Beer, Bourbon, Dylan, and The Avett Brothers

Keep in mind this is being written by the mama who brings coffee/hot chocolate/ water to their beds and starts their cars in the cold, but who currently is not doing their laundry because she is on strike and the hold out waiting game has begun.  But this mama and her husband/partner in crime did hold out some things. There are a few things we didn't do for our children; there are some things we made about us and not them--music and movies.

Well that's half true--we (read me) said that I was not going to have those children that sat in front of videos all day, so I refused to allow anyone to give them to the children.  We did watch public television but videos--I was adamant.  That was until the week that three had the flu and I was pregnant and incredibly sick with the fourth.  After we'd watched our wedding video for the umpteenth time that day, I begged my neighbors to pleeeeeeeease loan us some videos.  (And yes I did have to eat crow to do it, but I threw it up anyway, so it balanced out...)  But you know the great thing about those endless hours watching our wedding video?  The children all know every person in them and they are still connected to them.  We have conversations and mention names of the people who have been a part of our lives for over 20 years, and they matter not only to us but also to the children.  And then there's music....

This was the one area where Chris and his stubborn streak played out (and for those of you counting and already realize my neurotic behaviors far outnumber Chris' quit reading or keep your comments to yourself!) Anyway, Chris put his foot down on what music was allowed in the house--no Disney sound tracks, barney sing-a-longs or any other "kiddie crap" (his words not mine). We did have Jerry Garcia for Kids, but that was the extent of his "giving in."  So now here's a little bit of confession--when he wasn't in the car, sometimes I gave in and popped a borrowed tape in (I couldn't buy it he would have known)--but especially on long road trips by myself sometimes giving in was the difference between driving us all into a ditch and happily singing along to "I love you, you love me." This probably helps explain why the children would ask, "Can't Daddy just fly and meet us there?" When he was in the car, Chris was the controller of the radio--NPR, sports, and music he chose. They whined, they begged, they pleaded, but he wouldn't budge.  The louder their protests became, the louder the radio became--a contest I could never quite figure out--why do we want to increase the noise?

Much of the time, they were happy.  Much of the time they could sing-along--every word to every John Prine song, Jimmy Buffet (even the inappropriate ones--I eventually did skip some of those). Caroline told her three year old teacher her favorite song was Beer Run--this was the same teacher who when she left the classroom to get a drink Caroline asked her, "beer or bourbon?"  Yep, that's Growing Up Doyle!  When Sarah Katherine was 3 all the fathers loved her because at birthday parties she asked for Dylan instead of Barney--she was often sent over to the more neurotic than me (or neurotic in other ways) mothers to make these requests.  (Child labor...)  Music was our hold out--and music is now part of what holds our family closeness together.  Chris, Sarah Katherine, and Caroline all play the guitar and mandolin; the girls and I play the piano; the boys have played a variety of instruments, and they all (myself excluded) have gorgeous voices.  We've always got music going in the house--sometimes a fight breaks out as we all try to connect our iphones to the blue tooth, but a little friendly musical competition never hurt anyone, right?

Yesterday Chris and Sarah Katherine drove to St. Louis--a daddy and his 18 year old daughter on a Saturday night--to hear The Avett Brothers.  On the way down they listened to the UVA/Notre Dame basketball game.  No radio battles, just a time of togetherness; a time of love--sometimes it's worth the hardline, sometimes, it's worth holding out.  Sometimes, that's what makes the memories.

The Basketball Genes WIn

Just over 20 years ago this football loving girl married a basketball fanatic.  It wasn't that I didn't like basketball--it just wasn't a sport our family played. (I think my little brother may have played one season of little league, and if I remember correctly he fouled out of every game.  He was a true Kanto--football through and through even on a basketball court.)  We Kantos lived and breathed football.  I got left at a UVA game when I embarrassed my date by knowing more about the calls and plays then he did.  I know I should have stopped arguing with him about calls, but hey I'm a Kanto and it was football!  I desperately wanted to play but my mother put her foot down and said no daughter of hers was going to wear shoulder pads--wonder how she felt in the late 80's when everything I wore had shoulder pads? We watched basketball, especially high school and UVA, but I don't know much about it.  I still don't understand the number positions--I get center, forward and guard--no matter how many times they try to explain it to me, I forget.   Anyway, we loved football but Chris and his family--well, they're basketball fanatics!  Every March whether we had money or not (mostly not), Chris found money in the budget to travel to either the Big East tournament or at least one round of the NCAA--made my sister nuts!  (I love you Mere for always looking out for me, but truth is my expenditures far outweigh his!)  This family was and is particularly nuts about Louisville basketball (a school where only their mother attended).  Watching a game with the Doyle men is truly an experiment in nature versus nurture.  They pace the same way, shake their heads the same way, hold their hands the same way--who knew?  (These traits have been passed down to all the male cousins as well.)  The one sport Chris and I were both passionate about was soccer.  We both played for over 10 years and were both goalies--here's our common bond.

