Tag Archives: fun

Just Might Be a Cool Mom

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I had this zany idea the other day…let’s make a snow day Harlem Shake video–and upload it on youtube!  What? Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly the sort of thing that pops into the head of a quiet midwest Mom (sometimes I even surprise myself.)  So, how does one arrive at the idea of a snow day Harlem Shake?  Glad you asked.  Let me walk you through it.

The whole thing started when I saw the Kansas Jayhawk basketball team’s Harlem Shake video.  A die-hard Jayhawk fan, I absolutely loved it and shared it with my kids.  They liked it.  Liked it?  That’s right, they liked it as in they watched it once and moved on.  Okay.  Mmmm, maybe this Harlem Shake thing isn’t exactly cool.  But it sure was funny and I soon found myself cruising youtube looking for more Harlem Shake videos.  Before I knew it I had watched a couple dozen videos (some good, some not so good).  Eventually, I decided to turn to everybody’s favorite source for information–Wikipedia–and find out more about these videos.  Turns out it’s this big web frenzy…complete with rules and criteria like masks, costumes, wielding objects and in some cases, very little clothing!  The whole things lasts less than one minute and I thought to myself…it might be fun to make one.  Of course, I never (ever) thought we actually would–but Mother Nature had a better plan.

Enter the big midwest snow storm!  Wednesday’s light snow and modest accumulations  (mixed with the weatherman’s doomsday overnight forecast) led us to cancel Wednesday night activities at church.  A relaxed night of Jayhawk basketball ensued (LOL that game was anything but relaxing!)  Word that school was cancelled for Thursday made room for a laid back morning and an additional 5 inches of snow created opportunities for some outdoor fun.  We could have headed to the backyard to build a snowman (I like snowmen), but blame it on the Jayhawks victory, their funny Harlem Shake video and the rare occurrence of a well-rested Mom and an idea was born.  I announced my plans over lunch.  No one was as excited as I was. 

I headed to the basement to gather some props.  I explained the “rules” of the video to the kiddos and swore that it would take 5 minutes or less to create.  Still, no one moved.  I bribed them with the promise of hot cocoa and extra play time in the snow that afternoon.  They were slow to get moving, grumbled all the way out the door, and gave me blank stares when I directed them into the yard.  My son complained that the whole thing was embarrassing (and he’s an EXTROVERT) while my daughter moped and sulked in the snow.  Three minutes later we were done and they were FREE!  They couldn’t get to their friends fast enough and I was left feeling like the “uncool” Mom with the “uncool” idea of making a Harlem Shake video. 

Fast forward to later that afternoon.  The video had been edited and uploaded.  I asked the kids to come see the finished product.  The smile that crept across their faces was priceless.  My children are hams at heart and love to see themselves on any screen.  They giggled.  They asked me to play it again.  They laughed at themselves, laughed at each other and of course, laughed at their parents.  I linked the video to my Facebook page and we laughed together throughout the day as family and friends liked and commented on our video. 

We were surprised this morning to see that our video had more than 60 views on youtube…for today’s “plugged in” kids that’s a pretty big deal.  Our snow day Harlem Shake video was the buzz at the only hill in town worth sledding on–which means… this little family project just might be labeled a success, that as parents we aren’t that lame and out of touch and finally, that for once (yes once),  I just might be a cool Mom.

