Coaching football is my father’s life, which means football was OUR life as a family. For me, it started before I was born: I was considerate enough to wait until the Monday AFTER the last game of his 1978 season–a week past my due date (sorry, Mom!). As a kid, I didn’t see my dad very much between July and November; he never got to see me play tennis in high school or walk me out on the field with my mom on senior band night, and although he was disappointed to miss those things, I made sure he knew it was ok and I was extremely proud of him. My own kids even ended up with birthdays like bookends to football season: July 18, two weeks before two-a-days start, and November 3, shortly after the season ends.

However, the season might not end quite as soon this year.

Andrew’s first birthday is less than two weeks away, but his party is now officially on hold because my dad’s football team is 7-0 so far, and there is a high likelihood that he will make the regional playoffs (YAY!). And the first round of playoff games for his division (Division I, which are the biggest schools by student population) is scheduled for Saturday, November 6–the day we were planning to have the party. Whether he wins or not (and obviously we hope he’ll keep winning!) this means he will not be home on Saturday OR Sunday, and I know my dad does not want to miss his grandson’s first birthday party, so we’re postponing it until… well, I don’t know when, but knock on wood!

The cake can wait. I know someday Andrew will understand.

The four of us will still have our own little celebration on November 3, though. And I’ll say, “I’m SO glad I had you,” and my singing voice will break at the beginning of the Happy Birthday song and I’ll cry into his hair, just like it’s happened every year for his four-year old brother. If there’s anything I love more than football, it’s my little boys. They’re the best luck this family has ever had.

GO FALCONS!

Watching our sons together, we just shake our heads.

They are total opposites in every way.

“I hope they’ll be best friends someday,” said George.

“They probably will be,” I said. “Oliver’s like me and Andrew’s like you, and we’re best friends.”

George smiled. “True.”

Someday. I hope.

I feel like I never write about Andrew.

Which is a shame, because Lordy, do I ever love this little guy.

It’s not because things are any less special with a second child. This isn’t just Another Boy, or Oliver II. Oh no. This is a completely different person. He is a 180 from Oliver, a 180 from everything I knew, a 180 from myself. He is Andrew, and he is loved as Andrew.

So it’s ok that I’m not documenting every moment, every milestone, every first bite of every different kind of food. It’s ok because this time around, I’m different as a mother, and I’m not caught up in day-to-day details. All I want to do is enjoy him.

I mean, seriously. This kid? Is GOLD.

It was easier to write about Oliver’s Terrible Threes and getting ready for him to start preschool. It was easier to write about trying to lose the rest of the baby weight and my indecision about being “done” having kids. It helps, putting those things into words.

But when it comes to Andrew, the cursor keeps blinking, stationary. How can I possibly describe how much he has changed my life? How can I share this second round of catch-my-breath love in a way that would do it justice?

It’s simplest to say: I’m so grateful for him. I can’t get enough of holding him, kissing him, making him laugh. I delight in him.

The details are in his smiles.

I am struggling to be a good mother just like everyone else.

I will never be as good a mother as mine was, in my mind.

I wake up thinking I’m going to do more, do better, every day.

I usually end up just trying to survive until bed time.

I find moments of sweetness in between.

I enjoy getting out of the house for work two days a week.

I try not to brag about my kids to others.

I teach my kids respect, tolerance, and kindness towards other people.

I admit to my kids when there is something (and there are many things) I don’t know or understand.

I can laugh at myself.

I make mistakes all the time.

I make goofy faces all the time.

I am far from where I thought I would be before I became a mother, and far better off.

I never wanted kids until after I’d been dating my husband for a couple years.

I think my husband is an amazing father and I love seeing parts of him in our sons.

I have never, not for a second, wished I had girls instead of my boys.

I honor the memory of the two pregnancies I lost.

I face my own fears of bugs, heights, and flying to show my kids it’s ok to be afraid but you have to work through your fears.

I make them try things. Again. And again. And again.

