Quick Read: Brotherly Love!

This morning at Church my wife and I taught the 2 year olds class during the first service. We had 4 children including our youngest son, Fletcher.

After a few minutes of free play we sat them all down at the table, which is blue and shaped like a horseshoe.

Fletcher referred to the table as  "The Colts" all morning, which made me proud. You see, he is learning his NFL football helmets and he just learned the Colts a few days ago. 

That's my boy! Way to recognize a similarity. That's not the point of the story but I couldn't help but include that proud dad moment. Please, allow me to carry on.

Once we sat the children down we asked them all what they were thankful for before we prayed. Some of them listed off a few things like "toys", "mommy", "daddy", "my hair" etc.

Fletcher said he was thankful for his grandmommy and granddaddy which was very sweet. The best part though, was after every other child said what he/she was thankful for, Fletcher exclaimed passionately... "AND COOPER!" (his big brother) every single time. What an amazing big brother he must have. He just needed everyone to know that Cooper is so great that we should all be thankful for him. We just can't forget about Cooper.

As if this wasn't heartwarming enough, when we left church and headed home we overheard Cooper in the back seat talking to his little brother. He said, "Hey Fletch, I love you so much... and don't you ever get a..." ...to which Fletcher replied, "dinosaur!"

If you keep up with my blog you know that is the right answer. If you've never read about it, you can do so Here: DON'T YOU EVER!!!

I'm so proud to see that love reciprocated between the two of them. What a great way to start the week. We can learn so much from our kids if we just try to. I hope this little story gets your week started on the right foot as well.

Don't forget to love each other!!!

DD

DISCIPLINE: It's okay Dad. You're doing the right thing.

Oh man! 

Parenting is the best. It really is. There is nothing like it. It's the most rewarding thing in the world. There is no way to understand a parents love until you become one. I love my kids more than life itself.

Sound familiar?

If you are a parent you've probably said all of these things and you've probably said them multiple times at some point or another along your parenting journey. You probably also meant them too because they are all true statements.

However, parenting is not only the most rewarding thing in the world. It's also somehow simultaneously the most frustrating thing in the world too. I'm not breaking any news. I'm sure this also sounds familiar. In parenting circles we typically replace the word "frustrating" with the word "challenging" because we don't like to admit that the children we spend most of our time trying to convince others are angels, are actually not. They are nowhere close. I guess challenging is a much more positive word and it makes us parents, especially those of young children, feel like we haven't been defeated...yet. Truth is, they are VERY frustrating and its okay to admit that.

Why? Because once you've spent enough time around a two year old you come to the realization that it's a lot like being in a relationship with a tiny bipolar tyrant midget who doesn't speak English very well and makes way too many demands for someone who has such a major deficiency in the tenure department.

The good news is that we, as parents, hold the power to turn these tiny tyrants into human beings who resemble something a whole lot closer to angels than belligerent drunks with an attitude problem. That's where DISCIPLINE comes in. Ah, yes, it is such a necessary evil. There is nothing I look forward to LESS than disciplining my boys. It's simply in my nature to be loving and fun and nurturing and I don't feel like any of those things when I'm sending my boys to time out or God forbid, giving them a spanking. However, I also understand that implementing and adhering to a sturdy set of rules teaches a child his boundaries and if followed through on, one day turns him into an accountable young man.

The above picture is what we're trying to prevent down the road. I don't think they'd look near as happy in real jail.

We are a time out family. Nine times out of ten time out is an effective way to discipline both of our boys (ages 2 and 4). Taking away a privilege is another effective tool and a spanking is certainly not out of the question but it is used as a last resort and rarely do we visit that resort. (Hmmm, speaking of resorts, visiting a "resort" sounds nice right about now.) 

Anyway, consistently disciplining your children is tough. Resisting the temptation of letting a threat become empty may seem mean and unnecessary at the time, but it's actually the best thing you can do for your child.  I always thought the whole, "This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you" thing was a bunch of hippy dippy bologna but it turns out there's a whole lot of truth to it. We all just  want to see our kids be happy and the last thing we want is to be the cause of unhappiness. Unfortunately, when we follow through on our disciplinary threats, our children associate that unhappiness directly with us. Who knew it was this tough to be on the other end of the discipline?

