Dogs, Dads, Deer, and Baseball

This year for Jaron's birthday we rented a public pool and invited many friends and family members. He quickly reported it was his best party ever. He bravely jumped off of the high dive countless times, and mostly swam out in the deep water (with his dad close by).  I think there will be more pool parties in our future! I don't really need to write a detailed post about the things Jaron is into this year as he turns eight.  The truth is, his cake says it all.  I asked him to choose the picture he would like to put on his birthday cake, and he asked me if he could choose more than one.  He settled on these:

He told me he would like the most recent picture of his dog, Dixie, his big buck deer (making sure it was the one that also had Dad and his big buck deer), and his baseball team.  I said, "How about that picture of you and I in our baseball shirts?" He cocked his head to the side as he considered that idea, and slowly shook his head as he replied, "Nah. And I don't really want my sisters on it either."  I know deep down he loves us, but I also realize Moms are really not that cool when you are eight.  Not as cool as dogs, dads, deer, and baseball buddies. Not unless you are hurt, hungry, or something is lost.  It's okay. I can be here when he needs me, and be grateful he has friends, a pet he loves, and a dad to teach him how to become a man. Those are the things that matter most to Jaron these days, and that means those things matter to me!  I really do love watching him come out of his shell and jump into his favorite things with both feet, just like he jumps into the pool. Deep down, though, I am hoping next year I make it on the cake!

Jaron & Dixie: A Love Story

A few years ago, our black lab, Max, died unexpectedly. I did not realize how attached Jaron was to Max. Jaron does not always verbalize what matters to him, so you have to look for it sometimes. We went to Build-A-Bear over a year after we lost that dog, and Jaron chose to make a black lab instead of a bear…and he named it Max. It goes both ways. He does not always speak up when he is super excited or troubled, so over the years I have learned to look for the signs. One of the simplest ways to know he is happy is the “Big Boy Face.” The Big Boy Face is pretty self-explanatory. Jaron is excited, but he wants to play it cool and he tries hard to NOT smile about it. He tries to keep a poker face, but cannot keep his smile at bay, resulting in sparkling eyes and a dimple that turns me to mush, like this: Jaron has asked a few times about getting another dog, and we decided to make this happen. We thought with Madison having piano lessons to occupy some of her daily time, that this could be something Jaron could have of his very own. He has named her Dixie. She is the cause of a lot of Big Boy Face around here.

Dixie was the first puppy to be born in her litter, and as soon as it happened Jaron said, “I think I should keep this one!” He stuck to that even after meeting all of the others, and he loves her. When he feeds the puppies, he makes sure the others are letting Dixie's little face in the bowl. For Dixie’s protection, he does not let Megan anywhere near her. Once Madison was saying that Dixie was too fat and she needed to stop eating, to which Jaron replied, “Don’t say that in front of her!”

Jaron has embraced the responsibility of raising Dixie. If having a pet includes holding her, feeding her, playing with her, training her (with a toy stuffed raccoon), and cleaning up her messes, he is handling it like a pro. When he is gone, Dixie cries for him. It is a love story.

The Monster

This year is the first time Jaron got to go deer hunting. We got him his very own Weatherby 22-250, and I don't know what scope, and he has been target practicing with his dad. Because Madison was also going, we had to split up this time. We decided to do a little boys vs. girls, so Kevin took Jaron and I took Madison. Kevin built a shooting table for him, and we set up two separate hunting blinds in two separate fields. We hunted Saturday morning and evening without seeing anything but squirrels, turkeys, and birds. Not conducive to shooting big bucks, but very conducive to sharing hot chocolate, snacks, and jokes.

On the Sunday evening hunt, Madison and I saw several deer, but not when we were able to get a shot off. I received a text from Kevin that said, "We have deer." I heard a shot in the distance, shortly followed by, "Big buck down." I did not get to personally witness this historic moment with Jaron, but he has told me the story repeatedly, along with some reenactment and sound effects. He only had to shoot once. He mentions that a lot. He told everyone, "I shot a big buck. He was a monster!" The Monster Buck had eight points, and was twenty and a half inches wide. And Jaron has walked a little taller ever since.

