Second Born Son

“What I Did This Summer” by Sarah

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Ok, so we’re not going to talk about how long it has been since my last entry. Mostly because I really can’t handle the guilt. But in my defence, there has been a lot of stuff going on these past few weeks. It’s almost like God is sitting up there looking down and saying “Hey, let’s see what she can do with THIS!” That God, such a sense of humour he has…. So, in no particular order, let’s get you caught up.

THE JOB HUNT

I am officially employed – cue the choir, trumpets and kazoos. Ironically, I can’t talk too much about my new job, but I can give you some parameters.

1. It is in law enforcement (hence the “can’t talk too much”) but I don’t, sadly, have access to firepower, or for that matter, handcuffs.

2. Taking this job required computer training. While I’ve participated in training in the past, I would have to say, hands down, that this instructor was THE WORST teacher I’ve ever had. That includes you, Mr. Walduck. I’m sure you are glad to pass the torch from Gr. 10 Accounting.

3. Shift work is involved, but since it is part time, it’s not too bad. I have had to rewire myself to understand that napping in the day is not a sign of sloth, but an essential key to survival. You will have to ask my family how well that’s working out, but I’ll hedge my bet to say it’s a “thumbs down” kinda result.

4. The Boys’ reaction to my employment status was mixed. On one hand, they knew the steady flow of baking they had been enjoin would slow diminish, but on the other, they were going to get the “Kid channels” as promised to them “When Mom gets a job”  since Dad’s job offers us an attractive discount on our fibre bill.

5. I have worked two nights, and now, two days. In this length of time, I have come to realize that no matter how bad things may be in my life, someone out there is suffering through something 100% WORSE. I can promise you this – and it is heartbreaking. It makes me appreciative for a good man and two amazing children, two terrific parents and an extended family I am proud of. There are so many worse scenarios out there right now.

THE BOYS (and yes, that includes Roman)

1. Well, we are back to school. With this coinciding with the start of my new job, it’s been an interesting experience. Add to the fact that First Born Son started High School, and it is fair to say the anxiety level was at an all time high here at Boweryville.

2. The dog HATES school.

I am serious considering renting him out for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.

This is Roman on Day 2 of Back to School. He is sitting in the kitchen – howling. This is after he watched the boys walked down the driveway and spent five minutes doing this….

Forgive the poor quality - it was edit photos or write the blog. I guess by now you've figured out which I chose.

He’s sitting at the front door trying to see if they are outside. You can’t actually “see” through this glass, but you get an idea of shapes, and this pup is looking for a big blob and slightly smaller blob. On Day 1 – he spent the day running from door to door, whining to be let out. It’s like he thought he lost track of the boys and was convinced that “they must be out back, no? Oh, well, let’s go check again out front! No?!? I must have just missed them.” I think you get the idea.

Now he spends most of his time looking at me with a look on his face that speaks volumes. “YOU are a lousy mother for losing track of your CHILDREN!” Join the club pup.

3. Ironically, The Boys do NOT hate school. FBS is loving high school and Second Born Son has a teacher who taught his brother. We all loved her and are looking forward to a great year ahead!

4. No hockey for SBS this year. He’s decided to “take a year off” and once it became evident that he was not headed to the NHL, The Big Guy and I think it is a misappropriation of parenting to force him to play. We realize we are the only two Canadian parents to take this position. He would like to try skiing and I’m thinkin’ that’s a GREAT idea!

5. FBS is playing, and actually trying out for Rep this year. Anyone who has followed this blog knows the hardship this kid has gone through in the name of love for hockey. The fact that he’s grown almost a foot in 18 months has certainly helped his odds. We should know which team he’s on in a couple of days. I’m just thanking the stars above that we didn’t have to replace his pads, catcher and blocker, but I just didn’t managed to find that $2,000 lying around this summer.

PARTY CENTRAL

1. We’ve been “Party Central” lately!

Two birthdays at one party - hey, we like a big BANG for the buck!

We had First Born Son’s birthday at the same time as my Mom’s. But we actually held it on my father-in-law’s birthday.

We do having a living room, but everyone wants to sit in the kitchen....

But it’s all good, because we had his birthday the weekend before…with his sister’s….

This could take a while....

And then just yesterday, we celebrated FBS’ birthday!

That broad in the back looks familiar, but I never see her in any of the other pictures...

So suffice it to say, the five pounds I gained with all the birthday cake I seem to have worn off with the back and forth with the dog to each of the four doors of this house.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE CLASS?