I can teach them how to throw a football, catch a baseball, shoot a basketball, and hit a tennis ball, but I leave soccer to their dad.

I don’t worry about any of us getting dirty.

I don’t “let them win” unless they put in a winning effort.

I set boundaries.

I plan surprises.

I want them to have more/different/better opportunities than I did.

I daydream about traveling as a family.

I think fresh air improves all of our moods.

I would rather have a messy house than bored kids.

I keep the baby away from the tv altogether, and I only allow the preschooler to watch tv on a very limited basis.

I eat a healthy diet, exercise, and wear sunscreen, and I make sure my kids do the same.

I value their independent thinking/acting even when it means they’re challenging or aggravating me.

I am open to talking about anything.

I enforce manners, hygiene, safety, and honesty.

I am not always as patient as I should be.

I get tired.

I worry too much.

I sometimes yell or just leave the room for a while when I get really angry.

I don’t have anything against spanking, but I have never done it and don’t want to.

I am not comfortable with the idea of a (non-family member) babysitter yet.

I am not a touchy person except with my husband and kids; I touch, hug, kiss them constantly.

I make my kids laugh like no one else can.

I think they are the most beautiful human beings ever.

I marvel at our mutual capacity for love and forgiveness.

I often apologize to my mother for everything I put her through.

I love watching my parents with my kids.

I can’t imagine having another child.

I can’t imagine not having another child.

I get scared by how fast these days are going by, because I only get to do this once.

I’m lucky I get to do this.

I will try to do more, do better, tomorrow.

I’m behind on writing here, I’m behind on reading everywhere else, and I’d apologize except–it’s for good reasons!

The weather this week has been hot and sunny, so I’ve been outside with the boys a lot as well as catching up on yard work and even doing a little reading on our deck when I get a few free minutes. We’ve already gone through an entire bottle of sunscreen between the four of us (mostly me, actually, since I have to really load up to prevent my UV-allergic rash). This weekend we’ll be getting out Oliver’s sand box and pool. The best part about summer is that I can keep the kids happily occupied for HOURS outdoors. It also ensures better naps and easier bed times, which I’m definitely willing to sweat for!

The sad part about this particular summer is that at the end of it, Oliver will start preschool. He will only attend three mornings per week (Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, 8:00-11:15) but it will still be a huge change for all of us. I know that he will be scared at first; I also know that he will end up LOVING it after a while. He’s definitely ready for this. As hard as it will be to let my First Baby go, it would be selfish for me to keep him home any longer. I’ve done my best for almost four years, but now he needs MORE, academically and socially. It will also be easier on my mom, since she’ll only have to babysit Andrew on Monday and Thursday mornings while I work (we scheduled it that way purposely), and then just a couple hours in the afternoon with both kids (usually Andrew naps during this time anyway).

Andrew and I will get Tuesday mornings to ourselves, and I’m looking forward to that because he’s had to share me since he was born. It will be nice to have a little more “Kanga and Roo time,” as I call it! He is such a sweet child, so happy and mellow. He helps me to be a better mother to Oliver: I find it easy to be patient with him, so having him around helps me stay patient with Oliver. It’s hard to believe that he is almost 7 months old and is sitting up on his own and has two teeth and is wearing size 12-mo or 12-18-mo in clothes. I waited for him so long, it seems unfair that his babyhood is going by this fast, but at the same time I love watching him grow into the little boy I only dreamed of a year ago. I see him watching Oliver run around outside with the little kids next door and I know he will be running with them all too soon. So I’m still holding him while I can, this summer.

We have lots of things planned for the months ahead: Andrew’s baptism (June 6), a day at the zoo, a train ride, fireworks, swimming, Oliver’s 4th birthday in July (!!!!), visits with friends and family, trips to Lake Erie, and football games (my dad’s team) starting in August. Lots of fun! (And I’m already dreaming about our plans for a family beach trip next summer! LOL)

I hope your summers get off to a great start this weekend! What are your plans?