No one in this world will ever love you like your Mom.   author unknown

The Other Birthday Brother

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It’s my other brother’s birthday and I’m all smiles.  I asked my sister to find some photos of our brother for his birthday blog and this one stole my heart.  Look at that toothless grin, HUGE ball cap (did you borrow that from Dad?) accompanied by a tiny body, lefty baseball stance, and sporting a look of sheer determination!    And you were way ahead of your time with that stylish flat bill…LOL!  Under that hat I imagine that you’re sporting the same haircut you run around with today and that’s one of the things I love about you…you always know what works for you!  If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I wish I could remember you when you were little, but I was little too and so we’ll have to go with what I’ve been told…brace yourself.  According to unnamed sources (our Mom), I loved to give you a bottle.  Somewhere I must have learned that happy babies are well-fed babies and so you were constantly having milk shoved in your direction.  As the story goes, it didn’t really matter if you needed or wanted your bottle, whether you were crying or not, I seemed to know what was best for you and as your older sister I decided that was milk.  So, I was a dairy pusher in your early days but don’t worry, you had your revenge later in life when you decided to dump a bowl of melted ice cream on my head immediately after my bath.  Yuck, and it was chocolate almond.

I remember when your tiny hand was all burned from hot coffee and the photo that exists somewhere of you on a picnic table sporting a sweater and a diaper with your paw all bandaged up.  You were small and cute and yes, other fun photos of you exist with your red-tinged hair!  Most of my childhood memories involve you and our youngest brother together.  You were each other’s best friend and worst enemy.  When you added in the neighborhood crew…well, the adventures never stopped.  There were many years of toy trucks, baseball, football, BMX bikes, basketball, track, lawn mowing, weightlifting, and even one season of soccer.  There were so many good times and it seems like only yesterday when we would all stay up late, watching Nick at Nite and playing monopoly for hours in the basement of our parent’s house.

Today, I tell my kids stories about you and our other siblings, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever shared two of my all-time favorite stories about you and I.  Interestingly, they both involve a ghetto blaster (now if that doesn’t send you way back…I don’t know what will!)  First, I remember the time when we tried to convince our little brother that he snored when he slept.  So, after he drifted off to sleep we tried to record him snoring.  But he slept silently, peacefully, and soundly.  No snoring…and I’m not sure if he really ever snored at all.  But we had a mission and the mission was to prove that he snored.  In my bedroom we secretly created a recorded a tape of our little brother sleeping–a FAKE obviously.  It started with a few grunts, groans, some snoring sounds then morphed into a symphony of noises that could only come from a barnyard.  Bogus as it was, we seemed satisfied and waited until morning to play the tape and reveal that yes, indeed our little brother was a big time snorer (not!)  I’ll never forget how much we laughed and how hard our little brother cried.  He told Mom, we were busted, forced to admit that we made it all up, and probably punished (but I tend to block those memories out!)  Ahh…good times.

My other fave story also involves the same ghetto blaster (remember how Dad carved our names into it?)  We were huge fans of the Karate Kid (I and II) and watched those movies over and over.  We were also two broke little kids who didn’t have money to purchase the movie soundtrack…yet we LOVED the Peter Cetera song The Glory of Love.  Nevermind that we were too young to understand the song, that part was irrelevant.  So determined we were to get a our own copy of this beloved piece of music, we decided to request it on the radio.  So, phonebook in hand my brother called the radio station and made the request.  As soon as he hung up, I called the radio station to make the same request.  This pattern repeated for at least an hour as we sat with our hot little hands on the record button waiting…and waiting….and waiting.  I’m sure the DJ was at his breaking point when the song FINALLY played.  It’s amazing what determination, concentration, hard work, dedication, and the sheer act of annoying the heck out of some poor guy who works at the radio station can do for two pesky kids on a Friday night!  Just like the Karate Kid…we were victorious!

Today is my brother’s birthday and I’m proud of the man he has become.  The qualities that I liked about him as a kid are the same qualities that I love about him today.  He is fun, hardworking, dependable, strong, reliable, honest and incredibly loyal.  He is the one who will listen, come up with a plan, and help you out of whatever kind of nonsense you’ve managed to get yourself into.  He’s a wonderful son, brother, father, uncle, son-in-law, brother-in-law, cousin and FRIEND.  Wishing you the happiest birthday ever.  YOU ARE LOVED!  BTW, I requested this song for you….