Along came the first child who at two years old declared she was going to be a ballerina.  That was nowhere in our genes.  We tried to get her excited about soccer but she refused to play unless she could wear her soccer ball smocked dress and a bow in her hair.  She's stuck with dance and I am so glad.  Watching her never fails to bring a smile to my face and a tear (or many tears) in my eyes.  She did try cheering for football--but it wasn't passion--that was given away when every game she would ask me several times whether her team was on offense or defense.

Along came Christopher and he was passionate about basketball from the beginning.  He has played and done well in many sports, (at age five he asked the Commissioner of Mt. Lebanon little league football if he could play even though he wasn't six.  Said, "I think I'm tough enough what do you think?") also rugby, soccer, and lacrosse, but his heart pounds with basketball.  Like his daddy he can watch any game with any team at any time of the day or night.  He practices endlessly, and he is fiercely competitive.  (If he misses a foul shot in the game when he gets home he doesn't come in until he's hit 20 in a row--no matter the temperature.)

Along came William and our soccer loving goalie--now he plays some in the field as well.  He has played football, basketball and lacrosse, but his passion his soccer.  On the field or court he tends to remain calm and seemingly unpassionate, but don't let that fool you-he is extremely competitive and remembers every play down to the wire.  Like his brother he plays three sports now, but soccer remains his love--watching or playing.

And then came Caroline.  Okay all you Mamas of multiple (meaning over 2) children stand with me on this.  If she didn't ask to do something, well we didn't do it.  No extra signups for me.  This was about survival not exposure.  She potty trained at ballet studios and on fields, but as long as she didn't ask to play (unless she could be on the same team as her brother), I didn't say a word.  When she did play, well let's just say winning wasn't that important--or important at all.  In fourth grade Chris convinced her to play on the 4th and 5th grade team that he coached. (I was all for that--an activity were two were gone at the same time and I wasn't in charge of driving--) After she tried out and made it I told her how proud of her I was.  "Seriously Mama?" she answered, "Everyone knows I only made it because Daddy's the coach."  And no one disagreed.  Because it was a co-ed team she had to play a certain number of minutes every game.  Chris said he always held his breath and hoped the clock would run quickly.  He didn't know which way she'd dribble or what she'd do.

In fifth grade she got a little better--there was no way to go but up.  She moved onto her first middle school and made the team.  Again I congratulated her and she said, "I only made it because I'm tall. They think they can teach me to play basketball."  That year the team won the city championship and while she didn't get a ton of minutes, she did play in every game.  It used to make the boys nuts that she didn't play more and even more nuts that she didn't care.  Caroline just loved being on the team, cheering her teammates on, and having a good time.  Seventh grade came and her second middle school.  There were many games she never saw any action--other mothers would complain to me, but Caroline never minded.  "I'm not as good as the other girls," she would explain, "I wouldn't play me either."  This year was different....

Caroline grew to 5'10" this fall and grew out of her clumsiness.  She started every game.  During the first game she made every free throw and every time she made it she looked up in the stands and said, "Boss taught me how to do that."  Boss was SO proud of her!   Caroline entertains the crowd--not with her play but with her facial expressions and her antics--dances to the music, pretends she's a cheerleader and prances down the court talking to people in the stands.  Every once in awhile we see a huge competitive streak come out, but she mostly hides that behind her comedy.  (Hides it; doesn't mean it's not there.)  Last night was her final game in an annual middle school tournament.  Both boys played and won the tournament.  As they were announcing the All Tournament team, Caroline was horsing around with her teammates and not paying attention.  After they said her name one of her teammates nudged her and she ran over and got the trophy.  As I hugged her she asked, "What does this even mean?"  I love that girl!!

The absolute best part of the night--Christopher couldn't be there because he had a game. (Yes, you know I'm going to need mounds of therapy to get over the fact that I can't be in two places at once and Chris was out of town so I had to choose--Boss chose for me, "You've got to be at her tournament game, Mama. You can watch me Wednesday.)  Before he even got out of the locker room he texted me to see what her score was.  I told him about the All Tournament Team and he responded, "NICE--that's awesome"  Caroline walked into the house, William met her at the door and they did some sort of secret handshake basketball players dance.  Both boys had wanted to be All Tournament and neither was, but they were as happy for Caroline as if they had been.  "Mama," said Boss, "If she will just get a little more serious she could play at the next level.  That would be so awesome!"  (I'm a) not sure Caroline can be more serious and b) remember I know nothing about basketball so I have no idea, but I do know that has been a goal for Boss and his support of her...well let's just say I'm incredibly proud of him) And SK, "That's my little tall sister; she's awesome."

Guess the basketball genes win--maybe someday I"ll learn that number thing...
....