Night Herons

Late Night Miscellany

I have a number of Facebook-size things to say, but too many of them to inundate my FB friends, who are already reeling from the FB re-design foolishness this week, with that many "status updates". So a series of mini posts condensed into one blog post sounds like a good idea.

• How is it normal that I am wandering around the house after 10pm on a Saturday night, picking up messes, folding laundry and washing dishes, and that I find nothing strange about this condition? When did this happen, and how did I fail to notice?

• Speaking of laundry, I am still in some state of disbelief about that fact that I have soccer uniforms and practice gear to deal with that cannot go in the dryer. All of this fancy "dri-fit" stuff, and what does it say? Line dry. So among my work clothes and unmentionables on the drying rack are someone else's soccer shorts and jerseys. I look forward to making Two dig through my stuff to find his clothes some day; the embarrassment will make this worth it.

• One's team won again in football today, making their record 3-0. This was a hard-fought win against some pretty tough defense. They came from behind (13-6) and went on to win (20-13). It was their first real taste of adversity on the field and they handled it really well. At least once they got over the shock, that is. Here they come in at the win, celebrating as they make their way back to the sidelines. A sweet victory.

Do you like the flag in the center of the picture? Wow, I sure know how to set up a shot on the fly, that's for sure. I also know how to crop pictures afterwards to make it look like I have that skill. ;)

• Two has become addicted to Monopoly. Except he doesn't know how to say it. He calls it mon-o-pol-eee. That lone "o" is long, by the way. I don't have the heart to correct him; it sounds too cute for words. He became furious today when One bankrupted me and pushed me out of the game; he was still stewing on it hours later. I'd like to think he's chivalrous, but it might just be that he hates to see his brother win.

• Finally, Two's soccer "career" is off to a great start: his team is 2-0 so far, and have yet to allow more than 1 goal to be scored on them. I have to admit that Two's contributions to the team are still on the small side, but he is learning the game, and for a first-time player is doing pretty well. Some of the boys on his team? I am almost certain that a team of those 3rd and 4th grade boys could easily beat the high school team on which I played, were they able to travel back in time to do so. That is not as much of a victory as you might think: that was, after all, a team that let me play on it. But they really are phenomenal; they are a joy to watch. Even Knight, who is trying desperately to get accepted as the team mascot, thinks so.

Goodnight, all.

Stickers

I just received an email from One's football coach about this week's practices and Saturday's game, and in it he talks about the handing out of stickers tonight. Be on time to practice, we're handing out helmet stickers: stickers are important.

And they are, aren't they? I thought we were done with stickers, but apparently we're not. All of us handed them out - Dora or Thomas, depending on gender - when we potty trained our children. Then from pre-school on, teachers put stickers on our children's work. Smiley faces, "Good Job!", "Way to Go!" - all the little marks of encouragement that have meaning to our kids.

Finally just when you think they've outgrown the need for such things, someone comes along a puts a sticker on your son's football helmet for a win. Or for a touchdown, or a tackle, or for whatever he's done that we're proud of. You know he wants that sticker more than anything, even if he tells you otherwise. He wants tangible evidence of this good thing he's done, something to show the world, something that can never be taken off, never taken away from him. He did it, he was a part of it. He owns this good thing.

And so we clumsy adults resort again to stickers. Because they say tangibly those words I hope we utter but sometimes we forget: "I'm proud of you son. You did a good job out there today."

One, you did a good job out there on Saturday, and we're proud of you. I'm proud of you every day, actually. I don't think they make a sticker for that, but it's true just the same. Every day you put on your game face and go out and get it done - at school, at football, at life. No mom could be prouder than me if she tried. Good job, young man. Good job.

*One is #44 is the second picture.

Together and Apart

For the past three years, the boys have been practically inseperable. They were close since Two was old enough to follow One around "I pwayin', mom - we're sojers. Bang!" but the past three years they have done almost everything the same, at the same time. They woke up at the same time, ate the same breakfast, rode with Dad to the same school, rode home in the afternoon with me, played and did homework together, went to taekwondo, ate dinner, showered together, and went to bed at the same time. Every day for three years, like shadows of one another, their days matched up almost exactly.

