BBC running down the QB

My brother is a player. No, no, not a “playa” like that, I mean, he likes to play. To hear my mom tell, that’s all he did growing up. Play, play, play. Given the generation, it makes sense. He’s one of the kids who played outside from dawn ’til dusk with the neighborhood kids. They went from yard to yard, playing Tackle or Touch Football, Capture the Flag, Manhunt, War, and whatever other games that 10 or 12 ten-year old boys play when they have lots of open space, no rules, and nothing to worry about except getting home by the time the streetlights come on.

Fast forward about 30 years and we still find BBC playing. Aside from being on various other teams, whose names I can’t remember, he currently is playing defense on the Baltimore Brigade, which is part of the Maryland Flag Football Association. Blaze made the Spring 2008 Championship this year and BBC had a hand in that success bringing home 3.5 sacks for the season and 5.5 sacks for the playoffs thus far.

I will admit that when he first started playing football, way back at G.L., I could have cared less. I was what? 8, 9, 10 years old? I do remember the 8×10 photo of him that kept turning up around the house. There he was on one bended knee, in full uniform (maybe #44? Our dad says 42, BBC says 44), helmet resting on his bent leg, and that teenage gaze, full of entitlement that said, “I’m meant to do it.”

The last couple of years that he’s been playing, I’ll admit, I wasn’t all that excited either after seeing a couple of games. They kind of blended into one another after a while. One game on one team from several seasons ago had BBC on offense, playing QB no less. He was stiff-arming, cutting quick, airing the ball out, doing all of those things I’d make my players do when I played Tecmo Bowl on the Nintendo. As the game progressed and he advanced his team downfield, I realized, for a QB, he was doing quite a bit of running towards the goal line. Sure, he would pass, zinging the ball to it’s intended receiver, the pigskin nothing but a swirly spiral of brown and white. But every third play or so, he took the ball down field himself. And then it hit me. Sure he had good receivers, but if BBC could find a way to throw the ball to himself and score, you can bet your a-double that he’d do it. And of course I told him as much.

He wasn’t offended. He laughed — ’cause it’s true.

Anyway, BBC goes out week-end after week-end to play, to ref, to just do his thing on the field, sending back photos, video clips and highlights of his successes. He single handedly is keeping Under Armour in the black, I’m convinced. I keep telling him to make sure he’s well stocked in Ben Gay and Tiger Balm, but he just gives me the equivalent of an over the phone middle finger before lacing up his cleats.

This is how you win games, son!

#30 doesn’t know it, but his life is about to flash before his eyes

P.S. (according to BBC himself) “There was this one time, when you were about 3 years running with joyful abandon, down the slope of our backyard in Easton. You were running towards me, and a split second later, I tackled you, just taking out your legs. You went up in the air, doing your impression of an Olympic diver and then went face first into the ground trying to see if you could get into the center of the earth. Needless to say, your nose was spraying like a fire hydrant on 125th Street the dead of July. I don’t know how in the hell I got out of that with mom and dad. “

I don’t know if it’s the terrible twos or girls being girls or if she has been possessed by Chucky, but my sweet little Mo has become Mo-zilla as of late. If she doesn’t get what she wants when she wants it, if we redirect her from one activity to another before she is ready, if her sister looks at her funny, she is screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs, kicking and flailing her arms and legs as though she’s being electrocuted, and generally making us want to jump in the car and leave no forwarding address.

I have thumbed through parenting books, asked other mothers whose opinions I respect and value for their advice, I’ve turned to my mother, in short done just about whatever I can to figure out how to weather this storm. I’ve on it so much, my prayer has become a simple, “God, you know. Just. . .please. . .”

In the midst of these Mo-zilla attacks, there have been some moments of bliss. Yesterday afternoon we found ourselves at my parents house and the dog needed to go out for a walk. Mo and I walked Sage down and around the cul-de-sac, let her do her thing and headed back to the house. Usually after her walk, Sage is taken off of her leash to run around the yard. Mo likes this part, chasing after the dog, the dog chasing after her and it’s funny to see them playing together. It was hotter than blue blazes yesterday and Sage wanted no parts of running around after her walk — she is 13 years old after all, but Mo was not to be deterred. Miraculously, an afternoon wind kicked up , so she and I ran around on the grass, blew bubbles and just enjoyed the latter part of the day.

We ran to the gate that belongs to the neighbors, ran back to the porch, then ran to the middle of the yard where I picked her up under her armpits, her little hands folded over mine. “Hang on! Hang on, Morgan,” I said as I swung her around and around, faster and faster. I set her on the ground and she tilted and whirled until she fell onto the ground laughing, laughing. She looked the smallest drunk you ever saw, swaying this way and that, laughing so hard she was snorting. This was our afternoon and it was wonderful.

I just want to hold onto that moment, all of great moments that make me relish being a mother to such an exceptionally beautiful child. I need to draw from them when I’m feeling like I’ll be one whose face you’ll see on a milk carton ’cause I’ve up and left from frustration. That afternoon, in the cool breeze and shade-dappled grass, we were a mother and daughter just playing. As I swung her around and around, again and again, I told her to “Hang on! Hang on!”, but now that I think about it, I was reminding myself to do the same.