A true friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need. Proverbs 17:17 NIV

They Keep Taking Away All My Fun :(

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So, I live in Kansas.  I was born and raised in Kansas.  I have heard ALL of the Dorothy jokes.  I like the movie, so what?  I have been teased about the Wizard of Oz in every other state that I’ve lived in.  And I still get teased whenever we travel.  I’m okay with all of it…really, but it wasn’t until today that I realized that maybe, just maybe, I might be as naive as the girl in the ruby-red slippers.

Where do I begin?  I grew up in a small town.  I’m pretty trusting, but I never considered myself gullible.  I dreamed of living in a big city and most of my wardrobe is black, the standard “big city uniform.”  I enjoy wearing oversized, Hollywood-style sunglasses.  I was under the impression that I talked a pretty good game.  I thought that I could reasonably hang in any city, look the part and everything.  But apparently, you can’t cover naiveté with a trench coat.  Because over the last few months I have been slowly finding out that all of my favorite things aren’t what they seem and it’s starting to take the wind out of my sails.  BTW, Google and metrolyrics are no longer my friends.

First, my husband tells me that “Hotel California” by the Eagles is a song about Satanism.  What?????  I thought it was about an old hotel on the West Coast.  I could picture it in my mind’s eye.  Some weary traveler happens across what he/she thinks is an oasis hotel right on the beach…and sure it isn’t picture perfect (I sort of thought the service there sounded kinda bad), but the person checked in any way and wrote a song about their stay.  Right?  Wrong.  Song ruined.  How can I listen to it without thinking that a horrible evil is slowly penetrating my soul with each guitar chord.  Uuuggghhh!  There’s a whole section of my mp3 player that is no longer usable.

Oh, the bubble-busting didn’t end there.  Next, I find out that one of my favorite songs from the nineties is about being addicted to meth.  What??????  Semi-Charmed Kind of Life (Third Eye Blind) is about drugs!  I let my kids listen to that song!!!!  That was “my song” the year it came out.  I practically wore that single out when I moved two states away to start a new job right after college graduation.  That’s supposed to be a “coming of age” song.  That’s supposed to be an upbeat, positive song about life.  But, no–it’s not.  It’s about drugs and drug addiction.  How is a girl who once yelled at a guy for offering her pot at a party (I believe my exact words were, “Do I look like someone who does drugs to you?”) end up liking a song like that?  Answers, I want answers.

My mother used to tell me to listen carefully to songs that I liked…especially if I planned to sing them aloud at some point.  I thought I had learned my lesson when she about drove our car off the road after I started singing Bel Biv DeVoe’s “Do Me” (I was in high school at the time.)  In fact, I so thought that I had learned that lesson that I frequently read my kid’s the riot act over some of their favorite songs.  So now on top of having all my fun ruined, I’m a hypocrite, too.  Thank you, Pop Culture for making me out to be a complete dork.

My trusting nature isn’t limited to just music.  I couldn’t be that lucky.  Apparently, I am naive in the television and movie arena as well.  One of my all-time favorite movies is Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  Yep, I thought it was a sweet, little love story, with a hilarious upstairs neighbor and a super-cool party scene…but, turns out it’s the story of a high-price escort in New York who hooks up with a “kept” man.  I can’t write that under my list of favorite movies at the next church mixer, can I?  Nor can I tell you how often I have come to adore some actor/actress on TV only to find out that they’re VERY good at their job and their real life personas will quickly make your jaw drop.

This morning I read that the Ukraine is banning SpongeBob SquarePants and the Teletubbies.  According to them, SpongeBob is gay (aren’t sponges supposed to be asexual?) and the Teletubbies model a “loser” mentality.  I was beside myself.  I’m a SpongeBob fan.  “Pizza Delivery” is my favorite episode.  Besides, I thought that Sandy Cheeks was SpongeBob’s girlfriend!  To top it all off, my daughter LOVES the Teletubbies…now I have to deal with the guilt of exposing her to “loserness.”  Great.