Let's Hear it For the Boys

My favorite boy is seven. This year finds him all about sports. For his birthday, we got him an outdoor basketball goal, and he shoots for hours. Traveling and double dribbling go on a lot, but I think he will remedy that on his own soon enough. He loves kick ball and soccer and riding his bike, and he loves playing pee-wee baseball. He hits the ball almost every time he is up to bat, and then he runs like he means it. He plays like he doesn't know he is one of the smallest ones on the team. It's one of my favorite things.

We had a sports themed birthday party. The kids split up to do a hoop shoot, a bean bag toss, to bat with the ZipNHit, and then they played a soccer game together. "Big kid" cousins Lance and Lane were referees. Everyone got an MVP award, and goody bags sporting stickers, medals, whistles, ring pops, and wrist bands. My 5-year-old nephew is still wearing his medal everywhere he goes. I think it was a boy equivalent of a spa day.

Jaron continues to melt my heart with his sweet personality most of the time. While he picked out a birthday gift for Madison weeks before her birthday, and he often tries to entertain Megan, these days I also see him getting enjoyment from teasing his sisters. I guess it's kind of what boys do. He does many things that big boys do now. He likes to collect bugs and go hunting and fishing, and gross things don't really gross him out anymore. Over the past year he has really made great strides in coming out of his shell. Sometimes I think as he grows I am becoming less important on his radar. Like he only thinks of me when he is hungry or needs to find his belt for his baseball uniform. Like he needs me less. Dad seems to be the cool one. Dad is the one watching Mizzou or playing outside the most. Jaron does not run up to hug me with his arms open wide nearly as often as he use to...but sometimes he still does. And sometimes I catch him looking for me after he gets a big hit or crosses home plate, to make sure I saw it, and I love it that I did. So I hope he will need me a little longer. I mean, when I can't help giving him a big hug or kiss out in public, he still lets me. And he is still really good about saying, "G'night, Mom. Love ya." I don't know about him, but I think I will always need that. Happy Birthday, Jaron! I hope being seven will be a big adventure for you!

Just Like Me

One of my favorite things about hunting has nothing to do with shooting a deer. When I go deer hunting, Kevin walks me to my blind or tree stand in total darkness before going off to his. I settle in as quietly as I can, close my eyes, and wait for sunrise. Everything is hushed and solemn and serene. Not silent, but hushed. In these moments it is easy to forget about laundry and dishes and trying to build up vacation time at work. There are no worries. There is only peace. And possibilities. And hope. Slowly the woods start to come to life, anticipating the dawn. Squirrels start to scurry from branch to branch. Birds start to chirp and sing. Turkeys gobble. Owls hoot. If you are in the right place, the deer slowly make their way to their feet, shake themselves off, and crunch through the fallen leaves to step out into range. I think most hunters will tell you similar versions of what they would consider to be the perfect hunt. For me, it would go something like this:

On October 30, 2010, Madison went on her very first deer hunt. Hunting is not something that happens spontaneously. Preparation is involved. Kevin is not one to take someone hunting before they are capable and ready, so Madison had practiced with her rifle, an AR 223, and proven herself to be accurate (by accurate I mean repeatedly hitting a target smaller than a baseball from 100 yards). Kevin and Madison worked together in the garage to build a table from plywood and 2X4s, and he asked his grandmother to sew up some denim so he could make sand bags. Now she would be able to have a sturdy place to rest her gun as she shot. Prior to opening morning, we set up the blind complete with the table, sand bags and seating, and everything was all set.

