Hooligan 1 has been begging me to write a post about him. He doesn't realize what kind of danger he is inviting into his life.
I always wanted to be a mom. I love kids. I enjoy talking to them, playing with them. I'm not good with discipline though. Self-discipline, what's that?
We wanted a baby for a couple of years before I became pregnant with Hooligan 1. We were overjoyed when we learned we were expecting a girl. I gathered a closet full of frilly girl clothes.
After a brutal 24+ hour childbirth process that ended with a C-section, I was slowly coming out from anesthesia when I heard a nurse ask what we were going to name the baby. I opened my eyes and explained we were going to name her Regan. The Big Guy laughed from across the room where he was holding somebody's baby boy. He said, "She still thinks we had a girl."
The Big Guy was so proud, all my siblings had girls their first time out. He says he 'throws' only boys. I think 'throws' is an animal husbandry term he learned growing up on a farm. As long as he doesn't start applying animal husbandry terms to me, I'm OK with it.
Now girls are as dearly loved and cherished in my family as boys, but keep in mind that The Big Guy is well....big. I am also, shall we say, a woman of substance, yeah, that's what we'll say. So I had secretly been hoping to have a boy to inherit our size genes. 'Big' is not a description most girls want applied to them, unless you were describing their hair during that unfortunate period in the '80s.
I remember Hooligan 1 laying on the floor between The Big Guy and I when he was a baby. I said, "He is exactly what I have always wanted."
He called his pacifier a tee-tee. He made up his own language when he was little. I wish I had written down the words he made up. I remember water was glug.
We love him dearly. He is a true original. (I know every blogging momma in the universe says that about her children.) But Hooligan 1 is truly one of a kind.
At his 'Uncle T' and 'Aunt J's wedding he had almost everyone (over 300 guests) laughing so hard they cried. I know I did. When his 'Aunt D' gave a speech, he went up onto the stage in his little tux and pretended to hold a microphone. He imitated her to perfection. When she read a poem, he pretended to hold a paper and lip-synced reading it. When she started laughing at him, he clutched his little stomach and mimed her laughter. He would bend forward at the waist, then lean his head way back and kick one foot in the air. 'D' was laughing so hard she couldn't finish her speech for many minutes. Every time she would try, he would crack her up again. He was not even 4 years old.
He loved chickens for some reason. He named one of his hens Big Frank Morter Boy.
He had a pet calf when he was 7. He took a picture of her to school where the kids in his class named the calf Lucky. Meanwhile at home, Hooligan 2 and I named him Pie. The calf became 'Lucky as Pie'. I never saw a cuter sight than Hooligan 1 riding his bike up and down the driveway with that calf running beside him jumping and kicking her heels up high!
Two years ago, a bunch of us were watching fireworks. Hooligan 2 was whining and crying because he wanted to go home. This went on way, way too long. Why didn't someone make him stop? Oh wait.....was that my job? Anyway, my dad finally couldn't take it any longer. He set Hooligan 2 firmly down on his own lap and told him to, "Be quiet!" Without missing a beat, Hooligan 1 exclaimed, "Why Grandpa, I never knew you were such a warm, nurturing man!"
About the time he was 7, I became so very, very tired, I had about zero energy for my family, it was that silly cancer thing. A lack of discipline is not a good thing for children. Who knew? Well Hooligan 1 decided that since no one else was in charge of this family, he was taking the wheel. Guess what, a 7 year old in charge does not work. It doesn't work when he is 11 either. It's not totally his fault, but we have kinda run into the ditch as far as following the rules goes.
At the suggestion of his grade school principal, we had him go to a religion based, outdoors man style, discipline teachin' camp this summer. Hooligan 1 learned some valuable lessons about rules and consequences at the camp. He has made many positive changes since he got back.
But, I think it is about time an adult takes the wheel again. Anyone? Anyone? Oh.....that's right, I'm the adult. The Big Guy is still working 16 to 18 hours/day. We are interviewing drivers so we can hire another guy full-time to free up The Big Guy's time for our family.
Since I'm not as tired as I was before taking the lovely new drug Sprycel, I guess I'm ready to assume control. So scoot over kid, I'm taking over behind the wheel now. Oh, yes I am mister! I'm the boss around here! Let go of that wheel boy! I mean it! Right now! You heard me you little hooligan! Don't you give me that look!
I always wanted to be a mom. I love kids. I enjoy talking to them, playing with them. I'm not good with discipline though. Self-discipline, what's that?
