Category: Big Brother

Air Show

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Big Brother and TheDad are joining the Flight Club from school to attend the practice for this airshow.

They’ll be on the Air Force Base next to Fort Dix, which just escaped a terrorist attack.

Security will be extreme, which I do not mind in the least. This is probably the safest place in the country right now.

Nevertheless, I will be praying for a safe day for the boys in the Flight Club, the dads who are chaperoning this trip, and all the performers in the Air Show who take plenty of risks to thrill the audience with their amazing flight formations and stunts.

What Not to Buy

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Big Brother just informed me, “Mom, we need straws.”

Middle Sister asked him why he needs them.

The answer: “I’m not going to tell, because then Mom won’t buy them.”

UPDATE: They found a straw somewhere and there is NO WAY I’m buying them any more. They loaded it up with Q-Tips and used it as a blowgun.

No thanks.

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After I advised him that it’s a good idea to breathe while humming along to his MP3 player, Big Brother invited me:

“You try singing 45 seconds of an instrumental and see how you feel.”

Oh yeah. I might have laughed at him too. But I am wondering why he’s trying to sing a 5-minute guitar solo….

Note to Self

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Next time Big Brother calls to say it’s time to pick him up at his school after a track meet, and you ask him how he did, and he just says “Bye,” and hangs up, do not assume that this means he ran a terrible race.

He just might want to surprise you with the TWO third-place medals he won in distance relays.

Way to go, Big Brother! I’m proud of you and your team.

Lunch!!!

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Middle Sister has a habit of forgetting her lunchbox. Generally she leaves it at home, but once she left it on the bus in the morning and her bus driver kindly returned it to our house early enough so I could bring it to school.

Today she had a few things to carry so I reminded her about her lunch. These are the kind of days when she tends to forget. Out the door she headed with her various bundles. I called, “Have a good day!” and just as the door closed behind her, I saw the lunch sitting on the stairs. “LUNCH!” I yelled, but she didn’t hear me. As I headed down the stairs to get it and run it out to her, Big Brother appeared out of nowhere, hurdled a laundry basket, grabbed the lunch and ran out the door with it.

When he came in I started to thank him, and he commented, “That would have been a lot more exciting if the bus was actually here.”

Taking Flight

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I just read this post about guardian angels working overtime this week, and how hard it is to watch your children grow up and give them over to those same guardian angels.

I completely agree. It’s much easier when they’re still small enough to carry. But I only have one who still fits in that category (and it’s getting tough to still do that).

This afternoon found me sitting at a local airport while Big Brother participated in a fly-in, as a back-seat passenger in a retired Russian military trainer. I don’t like to think about how high up he was when he took this picture. I didn’t want to know if the pilot was going to do any acrobatics, but I figured it wasn’t out of the question as there were several aircraft practicing formation technique. And the relief I felt once I saw the plane return to the runway was multiplied when the pilot gleefully informed me that there had been “a little trouble up there with the landing gear” but that fortunately the gear had locked in the down position, which was the favorable kind of problem to have.

If this kid keeps flying I think I might wear out some rosaries. And as he progresses through his high school years and beyond, he will be in situations that may risk his life, limb, morals, principles, integrity and career. I guess it doesn’t matter whether he’s in an airplane or not. There will still be many risks, and TheDad and I won’t always be able to be there to make sure the landing gear works.

It’s a big world, and he’s discovering just how big it is. Today he got to experience that from a very high altitude. I’m glad there was room in that cockpit for his guardian angel, and I pray that his angel will always stay close by him.

Dramatic Ending

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Little Brother’s birthday celebration was in full swing yesterday, with all the kids, big and small, outside enjoying the warm and sunny day. Someone popped in to report that the kickball was stuck in the top of the 20-foot pine tree in front of the house, “but it’s OK, because Big Brother’s going to climb up and get it out.”

He’s climbed that tree plenty of times before. The only thing I worried about was that he’d rip his new jeans (he’s ripped plenty of clothes climbing that tree.)

He came in a minute later, without the kickball but with an injured eye–he’d been poked by a twig as he started up the tree.

Less-squeamish adults than I inspected his eye. TheDad drove to the drugstore for an eye-wash kit in case there was anything still in there. After a wash, it still looked bad, and TheDad took Big Brother to the emergency room instead of to the party he was planning to attend.

Fortunately it turned out to be just a surface scratch. Big Brother was given some eyedrops and instructions to stay away from video games for two days. That’s going to be one rough directive to follow.

