November 11th, 2008 by Jennine

Tonight was our football team’s awards banquet and Darren and I couldn’t be more proud of Kevin, who also made the A honor roll this quarter.

Receiving a plaque for being the team’s “Pit Bull”: $0

Being voted All Conference by the conference coaches: $0

Being made next year’s co-captain of the team: $0

Receiving the awards from a coach who is a Marine veteran: Priceless

Thank you for your service to our wonderful country, Coach Kirby. You have our deepest respect and gratitude.

October 22nd, 2008 by Jennine

There are days when Kevin realizes that he actually likes his little brother and I’ll catch Kevin teaching Nathanael some sweet wrestling moves or witness Kevin carrying him around on his back.

This day I caught them teaming up to defeat zombies on some video game. It’s like they found a way to channel their varying levels of testosterone and forgot that on most days they drive each other crazy.

I guess you could say it was a violent peace.

October 7th, 2008 by Jennine

Mid-terms for this first quarter were handed out last week which is unbelievable to me since it seems like only yesterday we were shopping for school clothes and supplies.

I never took school seriously and I recall dreading those times when my grades were reported to my parents. It was a stomach-churning, migraine-inducing event when I had to hand deliver my report card to them.

So I became quite skilled in the practice of attempting to turn a “D” into a “B”

Somehow my parents always caught on to my scheme and it turns out that having bad grades was one thing. Being dishonest about them is another.

My mom just ungrounded me yesterday.

Given my lazy, uncommitted academic history, I have to say that I’m pleasantly puzzled by my children’s dedication to their education.

Kevin’s mid-term:

Daniel’s mid-term:

Considering both boys are involved with a very time-consuming sport, I’m thrilled they are managing their lives so well.

Go ahead and be embarrassed, boys. I’m proud of you and I want the world to know.

September 20th, 2008 by Jennine

Kevin- Number 52

It was our Homecoming game and we were up 27-6 when it happened. On a punt to the other team, one of their players came up, full-barrel, behind Kevin and tackled him so hard from behind that Kevin’s face was literally planted in the turf.

Kevin was at least 20 yards away from the ball, making it an unnecessary and shameful hit.

No flags were thrown. The refs didn’t notice. Even the coaches didn’t know Kevin was hurt because Kev’s team members yanked him up by the arms and helped him to the sidelines.

I assumed he got the wind knocked out of him but when I went to Kevin, he said “What happened, Mom?” I explained that he got hit from behind but I could see it wasn’t registering in his brain.

“Who’s out there? Offense or defense?”

“Defense, Kevin.”

“What happened?”

“You got hit from behind. Do you know where we are?”

“Is there a game right now? What’s going on?”

The coaches were still unaware of Kevin’s injury. They yelled for a guard to replace Kevin.

“Mom! I can’t remember what happened!” His eyes welled up with tears.

As minutes passed, I realized that we needed to take Kevin to the hospital. Darren went to gather the kids and move the van to the north end of the field where there were less people to navigate through. We happened to walk past an EMT on duty.

A police officer shined his light in Kevin’s eyes and discovered that his pupils were uneven. The EMT brought us to his truck and put a blood pressure cuff on Kev’s arm. 186/110. High blood pressure can indicate bleeding in the brain.

“He could have broken a bone in his neck and there’s a possibility that it could sever his spinal cord. We should take him by ambulance.”

OMG.

Kevin couldn’t answer simple questions. He asked me over and over again who we were playing, how he got to school, how did it happen, who were we playing, were we winning, was there a penalty, what happened, who were we playing, how he got to school, were we winning, was there a penalty….

As they strapped him onto a board, he said “Last night I had a dream that this would happen. Mom? What’s going on? Who are we playing?”

I remember, at this point, looking back at the football field and thinking “How can the game still be going on? How can the crowd be cheering?” As if the world should come to an abrupt stop, like mine just did.

I held Kevin’s big, cold hand and told him that I wouldn’t leave, that I would ride with him in the ambulance.

“Who are we playing?” was his response.

In the ambulance, Kevin started shaking uncontrollably. The driver looked in the rear view mirror and said to me “He’s in shock and this is typical, nothing unusual.”

Nothing unusual? My kid was loopy, strapped and immobilized, repeating himself and shaking like a leaf. Nothing unusual?

