As we approach the often frenzied end of the year steeped in tradition and lots of football, here is a Writes for All Mommies throwback to honor my boys (now both teenagers) as who-they-were and who-they-are-yet-meant-to-be. This was originally published on December 14, 2014 on writesforallmommies.com
J.R. has grown tremendously this year. His humor is getting more sophisticated and I love that he can crack me up on a regular basis. As a fourth grader, I’m sure Santa’s existence is tenuous at best for him, but he keeps holding onto the dream. I suspect he is doing it as much for me as he is for himself. That only makes me love him more.
Keaton has changed dramatically. He still has threads of empathy woven permanently into his soul, but it surfaces less now. All he wants to do is play football. If he’s not playing it, he’s talking about it. I miss the sweetness of him, but I admire the competitor he’s become.
Which brings me to the new level of interaction my boys have with John. They all live, eat, and breathe football. Even my precious walks to school with the boys are now consumed with serious discussions about stats and standings.
There isn’t much I can do about it. It would be like my boys asking me not to be a writer. I can’t ask them to be something they aren’t. My job is to help them fully realize who they are. Right now that happens to be fanatical football fans. Sure it would be nice to have someone to watch romantic comedies with, take long walks in nature, and sit with me in silence as we ponder life and existence.
I guess that’s why dogs were created.
