the other half of my heart

I've dedicated the lion's share of my writing here to discussing my Little Guy, and there is good reason for that.  The challenges presented by having a special needs child sometimes compel me to drink write.  I'd like to think I don't just blog to whine, but the truth is that when the good times are rolling I'm far less likely to take the time to write.

Today it is neither my special needs son nor whining that is burning on my mind -- it is my youngest son, heretofore referred to as "Baby Boy".  He is 3 now and insistent that he is neither a baby nor a little boy, but in fact a big boy.  I'm going to let him win this one - "Big Boy" he is now.

Earlier this week I picked Big Boy up from preschool.  His teacher dismissed him and he emerged from his classroom like a miniature man in jeans and a little backpack.  It hit me, and hit me hard, how quickly his childhood is passing, like sand slipping through my fingers.  I feel like we somehow haven't been doing enough.  That is one of the beauties of preschool though -- preschool is in many ways a celebration of being little and enjoying all the things that at that age inspire wonder.  I am so thankful that Big Boy gets to be a part of that celebration, and that he has this time away from home when he is Big Boy first and not a little brother.  He gets to be a shining star, all on his own and it suits him well.

I hate you, too!

See, I have a little brother who plays Div-1 college football.  This means that every Saturday for the past few months I have been able to click on the tv, tune in to a sports channel, and see my brother's handsome face.  This still blows my mind, and is simultaneously thrilling and surreal.  It is especially awesome since I haven't been able to see that handsome face in person since last Christmas.

Here is what isn't awesome: seeing Brother Handsome having a bad day.  A bad day in front of 60,000 physically present people and an untold number of tv viewers.  Seeing a coach screaming at Brother Handsome, seeing Brother Handsome sitting on the sidelines with face in hands and hearing the announcer describe repeatedly how Brother Handsome screwed up.  Or how about the headlines that follow in major newspapers nationwide?  Good news: Brother Handsome, your name is in almost every major newspaper you've ever heard of.  Bad news: they don't have nice things to say.

It is positively heart-breaking when this happens.  It is depressing for the whole family to see Brother Handsome's big dreams turn into this.  I have to remind myself that if losing a football game is the worst thing that happens to Brother Handsome then he'll have had a pretty charmed life.

Still it is sad.  And making voo-doo dolls for all those sports writers really digs into what little personal time I have left.  Which is why I finally had to step back and be at peace with the fact that when Brother Handsome has a bad week he's going to take crap for it.  I can maintain my pleasant and cheery demeanor those weeks by not reading any sports articles.  After all, unlike Brother Handsome, I don't have a field to take all my rage and aggression to.

What I cannot accept is the crap that is still dished out when he is, in fact, having a fantastic week.  When almost every major newspaper gives him the props he deserves but a few key publications still give him the most luke-warmish of praise, sprinkled with more back handed insults.

To those publications, to those sports writers, I have one thing to say: I will always have time for your voo doo dolls.

my little brother, aka all-star MVP

My little brothers are ridiculously talented jocks. It's no big surprise -- their parents are very into sports. Not just watching but playing, too. All of my half siblings have grown up (or are still growing up) in Sports Land. TV watching is frowned on. Getting outside and playing is encouraged. Pretty much every day of the year the whole family is busy with either practices (Dad coaches and Step Mom is "Team Mother") or with games. The sports talent didn't limit itself to the boys, either; my lis sis was an outstanding soccer player in her day, too.

If you know me, you know I could give a rat's ass about sports. (It's fun to type phrases like that since I'm not allowed to say them in front of little ears anymore). But I love my brothers and so through the ages I have sat through the occasional football/baseball/basketball games and proudly cheered them on.

The older of my younger brothers was selected for the All Star team and had his big game Saturday night. I wasn't able to attend but from all accounts it was more outstanding footballing by lil bro - he played all 4 quarters and rec'd MVP. What an awesome way to end his high school football career.

So cheers to my little brother! I may not give a rat's ass about football, but I do care about whats important to him.

so very very proud

Today my big sister gave a speech to more than 750 people at the annual luncheon for the county's Womens Center.

This years event was dedicated to her close friend and neighbor who was abused and ultimately murdered by her husband in early 2007.

The district attorney introduced Big Sis as a hero who courageously stood up for her friend in life and in death.

Big Sis took the stage and even through her tears managed to give a powerful and moving speech to a crowd (750+ !) that included several congressmen, councilmen and other VIPs. There were not many dry eyes.

This was no small feat for her. She has not tried to milk this tragedy -- she does not, in fact, enjoy talking about it. When the Womens Center asked her to speak in order to help other victims, however, she could not turn them down.

She did an outstanding job and I for one am incredibly proud of her.