And now, everything is different. It's weird, and it's working, but it's completely different. Now, One wakes up before Two, eats on his own, and rides to middle school with me. I wake Two up before we leave so we can say goodbye, but he waits for his Dad to take him to elementary school. They are at different schools again (obviously) and in the afternoon first I pick up one and then the other - the order varies by the day. When we get home they spend some time together, but then one heads to sports while the other heads for homework; Two's soccer practices are on different days than One's football practices. On the days that each boy doesn't have his team sport, he heads off to taekwondo alone - something we've never done before. Even showering (which they stopped doing at the same time last fall, actually) is a one night on/one off kind of thing; frequently one boy desperately needs a shower on the night that his brother isn't really so bad (and we're all about conserving water and not showering every day - either that or its that I can't stand having the "yes you ARE dirty" argument every.single.night. A girl can only take so much.). Even bedtime is frequently different; on football nights, I have Two in bed before One even gets home, since his practice rarely ends before 9pm.

Of all the things we're adjusting to this fall - new school, new sports - this lack of teamwork was what I worried about the most. I knew it had to happen: looking just at school, they will not be in the same building together again until One is a senior in high school and Two is a freshman. And that's assuming they even go to the same high school, which is a big assumption in itself. But they are suddenly so far apart in all their activities, suddenly so much less of a team.

Except, they aren't less of a team. At least they don't act like it. They act the same towards one another as they always have: a little bickering, a whole lot of support and love. That "support and love" comes in all kinds of boy forms, from wrestling with one another, chasing each other around the house screaming, watching waaay to much TV together (Harry Potter IV: how many times can they stand it?), to Two insisting on carrying One's water to football practice and One sharing his favorite books with his little brother. The bond they have built through so much shared activity is so strong, it appears to be surviving this miniature separation completely intact. And since they will one day be fully separate, each on his own, grown-up and away from here, I am glad that they have a chance to first practice keeping that bond together even when not physically close. Maybe this is just another skill they will learn on their way out the door: to keep the team of two together, regardless of how much distance and different lives separate them. That is why God gave them to one another, after all.

"Let a friend be with you on every occasion, And let brethren be useful in necessities, For they are begotten for this reason." - Proverbs 17:19 (Orthodox Study Bible)

We Have A Winnah

Last year One won a prize for creative writing at our Diocese's yearly Parish Life Conference. This year it was Two's turn: he won third prize for his grade for Creative Arts with a drawing of the cross circled around with the words of the Lord's Prayer. Yesterday was the first day of Sunday School at church, and the awards were handed out before the priests blessed the children and teachers at the start of the new school year.

Here is the proud prize winner with his certificate:

Congratulations, sweet Two.

Time to Remember

Ten years. Does it feel like 10 years, more, or much less? I think for all of us it is different depending on the day. Today it feels much closer for me. Today we are sharing the Naudet brothers' movie with One for the first time, and that will bring it closer still. He was 20 months old when the attacks came; he's cruising towards 12 years old now at light speed. He's ready to know more. And so time passes.

I really don't have anything to say on this day - nothing that means anything important or imparts any wisdom. That isn't surprising to me; I do hope it's not surprising to you, either. All I have are some quotes, some links to people much more eloquent than I, a picture, and not much else. It should be a day of fewer words than tears, perhaps. Less chatter, more resolve.

From James Lileks, September 21, 2001:

"I’m tired tonight. I’m tired of people who can watch 5,000 people from 62 nations burned alive and crushed to death, and think: well, you know you had this coming. I’m tired of people who presume I am ignorant of history because I hang a flag. No: Not tired. Annoyed. Annoyed like I was while walking Jasper Dog tonight, and passed the great high school football field at the end of the block. It was lit like noon, with huge banks of lights lluminating the field, blaring through the thick autumn fog. Grunts and shouts and whistles blowing. As natural and ordinary a September sight as you’ll see, and all I could think of were the lights hoisted over the site of the World Trade Center, casting flat dead light over men who pulled the arms and legs of people from the rubble.