1. Farm update I guess. We finally said good-bye to The Farm. The household items were sold at the end of August and while it didn’t impact me as much as the first auction did, it was still a tough day. Once again, SBS directed traffic, and FBS helped his father on the wagons. It was interesting to see some of the artifacts that were unearthed.

Butter Churn

This butter churn now resides south of the border.

What almost $300 looks like!

It was amazing what people were willing to pay for items. Here is a bovine horn with gunpowder in it. Sold for just under $300. Give me a moment while I look for a saw and some horned Herfords…..

I managed to pick up some items myself, but we’ll leave that for another day.

2. Worked our a$$es off outside! I was so sick of looking at the Red and White shed – in case you can’t remember….

The job necessitated the dog run, which began the thought about how to paint once it was done...

and once we realized the pup needed a proper run for when I’m a the mine and the boys are at school, we realized if were ever going to get rid of that colour, the time was now.

I'm supposed to be up on the ladder, but no one would hold the camera for me.

So I started painting. No one could get where I was going with “mud” for a colour, but patience people!!

TA-DAH!

The idea was to make it disappear. I don’t want to see it any more and I think it is Mission Accomplished! The Big Guy gets credit for the finishing touches, such as some of the trim and the kennel. Roman has the best dog run this side of the Saugeen!

IN CONCLUSION

Therefore, I defend my failure to submit on a regular basis on the grounds that I haven’t exactly been watching soaps and eating bon bons.

That being said, I will make a concerted effort in the future! 😉

Chalk Up Another Year

/ Sarah / 1 Comment

The Big Guy and I recently celebrated a wedding anniversary. We don’t tend to trumpet this news – it’s about us, and we usually keep it between us.

But the children are old enough to understand this milestone, apparently. The conversation came up with my Mother as to any possible plans we might have as she was pulling out of our driveway. When she was safely off the property, Second Born Son’s head spun around.

“Why didn’t you TELL me it was your anniversary?!?” he demanded.

“Uh, I dunno, I didn’t think it was anything to worry about,” I replied.

“MOM! We should CELEBRATE this – after all, it’s another year you made it with Dad!!”

*crickets*

I recounted this tale to my Mother, and First Born Son was within earshot.

“Oh MAN, it’s your anniversary? You should have said SOMETHING!” he said with great urgency.

“Again, I didn’t think it was anything that involved you guys!” I pointed out, “And besides, it IS on the calendar!!”

“I don’t look at THAT!” he replied. I resisted the impulse to state his father ignores the calendar too.

The conversation continued and within this context, it came to mind that there was a reason why my kids reacted so strongly. While my Little Sister and I rarely if ever acknowledged our parent’s anniversary (until it came to milestones much later on), for my kids, parents who mark anniversaries are rare. As a matter of fact, just the day before we found out that another couple “bit the dust” – two kids now live a life with two households.

For me, it’s not a biggie. For my kids, it shows them that their parents are becoming part of a minority – and their lives can continue with some level of “Normal”; even though the new “Normal” for their peers is drastically different.

I shared my revelation with The Big Guy and he agrees. Perhaps we need to review our stand on anniversaries and make it something to celebrate as a family!

IN OTHER NEWS

How we actually celebrated our anniversary…..me with a camera, he with a project outside with the pup….. Feel free to laugh at will.

These are The Big Guy’s legs. Note the work boots – safety first people!! Yes, he’s in the Dog House. He’s actually repairing it so Roman can have a warm, dry place to sleep while we are away. Right now he is measuring for some insulation he wants to install.

Here he is trying to get out – Roman has found him and wants to play.

See the size of the knife in his hand? It’s a carving knife, lifted from the kitchen years ago – another beef for another column….. Roman is very keen and wants to help but fails to possess the opposable thumbs required.

The Big Guy goes back in, and Roman thinks he should be able to as well.

Persistence pays off. Roman is ready to launch!

Tee hee – sorry, that’s all I’ve got for this one – hahahaha!

Whew – it’s still “fun” at this point! That was one full dog house.

…and Roman knows as long as The Big Guy is smiling, it’s PLAYTIME!!!

Out comes the knife again! Roman looks worried and wants to get back to the playing.

