyone was missing the game, so I gave in but reminded Caroline that she had to let the coach know. (I was attempting to teach some sort of responsibility.) Just to highlight the importance of commitment, I added "Caroline they need you; you are the starting center." Caroline, "That's only because I'm tall and have a big butt." I refrained from responding only because I was gagging. "Caroline, you smell awful. Go take a shower." Caroline, "I don't smell; it's just my feet." I refrained from reminding her that her feet were indeed part of her body--who knows where that conversation could have gone?
I headed downstairs for a final check in with SK--"Mama can you sit down and listen to my essays for my Yale application?" As I was trying to pry my eyes open so that I could indeed be the present Mama that I want to be, Caroline came bopping down the stairs and into the room swinging her braid that was on the top of her head singing, "Look at me; I"m a helicopter." I refrained from physically subduing her as the effort to get out of my chair was far more than I could muster and instead said, "Have you already taken a shower?" "No, only my feet smelled so I just washed them." she, at least, honestly replied. She plopped herself down at the table, pulled out her coloring book, and said, "I'm looking for a picture of Cinderella to color. Here's one--oh look, Cindy's got big boobies." "Caroline," I said before the conversation could go from PG to R, "your sister is reading me her essay and short answer questions. Please be quiet."
"So," continued SK seriously, "The first one is about your favorite quote. I put 'Saying no does not make you a failure' which I got from Aunt Ingrid." I was about to say that I thought that was good when she continued perhaps because she thought my feelings might be hurt, "I would have used yours 'Have fun, remember who you are, be true to yourself' but I think of that more as a motto and not just a quote." "I think of that more as Mama's way to tell us what to do." chimed in Caroline. I refrained from saying, "and obviously you follow it because I don't know of anyone who has met you who doesn't remember who you are whether they want to or not." Alas, she wasn't finished, "I hope they have that question when I apply to college. Mine is going to be 'Don't wear your makeup like that; you look like a slut.'" Sarah Katherine and I both refrained from any comment and she moved onto reading me more questions and answers only to be interrupted by Caroline yet again, "Do you really have to know a lot of vocabulary for the SAT? I mean what are you going to use it for in life anyway." I refrained from responding, "to communicate." SK did say, "yes you do and taking Latin really helps." "Well," said Caroline, "Then I'm screwed." "Next question," I said to SK refraining from any engagement whatsoever.
"Name something you've changed your mind about in the last 2 or 3 years." I quickly and I thought rather humorously responded, "_______" (the boyfriend's name). "How am I going to write 25 words about that? That's dumb." Sarah Katherine seriously responded. "Ok," I said, "How about how you've changed your mind about private and public school?" (back story--SK wanted to go to an all girls private Catholic school and we sent her to the public magnet instead. The first year was miserable and now she loves it and has even remarked on two occasions of which I know that she's glad she didn't go to the other school.) That however was clearly not a good answer as she rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah Mama I'll write an essay that says private schools suck and public schools are so much better to Yale--A PRIVATE SCHOOL!" I really wanted to remind her that I hate that s___ word, but I refrained because, well, I was just too tired and clearly not helping at all a fact she could have taken into consideration from the beginning as I neither was accepted to nor even applied to any Ivy league school. "I'm going to text Mason and ask her what she thinks." SK said. Less than 2 minutes later the reply comes "______(boyfriend's name)" I took that as my personal victory and a very good time to exit the room.
As I was leaving I said, "Oh Abby says I should publish my blogs in a book. The money could actually help pay for the therapy ya'll are all going to need." SK, "No! You can't do that. I've already decided I'm going to do that when you die. I've got dibs on that deal." I refrained from saying anything because really how do you respond to the fact that your eldest child is already trying to figure out how to profit from your death. (She already goes around the house and through my jewelery box telling me what she wants when I die. I don't want to encourage her to hasten that time.) I headed up to bed hoping to get a quick call into Chris, read, and lights out. As I was pulling the covers down in bounds Caroline. "I'm going to sleep with you tonight." I pulled both sides of the bed down and refrained from saying anything because really what could be better than your baby wanting to snuggle with you?