The morning of the hunt, we were all up by 5:30. We delivered the non-hunting kids to Grandma's house. We parked the truck and walked about 500 yards to our blind. We quietly took our seats and settled in to wait. Soon after we could see into the field of clover, a buck deer slowly approached our blind as he grazed. The angle out of our "window" was not exactly right, and we had to move Madison's table and her seat to let her get the best chance at a shot. Leaves rustled during this process, causing the deer to throw his head up and look in our direction more than once. Most deer, with more age and intelligence, would have ran away about three times in the 30 seconds it took us to get Madison adjusted. But he just stood there as Kevin asked, "Do you see him in the scope yet? Do you see him?" She said no a few times until the excited whisper, "Oh, Dad! I can see him!" He said, "You need to shoot him as soon as you are sure!" The words had barely escaped his mouth when she fired her gun. It was the exclamation point to his instruction. In his very next breath, he said, "Oh! Good shot, Madison!" Because that deer fell over like a sack of potatoes. We all but tore the door off of our blind getting out to go see him up close. And then there were pictures and high fives. And hugs. Madison and I are girls, after all. She ran all the way back to the truck at full speed. It was the perfect hunt. Big on antlers and excitement. Small on waiting and waiting to see anything, and small on suffering--for the deer. On my slower walk back to the truck, it became obvious to me that Madison is already irrevocably hooked on two things: hunting and her daddy. Just like me.

Man of Leisure

I am down to two more weeks of maternity leave. I keep saying, "It is almost all over but the crying!" And I am not talking about Megan's tears. I wonder if anyone will be more upset about this change in our routine than Jaron. I am afraid I have created quite the man of leisure. When we first got home from the hospital with Megan, I started letting him stay up as late as he wanted. I am talking 11 o'clock or midnight. I mean, I was up anyway. I was either feeding the baby or pumping or taking pain meds or something. You mamas know the drill. Megan's biggest sleep windows were always during the day then. So Jaron would sleep until 10 in the morning, and after getting Madison on the bus at 7:30, so would I. We would have brunch. It was what I needed at the time or I would have never gotten any sleep in the daylight hours!

I did not realize how comfortable he had gotten at home until I realized that I had not seen him in actual clothes for a couple of days. I realized that 90% of the time that boy was either wearing his Spiderman costume or he was running around in his underwear. Sometimes he goes to sleep playing the Wii. One morning I found him playing the Wii as Spiderman before breakfast. And here I am, planning to send him off to kindergarten where routine is essential. I had to form a strategy. He likes to do flashcards to identify all the letters, shapes, and colors, but he has them all down so it does not take up much time. I recently got him a Spiderman workbook. We started having "homework time" where we have been practicing writing letters and drawing shapes. He is not always dressed for homework time. And he always wants to draw Spiderman webs when we are finished.

These last two weeks I am going to focus on homework time AND wearing clothes all day.

A fork in the road

I am a deer hunter. I went with my dad as a kid. He had a thermos of coffee. I had hot chocolate. We both had honey buns. I just watched. It was calm and peaceful until we spotted a deer, and then things usually got a little more exciting. I hunted with my own gun for the first time in 1998. With Kevin. I shot a doe. I decided maybe I would rather not go for Bambi's mother anymore and I should look for the big bucks. We let the does by many times in the hopes that the big one is following them. I have killed 2 bucks since I have been married. I have killed some does as well when someone wants them to eat. I don't enjoy it so much. My blood is pumping much faster when I have big horns lined up in my scope as opposed to a graceful doe.

I have come to a fork in the road relative to deer. This morning, for the first time, there was an accident involving my vehicle and a deer. Actually two deer. A small deer ran into the sliding door in the middle of my van! Right into the side! I still think I can say I have never hit a deer because that deer hit me! 15 miles later I am pondering the intelligence and instincts of the species when ANOTHER large doe runs into my door, shattering my rear view mirror. I am thankful my mirror was all that was broken. I am thankful that it did not come through my window or Jaron's window. He was with me. And saying, "Mama, why did that deer hit our van? Mama, we need to tell my dad what that deer did to your van!" I think of all the what ifs and could have beens and I truly am grateful for a busted mirror. I will try to remain grateful when I am at the body shop this afternoon.

About that fork. There are two ways a hunter can go. Take one path and hunt for the trophies. Kevin is a trophy hunter. Unless someone asks him to get them a deer to eat. On the other path if it's brown, it's down! I have officially switched paths. I am not waiting on the Big Daddy in the brush. I am on the side of believers who say all deer need to be thinned out. So they can be healthy. So they will have enough to eat. AND so fewer of them will be in the road. I apologize to the Bambi lovers. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.