By the time we made the 30 minute drive to the hospital, Kevin was able to recall things like his birth date and phone number. He didn’t complain of neck pain which was the only reassurance I had that this might be considered a mild concussion. He was able to move his feet, his toes, his hands.

The doctor ordered a CT scan and cervical xrays.

Kevin was still wearing his football cleats.

I was still answering the “What happened” question.

The test results came back and the doctor told us that there was no major bleeds in his brain. No broken bones in his neck.

We received a list of activity restrictions and were sent home with our brain-injured child.

“Wake him up in the middle of the night so that we know he can wake up.”

“Ibuprofen for pain”

All the while I’m entertaining the idea of driving to the dirty player’s home and smothering him with a pillow in his sleep.And worse.

There are risks in football. Injuries happen. It’s not like being on a varsity knitting team.

But Kevin was hurt by a pot shot from a player who was angry that his team was losing. And there was no penalty, no consequence for him.

And my kid can’t remember how to tie his shoes.

Kevin woke up this morning with a slight head ache. It hurts him to chew food. But he’s alive, knows his name and is slowly remembering details.

He’s still asking why there was no penalty.

I have no answer for him.

September 6th, 2008 by Jennine

Last night our football team played the team expected to take first in our conference and probably head to state in our section.

We lost 40-6 but here’s the deal. I don’t even care that we lost considering the fact that their team’s defensive and offensive line averages 220 lbs and eats young, tender kindergartners for breakfast.

All I care about is that no one was seriously injured.

Kevin is number 52 in this photo and while you maybe can’t appreciate the size difference from this angle, Kevin was severely out-sized.

As I watched them take the three-point stance for the first time, I will admit to wanting to call a time out, calling Kevin to the sideline, covering his mouth and nose with an ether-soaked cloth and smuggling him to a small town in Peru where paraplegic basketball is the most violent sport offered.

I’ve taught this child not to cross streets without looking both ways, not to play with fire, not to take rides from strangers who offer you candy or puppies.

Yet I let him line up middle of a busy intersection to be repeatedly run over by a bus.

Our hometown team’s courage is amazing to me. I’m really proud of our guys for not running away from a rather hopeless, dangerous situation.

I’m most proud of my kid for not opting to fake an injury in self-preservation but rather take one for the team. Over and Over again. Especially since 50 percent of his genetic make-up is composed of athletic cowardice.

(From Darren, I mean)

More photos from the game can be viewed here.

September 2nd, 2008 by Jennine

2008 First Day of School

2007 First Day of School

Notice the joy on Kevin’s face as they headed out to the bus this morning.

On the other hand, I had a HUGE smile because chances are good that my refrigerator door will not be opened for the next eight hours.

June 9th, 2008 by Jennine

Having found a marker from the supplies the kids brought home from school at the end of the year, Kevin decided that he must use it in a way it wasn’t intended.

“Hey, Dan. You should let me draw a tattoo on you.”

“No.”

“Yeah, come on. It will be sweet.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you five bucks.”

“Yeah right. Like you have five bucks.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a dollar right now.”

“No.”

“You should let me.”

“No.”

“I’ll take you fishing with me next time I go.”

“Fine. You can draw a tattoo on me.”

And so this is Daniel’s water-based, bribery-induced, marker tattoo:

And God, if You are paying attention to this whole incident, please…please let Daniel catch a trophy Northern and Kevin, the smallest perch in the lake.

Amen.

June 6th, 2008 by Jennine

You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

I blame testosterone for the constant tangles my five boys instigate with each other. I guess I don’t know if it’s normal in other homes for two brothers to merely pass each other in the kitchen and end up panting for breath after wrestling for 15 minutes because, and only because, they made eye contact in that passing.

I used to believe I could tame it with constant reminders to “be kind” and “act like gentlemen”. How very female of me. I went so far as to write little reminders throughout the house:

“Keep your hands to home”

“This isn’t a zoo and you are not monkeys”

I’m quite certain that not even monkeys could dream up a farting contest with the winner receiving a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

Adolescent male behavior baffles me. They speak a language that I do not understand and their code of conduct involves concepts my brain cannot comprehend. Life seems to be a non-stop competition with sibling respect at stake. Hairiest legs, best burper, biggest biceps, loudest voice, highest score…the comparisons are constant and I am often asked to be the judge.

“I know, guys. Let’s see who can be the quietest!” evokes the loudest objections. ”Let’s see who can go the longest without saying something mean” results in name-calling and more rough-housing.