So this is me, admitting it.  Struggling to become one with my obvious simplemindedness.  I am naive…and no amount of red shoe clicking is going to undo what I now know.  The great and powerful Oz has been revealed.  Look for my picture in the dictionary under

naive:  1.having or showing unaffected simplicity; unsophisticated; ingenuous.2.having or showing a lack of experience, judgment, or information; credulous: She’s so naive she believes everything. 

You’ve Heard of Christmas in July, Right?

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“You’re cheating!”  my husband said as he turned the corner.  “So, what,” I half-heartedly mumbled as I brushed past him in the hallway.  The window on my computer screen was open and there it was…all exposed for the world to see (and hear.)  I WAS BUSTED.

There was no denying it and if you know me, I wouldn’t bother with trying to make excuses.  It felt good, so I threw commonsense out the window and continued to listen to Christmas music a mere two days after the Fourth of July. 

It was not my intention to get into a full Christmas groove.  In fact, I was listening to Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” for the 80th time with my seven-year old daughter when I caught a glimpse of Michael Buble’s Christmas CD icon out of the corner of my eye.  The snowy scene, the gift-bearing crooner, the joyful feeling that conjures up the holidays.  So before Bieber could promise his girlfriend more fondue I double clicked and the familiar melody began…it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas….  I had only intended to hear the first song, a Christmas-junkie’s first mistake. 

I truly love Christmas.  And I’m going to say it (though many of you will not believe me) I truly love Christmas and it has NOTHING to do with the presents.  Trying to pinpoint what I love most about the Christmas holiday is difficult.  I love the cooler weather (correction, “colder” temps…I live in the Midwest), the decorations, the busyness (although I regularly complain about that part), the shopping, the planning, the cookie baking and especially the music.  It’s the music that really sets the tone, puts that special something in the atmosphere and makes many of the awful parts of the holiday season (and we know there are some truly awful parts) much more festive!  Of course, these are just the secular part of the holiday…when I start thinking about the birth of our Savior, well it just makes the season so much more meaningful and special…but that’s another blog.

So back to my kitchen and Christmas music in July….  Somewhere in the middle of song two (Santa Claus is Coming to Town) I started daydreaming about putting up the Santa collection and wondering  if I should continue to make it the focal point of the living room.  Then, early into song three (Jingle Bells) I began thinking about my son’s winter coat and how he’s growing like a weed and whether or not we need to plan to buy him a new one.  Next, White Christmas turned my thoughts to looking at the calendar and finding out what day of the week Christmas was on this year.  By the time I hit the chorus of All I Want for Christmas is You I started thinking that I should start my shopping early this year, like maybe in August or September…no wait, we have school shopping to do… my thoughts started racing.  Several songs later I ended up at Blue Christmas and began to realize that I wasn’t really enjoying the music any more, instead I had actually started a mental list of all the things that I had to get done before Christmas.  My mind was a blur of plans and preparations…a “to do” list was starting to form.  I was already wondering how we were going to balance church programs and school holiday events… and basketball practice?  YIKES!  Believe it or not, but Christmas panic was actually attacking me in JULY.  Breathe, breathe, breathe…. 

Michael Buble’s personal Christmas greeting belted out from the computer speakers.  My Christmas daze was over.  Although I played the whole CD, I’m fairly certain that I only heard half the songs.  And it dawned on me…there is a defined Christmas season and there’s no way it can begin as early as July!  I don’t think I could handle it if it did.  Suddenly, the warm July temps seemed a lot more appropriate, a schedule jam-packed with little league baseball sounded just right, and a couple more months of wearing flip-flops and sandals seemed to fit me to a tee.  No sense in rushing a good thing.  Christmas could wait. 

I shut down the computer for the evening with only the faintest brainworm of I’ll Be Home for Christmas running through my head.  I still have to get through all the summer birthdays, the first day of school, Labor Day, and finally Halloween…the official start of the holiday season, right?

