52 Weeks of Brotherhood: Missing Their Faces

On Missing the Brothers

Missing Their Faces

For the first time in three years, I turned the corner in between miles seven and eight… and my sons weren’t standing alongside the road, cheering me on. Due to a number of issues, the boys stayed at The Farm during the race. Actually, no family members came to cheer us on this time around, which we knew about in advance…

…but, goodness, I missed their big smiles and little (but mighty) voices.

It made me feel kinda lonesome out there on the road. You know, with 19,000 other runners and even more spectators. But still. There’s something about seeing your kids during a race that gives you a second (or third or twelfth) wind.

We met at a diner to pick them up later on Sunday evening. As they climbed over each other to get out of their grandparents’ vehicle, the first words out of their mouths were, “You did a good job on your race!” They each asked pertinent questions, asked how we felt, and offered massages the next day.

Having them show an interest in our running after the fact, when they didn’t have to be dragged along the course, almost felt as good as seeing their little faces along the course. Almost. They also told me all about the Steelers’ win, including some commentary on quarterbacks which I can only guess they would attribute to their grandfather.


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52 Weeks of Brotherhood: The One with the Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkin Patch, 2015

Pumpkin Patch, 2015

We once again managed to get to the pumpkin patch before they ran out of pumpkins. We went to the same pumpkin patch as last year, traveling back country roads out beyond where we live on one of those perfect October days you only dream of when you think about going to the pumpkin patch. Blue skies; the kind of blue you close your eyes and conjure up in your imagination when you want to see the bluest blue. The temperatures hovered around the mark in which your long sleeves left you a little warm, a little sweaty, but short sleeves would have left you a little chilled, too cool. The crisp smell in the air covered some of the pig smell, but not all.

The boys immediately set out to find the perfect pumpkin after jumping out of the car. I stopped, them of course, and made them stand for an obligatory picture or twelve.

Pumpkin Patch, 2015

Pumpkin Patch, 2015

It didn’t take long for the boys to find their preferred pumpkins. They’re not overly picky when it comes to orange spherical fall vegetables as decorations. LittleBrother’s ended up being a little taller, a little thinner, more oval-shaped than his brothers. I initially picked out a rather round pumpkin but, as motherhood goes, I let it go when BigBrother fell for it. I could see why; it’s just a perfect little pumpkin.

As we set our pumpkins aside, LittleBrother remembered the facial expression he made when I took a photo of the two boys with their chosen pumpkins last year. It’s fresh in his mind because the photo is currently featured on the October calendar page in the mudroom. He sees it daily and cracks himself up. He’s really a funny little guy.

So he made the same face this year.

Pumpkin Patch, 2015

I’m kind of hoping he makes the same facial expression for the duration of our pumpkin patching days… and beyond.