Like any difficult part of life a little encouragement  goes a long way. My wife and I do a great job of communicating our feelings to one another as we discipline our boys and it helps to keep us on the same page and keep us accountable for our actions. We are firm believers in disciplining out of necessity and teaching rather than disciplining out of anger or frustration. Our boys understand that we love them tremendously as we discipline them because we always make sure to communicate that to them but sometimes it's a little more challenging when both of us aren't home.

Tonight my wife was on a girls night and I was home alone with the boys. My two year old, Fletcher, was being especially challenging at the dinner table. Something I'm very used to. Fletcher had a rough go at it for the first six or eight months of his life. You can read about that here. Since then, however, he's been such a perfect addition to the family... except for at the dinner table. If it's not a pop tart, grilled cheese or cereal he usually does not want to eat it. It really just depends on the night. Tonight he was doing his typical "store the food in the cheek like a squirrel and no one will notice I'm not actually swallowing" routine. Needless to say, the stash of "nuts" in his cheek built up and I wasn't in the mood. So I hastily sent him to time out and told him he could come out after he swallowed his bite. We went back and forth for a good thirty minutes and my 4 year old, Cooper, devoured his meal and began to play. 

At this point I began to get discouraged. Doubt started to creep into my mind. Was I being too hard on him? Should I just give in and let him eat something else? Is he just exhausted? I really wanted it to be a fun night and this was the furthest thing from fun. What should I do? I didn't have my partner in crime, my wife, there to ask for advice. Just then I heard the sweet voice of my innocent little four year old from a few feet behind me

"It's okay Dad. You're doing the right thing."

What?!?!

Did he really just say that?!

Yes he did.

Is he infinitely wise beyond his years?!

I don't know if he said it because he thought that's what mom would have said if she was here or if it's something he's seen on a movie, or if he was just really enjoying watching his little brother get sent to time out, but whatever it was, it really helped. It helped me remember that I was fighting the good fight and that this would pay off in the long run as long as I was coming from a place of love.

I just replied to him, "Thanks buddy." and he said, "You're following the instructions."

At that point I began to wonder if his mother had left a set of instructions that I wasn't aware of.

Probably.

Oh well.

I just gave him a big hug and carried on, feeling encouraged, and knowing that I was doing the right thing.

Brothers Gotta Hug!!

Brothers.

These two have no idea how blessed they are to have each other.  I hope that one day they are able to look back on their lives and truly understand the gift they have in one another. The bond between brothers, brothers who really love each other, is like no other bond in the world. In my 34 years on this earth I've seen examples of brothers who would do anything for each other and I've also come across a few brother duos who didn't seem to care much for one another at all. "Love" might be the absolute last word I would use to describe their interactions together. I understand that brothers show their love in different ways, depending on a multitude of variables that may or may not exist in their relationship. However, there are certain behaviors I've seen or heard throughout the years that send up a major red flag; Words and interactions I hope I never see, hear or associate with my boys.

I have an older brother myself. His name is Stacy and he's 4 years older than me. I guess you could say he's a pretty decent dude, but we'll get back to him later.

I'll never forget one day years and years ago when my mom was babysitting for a neighbor who just so happened to have two boys about the same age as my brother and me. If I had to guess I would say that I was 8 and my brother was 12. The other two boys were probably 9 and 11. We lived on a lake and since it was a nice hot summer afternoon we all thought it would be a good idea to go swimming so we suited up and hit the lake. We were all so full of excitement and anticipation for the fun we were about to have.

 I still have a clear mental picture of the events that followed. I can't remember if we just ran down to the lake as my mom was still gathering towels or if he just waited for the first opportunity when my mom wasn't 100% locked in on us but the big brother of the other boys grabbed his little brother and held him underwater for what seemed like 5 minutes in my eight year old brain. I remember my excitement turning to fear and my eyes were probably bulging out of my head. I thought he was going to kill him. I just froze. When the little brother finally emerged from the water, a knock down drown out fight ensued until my mom could get them under control. It was like a good hockey fight but the ice was melted and they were trying to drown each other in it. I don't remember my mom babysitting those two boys ever again after this particular day. Hmm, I wonder why?!?