I’ve spent the last two days on the couch watching TV, gone out to eat at least twice and have gone to the movies twice. As my waistline expands, my brain is bubbling out of my ears, I’m thinking, even when I was single, never have I ever just vegged out like this. It’s fan-freakin’-tastic. Of course, I’m not totally Joan Crawford; I definitely miss Mo and Co, but this has been a much needed break from the norm.

I’m feeling super lazy. So lazy that even though this lap-top is burning like hot magma on my leg, I’m still not going to move it, even while I post this questionnaire I lifted from BadAssGeek.

WHAT WERE YOU DOING TEN YEARS AGO?

Ten years ago, I was nineteen years old, probably finishing up packing up my junk to take back to college where I was going into my junior year and finally break out of my teens once and for all. More than likely, I was trying to convince my dad that my weeding the front yard and adjoining mulch bed should in no way be directly correlated to his driving me down to school. I mean really, why did his returning me to school to GET AN EDUCATION hinge on my performance of manual labor? Too much time in the sun for him, clearly.

WHAT ARE FIVE THINGS ON YOUR TO-DO LIST?
1. Revise existing to-do list from a ka-billion things to just a few million

THINGS I WOULD DO IF I WAS A BILLIONAIRE:

Well, there are these shoes that I have been wanting for a while now. . .
Practically speaking, I’d more than likely pay off my debt, the parents and sibling debt, set up trust accounts for Mo and Co, all the responsible things. Then, once I was sure that all the fiscally savvy duties were taken care of, I’d upgrade the wardrobe, upgrade the car situation, travel and generally be fiscally irresponsible for a little while.

FIVE PLACES I HAVE LIVED:

Massachusetts, New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia. I know that’s four, but within Virginia alone, I’ve lived in Reston, Ashburn, Williamsburg, Richmond and Norfolk.

THREE OF MY BAD HABITS:

1. Biting my nails.
2. Spending too much time on the Internet.
3. Being impatient with just about everyone and everything.

FIVE JOBS I’VE HAD:

1. Personal Banker
2. High School English Teacher
3. Executive Administrative Assistant
4. Movie Theater Film Projectionist
5. Waitress

HOW DID YOU NAME YOUR BLOG?

Ugh, I’m constantly spelling my name for people because they jack it up ALL the time, even after I’ve spelled it for them. No, I wasn’t named after Hillary Clinton or Sir Edmund Hillary. I’m Hilary. Hilary with one “L”. Don’t make me repeat myself. . .

So, I’m should be unpacking boxes, boxes and more boxes, but I pulled out the iBook and decided to poach some internet network from our new neighbors. Welcome to the neighborhood. Just wanted to share a few things that are giving me a certain joie de vivre as of late.

1. The move was pretty painless and stress-free. Of course, this being move #6 since I’ve been married to DH, we’re practically experts at this. I was nervous that trying to pack up an apartment with Mo and Co underfoot would result in a 40 pound box of giggling girls being taped up and shipped to Papua New Guinea parcel post, but it worked out. And, contrary to my previous unpacking experiences (you know, where I’m halfway unpacked with photos on the wall before the moving truck is even empty), I’m sitting on the sofa with lots of unpacked stuff all around and not even sweating it.

2. I found a box of summer clothes that I thought I had given to Goodwill! It’s such a score because not only do I not have to attempt wrangle myself, Mo and Co into the dressing room at Ann Taylor Loft in order to increase my supply of shorts from zero to at least a pair, the clothes that I found still fit!! How sweet is that! These are clothes that I haven’t seen since before Coever was a twinkle in DH’s eye. I’m still doing a little happy dance over it.

3. Our neighborhood is so Rockwellian, and I am loving it. Everyone knows everyone. The kids (of which there are 37 on the street) are turned loose on bicycles and tricycles up and down the sidewalk. I saw a couple pushing their wee one down the block, and the mom was sipping on a Bud, raising it in greeting to another neighbor who was having a glass of wine on their porch. Okay, maybe this last little bit sound more like Cheers, but you get the idea. Today, two little tweenage girls came over today with some homemade cookies to welcome us to the street. In the bag of cookies was a note that read, “Welcome to the Rockbridge Family” and they decorated it with magic marker flowers. So sweet. I almost channeled Annie and belted out, “I think I’m gonna like it here!”

4. My dear friend Karen Sue and our other friend Harvey are getting their learn on
In a nutshell, they have embarked on a 17 day trip to five European countries with 31 high school students. Oh, hilarity ensues and I get to read about it.

5. The Princess Bride is on tonight!!

Sorry dear reader (or I should say readers because I know that there are at least two of you), but as I write this, there are boxes to be packed and junk to be schlepped into waiting cars and moving vans. We are on the move, away from apartment living and into a lovely home! Yay!! It’s been a long time coming, but as I have often been told, good things come to those who wait.

