Joe Everything

Often times, when I go back and look at old posts, I feel a pang of guilt at not having written as much about Joe in the first four years of his life as I did about J.P.

Generally, I haven't found or made the time to post as often as I used to, instead posting photos and random thoughts on Twitter and Instagram.  Also, my audience has changed, insofar as my mom doesn't use her computer anymore.  Until that happened, I didn't realize how much of what I write on this blog was for her.

Here's the point, though, and it really hit home the last couple of mornings as Joe and I played "Thomas Pop Up" (aka Trouble) on the bed before I took him to summer camp at Children's House - Joe is everything to me.  He's so like J.P. and yet, at the same time, he's so different from J.P.

Joe is perfectly content playing by himself, as he has had to be, I guess.  Unlike J.P., who had Jude and me all to himself of almost four years, Joe has never had that luxury.  From the day he was born, our attention has been divided - evenly, I hope - between Joe and J.P.  Joe is more of a "mama's boy" that J.P. but not in a negative way.  He loves his mother most of all, which is as it should be.  It's truly one of the joys of my left to hear him walking downstairs each morning while I'm making J.P. breakfast, then watch him streak behind me at warp speed and jump delightedly into Jude's arms for a good morning hug.

Joe is a sweet kid, like J.P., but he's all boy, too.  At this point, anyway, he doesn't seem to be too concerned about hurting other people's feelings by things he says or does.  He has no problems pilling on J.P. when he (J.P.) says something or does something to get into trouble.  He's more physical than J.P. ever was at four.  If he's mad at me or if I'm bugging him about something, his first reaction is to try to punch me or kick me.  It's hilarious, actually, because when he decides he wants to "fight" me, he crouches down and holds his fists - upside down - out in front of him, moving them slowly in a circular motion.  Apparently, it's his best imitation of a Paul Gaustad hockey fight.  "I'm going to fight you like Paul Gaustad," he says.

J.P. and I play a game where I'll grab J.P. in a bear hug or start throwing fake punches at him.  Immediately, no matter what he is doing at the time, Joe runs over and attacks me.  He revels in "saving" his big brother as he throws haymakers at me, punching my back and legs.  Then, I'll grab Joe and he'll yell "save me!" after which J.P. jumps on m back.  And on and on.

I like Joe's aggressiveness and I'm kind of excited to see if it carries over to the soccer field this fall with Joe's first foray into soccer.  I also like the fact that he has the self-confidence to play by himself and to entertain himself and I hope it translates into his not being afraid to be his own man as he gets older.  In other words, I'm hopeful he'll be a leader and not a follower.

Joe is extremely competitive, which I also love.  Lately, we've been playing a lot of "Pop Up Thomas (the Train)" (aka "Trouble").  My mom and I used to play Trouble every morning before I walked across the street to go to kindergarten in California, so playing with Joe completes the circle for me.  When J.P. plays with us and Joe's man gets bumped back home or, God forbid, he loses, Joe erupts like a small volcano, crying and pounding his feet and fists on the bed.  J.P. and I call him "the Rage Monster."  Last night, for example, when I won the game, J.P. and I dissolved in fits of uncontrollable laughter as Joe raised complete hell about losing.  I love it because I've long believed you can dial back that kind of competitiveness but you can't put it in a kids who is not wired that way.

Joe has zero fine motor skills.  As his teachers pointed out to us in the spring parent-teacher conference, he can't draw a straight line or write his letters.  My response?  That's fine, but have you seen him hit a baseball?  His gross motor skills are at 12 on a scale of 1-10, because he has spent so much of his life going to J.P.'s practices or games in soccer, baseball or basketball.  He's an animal.

And his laugh.  Sometimes, like this morning, when he got tickled when I accidentally hit the Onstar button in my truck as I was dropping him off for camp at Children's House, he erupts in deep throated  gales of laughter as he grins from ear to ear.  When he laughs like he did this morning, for me it's like the clouds parting the sun shining brilliantly down, brightening everything in touches.  I could live on Joe's laughter as it touches and fuels my soul and reminds me of why I am here on this earth.

Joe loves to watch sports.  All sports.  Whether it's major league baseball, Premier League soccer or women's college softball, Joe immediately picks a team and cheers for them - loudly - like it's the most important game in the world to him.  And it is.  On many occasions, we have been out to eat or waiting at a restaurant for takeout, watching a game on television, only to have Joe spontaneously scream with delight or disappointment at something that happens in a game he is watching.  When that happens, people invariably turn to look at us and smile at his enthusiasm.

To loosely, very loosely quote John Prine, Joe is my everything.