I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree

Hey Jude is Still the Best Way to Close Down a Bar

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I won’t claim to be a big time Beatles fan.  Don’t get me wrong.  They’re GREAT!  I love a lot of their songs and if I was around during their heyday, I would probably be among the throngs of screaming girls hanging on their every word, buying posters and otherwise going ga-ga for them.  So, obviously, I think a lot of the Beatles.  Still, I don’t own any of their albums or CDs and I don’t know all the lyrics to any one of their songs.  But, there is one ditty that I just adore–Hey Jude!

I probably first heard the song as a kid in passing.  I imagine that I came across it in somebody’s parent’s album stash.  Still, not much of a blip on my music radar.  My next encounter with the Beatles was fleeting.  I’m sure I saw someone on campus wearing a t-shirt and thought to myself, “Oh, yeah.  I like the Beatles…cool.”  I’d hum a few songs here and there.  And at one point I thought about buying one of their CD’s at the local music store, but the new SneakerPimps release won out…a consequence of being a broke college kid and having to make tough financial choices.  So the Beatles went by the wayside and I moved on with my life, but this was college and some things never die.

The Beatles resurfaced again a little later when I became acquainted with college radio.  You know how it goes, one DJ likes 80s Punk, someone else likes Big Band, there’s always a girl whose show revolves around man-hating, angsty girl bands (one of my faves), and the list goes on and on.  Basically, anyone can get a show.  Thus one mild-manner fellow played the Beatles and I loved it.  For the most part it had loads of elements to it—fun and poppy early stuff, catchy numbers that quickly become brainworms, ridiculous karaoke-type songs (Yellow Submarine anyone?), and later more thoughtful ballads.  Who couldn’t find something to love in such a varied set!

All of this brings me to Hey Jude.

Senior year in college.  Just when you’ve gotten used to the college lifestyle (and all the perks that come with it), you suddenly realize that all good things come to an end.  As the cliché goes, “there’s a reason and season for everything under the sun.”  It was inevitable.  And while most of my crew would extend their college plan an extra semester or go on to work on a master’s degree, I was on course to graduate in the spring.  It was all part of my super strict, no room for errors, by the book, four-year college plan.  Sure, many tried to get me to stay in our little bubble…”Go an extra semester, minor in Spanish, go to grad school,” they all said.  But as much as I loved them and loved that life, I knew my time was done.  So in January while celebrating a birthday at our favorite hangout, Louise’s Bar Downtown, I strolled over to the jukebox to pick out the last song of the night.  I had stood at this jukebox before.  I knew the song choices and for nearly two years I had always picked the same song, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do” by Neil Sedaka…well worth the quarters I sunk into the machine.  (SIDEBAR:  I really do like that song.  It reminds me of peanut butter milk shakes, holding hands, and simpler times.  However, amongst a college crowd, it always garnered groans and head turns…which made the song extra fun for me!)  But this song was going to be THE last song of the night.  It had to be special.  We were here to celebrate a dear friend’s birthday, the start of my last semester in college and CLOSE DOWN THE BAR.  Obviously, the pressure was on!  So I dropped two quarters and selected Hey Jude and never looked back.

That semester whenever we all got together, it had to be Louise’s, we had to CLOSE DOWN THE BAR, and we had to listen to Hey Jude.  It became for us the exclamation point at the end the evening.  It had to be the song we sang or hummed walking out the door.  It had to carry us home.  And it always did.

On graduation night we ended up at Louise’s–where else, right?  My dear friend (and roommate) had a roll of quarters and waltzed me over to the jukebox.  She said that tonight we were CLOSING DOWN THE BAR with $10 worth of Hey Jude.  I couldn’t think of a better parting gift.  We made the selections and walked away.  About an hour into the repetitive Hey Jude track, the bartender kicked us out.  Apparently, the crowd was a little upset at what they considered our buzz kill music.  We were escorted out that night (the first and last time that has ever happened to me), but we had the biggest grins on our faces.

