Category Archives: Fritz

07.10.09
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Camping with Teddy

Fritz is packing up for his first ever away from home for a whole week camp with the Boy Scouts. We tried to do this last year, but it didn’t work out. So far, no reports of e coli at camp this year, thank goodness.

Hanging out of the side pocket of his backpack, I noticed a Beenie Baby teddy bear dressed in camouflage. We got this bear when Bill was deployed in 2003, and even had our family photo from that year taken with the bear representing him. I felt it necessary to warn my sheltered son of the possible consequences of taking the bear.

“Someone might make fun of you,” I mentioned.

“It reminds me of Dad,” he said as though such sentiments would be instinctively understood and respected by all.

“I just want you to be prepared in case somebody doesn’t know that. You might have to explain it, and they might tease you anyway.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw was set. He’ll take that bear and defend it as though he were defending his family honor. I’ll be curious to hear when he gets back how that works out for him.

04.19.09
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No "I" in TEAM

Fritz wants to pitch. He’d probably be pretty good, too. He did well last year as pitcher.

Fritz is not on the pitching roster.

Fritz is the best fielder on the team. I’m not being prideful. He has the advantage of having a birthday just a few weeks past the age deadline. He is a really old ten year old and one of the oldest kids on the team. This is his fourth year playing baseball. He knows how to play the game.

Fritz is the third baseman.

Today, they played 4 innings before time was up. That’s 12 outs. Six were strikeouts and six were not. Of the six outs made by somebody other than the pitcher, three were by Fritz and he only played 3 of the 4 innings.

The coach is a wise man putting him at third. Overjoyed might be a good word to describe how he felt about Fritz’s performance today. Fritz, he said (rather giddily), if you are in the field, you will be at third, always.

Unless I’m pitching, he says to me, with hope.

Son, you aren’t going to be doing much pitching, I told him. I had my own story about wanting to do one thing, but having my talents needed elsewhere. I can sympathize.

But that’s the thing about team efforts. It doesn’t matter what I want. The point of team sports is (should be) learning that the self is sacrificed for the benefit of the team.

Good lessons.

03.20.09
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Crossing Over

Coming-of-age genre films are not very popular in this house, mainly because they always seem to involve tears. Some people, women usually, like to have themselves a “good cry.” Not I. There is no such thing as a good cry. Crying gives me a headache. Crying makes my eyes red and puffy. Crying produces gobs of snot. And if the movie was a family film, then I have a passel of red eyed, snotty kids with headaches that I have to comfort when it’s over.

No, thanks.

Unfortunately, my life is a coming-of-age movie. I’m not the star, of course. I have already come of age, and then some. No, I am watching my children come of age. And my eyes are red and puffy.

Last night, Fritz crossed over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts. Earlier in the day, I had, as acting Awards Chair, filled out his Arrow of Light award. It was emotionally difficult, and I told him so.

“I’m growing up, Mom,” he told me, smugly.

That he is.

At the crossover ceremony, they have a small symbolic bridge. It’s a little wobbly, and some of the boys stepped gingerly to keep their balance. Not Fritz. I think only one foot actually touched the bridge as he skipped over it. He’s ready to take on the world. The Boy Scout world, at least.

But I am left recalling how much I cried when he cut his first tooth: “He’ll never have that gummy smile again!” I want him to grow up. I want him to enjoy his life. Naturally, if he were 11 and still had his gummy grin, I would be upset. But the joy I have in watching him grow is tinged with a sense of loss.

These are one-way bridges, and I’m left on the other side.

12.17.08
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Not the Big Brother

Last night, Bill very generously left work “early” (before 6 pm) and got home in time for me to attend a penance service sans children. Mary was not happy at being left behind, but she would have been more unhappy to attend a reflective service past her bedtime. And I would have been most unhappy at dealing with an unhappy baby at said reflective service and might possibly have nullified any potential grace received thereby.

As toddlers, my children are not as anti Not the Momma as they are when infants. With no other choice, they will eventually find solace on daddy’s shoulder and pass out from exhaustion. Or they might resolve to hold an all-night vigil awaiting my return. Either way, a few hours every so often without me doesn’t kill them.

Bill, though, long used to playing second fiddle to me, is now finding even that slight superiority being usurped by his oldest son. Mary spends much more time with her homeschooled big brother than with her works-out-of-the-house father, and she finds Fritz to be a fun and adequate alternative to her preferred caregiver. Fritz, to his credit, loves to dote on her, carry her around, play with her (anything, anything, to avoid doing school work, right?).

So last night, as she loudly informed everyone her opinion regarding Mom-going-out-for-the-evening, Bill would reach for her to offer his comfort, and she would swat him away while turning to Fritz. It was his chest I saw draped with her sleeping body when I returned.

Poor Bill. Not only is he Not the Momma, he’s Not Fritz either.