While I’m comforted by the fact I can use parental authority to bring temporary law and order to a situation, the possibility for an outburst always bubbles right beneath the surface of peace.

“What! His arm touched mine while we were in the van. That’s why I pinched him.”

“He was leaning over me, breathing loud while I was playing on the computer. He deserved the wedgie.”

“He’s just blinking to annoy me so I sat on his head.”

“I only locked his iPod because he stuck his finger in my ice cream RIGHT AFTER I WATCHED HIM STICK IT IN HIS EAR AND HE KNOWS I DON’T LIKE EAR WAX IN MY ICE CREEEEAM!”

And my all time favorite:

“He hit me for no good reason!”

Like you could convince me that there is a good reason to hit.

Novelist Booth Tarkington once said “One of the hardest conditions of boyhood is the almost continuous strain put upon the powers of invention by the constant and harassing necessity for explanations of every natural act.”

I fully admit that, according to that quote, I am adding strain on their boyhood by wanting to understand a behavior so different from my own. Perhaps I should just be content that today no one ended up in the emergency room nor was there any destruction of personal property aside from the temporary tower built with a deck of cards.

What I really want is for someone to assure me that my sons will one day evolve into men who won’t tackle, sit on and pretend to spit in the face of a co-worker just because he used their stapler without asking.

May 23rd, 2008 by Jennine

We found Bobo, lifeless, in a ditch in front of the neighbor’s yard about 15 hours after he escaped. Kevin scooped him up and brought him home.

No one had much hope.

Kev warmed up the heating pad and I mixed some sugar water and we began feeding Bobo with a dropper.

At first, the water would come right out of his nostrils. Bobo was too weak to pick up his head. But as soon as the sugar entered his bloodstream, he gained a little strength. We did this for almost two hours.

Needless to say, the bird is exhausted.

I’m pretty sure Kevin is, too.

He has his beloved bird back and I think they are equally as happy.

May 22nd, 2008 by Jennine

My son, Kevin, has a pet bird named Bobo. Bobo is a Sun Conure which means that from the moment the sun rises until the moment the sun sets, this bird screeches in a pitch high enough to cause the human ear considerable pain. And speaking of pain… Bobo recently attacked Darren’s face for no apparent reason other than sheer opportunity. Kevin is the only one who can handle and interact with this creature.

In order to share this story, I must tell you that we have mice in our home. These aren’t the typical gray mice one would expect to find in a trap. These are brown and white mice which look like kind you might buy in a pet store. Except that we’ve never bought mice from a pet store.

Just because these mice are less ugly than their plain cousins doesn’t mean that I am more comfortable with their choice to reside with us. Having mice in our home is the same to me as discovering a child has an infestation of head lice or walking through a stranger’s sneeze at the mall. It’s an unsettling feeling, a sensation that one must always be on guard lest the mouse take you by surprise.

In desperation, I purchased an unusual remedy: Vinegar of the Four Thieves herbal mixture. Supposedly, if you burn the herb mixture inside your home, the mice will dislike it so much as to immediately take leave. I’d much rather try this than have to set traps and wait for the horrible snapping sound.

This morning I used it. I piled up a mound of the herb mix and started it on fire. It smoldered, releasing a very particular aroma. It was an odor which Cheech and Chong would have found pleasant. In my effort to drive the mice out, I became the Pied Piper of Willy Nelson.

As my basement filled with the smokey haze, I decided to move Bobo’s cage outside. Kevin loves his bird and I love Kevin. While the thought of life without the constant screech appealed to me, and the smoke would have probably killed him, I decided to be nice. Besides, it was a beautiful day and Bobo would enjoy the sun and fresh air.

When Kevin arrived home from school, he immediately noticed the bird cage outside and went to greet Bobo. He took him out of the cage and started walking around the yard with the bird on his shoulder like he’s done a hundred times before. However, on this day, Bobo decided to take flight into our woods next to our home. Usually Kevin just calls out and the bird returns to him but for whatever reason, Bobo climbed higher and higher into the tree.

We spent about eight hours this evening trying to talk the bird down from the tree and were unsuccessful. The bird is still outside, probably shivering in the cool temperatures of a spring night in Minnesota. My house smells like marijuana and I just saw a mouse run across my kitchen floor.

Today was like walking through one of life’s sneezes.