…and that’s when I’m ordered to remove the pup before he gets drawn and quartered! The Big Guy doesn’t look amused, does he? Probably because I’m snorting AND laughing at the same time…

Volunteer Hours

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Merriam-Webster Definition of VOLUNTEER

1
: a person who voluntarily undertakes or expresses a willingness to undertake a service: as a: one who enters into military service voluntarily b (1): one who renders a service or takes part in a transaction while having no legal concern or interest (2): one who receives a conveyance or transfer of property without giving valuable consideration 
Funny, this definition does NOT include “whipping boy”, “blame target” or “root of all evil”.
Let me start by saying, I love softball. I love playing it, watching it and for the past several years, coaching it. I’ve had some trials and tribulations, with the past three years being the most difficult. It was to the point that I had decided this year I would not coach, but be a “Mom” in the stands to Second Born Son. But he asked me to coach his team, and since I had only ever helped with First Born Son’s team, I felt it was only fair to help out at least once with SBS’ team.
In recent years there has been a pattern with the issues facing the coaching staff – the kids stop or never did take it seriously (and by this, I don’t mean that they don’t have fun, they just fail to engage in the sport), then the parents get all annoyed that the team isn’t doing well, then gets in the coaches’ grill about how they handle the kids.
Personally, I have taken the view that organized sport is a prepping ground for real life. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you can do your best and some (umpires) can prevent you from winning. Working hard and practicing pays off. You won’t get a gold star just for showing up, you actually have to excel to be acknowledged. Mediocre is just that. These life lessons are why we’ve signed the kids up for organized sport.
But I’m among the minority, apparently. Parents want their children lauded for simply standing on a base. If I ask them to hold their glove in a ready position (partly to “look” like a ball player and mostly to prevent them from eating a ball) I’m being harsh. This revelation was given to me cold and hard by an irate parent, just this evening. This same parent hosted his own ball practice with certain members of the team, but failed to invite, ironically, the three kids whose parents are on the coaching staff.
Such negative and divisive actions have impacted the team pretty much from the beginning of the year. The kids feed of their parent’s energy and combined with their own less than ambitious outlook, end up being a team that could win many more games, but don’t.
It’s unfortunate. I feel bad for the kids who will someday go out into the real world and find out that Mom and Dad can’t hold their hand while they are at their first full time job. I’m sorry for the parents who will look back at this time in their child’s development and realize that there was a service being paid in how coaches motivate and indeed criticized their children – and how their children were able to use that motivation. We play numerous teams in a year and most of the coaches are strict. I’ve heard much more severe comments made from other benches – the teams played better, the parents were supportive of the coaches and that results in wins – which is what all teams strive for.
What it comes down to is this – I’ve volunteered in minor sports for nine years. I’ve never taken a year off. The time has come. I never suggested I knew everything about softball, and indeed have enjoyed the fact that I’ve been able to learn as I’ve move along as well. But to have a parent be critical and suggest I, and my colleagues, are doing a bad job – when they themselves never learned how to play the sport, well, it’s simply insulting.
Sadly, minor sports are experience a drought of volunteers as severe as the lack of rain we had in July. Teams will not be formed without adult volunteers, but who would want to step up, knowing parents and in some cases, players, are ready to tear them down? Individuals with much more experience than I have been dragged through the mud, all because a parent felt their child may have been slighted. I would never have volunteered to coach children if I didn’t like kids. I would never offer my time if I didn’t feel I had something to contribute. To be told otherwise is hurtful.
I don’t know what the answer is for the issue at large, but I know I won’t be signing up for any more volunteer hours any time soon.

From the Mouths of Babes

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The conversations around the fire pit are the BEST! An interesting exchange transpired around the topic of our neighbors who have their house listed for sale. We noticed a family with two young girls looking around earlier in the week.

Second Born Son in a tone as serious as a Judge: You know, research says it’s better for a man to marry a woman younger than he is.

Me: Really…

The Big Guy: ~wisely silent~

SBS: Ya, because however many years there are between them, that’s how much longer he will out live her.

Me: Really!?

The Big Guy: ~eyes getting wider~

SBS: Ya, so I figure, one of those girls looking at the house next door, they look like they around 7 or 8, and they were cute! Did you see them? I think they were blonde too!

Me: What about “Cute-Little-Red-Haired-Girl-From-School”?

SBS: Oh, no – that would never work, we are the same age.

By the way, he’s TEN! (Going on 21 apparently.)

Citius, Altius, Fortius! or in other words – Track & Field

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These past two weeks have been a flurry of athletic endeavors in Boweryville.

Between the ball games, the lawn cutting and Track & Field, we have been at our maximum physical output. (Those of you doubting the lawn cutting have yet to see our far from manicured yard.)