After giving him a very late dinner, TheDad took Big Brother to his friend’s party. Better late than never. We’re just happy it wasn’t any worse.

Friday Fast–Not Fast Enough!

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It kind of grosses me out that my kids enjoy the occasional can of Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli. I make my own spaghetti sauce which they happily eat. So I’m not sure what it is with their craving for the canned stuff.

But when it’s on sale, I pick up a couple of cans and keep them in the pantry for days when they’re extra hungry after school.

Days like–today.

I wasn’t paying much attention when Middle Sister used the microwave. There weren’t any screams or anything, and Big Brother was in the middle of a long story about something that happened in his history class today. But Big Brother saw what she was cooking.

“Ooo, Chef Boy-ar-dee! If there’s any left over, it’s mine.”

That got my attention. “Who’s having Chef Boy-ar-dee?”

Middle Sister said, “Me!”

“You’re not supposed to eat that today! It’s got meat in it!”

Big Brother thought about that for a second. “I doubt if there’s any real meat in there, Mom.”

All these years of Catholic school, plus what we do at home, and the idea of Meatless Friday appears to be a new concept. I think it’s time to get the kids more involved in the menu planning!

Table Manners, in a Manner of Speaking

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Little Brother needed to be reminded tonight that meat and corn are not finger foods.

Fortunately he had helped set the table, and given spoons to each of us, despite the fact that we weren’t eating anything requiring the use of a spoon. Since I’m not running a four-star restaurant, I don’t place extra utensils on the table (more work for me later, you know).

“Little Brother, try using your spoon to eat your corn,” I reminded him. “It’s easier with a spoon than a fork.”

He took the spoon in his left hand and the fork in his right, and coming at the plate from the two different directions, he scooped up some corn, speared meat on the fork, and shoved both utensils into his mouth at once.

Big Brother was impressed. “Is he ambidextrous? I would be seriously jealous if my little brother is ambidextrous!”

I was too astounded to scold him, because after all, he WAS using his utensils….as my sister always says, “It’s what separates us from the animals.”

"I will run the race…"

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One of my favorite songs to sing in church is “Only This I Want.” It’s based on one of the Epistles. Part of the song goes like this:
I will run the race, I will fight the good fight
So to win the prize of the Kingdom of the Lord.
Only this I want, but to know the Lord
And to bear His cross, so to wear the crown He wore.

This song kept coming to my mind today as I sat in a seventy-year-old National Guard Armory and watched Big Brother run the mile.

I’d never been to an indoor track meet before today. It’s a crazy environment. There’s lots of noise, starter pistols going off, bells ringing, and constant announcements being made. There are coaches yelling times as runners zip by. Parents are clapping and calling out to the runners. In the middle of all the running, there are other athletes jumping over high things and throwing very heavy things. People are moving in all directions all the time. Several athletic contests are happening simultaneously. I counted five other schools that had the same school colors as Big Brother’s, so it’s hard to tell sometimes which ones are your teammates.

And there’s a lot of sitting around, waiting for your turn. The runners are restless; they use their nervous energy pacing, jiggling, cracking knuckles. And suddenly in the middle of the garbled announcements they hear something that makes them get up and move with purpose to the table in the corner of the room to get ready for their race. Suddenly they know where to go and what to do, and they hope they can do it fast enough.

On cue, the runners line up at the starting line and wait for the pistol. They’re running a mile, so they conserve as they run. They don’t start nearly as fast as those running in the 200-meter; those kids are just a blur going by. You can watch the milers, see who is in the lead, watch them pass each other and keep track of the runner from your team. Coaches follow the runners for a bit and shout encouragement along the way.

Big Brother ran a good race. His stride was confident. He saved his energy for the end, but he had passed several runners in the middle few laps. The official clock stops showing times after the top six come in, but his coach kept track and showed him that he had not only achieved a new personal best, but beaten his goal for the day. He does not go to the meet with the goal of winning, but of doing better than he did last time. Today, he did not win–but he came in under 6:00 for the first time ever. That was his goal. He beat it by 3 seconds, coming in at 5:57.

How different are all of us from these runners? We too are in a noisy, chaotic environment. We have to listen carefully for the Voice that calls us to do what we are here to do. We must pay attention to the advice of those more experienced, with the goal in mind of achieving our own Personal Best. And only then can we win the prize.