Around 7:20 the phone started blowing up with texts from William. "When are you going to be home?" "I'm stressed about exams and need help." "I need spare binders." Anyone who has had a 9th grade student going through high school exams for the first time can understand why my guilt meter was going strong and I was holding onto the panic cliff with two hands. (There is a very good argument to add exam stress to the bleeding and not breathing list of good reasons to interrupt me) Anyone who has had a 9th grade boy actually asking for help can understand why I had fallen from the cliff, was on the other side of the guilt mountain and making my way back up the next one. He texted me it was math and science he was most worried about--BONUS the lights and music went off in my head--those are SK's strengths. But, I remembered the irritation she was already experiencing so with a bit of pause and remembering that a) I had already asked her to be patient and b) I have recently purchased her quite a few new things (yes, I use bribery when it's necessary) I told him to ask her for help. So with all this swirling through my mind I drove through the dark night and up our driveway bearing said 3 ring binders William needed.
I walked in and only found the girls at the dining room table; they were laughing. I began to exhale. "Where are the boys?" I asked. "Oh Mama," started SK (I sucked that breath right back in), "they're already in bed." "But I have binders for William that he asked me to bring home." I refrained from saying, "that he broke the bleeding/non breathing rule to make sure I brought home." "Mama," continued SK, "He had to go to bed. We spent a long time organizing his Biology notebook, and it wiped him out. We've still got his math and English to go. He was so stressed he went into my room and took my color coded post it notes to use as dividers." (If he crossed the threshold of SK's room without permission, he truly was desperate.) "He was so stressed," she continued, "I couldn't even yell at him. Look at these notebooks; they're disasters. But it's okay we have this week to get him organized." I exhaled again and said a silent prayer asking that her benevolence would continue all week--Chris wasn't home until Friday. I decided it was safe to go upstairs take out my contacts which felt like sandpaper in my eyes and get ready for bed. But Caroline followed me....
As she walked in my room, where I was changing she began with, "Put some clothes on. Grouse." I refrained from reminding her that a) we all have to see her in various states of undress in places like say the dining room and b) that it was indeed my room. "Mama, I can't go to basketball tomorrow. It's dress rehearsal and I just can't miss any of it. I know it's a game but..." The standard Collegiate rule is that games trump rehearsal and rehearsal trumps practice. Just to make certain I texted the athletic director. My level of desperation cannot be described. It was 9:15 pm and I really don't like to bother people at home but these were desperate times in the Doyle household. He verified my understanding but added, "but this time we have allowed some exceptions." Seriously?!?!?! This is not the week for exceptions--I need rules dude! Caroline was pacing and shouting Rachel and Clara Stewart don't have to go to the game. I refrained from saying, "I'm not Rachel's and Clara Stewart's parent." Really refraining from that was pure self preservation as I was at that very moment texting their mothers while trying to ignore the voice in my head that said, "if everyone else jumped off a cliff would you?" (Keep in mind I had already fallen from that cliff.) Everyone was missing the game, so I gave in but reminded Caroline that she had to let the coach know. (I was attempting to teach some sort of responsibility.) Just to highlight the importance of commitment, I added "Caroline they need you; you are the starting center." Caroline, "That's only because I'm tall and have a big butt." I refrained from responding only because I was gagging. "Caroline, you smell awful. Go take a shower." Caroline, "I don't smell; it's just my feet." I refrained from reminding her that her feet were indeed part of her body--who knows where that conversation could have gone?
I headed downstairs for a final check in with SK--"Mama can you sit down and listen to my essays for my Yale application?" As I was trying to pry my eyes open so that I could indeed be the present Mama that I want to be, Caroline came bopping down the stairs and into the room swinging her braid that was on the top of her head singing, "Look at me; I"m a helicopter." I refrained from physically subduing her as the effort to get out of my chair was far more than I could muster and instead said, "Have you already taken a shower?" "No, only my feet smelled so I just washed them." she, at least, honestly replied. She plopped herself down at the table, pulled out her coloring book, and said, "I'm looking for a picture of Cinderella to color. Here's one--oh look, Cindy's got big boobies." "Caroline," I said before the conversation could go from PG to R, "your sister is reading me her essay and short answer questions. Please be quiet."