(This picture of my boys was taken yesterday 3-25-15 on the same beach I grew up on. We just happened to visit my home town. There used to be a big dock and a nice sandy beach but no one lives here now and it's all overgrown.)

Clearly, that moment has stuck with me throughout the years. Not only because it was scary but also because I had never experienced anything like it. You might be saying to yourself, "What's the big deal? It's just boys being boys." You might be right. Wherever those two brothers are today, if they haven't gone all Cane and Abel, they might be best friends. They might not even remember the incident. Maybe I sensationalized it in my innocent little boy brain. Regardless, I pray to God that I never see my older son treat his little brother in that manner. It's just not acceptable.

You might be thinking, "Oh, just you wait until your boys get older. You've got another thing coming," and maybe I do. Maybe I'll need to get a Mixed Martial Arts refereeing license and an octagon in the backyard in order to best parent my boys. I've heard some crazy brother war stories.

I've had conversations with friends and colleagues who despise their brothers. Some of them haven't spoken to their brothers in years and have no plans to put any effort whatsoever into that relationship because their brother, "is just a jerk!"

What a sad reality. How can a relationship between brothers make the slow transition over time from the picture above to a complete disdain for one another? How do we, as humans, so often let time harden our hearts and turn the precious gift of brotherhood into something we so easily take for granted and even consider a burden?

This should never happen. A brother should be a friend for life; A best friend given to you by God for no charge. A brother should be someone you can celebrate with, mourn with and confide in no matter the circumstance. A brother should be someone you know how to communicate with. A brother should be someone you love unconditionally. You don't have to put up with all his crap and like it, but you need to love him through it and get back on the same page down the road, after the dust has settled.

A brother needs to be like my big brother.

This is my favorite picture of the two of us as boys. You can tell we love each other here. Nothing has changed throughout the years. Sure, we could be closer. We have different interests. We both get caught up in our own life at times and forget that we live 2 minutes down the road from each other but that doesn't change the fact that this dude is a major blessing; A blessing that I took for granted for a large part of my life.

 My big brother never tried to drown me, although he probably had reason to. One interesting fact about my brother is that he is 38 years old and he's never had a sip of alcohol. Well... he may have had one "sip" depending on your interpretation of what I'm about to tell you. One summer when we were in our twenties and we went on vacation together he fell asleep on a picnic table by the pool. His mouth was partially open and I decided it would be a good idea to drop a "sip" of my frozen Pina Colada from my straw into his mouth. As you might have guessed, this didn't sit very well with him. He ran me down and threw me in the pool and finished me off with an elbow drop but he didn't try to drown me. If he ever wanted to this would have been the perfect opportunity.

 He never beat me up. When we were teenagers my friend Jeff would come stay at our house often.  The three of us always watched movies in my parents room on their bed. Jeff and I would wait for the clock to hit a certain time,  a time that we coordinated moments earlier, and we would "jump" him to try to see if the two of us could take him down. He was much bigger and stronger than us and I think he enjoyed the challenge. He had a go to move that was undefeated. He would just squeeze our feet until we said "uncle" and gave up.  It worked every time.

There is one particular night that we laugh about from time to time. I must have done something to make him mad because I took off running from our room towards the living room and I just knew he was going to catch me so I threw myself into the bookshelf in the hallway and told mom and dad that he pushed me into it. I think he ended up taking one for the team on that night.

He was never too cool for me. My brother and I shared a room growing up. That's probably one reason why we were so close. When we were still in school we used to stay up late looking through our yearbooks picking the "hottest" girl on each page. I bet all you girls from Keystone Heights wish you knew  the answers to that classic game. HA!

 He never made fun of me unless I deserved it. Honestly, I don't have one memory of my brother being mean to me in any way that I didn't deserve. Now that I think about it, maybe he brainwashed me?!? 

 He just loved me and put up with me and my annoying friends. He supported all my sporting and music endeavors. He picked me up from practice. He drove me and my friends around. He may not have always enjoyed doing all of this, but he did it. He was the perfect example.

