Brothers From Different Mothers

“For We Are Nothing Without Brotherhood” — We Came as Romans

Most of us have had friends who have come and gone.  Friendships are built on several foundations including trust, common interests and location. Unfortunately, if one of these foundations changes, often the friendship does as well. It’s hard to stay BFFs when you don’t live near each other anymore or share common ground such as college, children, etc.

My son has a birth brother, but he also has two friends who are brothers in every sense… just by different mothers.

Their friendship began in middle school when they met in football where they bonded over barrel rolls, 6 a.m. conditioning and several wins and losses.  

The first time I was introduced to the “other brothers,” the boys were in the 9th grade and on spring break.  They would run in and out of the house, usually shirtless, as they would go back and forth to the creek where they would fish and swim.

High school came and these three were thick as thieves.  They each experienced football injuries, girlfriends, lock-in football camp and other adventures I’m probably better off not knowing about.

When it came time to head to college, two “brothers” went to the same school and roomed together. The other “brother” was left to fend for himself at another school. This was a pivotal moment in these boys’ friendship.  Would they remain close or would they drift apart?

During college breaks, it was like they were never apart, and it did my heart good to make breakfast for the three amigos on more than one occasion when they were home.  

This past summer, my son’s friend severely cut his finger on a hedge trimmer while he and my son were doing a landscaping job.  My son called to tell me what happened and that he was taking his friend to the ER. The other “brother” was in our basement awaiting their return and when he learned of his friend’s accident, immediately flew out of the house to meet the other boys at the ER

Like blood brothers, they’ve had their disagreements, but they always resolve them.  It’s amazing to me to see three get along so well.  Typically, that doesn’t happen- someone is usually at odds with another.  

These three share a unique bond, one that I hope carries them into their post-college lives. I look forward to sharing all their milestones from college graduation to marriage to fatherhood.  

“Brother from Another Mother” — A friend that is so close he is like a brother, though obviously from another mother.

Boomerang

This time last year, I was an emotional wreck.  I was preparing to send my youngest son to college and with that loomed the EMPTY NEST.  After we took him to school, the ensuing months involved a roller coaster of ups and downs in regard to our child-free home life.  His visits home were anticipated and cherished, especially if my oldest son could spend time at home, too. But during those first few months, saying, “goodbye” just didn’t get any easier.  

But, I was promised by friends who had been through the same thing that in time, it does get easier.  And they were right.

There’s a saying, “Be careful what you wish for… you might just get it.”  

In June, I got it alright… both boys moved back home.

We expected the youngest one to move home, of course, because school was out for the summer. What we didn’t anticipate was a change in my oldest son’s circumstances, resulting in a U-Haul showing up at our house.  Since he was 19, he had lived on his own, but his roommates were going their separate ways when the lease was up.  He had a choice to move with one of the roommates, but it would have been further from his job and more money.  We all agreed that the smart thing would be to move home for a while and save some money.  

I was worried about my son not wanting to move home so I was actually shocked and pleasantly surprised when he admitted he was looking forward to it.  

Must be the home cooking :)

As much as my heart ached during the first few months of empty nesting, I adapted.  While some have a hard time adjusting to the quiet, I enjoyed it.  I enjoyed the house staying clean, the fridge staying full until the next shopping trip and uninterrupted time with my husband.

And now since June, I’ve had to adapt again, and it’s a mixed bag. On one hand, I now see my boys on almost a daily basis, and spending time with them is definitely different than the last time we were all under the same roof. They are more mature, bicker less with each other and sometimes empty the dishwasher without being asked!  But with a full house comes more mess, more groceries, more cooking and more full trash cans which seem to never get emptied except by my husband or me.

I know the empty nest will come again.  I know there will be a few tears when they leave… again.  But having gone through it once, I now know what to expect and what to look forward to on the other side.

This experience proves that parenting is a living, breathing animal.  When you settle into a new phase, like empty nesting, watch out, it can change in the blink of an eye!

It Started as a Lesson

It started as a lesson.

Growing up, each of my sons forgot items at home that they needed for school. Sometimes it was gym clothes, occasionally it was lunch, once in awhile it was a project. It happens. I would dutifully bring the forgotten item to their school on my way to work. No big deal.

For the most part, their forgetfulness was not a regular occurrence.

Until high school.

Something happens to the male teenage brain in high school- part of it stops working. The part of the brain that houses information on girls, sports, XBox codes and friends completely takes over, leaving the part of the brain that houses organization and tidiness empty.

One of my sons was more challenged than the other when it came to forgetting things at home.  A serial procrastinator, he never prepared for the next day the night before. He slept as late as he could and as a result, he tended to be a bit disorganized in the morning. Frequently, I would receive a text asking to bring this or that.  

HIs forgetfulness was becoming ridiculous  Something had to be done.