This is a big deal in our house, especially for Second Born Son. He anticipated his inaugural season of Track & Field last year, but was thwarted by a little event we refer to in these parts as The Royal Wedding – Part II. Little Sister’s wedding landed on a Friday which was the same day as the boys’ school meet. After all the shoe scuffing and head lolling was over, we vowed to come back bigger and better than ever for the 2011 Season.

SBS signed up for all the events he could and eagerly anticipated the day. Would I come to watch him? Does a Polar Bear have frost bite??

Packing the trusty Nikon, I headed to the field and waited for him with eager anticipation.

To be brutally frank, I hadn’t expected too much from the lad, since he has proven to be more of a morale booster than a tightly wound competitor. But something was happening…

and then….

That, my friends, is called a photo finish. Which led to this…

In the end, he got it by the hair of his chinny chin chin. Two firsts, a second and….

one of these for Standing Long Jump. Boyfriend would have done better in Ball Throw with his wicked arm, but there’s a little thing called “accuracy” that trips him up every time.

First Born Son participated too. But I was forbidden to be anywhere near him during his events. I get it. I’m cool like that….I know what it’s like to be a young teen and not want to be saddled with the presence of a parent, especially when other equally cool punks teens are in the area.

So I did what any other mother would do. I broke out the long lens.

This is from one side of the track to the other. He never knew I was there, until that night when he bemoaned the fact that I had photos of his brother, but none of him. Tee hee.

While FBS didn’t perform as well this year as in the past, mostly due to the fact that when you are pre-pubescent, your buddies are as tall as your Dad and can whup your arse in most sports. I told him to buck up and try again next year. SBS, however, qualified to advance to the County Meet which, ironically, takes place at his school this year.

In typical SBS style, he had a classic quote last night for his impending athletic endeavor.

“I’m really nervous about tomorrow,” he said.

“Why? You did really well at the last meet, just do your best,” I reply.

“But we are going to be running against the Mennonite kids,” he stated.

*crickets*

“They can RUN!” he said. “I don’t know how they do it – and they are in their bare feet – you’ve got to watch out for them!”

I didn’t tell him that the Mennonite religion and culture forbids the use of Wiis, iPods, or even Nike shoes. I was compelled to use religious conviction, but that seemed a little far fetch – although some theme music did pop into my head.

The Aftermath of a Funeral

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I know the calendar has May as a full month – but I can say with all certainty that the last time I looked at the calendar and processed the date, it was May 6.

And here we are now in the last full week of the month.

In a nutshell – life in Boweryville exploded about two weeks ago. The Big Guy’s mother passed away. While it was not unexpected, it was sudden. We knew her end was in sight, but certainly not within days. He and I found ourselves in the position of aiding his father through the demanding and emotional pitfalls that planning a funeral can be.

Throughout this experience, I found myself faced with huge ironies that I would like to share – in no particular order.

1. People forget who the funeral is for. Firstly, the deceased and secondly, the surviving spouse or offspring. Any decision that we were faced with making was filtered this way – Would she have wanted this? Does my Father-in-Law want this? Does TBG or his brother want this? Anyone outside of that pecking order was simply not considered. There was a person or two who would make comments about decisions that were made – and I would refer to the Pecking Order. I don’t think you have to apologize for that.

2. Funerals bring out the worst in people. While it’s lovely and romantic to think of loved ones clutching Kleenex to their chest and gently weeping, so great is their pain, the cold hard truth is, there will always be one asshole individual who will try to make ANY situation about themselves. This is not the time for drama. This is not the time to lay a claim. This is not the time to purge yourself of your past regrets. Get. Over. Yourself.

3. There have been many times in my life as a Mother that I have been proud of my children, but never more so that during the day of visitation and the next day at the funeral. My boys stood and shook hands with hundreds of people they didn’t know. They watched people react emotionally and they handled themselves brilliantly. My heart swelled when I was paid a very sincere compliment from someone who appreciated how well the boys conducted themselves. They made eye contact, they smiled when appropriate, they answered questions – usually the same ones – sincerely and politely, for hours. While it made my heart full to see them do that, it nearly made me burst with pride when someone else actually noticed it too.

4. Have I mentioned yet that people are assholes inconsiderate? One person who came to pay his respects actually said to my boys “Well, you’d better get used to being in this line-up because with the age of the people around you, you’re going to be doing this a lot more often!” While First Born Son and Second Born Son were busy picking their chins off the floor, I wondered to myself what his ride home was going to be like – as his wife looked ready to put him in a box herself!