Mo has been “catching” (her word, but I’m sure she means casting) spells with her magic wand in an attempt to help expedite the cleaning/packing/schlepping/moving process. Such a wonderful little helper I have. Co is doing her part, too, lest we forget, but I have tasked her with more important things, like cutting that first tooth. She won’t sit still long enough for me to snap a picture of it, but it’s there and it’s sharp!

Anyway, once the dust settles, I’m sure I’ll be back with scores of moving (mis)adventures to tell you about. Until then. . .

I was watching Inside the Actors Studio today while the girls were napping. This is a show that I don’t often watch, but I had seen a commerical for it showing that Mike Myers was going to be the features guest. Of course Myers is known for his various characters from SNL, but I’ve been a fan of his since So I Married an Axe Murderer . HEAD! MOVE! If you haven’t seen it, Netflix it.

Anyway, James Lipton does his one-on-one interview and then wraps up the show with a questionnaire put to his guest. Lipton said the questionnaire was popularized by Bernard Pivot, some French TV personality. I did some googling and wiki searching. Lo and behold! Lipton’s questionnaire is an adaptation of a version of a questionnaire created by Marcel Proust. Basically, the questionnaire is believed to reveal the true nature of the person answering the questions. I was intrigued (obviously) and decided to find out a little more about myself, choosing another adapted list that is usually found in the back of Vanity Fair, plus a bonus question that I took from Lipton’s list. Take a look and learn something new about me. Take the questionnaire yourself and learn something new about you.

1. What is your current state of mind? Scattered, multi-tasking, forward thinking (about tomorrow’s list of “to-do’s”.

2. What is your greatest extravagance? Giving my children what I’ve had and/or better.

3. What is your greatest fear? To live my life with more regrets than gratitude.

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others? An incorrigible sense of entitlement.

5. What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Frugality.

6. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? To be more patient with myself and others.

7. What is the quality you most like in a man? A chivalrous nature.

8. What is the quality you most like in a woman? Non-competitiveness

9. Which words or phrases do you most overuse? Scheisser (German for shit), Son of a goat!

10. Which talent would you most like to have? To be musically inclined with respect to singing and playing an instrument.

11. What or who is the greatest love of your life? The who would be DH, Mo and Co. The what has not yet been determined.

12. Where would you like to live? On a vineyard in the South of France.

13. What is your favorite occupation? Reading, photography, anything that allows me to be creative.

14. What is your most treasured possession? A typewritten account of her cruise to Bermuda with my grandmother written by my Great Aunt Marian, dated March, 1938.

15. Who are your favorite writers? William Golding, Audrey Niffenegger, David Sedaris, Roald Dahl, Amy Tan, Sandra Cisneros, Ayelet Waldeman, Kahty Reichs, Augusten Burroughs, Elizabeth Berg,

16. Who is your favorite hero of fiction? Paikea (Pai) Apirana from The Whale Rider.

17. Who are your heroes in real life? Anyone who has stepped outside of their comfort zone and learned from doing so.

18. What do you most value in your friends? Loyalty.

19. What is your most marked characteristic? Organization.

20. How would you like to die? Quickly, in as little pain as possible, and as a better woman than I am today.

21. What is your motto? Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it.

Bonus: If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? There are five people I would like for you to meet.

Mo and I were talking today about her upcoming third birthday. She’ll be turning the big three in about two months and has been talking about her party quite a bit lately. I can’t blame her, I guess. She’s gone to several birthday parties already this season. We threw a party/luncheon for Co who baptized yesterday, so that’s also fresh in Mo’s mind. Mo even talks about a birthday party for a little friend that was held last June. It was by no means a rager, but clearly, she had a good time. And I have to laugh, too because this was Morgan when she turned 1 year old. How she became a birthday party invitee and celebrant afficianado is beyond me.

Anyway, every now and then, I indulge Mo and ask her what kind of party she would like or who will be at her party or what kinds of things we should have. Her wants are pretty simple, so I have a feeling we’ll be able to accomodate.

A few weeks ago, she wanted a pink princess kitty party. Earlier in the year she wanted a princess mermaid rainbow party. Last week she wanted a princess Dora (no, please, God), party. Today she wants to have a princess balloon yellow cake party. There’s a recurring theme here, isn’t there. As our family dentist, Dr. Cohen, would say when he found a cavity, Oy vey.
Since she all but beat that idea into my head with her Bee-Bop Band drumsticks, I asked her what kinds of things we should have at her party. Her list, in her order, included:

1. presents

*5 second pause*

2. balloons
3. cake

Personally, I would put cake and presents on the same line, but that’s just me. When I asked her what else we should have to eat, she rattled off something about pizza, chicken nuggets and Chinese food. As for the cake, she wants a yellow cake and was emphatic about putting a candle on it that she could blow out. My little pyromaniac never missed an opportunity to blow out a candle. I said, “And then what should we do after you blow out the candle?”
Says Mo, “Then you can clap to celebrate me.”

Riiiiiiiight. No doubt she’ll be taking a bow right after that.

She’s been practicing.