I could have refused to bring the forgotten item and let him suffer the consequences. But I had a better idea — Public Humiliation.  That sounded like much more fun.

Rather than simply dropping off the item in the office, I decided to deliver it with “love.”  I took a bag Ziplock bag and artfully decorated the outside.  I put hearts and wrote his childhood nickname along with, “Mommy Loves You” on it. I sealed the bag with curling ribbon in shades of pink and purple.  

 Problem solved.  He will NEVER forget anything again after receiving this.

If only….

Over the ensuing months, he continued to forget items, and each time, the item would arrive bedazzled.  Tennis shoes with unicorn stickers, a wallet wrapped in Sponge Bob wrapping paper, another Ziploc bag adorned with rainbow stickers and hearts.  He thought he was going to outsmart me and the bedazzling so when he left his football practice pants at home, he asked me to just drop them inside his truck because he “wouldn’t have time to run to the office.”  I obliged, but on the back of those pants sat a tiny little unicorn sticker.  

Eventually, the incidents of forgotten items slowed down, but never completely stopped. I know he hated sending those texts that he forgot something because he knew what was coming, even though he begged me NOT to bedazzle.  

Sorry son, you should be more organized.

He’s at college now, so needless to say, the days of him forgetting items and me rescuing him are over.  But the bedazzling is not.  It’s now our “thing.” He needed new pillow cases so on the package, I affixed the all-familiar unicorn sticker.  When I sent him his car tags in the mail, the envelope had “XXOO” and hearts on it.

It’s my way of saying, “I think about you… every day.  And every day…. I miss you.”

Married to a MAMIL

I am married to a MAMIL- no, not mammal… M.A.M.I.L. Middle Aged Man In Lycra.  I can’t take credit for this clever acronym, but because the acronym exists, it must mean there are a lot of us living with a  MAMIL.

A MAMIL is easy to spot.  He’s typically over 40, and his favorite form of exercise is the bicycle. His magazine selections consist of Bicycling, Bicycling Times, Road Bike Action and Men’s Health.  If he receives a bonus at work or a nice tax refund, his thoughts immediately turn to a new bike or bike accessories.  And one bike is never enough- a true MAMIL must have at least two bikes. MAMILs can be solitary animals, but can be found in packs at local cycle shops, gathering for “group rides.” And when you get MAMILs together, the talk will be about bikes, bike parts, how many miles they rode that week and the countdown to the Tour de France.

And like the name says, these MAMILs love their lycra.  Their outfits emulate those of professional cyclists - The brighter the better.  I’ve often responded to the following statement, “I saw your husband riding his bike today,” with an, “I’m sorry you had to see that.

My husband started his freefall into the land of MAMILs in his 30s.  He started his love of bike riding with mountain biking.  His first lycra purchase was a pair of baggy cycling shorts with a lycra lining. There was nothing embarrassing about that!

Then he discovered road biking, and everything changed.

He wanted to look the part and every Christmas and birthday, pieces of lycra would appear on his gift wish list.  I believe his inaugural lycra was a hand me down from a fellow MAMIL.  It was a bright red and white bib number.  I was horrified.  What started as one hand me down has turned into an entire drawer of shorts, bibs, leg and arm warmers, gloves and some sort of head band thing that helps with a sweaty head.

The MAMIL’s lifestyle has invaded almost every part of our home.  There are MAMIL shirts hanging on the back of the bathroom door, MAMIL food (protein powders, special vitamins and energy gels) in the cupboard and MAMIL water bottles and foam helmet inserts on the kitchen sink.

As if riding a bike and reading about riding a bike wasn’t enough, MAMILs also like to watch it on TV and worse, DVR various televised tours.  Even when he knows the results, my MAMIL likes to watch every stage of the Tour de whatever.

One would think that the bright MAMIL wear makes it easy to spot them on the road, but that’s not always the case.  This is why many will affix blinking lights to their helmet and /or seat backs.  It’s hard to believe, but not everyone appreciates sharing the road with MAMILs.  My MAMIL has almost been grazed by the side mirrors of cars, forced off the road by impatient or distracted drivers, chased by numerous dogs and even had Taco Bell hot sauce packets thrown at him.

Living with a MAMIL presents certain challenges, yes.  But all teasing aside, I”m actually proud to be married to a MAMIL.  He loves the sport,  has made several good friends (Mark, Johnnie, Daniel) who share his love of cycling, and it keeps him in shape.

Just don’t ask me to wash the worn and sweaty MAMIL outfitts!

Snow Day

It starts with mere mention of the “s” word…. snow.  That four letter word is all it takes to get the kids into an absolute frenzy.

Especially in the South.

Because if we get snow, even a minute amount, chances are school will be cancelled, and if it’s several inches, you can count on several snow days.