It angered me that this ordinary sight had been soiled - then I thought: That’s where we are now. Think of it. Think of it when you turn the corner and the lights fade. Never forget.

Never."

Lileks again, from September 5, 2002.

The Mudville Gazette's story about Rick Rescorla, a hero among heroes on that day. I think Greyhawk's leading quote on Mudville is even more appropriate today than it is on all other days: "Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."

And finally, and not as out-of-place as it sounds at first, a Budweiser commercial that Kate posted on Facebook yesterday:



UPDATED: More Lileks.

"O Lord, Who blessest those who bless Thee, and sanctifiest those who put their trust in Thee, save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance ... Grant peace to Thy world, to Thy Churches, to the Priests, to our Civil Authorities, to the Armed Forces and to all Thy people ... Now and for ever, and unto ages of ages."

Soccer Boy

Two has taken up soccer this fall. He has never played before, but he was thrilled to try and so far absolutely loves going to practice. It will be a bit of a challenge when he plays his first game and people are (gasp!) watching and cheering, but with a bit of coaching from mom and dad we're pretty positive he'll make it through. No, I'm not being sarcastic here. Two hates being watched, especially by people he doesn't know in places he's not used to.

Here he is at his second practice. So far, you can see how much he likes it. And how much he likes his AC Milano jersey I bought him to practice in.

It's Friday Night (and no, I did not just get paid)

In fact, I have nothing to do but provide you with links. I have an exciting life, I know.

If you ever wonder why I own a gun, you just need to look at the news to get your longed-for answer. Because those professionals out there who you're sure will protect you? Sometimes they can't hit the broad side of a barn. "Eight officers returned fire — in two distinct volleys — firing 73 bullets and striking Mr. Webster twice, in his chest and hip." I don't believe I've ever missed a target at the gun range. I doubt sincerely my aim would be as good as 100% in a real life, dangerous situation, but I promise I'm better than 2.7%.

In political news, Chris Matthews briefly channeled Rick Perry the other day on Social Security. My explanation? Everyone can get busy and forget to fill their meds prescription now and again. That might also explain the leg tingle he had a few years ago, come to think of it.

I was feeling a little embarrassed about picking on Mormons the other day and revealing the secret of their underwear and all, but then a fellow mom blogger confessed that she struggled with the desire to burn Mormons at the stake for their heresies, so now I am feeling quite a lot better about the whole underwear thing. Thank goodness for the ability to compare yourself to others and feel self-righteous after doing so! Where would I be without it?

Our former priest, author and blogger Fr. Joseph Honeycutt, has a piece in which he confesses to some adolescent trouble with the Boys in Blue. He writes: "It didn’t help that there was a light as bright as the sun shining on my back and a police megaphone piercing the night with a voice that said..." Doesn't it make you feel so good about your own youthful run-ins with the law, knowing that your priest, too, made similar mistakes? Me too.

James Lileks writes a great post today on the new Ben & Jerry's ice cream flavor, the name of which I will not repeat here. He is (understandably, in my opinion) upset about the name and attendant marketing campaign. "Just a small interval of childhood unpunctured by leering sexual puns in the dessert aisle- a small thing, I grant. Hardly worth defending." What he said. He's also starting to write about 9/11 a bit, as you can see at the beginning of today's post. Look back in on him on Monday; I'm thinking he'll have something well-worth reading on it.

Pound Pup Legacy is asking for nominations for their 5th annual "Demons of Adoption" award. And no, before you ask, I am not against adoption. I am against abuses of the system, dishonest people who make money off the process without counting the cost on the birth families, adoptive families and children, and a lack of proper oversight that allows all of that to happen. So there.

Finally, if you've never checked out one of the most interesting sites on the internet, don't waste another minute and head right over to Retronaut now. See the past. Be the past, Danny.

G'night.