My Son as John Lennon 2012

My son as John Lennon (2012)

I left town two days later to a new job, a new town and a new state.  There I found new friends, my future husband, and a reawakening to faith.  Hey Jude and I would occasionally cross paths during the years and my mind would wander back to those days.  But recently my ten-year old son came home from school with a project that brought the Beatles back into focus.  Together we researched the band, their history, their ride to fame, and their music.  Hey Jude walked back into my life.  After a particularly long day, with the kids finally in bed and a disastrous kitchen mess waiting for me, I searched YouTube for Hey Jude.  I  played it over and over!  In the quiet of that night, as I was getting ready to CLOSE DOWN my kitchen, I played it just one more time–for me.  It is the perfect way to cap off an evening and I finally know why…Hey Jude is soothing enough to change the course of a night, thoughtful enough to make you appreciate everything going on around you, profound enough to wake you up to life’s blessings, and long enough (7 minutes) that when it’s finally done, you’re really ready to say goodnight.

Take a sad song and make it better.  –Hey Jude by the Beatles

BFF BDAY XOXO

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Angels

“Angels” in the school Christmas program 🙂

Most friendships don’t span a decade, let alone three and counting.  Some can’t believe it when I tell them, others say we’re lucky, and still some might wonder how we’ve managed to stay in touch for so long.  All I really know is that I couldn’t ask for a better friend.  We’re truly blessed to have each other!

Today is Amy’s birthday.  I can’t really remember the exact circumstances that brought us together.  We met in kindergarten and the way we tell the story is that we were the two shyest girls in the class and that was a good enough reason to start up a friendship.  I remember Amy’s long blonde hair and her quiet voice.  Her mother managed to snap a photo of the two of us side by side in the Christmas program…and we’ve probably taken hundreds of photos together (sans the angel outfits) since then.

The details escape me, but I image we had a funny little friendship in the beginning…if you’re the shy type, this might resonate with you.  I have grade school memories of sitting next to each other (not really talking, we were shy remember), softly laughing together and of course, playing “mystery” on the playground… but not much else.  Fortunately, our friendship became a lot more animated in junior high–passing notes, trying to arrange classes together, going to the movies, dreaming about driving and staying over at each other’s houses.  Eventually, her family became my family and vice versa.  Thinking about afternoons at her house reminds me of putting Chex mix inside sandwiches, munching Cool Ranch Doritos, avoiding her cat (my parents were dog people so cats were totally new to me) and the awesomest (is that a word?) phone in the world–it was CLEAR!  Amy was so cool!

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Today…solving the world’s problems over coffee!

Back in those days we talked about boys, rattled on and on about teachers, and took several classes together.  We were partners whenever a school project came along.  And when we couldn’t be paired up, we  took our show on the road to the public library and managed to do our school work there together (with lemons in tow!) I can remember going to football/basketball games and school dances, all the typical things that fill up a tween’s life.  Along side that, I remember jumping out of Mr. Sherwood’s classroom window, the 9th grade water balloon fight (poor Mr. Adams) and telling Amy’s mom that she just might need glasses (poor thing couldn’t read the blackboard–does that date us or what?)

High school was much more fun, so much that I can share very little about our adventures 🙂  Let’s just say that we managed to have plenty of good times and maintain straight A’s…oh wait, there was that B in geometry.  Nevertheless, it was all basically harmless and good-natured and thank God no one ever got hurt!  We spent countless hours driving around in her little blue Dodge Shadow, stopping daily by Sonic, and making plans for the weekend.  Amy is the reason why  I agreed to go  to the prom, the ONE person I would go watch in the school plays, and the only reason I got through speech class without getting sent to the principal (“You want me to squawk?” You must be kidding me!)