11.15.08
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Milestones

This past week, Mary climbed up on the step stool to see what she could see on the kitchen counter. She espied a fork, stretched forth her little arm, and wrapped her pudgy fingers around it. Since she held it like she knew what she was doing, I placed a small bit of pumpkin bread on the counter. She speared it with ease and brought it to her mouth and ate.

It doesn’t matter that she is my sixth child. It doesn’t matter that I have seen five other children learn the fine motor skills required to do such a task. It doesn’t matter that it is a mundane activity. It thrills me anew every time.

I cheered. I clapped. I called out to others nearby, “Look what Mary did!” They cheered. They clapped. We all smiled for a few minutes as we returned to our previously scheduled diversions.

*******

This past week, Fritz appeared one morning after breakfast in the kitchen. He was lugging his very full clothes hamper behind him. “Hey, mom,” he said. “I put on the last clean pair of pants in my dresser, so I brought up the laundry.”

I wanted to cheer and clap. I wanted to shout to the world, “Look what my son did!” This milestone of thinking ahead, preparing for the next day, recognizing a potential problem and taking steps in advance to ensure that the problem doesn’t occur is surely a greater accomplishment than using a fork to feed yourself. Does he not deserve the highest praises?

But somehow such antics seem facetious when directed at a 10 year old. Instead I calmly, but enthusiastically, said, “Great thinking! Thanks! I’ll make sure your laundry is the next load!”

And then I smiled for a few minutes as I returned to my previously scheduled diversions.

09.13.08
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Son, there is no Prussia any more

Fritz has trouble with his “r”s, and introducing himself is difficult. I advised him to spell his name to assist those who think he is saying “Chris.” I explained that Chris is a common name, and Fritz is not.
“Well, it was common in Prussia,” he said.
I mean, really. Everybody knows that Frederick II a.k.a. Frederick the Great was known as “Old Fritz.” What’s their problem?
09.04.08
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Music class

I don’t know why, but I’ve had the show tune New York New York running through my head. So, for several days, I’ve been dancing around, baby on hip, boldly belting out the lyrics.

Habits like these are one of the many reasons I’m glad I work at home.

It is a rather catchy song, and my kids have picked it up. One of them (Billy, the good memorizer) has the lyrics down pat. But he’s off on the melody.

Worse, Fritz listens more to him than to me, and he’s not as good with memorizing, so he’s hacking the lyrics and using Billy’s tune.

They’re driving me nuts. I spend half my time singing the song and the other half of my time trying to correct their singing of the song.

Peter has the melody down okay. It’s great to see him with his huge grin and big eyes, striking a pose, arms overhead, and singing at the tops of his lungs:

“New Yuck, New Yuck!”

I’m not correcting him.

08.24.08
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photos

I don’t know who took this photo, but I like the way the light is coming in through the window.

And another one with the same kids and more interesting lighting. Again, I only know who didn’t take the photo. And no, Fritz is not always watching the baby.
08.04.08
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Hearts Grown Fonder

Yesterday morning, Fritz walked out of the house, hands full with a fishing pole and sleeping bag. I chased after him, stopping at the door. “Bye, honey, I’ll see you in a week! I love you. I’ll miss you!” He barely looked back, but I could see him smile. “Bye, Mom.” Then he was gone.

We waited at the window to wave. As they drove off, Bill told me that Fritz said, “Yeah, Dad, she’s probably crying right now.”

So what if I was?

I did think about him all day long, hoping that he was doing okay and having fun. And missing him. In the late afternoon, I passed Billy rehydrating himself in the dining room. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

“Not too well,” he confessed. He then gave me a litany of all the things that were going wrong. Mosquitoes biting him, too hot, too sunny, etc etc etc.

I took his hand. “You miss Fritz, don’t you?”

He burst into tears. “It’s just not the same without him,” he cried. He went on about how he really wanted Fritz to come home, that he just couldn’t go the whole week without him. I told him we would all be fine, that we would have to manage, to comfort each other, to just get through this difficult time. Heavens! I thought. It’s a good thing he’s only camping!

Billy, comforted but still unhappy, went back to his water, and I checked on dinner.

A few minutes later, the phone rang. It was Fritz’s den leader. Despite checking in advance, the group got all the way to Goshen before being informed that the camp would close down due to an e Coli outbreak. Of course, everyone wants the kids to be safe, but it would have been nice to be spared all that driving.

I accused Billy, “Were you praying that Fritz would come home?”

He promised me that he wasn’t praying, just hoping. I told him that he needed to keep his happiness to himself, since Fritz would likely be extremely disappointed.

A bit later, Billy said, “Mom, I can’t remember Fritz.”

“Fritz? The guy you share a room with? The guy who’s been around since before you were born?”

“I know who he is, I just can’t remember what he is like.”

“Billy, he’s been gone one day! You saw him this morning! You’ve been apart from him for a day before.”

“When? When I was a baby? I don’t remember…”

Somehow, when Fritz got back after 9 pm, we were able to reintegrate him into our lives without too much effort. Yes, he’s disappointed, but I think he’s happy, too.