5. For all the times people have thought us crazy for buying shirts, ties and suits for our kids, it totally pays off at a time like this. Second Born Son is not naturally drawn to the button shirt and tie like his brother is. But when I advised he would be wearing a tie for two days – as well as his suit for the funeral, he merely nodded – he knew it was not only proper, but required. I loved him even more for it.

6. A part II to that thought….we realized that we needed to buy SBS shoes – and ended up getting him a pair of MENS SIZE 7 DRESS SHOES. I’m in distress over this! My baby is wearing MENS SHOES! The only thing that saved my breaking heart was his humor. When presented with several Oxford styles as well as a pair of more on-trend slip ons, he replied “I don’t care what dress shoes look like, as long as they are comfortable. I only care what my running shoes look like.” Good to have your priorities Little Man!

7. You truly find out who your friends are in times like this. People you would never anticipate hearing from will show up at your door with a pie, cheese tray or other gesture of kindness. This gives you faith in humanity, not to mention about 10 extra pounds. I think I have to avoid lasagna and funeral sandwiches for a couple of weeks.

8. Regret is a useless emotion. The first time I heard it was in college, but this saying has become my motto. I want to live my life without regret, and I feel,  so far, I’ve done well. Throughout this experience I’ve had a front row seat to actions and consequences regarding regret. Death always wins – none of us gets out of here alive, so you might as well make your choices and actions so you go in a direction without regret.

9. Not every death is a bad thing. When you see someone will not improve, and you know there is suffering involved – all you want for them is peace. If death brings peace, so be it. The living are there to console each other.

10. I need to give some serious thought to my final wishes. I cannot imagine giving my husband, children and parents the chore of planning and imagining my needs and wants. The pain one goes through to create a sendoff their loved one would like is heart wrenching. No one should have to go through that.

The Ache

/ Sarah / 1 Comment

I am the first to admit, I’ve had a blessed life. Sure, I’ve experienced disappointment and frustration, but I’ve managed to avoid the type of sorrow that leaves an ache in your heart.

Until now.

I’ve mentioned before about the special connection The Big Guy and I have with The Farm. We’ve put The Farm in the middle of our world, from being the first place we took our children to after we brought them home from the hospital, to taking the liberty of enjoying the view, history and even equipment. It is where we met and we had dreams of one day making it our home. This was not to be.

Saturday was the auction. Generations of possessions were sold to the highest bidder. There was an erryness to the exercise, watching bobsleds and snowshoes being snapped up by strangers who would no doubt dust them off and mount them in their own homes, or God Forbid, in a restaurant somewhere. Claiming this family’s history as their own – it seems so false.

For me, already tightly wound emotionally and apprehensive for my three “boys”, it seemed the comments made by some strangers were too painful to bear.

“What are you looking for Fred?”

“Nothin’, I just had to come and check this out. This is history you know. It’s a Century Farm. Can you believe that? The family is just letting it go?”

I grit my teeth and keep walking.

“Look at that house, it’s something else. I can’t imagine letting something like that fall out of the family.”

But the worst were the most pointed comments. One directed right at me.

“Hey, Sarah! Why didn’t you and The Big Guy buy The Farm?”

The urge to become physical was difficult to overcome. I must confess – I was not classy about my response, but suffice it to say I cleared the air regarding the fact. Sometimes pain cannot be contained. It surfaced once again later in the day, as First Born Son did us proud and was hoisting his family’s artifacts for bidding. A couple beside me began a conversation about the boy in the green shirt.

“Look at him, isn’t that sad?” said the First Ignorant Person.

“Who? The kid with the green shirt?” said the Second Ignorant Person.

FIP – “Yes, look at him up there, you can just tell he loves being here.”

SIP – “Umhum.” (In agreement)

FIP – “It’s too bad he’ll never be able to have this place. Can’t imagine.”

Yup, I snapped.

Pissed off Mother – “Are you talking about the kid with the green shirt?”

FIP – startled “Uh, yes…”

POM – “Well that’s my son – and I can tell you, we had NO say in the future of the farm.”

The look on my face, and the tone of my voice, shut the conversation down.

My pride of FBS was matched by that for Second Born Son. While he was given the boring and then frantic job of directing traffic, he was then appointed the task of running bid sheets from the auction site back to the trailer where the clerk would reconcile the amounts bid against the funds paid. He did such a good job that the man who was recording the bids and giving them to SBS said in all the auctions he’s done, he’s never had such a young man do such a good job. He even made a point of stopping before he left to compliment The Big Guy and myself. We had every reason to feel proud.