"So," continued SK seriously, "The first one is about your favorite quote. I put 'Saying no does not make you a failure' which I got from Aunt Ingrid." I was about to say that I thought that was good when she continued perhaps because she thought my feelings might be hurt, "I would have used yours 'Have fun, remember who you are, be true to yourself' but I think of that more as a motto and not just a quote." "I think of that more as Mama's way to tell us what to do." chimed in Caroline. I refrained from saying, "and obviously you follow it because I don't know of anyone who has met you who doesn't remember who you are whether they want to or not." Alas, she wasn't finished, "I hope they have that question when I apply to college. Mine is going to be 'Don't wear your makeup like that; you look like a slut.'" Sarah Katherine and I both refrained from any comment and she moved onto reading me more questions and answers only to be interrupted by Caroline yet again, "Do you really have to know a lot of vocabulary for the SAT? I mean what are you going to use it for in life anyway." I refrained from responding, "to communicate." SK did say, "yes you do and taking Latin really helps." "Well," said Caroline, "Then I'm screwed." "Next question," I said to SK refraining from any engagement whatsoever.
"Name something you've changed your mind about in the last 2 or 3 years." I quickly and I thought rather humorously responded, "_______" (the boyfriend's name). "How am I going to write 25 words about that? That's dumb." Sarah Katherine seriously responded. "Ok," I said, "How about how you've changed your mind about private and public school?" (back story--SK wanted to go to an all girls private Catholic school and we sent her to the public magnet instead. The first year was miserable and now she loves it and has even remarked on two occasions of which I know that she's glad she didn't go to the other school.) That however was clearly not a good answer as she rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah Mama I'll write an essay that says private schools suck and public schools are so much better to Yale--A PRIVATE SCHOOL!" I really wanted to remind her that I hate that s___ word, but I refrained because, well, I was just too tired and clearly not helping at all a fact she could have taken into consideration from the beginning as I neither was accepted to nor even applied to any Ivy league school. "I'm going to text Mason and ask her what she thinks." SK said. Less than 2 minutes later the reply comes "______(boyfriend's name)" I took that as my personal victory and a very good time to exit the room.
As I was leaving I said, "Oh Abby says I should publish my blogs in a book. The money could actually help pay for the therapy ya'll are all going to need." SK, "No! You can't do that. I've already decided I'm going to do that when you die. I've got dibs on that deal." I refrained from saying anything because really how do you respond to the fact that your eldest child is already trying to figure out how to profit from your death. (She already goes around the house and through my jewelery box telling me what she wants when I die. I don't want to encourage her to hasten that time.) I headed up to bed hoping to get a quick call into Chris, read, and lights out. As I was pulling the covers down in bounds Caroline. "I'm going to sleep with you tonight." I pulled both sides of the bed down and refrained from saying anything because really what could be better than your baby wanting to snuggle with you?
07 December 2013
It All Started with a Simple Question
Last night as we started eating dinner I asked, "Rev Emily wants to know what ya'll's favorite Christmas traditions are?"
"Why?" asked William.
"Well,"I said, "It's Charlotte's first Christmas and they're trying to figure out what they want to start."
"You don't plan traditions, they just happen." piped in Christopher--oh I wish it were that effortless but yeah me for making it look that way!
"I don't know," said SK "Just the whole thing." I knew we needed to be a little more specific, so to get the pump primed to have them answer the question, I reminded her that when we lived in England and couldn't find the T'was the Night Before Christmas book she used her Christmas money to buy one from the school gift store. So now the subject has jumped (you've got to be quick to keep up in this house). William, "What were those store things again?" "You know," said SK, "Where you go in and buy stuff for your family and friends because you're a little kid and can't go shopping anywhere else." "They usually set it up in the cafeteria." I said trying to help give a visual to jog the memory. "Yeah" said Caroline, "You use the money your parents give you to buy the junk they donated,and then you give it back to them for Christmas." (She has a point). Christopher, "I hated those kids that would use the money to buy stuff for themselves--I wanted to punch them in the face." (Now there's the Christmas spirit--not one of our traditions I hope.) "And," he added "They have those kind of kids in the US and in England." "But, at least I got to get the book for our tradition," redirected SK. (Oh if we could have only stayed on this path.)