When I was young I never would have said that my big brother was my best friend but when I look back on life he certainly was. That's why he was the best man in my wedding. Maybe I should mention the fact that he introduced me to my beautiful wife. Where would I be without him? (Don't let this go to your head Stace.) Sounds like I hit the brother jackpot.

I hope and pray that my wife and I are able to foster the kind of life long relationship between our two boys that my parents did between my brother and me. My parents deserve so much credit for our friendship.  I don't think they really gave us a choice. We had to learn to love each other and we did. I believe the first step is teaching the big brother to learn patience towards his younger brother. Let's be honest, younger brothers require extra patience. Don't drown him, just throw him in the pool. Don't beat him up, just squeeze his foot and show him he's still little brother. If you are blessed enough to have a brother in your life don't take him for granted.

Appreciate him.

Brothers gotta love each other!

Brothers gotta hug!

Or, if you're comfortable with it...

Brothers gotta throw on some super cool tie dyed shirts they found in Mom's old closet and crotch handshake!

 I'm fairly certain nothing signifies the bond of brotherhood quite like The Crotch Handshake.

Mom and Dad, I guess that's what you get for making us share a room.

Brothers.

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Welcome to the NFL!

As long as I can remember, the NFL has been a big part of my family. The logos, the helmets, the long standing rivalries, it's all so nostalgic for me. I have memories from a very young age of me, my brother and my dad spread out in the living room throwing the football back and forth while watching a game. My parents would let me stay up late to watch Monday Night Football from time to time when most other kids had long since gone to bed. My dad taught me so much about the game when I was very young. To this day my brother and I can make each other laugh by quoting some of my dad's old NFL films videos.

"In days of old when men were bold and face masks weren't invented, 

they ran like hell knowing all too well that sometimes they'd get dented." 

That's just the first one to pop into my mind. We would just lay on my parents bed and watch, only stopping long enough for the VHS tape to rewind so we could watch it again. I'm sure if my mom knew the video used the word "hell" we wouldn't have been allowed to watch it. I guess what mom didn't know didn't hurt her in this case... or maybe she knew but she understood the magnitude of the male bonding that was going on so she made an exception.

I vividly remember my dad playfully tackling me on the living room floor, burying his nose into my cheek and saying, "Welcome to the NFL" in his best tough guy voice. This was a regular occurrence and one of my very favorite childhood memories. It's something I always knew I'd carry on as tradition if I was blessed enough to have sons of my own one day. Sometimes dad would strip the ball away from me and teach me the need to hang on for dear life because "anything goes" on the bottom of the pile. I would just giggle my little heart out. Like all kids, I loved that feeling of running from him knowing that I was inevitably going to be hit with a giant love tackle; Or the feeling of hanging on to that ball knowing it was about to be pried from my tiny little hands. It was incomparable to anything else! There's just nothing like the joy of rough housing with your dad, except for maybe carrying on the tradition with your son(s).  So far I'd say we're off to a pretty good start.

Football is a big part of our relationship already. Don't get me wrong, they don't show much interest in watching the games yet. The most exciting thing about the games is the simple fact that they get to snuggle on the couch with Mom and Dad instead of going to bed on a game night. Scratch that, the most exciting part for them is probably watching Carrie Underwood sing the Sunday Night Football song while trying to sing along.

My oldest son, Cooper, is 3 (almost 4). At two and a half years old he had all 32 NFL team helmets memorized. At this point he didn't know his ABC's. I know. You don't have to say it. Bad parenting. Sometimes I'm ashamed of this fact but honestly, most of the time I'm pretty darn proud of it. After all, before I was a parent I was only a man.

 Turns out, a childs brain truly is like a sponge. You'd think they'd run out of space up there but they actually do have room for 32 team helmets among the 26 letters, so many numbers, a few handfuls of colors and the names of approximately 133 animals. I actually used the fact that he learned his NFL teams before his ABC's as motivation and we had the ABC's whooped by 3 years old. Cooper also has this sweet Manning-esque quarterback cadence that he recites like it's the pledge of allegiance. I taught him some of it and the rest came from only he knows where:

"Blue 42. Red 98. 3 on the green. Omaha Omaha. Easy Easy. Eleven Eleven. Hut Hut Hike!" 

