Beware The Ides of March

It’s the day of ultimate betrayal.

Anyway, CROSBY IS BACK! And I finally feel like it’s safe enough to comment on this without jinxing anything. I’m not watching the game due to Alabama limitations. And I can’t really keep up with what’s going on because of the ESPN boycott. But I texted Binks. This was the exchange:

Me: how’d Crosby look?
Binks: He just picked up an assist!
Me: sweet. does he look like he’s playing normally?
Binks: Yeah looks like he’s been playing all season

HOORAY! Time to pull out the confetti cannon and breathe the most epic sigh of relief.

Anyway, speaking of Binks. I feel like I can’t really refer to him as Binks anymore. The kid is 21 now. And spent the first week of being 21 getting drunk every night. Then he took one night off to rest his liver and went back at it. He sent me this quote from his roommate:

You just had a potato and beer yesterday? Are you sure you aren’t Irish?

I’ve never been more proud. And incidentally, we actually are relatively Irish. He just doesn’t “look” like he is. Even with the acknowledgment that not all Irish people are gingers, he still doesn’t look Irish. No Irish person tans that easily and darkly.

Side note: Chris, his roommate, is the younger brother of Kelly. I love life and it’s interconnectedness. It’s nice that my little brother is best friends with my best friend’s little brother.

Speaking of potatoes and drinking and being Irish, St Patrick’s Day is SATURDAY this year! Which means DRINKING ALL DAY. I’m totally gonna power through my clinical stuff tomorrow so that I can go out on Saturday and study for our first exam all day Sunday. I got this under control.

Anyway, back to Binks because I got off topic as per usual. He’s so old now that he has a real girlfriend and real adult decisions to make about his future and early full-time employment versus finishing college the normal way and all kinds of things. I’m super proud of him. Like more proud of him than I’ve ever been of anyone my whole life. He has his shit together. It wasn’t always this way though. He really overcame a lot of stuff to become this person. I’m not going to get into details because that would basically be a public betrayal of his trust and I’d never do that to anyone, let alone my little brother. But trust me, if you knew, you wouldn’t believe how it’s possible for him to have ended up the way he did. For these reasons, he’s one of my heros. For real.

About calling him Binks though… I just kind of feel like at some point, I’m not going to be able to refer to him as such. He’s an adult now (and 6’8″). Hardly little. At some point, the nickname that Mary and I bestowed upon him years ago will have to go. My kids can’t be calling him Uncle Binks afterall. When my mom and dad and everyone else say “Dan” I obviously know who they’re talking about but it like immediately translates in my head to “Binks.” Names are weird. I think Mary and I talked about this recently. But I can’t remember what her input was.

Even with these inevitable adjustments, I’m kind of embracing the future. I can’t wait to see how we all continue to grow and where we end up.

Here’s a montage of Binks from birth to high school (minus middle school because, as is the case with most people, there was nothing really cute or remarkable about him then… haha)

That one was uploaded just because Mary’s face is hilarious. She’s the weird one. There will be more proof of that fact to come.

When Binks and I were looking through old pictures, I showed him another one and said, “This one’s pretty much the cutest one of you.” Then he handed me that picture up there and said, “Here. You can’t beat me with kittens.” Haha TRUTH.

That picture is another one just to prove that Mary was the weird one. Why is she wearing a muumuu?! And what is she doing?! Fast forward 70 years from now. She’ll be the craziest lady at the nursing home and she’ll be doing the same thing. The picture is also significant because we’re in front of my dad’s truck and this is awesome/sad because he sold it so he could go to grad school and still take care of us. But he loved the shit out of that truck. He restored it all by himself. If I’m ever rich, I’m buying him another one as a thank you for so selflessly raising us.

Dad and Binks with the truck…

To be fair though… She’s equally as cute as Binks in that one.

And that one.

I posted that pic because it’s one of my all time favorites of us with Grandpa. Even though Mary is mostly hidden. I miss the good old days on the farm.

The poor kid had to ride a hand me down girl’s bike. But he still went on adventures obviously.

This is another one of my favorites. It showcases our lifelong collective effort. It was technically Mary’s birthday though. She had perfect hair that day.

I miss Rascal. RIP puppy… ❤ ❤ ❤

First day of kindergarten… Yikes!

Not gonna lie… I don’t understand that one at all. The basketball hoop was a Fisher Price toy that every kid should have though. We got it for Christmas when I was four or five, I think. And it entertained us for YEARS after that. I also got my first tutu the same year. And the “lifelong athlete or ballerina?” identity crisis began.

I obviously hadn’t taken a class yet. Terrible form.

After the Fisher Price basketball hoop served it’s purpose, we got a real one. A decent quality one. But we broke the backboard more than once. Good thing it had a lifetime warranty and was replaced for free every time! Proof:

What kind of basketball were we playing?! Back to Binks though… Goddammit, even when I’m just posting pictures, it turns into a tangent.

And now, here are the two pictures of Binks that will forever make me laugh.

Hardcore competitiveness. It runs in the family.


Here he is with his first deer at the tender age of 12. It’s a rite of passage if you’re from the country.

And here are two pictures of high school. Basically, him playing sports. Because when else do your parents take pictures of you in high school except when you’re actually doing something. At 17, you’ve ceased to be cute. So taking a picture of you reading a book just isn’t interesting anymore.

They made the finals for Sectionals in basketball his senior year.

They won Sectionals for tennis that year.

Unquestionably, the basketball and tennis teams were good as a whole and not exclusively because of Binks because one person can’t make a whole team succeed. But still… on the list of things I’m envious of, his athletic talent probably ranks in the top 5. He only played tennis that one year!!!! His senior year was his first year of tennis… ever. And he rocked that shit. So unfair. I guess it’s hard to be bad at basketball and tennis when you’re so tall though. But still… he’s awesome.

If you’d have told me 12 years ago that someday my pesky little brother, #1 nuisance to my life, would become one of the people I most admired and respected, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Anyway, just for good measure… here’s some more proof that Mary was the weird one.

That picture right there of Mary at camp basically sums up why Junior weeks were my least favorite as a camp counselor. They got out of control. Easily. Trying to wrangle a group of 10 nine year olds by yourself can be a nightmare. Especially right before bedtime. Trying to wrangle a whole team of 9-11 year olds with just a few other counselors during any competitive event can be a nightmare too. Sometimes I really just wished I could have lassoed them together. It was still one of the best damn summers of my life though. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even if it meant reliving the experience of two kids throwing up in the middle of the night and then having to clean it up in the dark in the while not waking the other eight kids. By the time summer was half over, the thing that I dreaded most on a daily basis was getting woken up (by being poked in the face) and then hearing “I feel sick,” or “I can’t sleep,” or “I can’t go back to sleep,” or “I have to go to to the bathroom but I’m afraid to go by myself,” or any kind of combo of those like “I was afraid to go to the bathroom by myself so I accidentally went in my sleeping bag and now I can’t go back to sleep.” Sigh.

But as I said, it was one of the best summers of my life. When the kids aren’t being crazy or throwing up in the middle of the night, they’re pretty amazing.

UGH. Why do I get so tangenty? It really must be a procrastination defense mechanism.


One response to “Beware The Ides of March

  1. Pingback: Debilitating Homesickness | In Between A Rock And The Back Wall

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