"I think Rev. Emily and Zach need to have another baby." declared Caroline. Instead of wondering and asking why Emily gets a title before her name and Zach doesn't which is exactly what I should have done, it reminded me of Dec. 20th. "Oh, ya'll Daddy and I are going to be gone on Friday Dec. 20th. We need to find places for you to stay--any thoughts?" "Why are you going away right before Christmas?" someone asked. "It's their 20th anniversary." remembered William my sweet and sensitive son. "You better not be going anywhere warm and where I'd want to go." Caroline my typical 13 year old self absorbed daughter said. Again instead of admonishing her for being selfish and making it all about her, which I should have done, I said, "We're just going downtown to one of the hotels there." Hands immediately clapped over four pairs of ears as chorus of shouts erupted--"oooooh, ugh, stop talking about it; please don't say anything else!" And then Caroline's hands came off her ears and began waving in the air (I think she was trying to dance while seated at the dining room table) and she began to chant, "hotel, motel, Holiday Inn." SK, "Stop Caroline you're making it so much worse!" Again instead of telling her that singing and dancing at the dining room table from a somewhat clumsy 5'10" 13 year old wasn't a good idea, which I definitely should have done, I asked, "What is that song?" "It's a song about sex Mama," Christopher said, "just what you're talking about doing."
It all started with a simple question, and now I wonder, do Emily and Zach really want to know the Doyle's traditions?
"Why?" asked William.
"Well,"I said, "It's Charlotte's first Christmas and they're trying to figure out what they want to start."
"You don't plan traditions, they just happen." piped in Christopher--oh I wish it were that effortless but yeah me for making it look that way!
"I don't know," said SK "Just the whole thing." I knew we needed to be a little more specific, so to get the pump primed to have them answer the question, I reminded her that when we lived in England and couldn't find the T'was the Night Before Christmas book she used her Christmas money to buy one from the school gift store. So now the subject has jumped (you've got to be quick to keep up in this house). William, "What were those store things again?" "You know," said SK, "Where you go in and buy stuff for your family and friends because you're a little kid and can't go shopping anywhere else." "They usually set it up in the cafeteria." I said trying to help give a visual to jog the memory. "Yeah" said Caroline, "You use the money your parents give you to buy the junk they donated,and then you give it back to them for Christmas." (She has a point). Christopher, "I hated those kids that would use the money to buy stuff for themselves--I wanted to punch them in the face." (Now there's the Christmas spirit--not one of our traditions I hope.) "And," he added "They have those kind of kids in the US and in England." "But, at least I got to get the book for our tradition," redirected SK. (Oh if we could have only stayed on this path.)
"I think Rev. Emily and Zach need to have another baby." declared Caroline. Instead of wondering and asking why Emily gets a title before her name and Zach doesn't which is exactly what I should have done, it reminded me of Dec. 20th. "Oh, ya'll Daddy and I are going to be gone on Friday Dec. 20th. We need to find places for you to stay--any thoughts?" "Why are you going away right before Christmas?" someone asked. "It's their 20th anniversary." remembered William my sweet and sensitive son. "You better not be going anywhere warm and where I'd want to go." Caroline my typical 13 year old self absorbed daughter said. Again instead of admonishing her for being selfish and making it all about her, which I should have done, I said, "We're just going downtown to one of the hotels there." Hands immediately clapped over four pairs of ears as chorus of shouts erupted--"oooooh, ugh, stop talking about it; please don't say anything else!" And then Caroline's hands came off her ears and began waving in the air (I think she was trying to dance while seated at the dining room table) and she began to chant, "hotel, motel, Holiday Inn." SK, "Stop Caroline you're making it so much worse!" Again instead of telling her that singing and dancing at the dining room table from a somewhat clumsy 5'10" 13 year old wasn't a good idea, which I definitely should have done, I asked, "What is that song?" "It's a song about sex Mama," Christopher said, "just what you're talking about doing."
It all started with a simple question, and now I wonder, do Emily and Zach really want to know the Doyle's traditions?
03 December 2013
So Basically Don't Act Like Myself
Tonight the boys play in their first basketball games of the season--William on the JV and Christopher on Varsity. Basketball is Christopher's love--I remember when he was five he told me he was either going to play football for the Georgia Bulldogs or basketball for the Louisville Cardinals (I personally thought he needed a plan C which may include studying but in one of my finer Mommy moments I kept my mouth shut--a true feat.) Boss no longer plays football, but basketball has remained his love. The sound of the basketball in the driveway is a perpetual sound--Thanksgiving he was outside for an hour shooting (in sub freezing weather because, "Can you believe it Mama? We're not having practice today or tomorrow!) Needless to say he takes it very seriously. And here is where two of my worlds collide.