You're right. I probably should have taught him the pledge of allegiance instead... but I didn't. However, I did teach him how to strip a football from a ball carrier. Big mistake...

 We were at an indoor playground called Bay & Bee about a month ago and he ran up to another child about his age and exclaimed, "I'm going to strip you!" I watched in horror, feverishly making my way from the other side of the room like an outside linebacker in pursuit of a running back as Cooper knocked the poor boys balloon out of his hands. I knew just what was going to happen before it happened but I couldn't get there until Cooper had already raked the balloon from the boys grip and yelled, "FUMBLE" as he jumped on it. Thank God he yelled fumble. The boys mom was standing right there and I can only Imagine the thoughts running through her mind as another little boy told her son that he was going to strip him on the playground. 

Thankfully, I arrived on the scene just in time to apologize and explain to the mother that we were in the process of learning when it is and when it isn't okay to strip people. As you can Imagine, that was an interesting conversation. A conversation where I probably came off as an incompetent father. What can I say? You win some; You lose some. I also had Cooper give the balloon back to the boy and apologize as I overturned the call due to the boys knee touching the ground slightly before the balloon came out. This was hard for me to do. It was a textbook strip and I am extremely biased. Upon further review it was the right call; or maybe I just didn't want the boy to develop self confidence issues...could you imagine discovering you have a fumbling problem at 3 years old? That poor boy may have never recovered from that. Plus, Cooper needs to learn that in the cruel game of life you just don't recover every fumble that comes your way. There's a reason why a football isn't round. There's also a reason why the balls of life are oblong as well. Did I lose you in that extreme deep thought? I think we all learned a thing or two from this experience.

My youngest son, Fletcher, is 1(almost 2). He's a work in progress. The only NFL team he recognizes is the Jaguars and his quarterback cadence is, "Red. Green. Hike" on a good day. I'd say it's more Gabbert-esque than Manning-esque but he's getting the hang of it. Thanks to his big brother, he understands what a tackle is and what a fumble is. He's been "stripped" and tackled by his big brother more times than he'd like to remember. I'll take the blame for that. However, I continually catch Cooper talking to Fletcher about football when he doesn't even know I can hear him. We recently started letting the boys fall asleep together in the same bed. Daphne and I just watch them on the monitor. They provide some pretty priceless material. We get to watch for free. You have to pay 10$ minimum for this kind of  entertainment at a movie theatre. I eavesdropped on Cooper quizzing Fletcher just the other night:

Can you say Packers?

Can you say Seahawks?

Can you say Lions?

Can you say Redskins?

Can you say Rams?

Can you say Bengals, Browns and Chiefs? 

Those are my 3 favorite teams. What are your favorite teams?

 The Packers, Eagles and Panthers? How about the Falcons? 

You can have 4 favorite teams Fletcher.

Fletcher tried his best to answer every single question. He tried to pronounce every team name that Cooper threw at him. My heart just melted right there listening to my 3 year old and 1 year old laying in bed talking football. I've already succeeded at passing down the tradition...like father like son. Actually, like grandfather, like father, like son, like little brother. 

If I had to guess, I've probably spoken the words, "Welcome to the NFL" to my boys a total of 200 times in their short little lives to this point. Those 4 words just have their own special meaning to me. If  you ever want to tell me that you love me but you're the kind of person who doesn't like to say it, just tell me: "Welcome to the NFL!" I'll understand what you mean and we can just carry on like the meat heads we are and nobody has to know that we just shared a moment.

Before my wife and I decided to start our family Sunday afternoons were reserved for tailgating and attending Jaguars games. When the Jags were on the road we'd get together with friends, order pizza and watch the game. Maybe we'll do that again someday but for now Sunday afternoons are reserved for pushing all the living room furniture against the walls and piling up every pillow in the house on the living  room floor. What team are you? I'm a Green Bay Packer linebacker! Welcome to the NFL boys!