And alas, we graduated high school and moved away to college.  We chose two different universities (approximately an hour away from one another) and the fun continued, but on a less frequent basis unfortunately.  I loved visiting Amy and she likewise.  We maintained communication via phone (no cell phones or text messages back in those stone ages!)  Her friends became my friends and my friends hers.  And the discussions continued… about boys, teachers, classes and now–OUR FUTURES.  Amy had big plans for us to study in Europe–her in France, me in Spain.  I on the other hand wanted to adhere to a four-year college schedule and find a job ASAP!  We both stuck to our plans and still managed to stay connected despite being an ocean apart.

I loved hearing about her adventures overseas.  Her new friends, college life abroad, and the French lifestyle.  Amy traveled and in some ways I felt like I was going along for the ride.  A terrific pen pal, I received loads of postcards and photos.  Through it all our tiny, Kansas hometown remained our connecting point.  When we couldn’t see each other during visits home, we often ran into each other’s parents or siblings.  One of my brothers would tell me that they saw her with her sister and that she hadn’t changed a bit.  I, likewise, loved running into her family and asking how she was doing and when her next visit would be.

Our friendship eventually moved bi-coastal with me on the west coast and her living on the east.  Still, she made the trip out to San Francisco to be the maid of honor in my wedding and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As I write this I can’t help but smile.  There’s so many stories I could relay, so many memories that I wish I could share and there just aren’t enough pages for me to tell you all the things I love about Amy.  Her kind heart, her loyalty, her fun-loving nature, her sharp mind, her perspective, her ambition, her courage, her faith and the list goes on.  I know that I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t met my yellow-haired friend all those years ago.  Amy always says that we live parallel lives, and it’s my favorite phrase to describe our friendship–and “Amyism” if you will.

Today we still live hours apart (but both in the Midwest) and visit each other whenever we can.  Our life paths have crossed, intersected, gone off in different directions and yet, whenever we get together it’s like no time has passed at all.  I LOVE that!  In many ways, life has changed and moved in directions that neither of us ever would have (could have) anticipated.  And in other ways, we’re the same little girls who met all those years ago in kindergarten.  Except that now, while we both maintain our “shyness,” if and when we get the chance to sit together, we can easily talk to each other for hours and hours… only the laughter between us today is much, much louder!  Happy birthday to my dearest friend, YOU ARE LOVED!

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. 

Proverbs 27:17 NIV

The Birthday Brother

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I smile because you’re my brother.  I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it.  –Author Unknown

Little brothers are g-g-g-great!  If you can swing it, I highly recommend having one…and I can say that now because I don’t live with mine and haven’t for years.  And I am especially reminded of how great it is to have a brother because today is my littlest bro’s birthday.  (Insert birthday horns here!)

I dont’ remember the day my youngest brother came on the scene.  I think I might have been three or four and those kinds of things don’t really register when you’re little.  What I can honestly attest to is that I can’t remember a day in my childhood when he wasn’t around.  His cute little, round-cheeked, skinny self running around the house…usually right behind my other brother.  To this day I still refer to them as “the boys” (notice the plural) because they were always together!  And together they managed to get into all kinds of adventures.  But this blog is an ode to the birthday brother so I’ll try to stay on task.

My memories include all the regular little brother stuff like how he would play with toy trucks, get dirty, play sports, get dirty, bother me, and get dirty (of course it didn’t help that our backyard at the time was nothing but dirt.)  But he did other things, too, and some of them still put a grin on my face to this very day!  I remember the summer he wouldn’t wear shorts.  I’m not sure of the real reason behind this abnormality, although I have my theories, but he just flat out refused to wear shorts one summer.  Instead he opted for jeans!  Jeans in the hot, dry western Kansas heat.  I can remember it was a family effort to try to convince him to wear shorts.  It was a battle we lost.  I can still picture him on the sidewalk in front of the house with a pair of black jeans on…and his little shirt was tucked in!  But those jeans were the least of his worries.  During one of the summers when he did wear shorts that boy had more mosquito bites than the whole population of GC!  He had welts the size of ping pong balls and they always got infected.  He practically bankrolled the Campho-Phenique corporation that summer!  The mosquitoes sure must have thought that kid was sweet (I’ll throw him a bone, after all it is his birthday!)  Other summer memories include his obsession, or was it superstition, with Gatorade gum and sunflower seeds.  (Upon a recent trip home a story was relayed to me that he is still crazy about sunflower seeds.  A little bird told me that he uses his prechool-aged son as a pack mule for carrying around three different flavors of sunflower seeds at a time.  If you’re ever in need, check his boy’s backpack for sustenance!)