Caroline's crush--you know the one EVERYONE in the school knows about--students, teachers, staff, coaches.. is also on the varsity basketball team. She stalks him pacing outside of the gym, peering into the weight room, and not being very quiet about it. Christopher and William have begged her to stop; they've asked me to punish her--it's interesting they think I have control over her; haven't they lived in this same house for 13 years? I have to admit there's a part of me that is in awe of her. When I was in 8th grade, I would have never had the nerve to go anywhere near a junior much less talk to him.
Until two nights ago, varsity was scheduled away while jv was at home--this caused great anxiety in our house. Obviously Chris and I were going to have to divide and conquer--Chris and I love being at the games and hate missing either. Caroline, however, was devastated. Varsity was away--hence she wasn't going. Mourning set in. But two nights ago our worlds changed. Varsity was moved home. I was excited--first varsity game played in front of a home crowd. I smiled Christopher shrugged; Caroline lept and jumped like a new born foal--keep in mind my new born foal is 5'10" and probably not the most coordinated of the four, around the den shouting, "YES, YES, YES!"
This morning Christopher woke up early-he's clearly a bit nervous but unlike his frolicking sister, he keeps his emotions pretty tightly in check. He got ready and sat in the den, head phones on, eyes closed. Caroline looked into the room and said, "Has he thrown up yet?" (note there was not a hint of empathy in her voice) "Not yet," I responded. "Well he will" she countered, "He always throws up before games--now he'll have to do it at school." (again no empathy, in fact I heard a tinge of glee--) I decided to attempt to have a conversation with her about tonight. "Caroline, tonight is a big night for your brother. Please act.." and here's where my adult vocabulary failed as I needed to figure out a way to stress the importance of what I was saying. "Please don't act like an idiot." Caroline, "So basically you're telling me not to act like myself?" "Hmmm," I thought never wanting to stamp on their personalities but also understanding the gravity of the night for Christopher--talk about feeling pulled, so I said, "Maybe just for tonight."
Stay tuned--I'm not sure how this will end.
Caroline's crush--you know the one EVERYONE in the school knows about--students, teachers, staff, coaches.. is also on the varsity basketball team. She stalks him pacing outside of the gym, peering into the weight room, and not being very quiet about it. Christopher and William have begged her to stop; they've asked me to punish her--it's interesting they think I have control over her; haven't they lived in this same house for 13 years? I have to admit there's a part of me that is in awe of her. When I was in 8th grade, I would have never had the nerve to go anywhere near a junior much less talk to him.
Until two nights ago, varsity was scheduled away while jv was at home--this caused great anxiety in our house. Obviously Chris and I were going to have to divide and conquer--Chris and I love being at the games and hate missing either. Caroline, however, was devastated. Varsity was away--hence she wasn't going. Mourning set in. But two nights ago our worlds changed. Varsity was moved home. I was excited--first varsity game played in front of a home crowd. I smiled Christopher shrugged; Caroline lept and jumped like a new born foal--keep in mind my new born foal is 5'10" and probably not the most coordinated of the four, around the den shouting, "YES, YES, YES!"
This morning Christopher woke up early-he's clearly a bit nervous but unlike his frolicking sister, he keeps his emotions pretty tightly in check. He got ready and sat in the den, head phones on, eyes closed. Caroline looked into the room and said, "Has he thrown up yet?" (note there was not a hint of empathy in her voice) "Not yet," I responded. "Well he will" she countered, "He always throws up before games--now he'll have to do it at school." (again no empathy, in fact I heard a tinge of glee--) I decided to attempt to have a conversation with her about tonight. "Caroline, tonight is a big night for your brother. Please act.." and here's where my adult vocabulary failed as I needed to figure out a way to stress the importance of what I was saying. "Please don't act like an idiot." Caroline, "So basically you're telling me not to act like myself?" "Hmmm," I thought never wanting to stamp on their personalities but also understanding the gravity of the night for Christopher--talk about feeling pulled, so I said, "Maybe just for tonight."
Stay tuned--I'm not sure how this will end.
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