Family

Been feeling kinda funky lately. I blame my brother, and a friend who came over here for Sontoo's birthday party Wednesday.

Well, I don't really blame them. But I think they both helped me shake loose what's been bugging me lately.

First off, my brother . . . the one that lives in NY State. He Skyped me the other day, regarding a plumbing  problem. With him using his iPhone, I was able to use my computer to look at what he'd done to a faucet and try to help with a few suggestions. And I was able to call him Butthead a couple of times. It's what brothers do. 

Then, a friend came over here a little early for Sontoo's birthday party. She helped Neomom cut veggies, had a glass of wine, and just talked . . . about kids, about life, about nothing, about everything.

So, what do these events have in common and why am I blaming them for my mood.

I'll tell you. In a minute.

First, one more piece of the puzzle. 

Every so often, when Neomom has a day or two off, and I'm moping around the house, she'll say, "Why don't you take off, go do something on your own."

If you're a stay-at-home parent, you can appreciate this. As much as you love the minions, there's nothing like a little time away, doing something all by yourself. Something you enjoy and don't have to answer a thousand questions about. You know what I mean.

So, how does this all tie together?

Well, Neomom recently had a few days off and she offered the escape. But I realized, in Portage at least, there ain't much to do. And what I really wanted to do, more than anything, was head over to my brother's house and spend the day solving a 20-minute plumbing problem. I wanted to drink beer, head to the hardware store, head back, examine the crap out of the problem, call my brother a butthead, drink some more beer, fix the plumbing problem, drink another beer, accept an invitation to stick around for a steak, shoot the shit, argue about the best seasoning for steak and best way to cook it, call him a butthead again, drink some more beer, talk about the kids, talk about life, talk about everything, talk about nothing.

I miss my brothers and there are days when I would kill to live within driving distance (better still, stumbling distance).

And I miss my sisters. And would like to be close enough to do the Sunday dinner thing, men cooking meat, women cooking the other stuff, cutting veggies together, arguing about steak seasoning and gas grill over charcoal. I want to play stupid games like "Bullshit" and Sequence and laugh with them for hours on end.

This stuff does actually happen on the rare occasions that we all manage to get together. Most recently, it was in Kansas at my niece's wedding. Good, good times. The wedding was awesome, the reception even better and the lengthy game of "Bullshit" back at my sister's made us all laugh until we cried. 

I haven't laughed like that, um, probably since the last time we were all together.

So that's what's bugging me. I see it, I know it, I must work to solve it.

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family.  Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one."
  ~Jane Howard

My tribe, my clan, my family, 2006. 

This too shall pass . . . I hope

I've lived it, I've witnessed it, but I still don't understand it.

What is it that drives brothers to make each other miserable? Is it a competition thing? Is it part of the reindeer games? I'm trying to remember, but I can't.

Yesterday, I had an eye appointment. They had to take pictures of my optic nerve (part of the diabetes fun!) and my pupils were dilated for too long afterward. But that's me. This is about the minions.

While at the optometrist's, Sontoo asked if he would be getting a toothbrush. He kinda figured we were at the dentist's. Similar chair I guess. The guy laughed and promised Sontoo a lollipop instead. And for the next 20 minutes it was all he could talk about. 

Bottom line is the boy got his treat and enjoyed it to its fullest extent.

Fast forward a few hours. Sonwun finishes school. My pupils are still dilated. I pick him up and bring him home. And what is the first thing out of Sontoo's mouth? Well, I didn't really hear it, but the gist of it was that he got a lolly today and, more importantly, Sonwun did not.

This is not the first time Sontoo has done this. And it always has the desired effect. Sonwun comes whining to me about not getting a lollipop, and how unfair it is that Sontoo got one and he did not.

** Breaking News **

6:35 a.m. and the phone rings. The "phone tree" for Sonwun's school. Didn't know they had one. Watermain break, no school today. Should make for a better blog tomorrow.

Back to our regularly scheduled rambling.

Where was I? Oh yeah, unfair goodie distribution.

Sonwun can just not see anything beyond the lolly gap. If I had filled his school lunch box with chocolate bars, gummy bears, root beer and peanut butter treats, he would still come home and react the same way to the single lollipop that Sontoo got, and he didn't.

But I'm getting off topic here. This was about cruelty to siblings. I grew up in a house with five kids, so I know a little bit about it. I was an older brother, so I knew the joy of torturing a younger brother. I was a younger brother, so I knew the joy of being tortured by older ones. And now, honestly, I don't remember why it was so important to do, or why it was such fun.