My littlest brother was also a bit of a clown and could be counted on for a laugh or a quick remark at anytime.  This orneriness landed him in trouble once or twice (ha ha) and he was lucky that he was such a cute little boy– it was his saving grace!  As a consequence of his cuteness, little girls were always buzzing around, going to his ball games and calling our house.  Not sure if he’ll admit it, but I think he secretly liked all the attention.  Things got weird in high school when girls my age were asking who’s “that guy” and it turns out they were pointing to my kid brother!  It got even weirder when a friend of mine called and I started chatting with her when she interrupted me to say that she was actually calling to talk to him.  Awkward.  But as fate would have it, he is now the father of two beautiful girls and a darling little boy and I can’t wait to see how he handles the consequences of their “cuteness.”  I can already hear him saying, “Well things were different when I was your age….”

I could go on and on about my littlest brother, but I will stop short and relay my two favorite stories.  The first takes place in Allen Fieldhouse during a Jayhawk game.  I remember him sulking because he had to accompany my folks on a weekend visit to see me in Lawrence.  Poor guy!  He happened to be in trouble (again?) and my parents were afraid a typical grounding would be ineffective if they were out-of-town.  I’m sure the house party invites were already out by the time my folks told him he had to go with them on their road trip.  He was not very happy.  So while thousands of Jayhawk fans were screaming at the sight of the Jayhawks and Jacque Vaughn running through the tunnel, my brother sat sulkily in his chair sucking on a soda.  Nevermind the awesomeness of seeing the Jayhawks play at home.   Nevermind being on the hallowed grounds of basketball history.  Nevermind that it’s next to impossible to get tickets to a Jayhawk game.  As the saying goes, “Beware the Phog,” but that afternoon it was more like the Phog should beware him.  Hell has no fury like a boy who lost his house party!

And my all time favorite story takes place back in high school.  He was a freshman (I was a senior) and he was having a hard time relating to his math teacher (and that’s putting it nicely.)  As I bounded around the corner in JDA, I almost fell over myself at the sight of my brother sitting in the hallway.  This floored me for two reasons:  1) I didn’t know teachers put high school kids in the hallway and 2) I wouldn’t have imagined that if a teacher did put him in the hallway that he would have actually STAYED!   Okay, you’re thinking what is so exceptional about this story?  Well here it is.  I used to tell my friends that my brother was destined for great things, if only he would put all his energy into good instead of evil.  It’s a little dramatic, but I think it was right on.  As a kid, my brother was a good-hearted, funny, spirited, adventurous people magnet…what he didn’t realize was that he was also thoughtful, kind, intelligent and a born leader!  Today, my dearest little brother is a TEACHER and works at our old middle school where he also coaches football and freshman baseball.  In a twisty sort of tale that is all his own, he found his way out of that high school hallway and made his own round-the-way path to success!

He’s no longer the round-cheeked, skinny fella tagging along after my brother.  He’s much more than that.  He’s a terrific son, brother, friend, cousin, husband, father, uncle, son-in-law, brother-in-law, child of God and TEACHER who puts his energy into good and making a positive difference in the lives of others. He’s the teacher with a story that even the orneriest child can relate to.  But let’s not kid ourselves here, it is a little funny to know that as a 30-something year old man you can still find him hanging around in the hallways at school!

On your birthday, may you find joy, blessings and lots of laughter, little brother.  Enjoy your day.  YOU ARE LOVED.

A brother is a better defense than a strong city.  Proverbs 18:19