We wanted a baby for a couple of years before I became pregnant with Hooligan 1. We were overjoyed when we learned we were expecting a girl. I gathered a closet full of frilly girl clothes.
After a brutal 24+ hour childbirth process that ended with a C-section, I was slowly coming out from anesthesia when I heard a nurse ask what we were going to name the baby. I opened my eyes and explained we were going to name her Regan. The Big Guy laughed from across the room where he was holding somebody's baby boy. He said, "She still thinks we had a girl."
The Big Guy was so proud, all my siblings had girls their first time out. He says he 'throws' only boys. I think 'throws' is an animal husbandry term he learned growing up on a farm. As long as he doesn't start applying animal husbandry terms to me, I'm OK with it.
Now girls are as dearly loved and cherished in my family as boys, but keep in mind that The Big Guy is well....big. I am also, shall we say, a woman of substance, yeah, that's what we'll say. So I had secretly been hoping to have a boy to inherit our size genes. 'Big' is not a description most girls want applied to them, unless you were describing their hair during that unfortunate period in the '80s.
I remember Hooligan 1 laying on the floor between The Big Guy and I when he was a baby. I said, "He is exactly what I have always wanted."
He called his pacifier a tee-tee. He made up his own language when he was little. I wish I had written down the words he made up. I remember water was glug.
We love him dearly. He is a true original. (I know every blogging momma in the universe says that about her children.) But Hooligan 1 is truly one of a kind.
At his 'Uncle T' and 'Aunt J's wedding he had almost everyone (over 300 guests) laughing so hard they cried. I know I did. When his 'Aunt D' gave a speech, he went up onto the stage in his little tux and pretended to hold a microphone. He imitated her to perfection. When she read a poem, he pretended to hold a paper and lip-synced reading it. When she started laughing at him, he clutched his little stomach and mimed her laughter. He would bend forward at the waist, then lean his head way back and kick one foot in the air. 'D' was laughing so hard she couldn't finish her speech for many minutes. Every time she would try, he would crack her up again. He was not even 4 years old.
He loved chickens for some reason. He named one of his hens Big Frank Morter Boy.
He had a pet calf when he was 7. He took a picture of her to school where the kids in his class named the calf Lucky. Meanwhile at home, Hooligan 2 and I named him Pie. The calf became 'Lucky as Pie'. I never saw a cuter sight than Hooligan 1 riding his bike up and down the driveway with that calf running beside him jumping and kicking her heels up high!
Two years ago, a bunch of us were watching fireworks. Hooligan 2 was whining and crying because he wanted to go home. This went on way, way too long. Why didn't someone make him stop? Oh wait.....was that my job? Anyway, my dad finally couldn't take it any longer. He set Hooligan 2 firmly down on his own lap and told him to, "Be quiet!" Without missing a beat, Hooligan 1 exclaimed, "Why Grandpa, I never knew you were such a warm, nurturing man!"
About the time he was 7, I became so very, very tired, I had about zero energy for my family, it was that silly cancer thing. A lack of discipline is not a good thing for children. Who knew? Well Hooligan 1 decided that since no one else was in charge of this family, he was taking the wheel. Guess what, a 7 year old in charge does not work. It doesn't work when he is 11 either. It's not totally his fault, but we have kinda run into the ditch as far as following the rules goes.
At the suggestion of his grade school principal, we had him go to a religion based, outdoors man style, discipline teachin' camp this summer. Hooligan 1 learned some valuable lessons about rules and consequences at the camp. He has made many positive changes since he got back.
But, I think it is about time an adult takes the wheel again. Anyone? Anyone? Oh.....that's right, I'm the adult. The Big Guy is still working 16 to 18 hours/day. We are interviewing drivers so we can hire another guy full-time to free up The Big Guy's time for our family.
Since I'm not as tired as I was before taking the lovely new drug Sprycel, I guess I'm ready to assume control. So scoot over kid, I'm taking over behind the wheel now. Oh, yes I am mister! I'm the boss around here! Let go of that wheel boy! I mean it! Right now! You heard me you little hooligan! Don't you give me that look!
2 comments:
I loved this blog and your honesty and openess! I also thought a word of encouragement might help someone. I thought for years the old proverb "spare the rod, spoil the child" was scriptural! It was not until a few months ago that someone informed me (us) what the Bible really did say!! Check it out in Proverbs 13:24. It made me feel better about some of the discipline that I had "handed" down! Now don't anyone get too carried away here!! Moderation in all things. Is that in the Bible?
I love your Blog! This is just another examples of a another talent you have, you have so many! Best of luck with the Hooligans. I believe in you!
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