For Sonwun, I guess it's about control. He's older. He wants to lead the games, call the shots, choose the TV shows and win every time at MarioKart. And being older, he usually does.

Sontoo, I guess, will take some control wherever he can find it. Even if it's in a simple lollipop story that causes Sonwun to melt down.

As we age, we realize something that these boys simply can not fathom just yet. That by losing control, you lose the game.

If Sonwun came home and didn't react in any way to the lollipop story, it would end there. If, when Sontoo started playing the "say everything you say" game, Sonwun ignored him, it would again end immediately. But the "Stop Copying Me!" standard response to the game only escalates the situation until someone gets bonked on the head with a Transformer.

I still don't get it. But I must accept it as a fact of life and just do my best to referee it. Siblings love to torture each other. I can only hope that as they age this stuff fades away, as it has with my brothers and sisters. Family will always be family. Friends come and go, and now, thanks to Facebook, they can be unfriended. But you can't, and you never should, unfamily.

Have a great Tuesday. I think we're gonna go tobogganing!

Laughter: The Best Defence

Laughter may be the best medicine but, as Sonwun is learning, it's also a pretty good defence.

In the last few weeks, the elder child has discovered there are several ways to make Sontoo, the younger, laugh. The first, and most obvious tactic, is tickling his feet. The risk involved in this maneuver, however, is that accessing his younger sibling's foot can result in his falling over on his head, thus defeating the defensive advantage.

Why, oh why, you're asking, would this be considered a defensive advantage?

Well, if you're asking, you never had a little brother of your own. (And right now, in my head, I hear my own younger brother's voice, "Word!")

So . . . a little background.

Sontoo, in Sonwun's mind, is not just a little brother, although that is what he will call him for ceremonial purposes and to earn parental points. But the fact is, Sontoo is more of a toy than anything else. It makes noises when you push its buttons, it moves, it gets back up when you push it over and it runs from you when you chase it. It also runs after you when you call it, comes with its own line of accessories for you to play with and it copies things that you do. ("True Dat.")

Now, the problem for Sonwun is that playing with this toy comes with the inherent risk of getting in trouble. This is especially true when you're teasing it or pushing it over. The noises it makes will often result in the sound of Daddy's footsteps on the stairs and that can spell serious trouble.

I don't think Sontoo has put that formula together in his head just yet, so when I hear squawking from another room, I'm pretty sure it's for real. But I could be wrong and he could just be playing me to get his elder brother into hot water. ("Hehehehehe.")

In any case, Sonwun has learned that you can turn off the "bad" noises the toy is making by tickling its feet. And, if you do it quick enough, you won't necessarily hear Daddy storming up the stairs or, at worst, the noises will have stopped by the time Dad arrives.

I have caught Sonwun doing this several times now. By the time I make it to the top of the stairs, Sontoo is laughing hysterically as Sonwun tickles his feet with an innocent "is there a problem?" look on his face.

"I'm making my little brother laugh," he proudly tells me, hoping I have forgotten that four seconds ago, his little brother was screaming like someone, and I'm not pointing fingers, had hit him in the head with a plastic duck.

Now, to be fair, there are times when Sonwun will actually make Sontoo laugh, just to make him laugh. This is more often accomplished by making certain strange noises, which I can't even begin to spell, that will have Sontoo in stitches.

And that is a sound I love. Yesterday, for example, while folding laundry upstairs, I could hear the two of them downstairs; Sonwun making that noise and Sontoo laughing his head off, for about half an hour straight. ("I don't remember YOU ever doing that.")

Anyway, that is the nature of brothers, I suppose. They will taunt, torment and abuse one another for years to come. ("Tell them about the time you threatened to take my dog 'swimming' in the Niagara River.")

Okay bro, get out of my head already, I'm trying to tell a story.

There will also come a time when Sontoo will learn to defend himself and the spats will grow larger. I still remember a right hook delivered, by my younger brother, to my chin in the living room following a particularly nasty teasing session. Woke me up a little. ("Hehehehehe.")

The good news is that somewhere down the line, I know they will learn to value each other the way I do my brothers and sisters. Part of that, I suppose is the fact that we live thousands of miles from one another and when we get together, it's always a celebration.

And, in spite of the abuse I heaped upon my younger brother over the years, he has, for the most part, forgiven me and is one of the most important people in my life. So much so, in fact, that he is Sonwun's namesake. And Sonwun will make me very proud if he grows up to be as good a man as my younger brother.

("Stop it, I'm gettin' all misty.")

Wow, even at this age, tickling his feet still works!

("Heads up buddy, here comes the right again.")