That pride resurged when Uncle B gave FBS the keys to the Massey Ferguson and the John Deere. The auctioneer needed each tractor started to demonstrate that they were in sound shape. FBS was the last member of our family to start those tractors. When the auction ended and the new owners were claiming their purchases, FBS stood by the tractors, helping them with small details and then standing forlornly as each one drove away. The sight of him standing there, watching those tractors leave will haunt me, such was the expression on his face.

I have taken well over 1000 photos of the farm to document a place that has a special place in our hearts. I want to have something for us to look at later, and perhaps show future generations. Mostly, I don’t want the boys memories to dim.

 Because we didn’t want to leave that day – afraid of what leaving would mean, I asked Second Born Son if he wanted to take some more pictures of his favorite place, the hay mow. Many adventures have been lived in this mow. It’s the place SBS asks to go to every time we are at The Farm. Now most of the bales are gone, but a handful remained, and with the sun sinking lower in the Western sky, it was a perfect opportunity to shoot something special that would mean something to him.

And while I hope this photo brings him joy, I can’t help but feel The Ache getting even stronger.

This post is going live early May 2, 2011. The Farm will officially be sold today.

A New Christian Holiday

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Second Born Son: Are we going to church tomorrow?

Me: Yes, it is Palm Sunday.

SBS: What’s so special about that?

Me: That’s the day that Jesus road into Jerusalem on a donkey and people spread out robes and palm branches.

SBS: Oh, so what’s next week then?

Me: Easter – when Jesus is crucified.

SBS: Crucified? What’s that?

Me: (perplexed – we are regular Easter attendees and he’s heard the Easter story before.) When he was nailed to the cross.

SBS: Ew ya, that’s gross! But I thought that’s why we have Halloween, cuz it’s scary!?

I’m a failure as a mother…..

How Much is Too Much Information?

/ Sarah / 2 Comments

There’s been a lot of Life going on at Boweryville.

I think it’s just that pattern of events collecting in waves and crashing at your feet; the spray of details, stress, kah kah and adjustments to reality being the result. Moving, career changes, good news, bad news, it seems we have taken 18 years of boredom and more than made up for it six months.

Which was the nucleus of a conversation had over the weekend with my parents. This conversation evolved into a debate over which is better, withholding information from your children, or providing full disclosure. I, myself, am a big fan of the latter. My parents, the former. Fortunately, The Big Guy sides with me.

My folks subscribe to the idea of not telling kids upsetting information. They feel parents should protect their children from negativity and maintain innocence as long as possible. I can completely respect their position, after all, it’s how I was raised. I never was privy to their decisions, their stresses or the impacts on our family. I’m not sure I disagree with all their choices.

But on the other side of the fence, I remember how I felt when I was a young child and they told me that my dog ran away. Years later, it came out that she didn’t run away, she was hit by a car at the end of our driveway and died. I also have memories of being in my bedroom and hearing my parents having conversations about adult topics – family strife, typical marital arguments and information that wasn’t meant for young ears. This has made me very aware of the things The Big Guy and I discuss within the hour or so after the boys go to bed, and where these conversations take place.

Perhaps it’s that natural sense of betrayal that occurs when one believes ones parents, and when you find out years later that the understanding you had wasn’t entirely accurate, it can be a little off-putting.

I also suppose it is also my background in Journalism, where the philosophy of “No Comment” is the last thing that should be uttered. It never benefits the subject and only gives license to armchair quarterbacks who want to pass judgement. Dozens of times I’ve spoken earnestly with my contacts and said “It’s better to say a little bit of ANYTHING than it is to say NOTHING.”

So when it comes the boys, we do believe it’s best to share information with them – without overwhelming them. I cannot protect them from everything that they will have to face, and I feel it’s a disservice to them to think otherwise. This is not the world I grew up in. It’s not the world my parents grew up in. It’s a world where my youngest child understands that there is drug activity at the highschool based on things he has SEEN while sitting on a schoolbus. He wasn’t with me when he witnessed this – so how could I have protected him from this revelation if we hadn’t already had the conversation of what drug use meant.

Both First Born Son and Second Born Son have similar dispositions. Neither of them deal with negative surprises very well. They both have the need to digest information, ask questions and then reflect. Their father and I support them, answer their questions and give them the love they need to get through the tough stuff as best they can.

Believe me, I would rather never have to explain death, loss, disappointment and failure to them. But parenting isn’t just about the lollipops and piano recitals, and I signed up for the good and the bad a long time ago.

It’s time to follow through.