Small Things: November 2006

What is it about boys and rain puddles that magnetically attract each other? I know I must not be the only mom who scans for rain puddles like land mines, trying to steer my kids around them. I tried just saying, "watch out for that puddle," but I finally realized that calling attention to it began an involuntary reaction, no matter how well-trained your child might be--kind of like when a dog spots a cat, or the cat hears a tuna can. It's instinct, apparently. As soon as the word "puddle" registers in the boy-brain, his feet kick in to gear, running straight to the middle of the largest one.

My son has been begging for rain boots for months now, and unable to find his size, I finally ordered a pair from L.L. Bean. (Heads-up, their most recent catalog has a free shipping code on the back.) They arrived yesterday, and to Jimmy's glee, we had a huge rainstorm last night. He went to bed giddy with anticipation.

This morning, instead of waking up to a sleepy Jimmy climbing into bed with me, asking for cereal, I woke up to: "MOOOOM! I HAVE MY RAINBOOTS ON AND I'M READY TO STOMP IN THE RAIN PUDDLES! MOOOM-MEEEEE!"

He was waiting for me by the front door, and he had already dressed himself, in oversized hand-me-down pants tucked neatly into the boots, a spiderman t-shirt, and then a backwards white undershirt on top of that. "Mommy, look, I'm wearing two shirts," he says proudly.

So I threw on some shoes, carried the baby outside, and followed Jimmy around while he stomped in puddles. He made a beeline for the 4-inch-deep pothole in the street, he's been eyeing that one longingly every time it rains. He stomped and jumped, counted off and leapt, backed and up and made a running leap, and then searched out smaller puddles in the area. When it was time to go in and get breakfast, I was expecting a protest, but surprisingly, he said, "Okay. That was fun!" Reinforcing my belief that puddle stomping is an involuntary impulse, and his had been satisfied.

This week my youngest brother-in-law, Bryan, shaved his head and boarded a plane, bound for what will likely be the most life-changing challenge he's ever faced.

I have a lot of affection for the youngest boy in the clan. When I met him, I was 16 and he was 5. I remember sitting next to him on the sofa watching TV before dinner, he would put his head on my shoulder and suck his thumb, and my husband (then-boyfriend) would tease him "Hey! What are ya doin' with my girlfriend?!" He has always been a sweet and loving guy, fun and outgoing. He once gave thanks at Thanksgiving dinner for "Football, Fishin', and Family." And though he is the youngest of the 4 brothers, he has grown up to be the biggest. (If you are reading, Jamie--get real, he can so take you!)

Though he never liked schoolwork, I know without a doubt that he's sharp as a tack. He didn't go the college route--he loves working on boats, excelled in a marine mechanics program, and then was drawn by the siren song that is the Navy. After some tug-o-war between my husband, the Navy Lieutenant, and the next-eldest-brother, Mike, the Coast Guard Lietenant, for their younger brother's soul (just kidding, guys) (sort of), and after talking with a recruiter a few times, Bryan came home one weekday with news. I would've liked to have heard him tell it. Did it start, "Hey, Mom, guess what I did today?"

He has spent the last few months since then training his butt off getting ready for boot camp. He is aiming to join a special forces team, working with boats, of course, and so he has even higher physical requirements and challenges to meet. As I sit here with my coffee and laptop, looking out on a sunny fall day, I wonder what his morning has been like. (Probably good that he won't be surfing the internet anytime soon to see that I've written about him sucking his thumb.)

It's one thing to wonder about the challenges he is facing right now. It's another to wonder about the challenges he could be facing six months from now.

Various critics of the war, including Micheal Moore and Rosie O'Donnell, have asked conservative supporters, "Would you send your child to Iraq?" Conservatives like Bill O'Reilly and Elizabeth Hasselbeck both responded that no one can "send" their child to war. Critics seem to think that's just evading the question, disagreeing with semantics. It is NOT just semantics. They could rephrase it and ask, "Would you feel this war is worthwhile if your child were over there?" Though even that is virtually unanswerable, because no parent can ever put a price on their child's life. Hell, I'd let Hitler go free to save my own baby's life.

But the real offense in the question is the implication, intended or not, that these incredibly brave men and women are children. Yes, most of them are young, and the loss of such young people is especially hard to bear. But every soldier and sailor made an informed and very grown-up decision to support and defend the Constitution. To bear true faith and allegiance to the same. And to obey the orders of the President of the United States, as well as the officers appointed over them. The honor and the selflessness they display is incredible, almost inconceivable, to the rest of us. To trust your superiors with your life. Why? For what? For the personal challenge, certainly. I watched that unfold in my husband, and again in my brother-in-law. Testing their limits, accomplishing more than they thought they could.

But what so many critics of this war miss, is that these young men and women, every one of them, believe that there is something more important than their own life. And they love this country so much, they believe in it's goodness, and it's greatness, AND it's responsibility to defend democracy and justice. Which in today's world means going out and promoting democracy and justice. To swear to follow your leader, your President, to war, is not the obediant act of a child toward a parent. It is the deep, selfless devotion of man or woman to our country, to believe our country has a duty.

The vast majority of our armed forces believe our cause is worth their life. They believe in the goodness of their leaders, and the sincerity of our intentions over there. Of course that means that our leaders owe them careful strategy, and we can and should demand that on behalf of our troops. Because as sure as I know that my husband WILL make his brother salute him after boot camp, I also know that our troops don't want to come home until their job is done.

And so the rest of us can't all react like a parent. We can't look at soldiers and see children. To do so belittles the maturity of their honor. And it erodes our determination to do the right thing. Changing the world is deadly, dangerous business. It always has been.

So I know this week has been hard for my in-laws. The last one at home has flown the nest, a third son in the service. Because they are parents, I know they are a little sad, a little scared, but immensly proud.

Godspeed, Bryan. I am humbled.