Growing up in Colorado, snow days were truly a luxury.  I can remember watching TV as a child after a heavy dump, praying to see my district included in the school closings.  We didn't have bus service so there weren't the transportation safety concerns.  Your parents either brought you or you walked.  And yes, I walked plenty…. uphill.

When the kids got a snow day, I was excited, too.  No matter how old they were, they turned into little kids when it snowed.  They spent hours outside building snow men, having snowball fights and sledding down the park hill.  Yes, they would come in and out all day, wet and muddy, but that’s why Swiffer Wet Jet was invented.

Last year, we had “Snowmagddeon 2014.”  If you were stuck in your car for hours only to hike miles home, you may not recall this event very fondly, but it would prove to be the last snow day I would have with my kids.

Because the roads were virtually impassable and due to our proximity to their high school, we had several of my son’s friends “stranded” with us.  Here were 17 and 18 year old “men” playing in the snow from sledding to snowball fights.  By the time they were able to return to their respective homes, my freezer and refrigerator were completely empty, but my heart was full.

Recently, we had our first “snow event” of the season.  And being in a empty nest, it looked different. Rather than checking the school district website first thing to see if school was closed, I checked road conditions to see if I could make it into work.  No one was coming in and out of the house full of wet and muddy clothes; no one was eating through every package of bacon and carton of eggs I had; no one made a snowman. I still enjoyed the beauty of the snow, but just in a different way, now.

Just another “first” in my empty nest journey…..

A Box Full of Love

While cleaning our bedroom the other day, I came across a wooden box my sister had made for me years ago.  In it were several writing assignments from school my then young sons completed.  Most mothers I know have a secret, hidden stash of their children’s art and writings.  I have more than one stash, I have to admit.  And I have found that you have to be in the right frame of mind to go through the stashes.  On one hand, it’s emotional to see their rudimentary art and writing and to recall that time when they were so young, innocent and impressionable.  It’s also a reminder of how far I have come as their mother and them, as young men.

"My mom sese (says) hige (hi) to me win (when) I come home from school.
My dog is grat (great). My bom (boom) box is cool."

"I love my mom because we go to the pool and it is fun.  Garrett."

Today is Valentine’s Day, and on it, I celebrate the three loves of my life.  When my boys were young, I would leave special treats on the table for them to find at breakfast, before heading to school.  Now that they are out of the house, I still send them little things to let them know they are and always will be “My Valentine.”  

Whole Foods- My Achilles Heel

When the manchild lived at home, I dreamed of a time I could cut the exotic Indian or Moroccan recipes out of my Food Network magazine and prepare them without preparing a second meal. I had visions of kale, spinach and quinoa and halibut prepared in parchment paper. The manchild would have had none of that.

So when he went to school, leaving us empty nesters, I began cooking the types of food I only fantasized about. But, often times, I would need an odd spice or ingredient, so I would find myself heading to my favorite grocery store, Whole Foods.

I’d love to be one of those people who show up with their piles of reusable grocery bags and do all my shopping there. But I’m not cool enough, and I’m definitely not rich enough. I’ll go there for a few things, and I’ll be damned if I don’t spend $100 every time!

My first stop is always produce. It’s a cornucopia of the exotic and weird… not as much as it use to be, but still intriguing. My out of control bill starts in this section as I pick up heirloom tomatoes, dozens of shallots and maybe some lemongrass. I am hypnotized by the huge lemons, shiny zucchini and Japanese eggplant.

Next is the oil and vinegar aisle: olive oil, extra virgin olive oil, sherry vinegar, dark aged balsamic vinegar, grapeseed oil… my mind is blown! I want one of everything.  But I settle for a balsamic glaze that will go nicely on my heirloom tomatoes (always thinking!)

As my cart rounds the corner, I come up on the pasta and rice aisle. I am lucky to make it out of this section with only a bottle of organic pasta sauce and some Arborio rice.

And then I find the spice section. In it are spices I’ve only read about, and they find their way into my cart:  saffron, Herbs de Provence and the Indian spice I came for, Garam Masala, which was the only thing I “needed.”

I manage to stay away from the other aisles, but around the corner is the seafood section. There’s fish fillets, whole fish, Dungeness crab, oysters and squid. I decide that little neck clams sound good and fresh caught shrimp are on sale.

And then comes the bread and cheese section. I can’t leave without a hunk of authentic Parmesan Reggiano and Chevre (goat cheese).

Uh Oh… there’s the salad and hot bar, and I’m starving. I need a nice big salad for lunch and load up in my environmentally-friendly to-go container.

Time to check out. Yes, the organic dark chocolate at the register looks good, but I had a feeling my Whole Foods budget was blown.

I wasn’t wrong but I sure did enjoy the little neck clams with a saffron broth!