One of Four: A very brief look into household with four boys

There was never a dull moment in the Spofford household.  My parents got married in 1983, and by 1992 they had blessed the world with four lovely boys.  Everywhere we went, people would come up to my mom and say something like "wow, four boys, how do you do it!?"  The simple answer to that, was with love and patience, but I'll say more about my parents later (and for those of you that have met them know that the contrast between the two is immense), but today I am going to talk about some of my more formative experiences as the third in a family with four boys.

From back to front: Joe, Josh, Me, Isaiah

In Mississippi, kids in my neighborhood spent a lot of time playing sports outside (summertime was much like The Sandlot, except we didn't only play baseball.)  On any given day, you could find a solid number of kids playing baseball, football, soccer, roller hockey, basketball, among other things.  This specific group of kids was older than me by at least a couple of years, but I wanted nothing more than to be able to play with them (mostly because my brothers were playing too).  I would linger around the games, watching the boys play, cheering on the good plays, and making sure they knew I was there, just in case I got a chance to prove my skills.  I would bring my own ball and throw it high in the air, working on my catches, so I would be ready for when my time came.  AT LAST, it finally happened!!  They were playing football at the time, I got to be on Joe and Josh's team, I was so excited.  We got in the huddle, and Joe said, "alright, Noah, you get to be the running back" (THE RUNNING BACK!? I thought excitedly, not only did I get to play, but I got to carry the ball).  We ran the first play, and they handed the ball off to first grade Noah (against kids up to 6th grade), I got it, and ran as fast as I could towards the end zone.  My brothers did a great job blocking, but there was one kid that was bigger than all the rest of us, and he was between me and a touchdown.  I covered the ball and ran as fast as I could towards him.  I tried to do a move to get by him and was close, but he dove and grabbed me and tackled me to the ground, landing on top of me (oof!).  It hurt so bad, but I didn't want my chance to slip away, so I popped up and ran back to the line of scrimmage.  The other boys were surprised at how tough I was, and from then on, I was allowed to play with the big boys.  I attribute a lot of my skills to the fact that I was always playing against people that were older than me (a trend that continued throughout my life), and am extremely grateful to have older brothers that challenged me to play with them.

Me and Baby Zay

As they got older, their interests and mine naturally grew apart, (they were starting to like girls, YUCK!) and I began to spend much more time with my younger brother, Isaiah.  If he were writing a blog, he would be sure to include the fact the he was not into sports as a little kid (I suspect it had a lot to do with the fact that we spent nearly every one of his birthdays at a soccer field), so therefore, we spent a lot more time using our imagination to create worlds to play in.  We spent an inordinate number of hours outside (usually in the woods), in our rubber, knee-high rain boots, "chopping down trees" with baseball bats and hockey sticks.  We also let our imagination run wild at our neighborhood pool, where we would wrestle in the shallow end as our alter-egos, Noah Meister Meister Noah and Isaiah Chokery.  Wrestling with Isaiah was always fun, until about his sophomore year in high school, where it became clear that he was much stronger than I was.  As we grew older, Isaiah became more and more interested in sports, and our play generally became more centered in sports (but usually our matches would end in some sort of wrestling match anyways), but the the way he and I played as children was super important in my developing a  perfect balance between my love of sport and the use of a vivid imagination.

Sharing space with three brothers also came with a great lack of privacy.  The bathrooms in the Spofford household were more like a men's locker room, with us boys coming and going, taking care of our business as was necessary.  It was not uncommon for all four of us to be hanging out, having a chat and doing what we needed to do all at the same time. 

When we were very little, we all shared the same room (practical, because my parents were just across the hall and could get to us quickly if there was anything wrong).  As I got older, we split up two and two, with Joe and Josh in one room, and Isaiah and I in the other (for the most part).  For a brief stint, Joe and I shared a queen bed, in which, we would often wake up a lot closer than when we went to bed.  Even when the older boys moved off to college, instead of jumping at the chance to have my own room, Isaiah and I decided that we preferred sleeping in the same room, leaving an empty bedroom in the house.  On many occasions, Isaiah and I would stay up "late" talking about nothing, and cracking each other up with stupid jokes and stories.  Once I got into high school, I would stay up later than him, and go into the bedroom when I was more tired.  At this time, Isaiah slept on the floor (because it was more comfortable for him, not because we didn't have any beds), and he began sleep talking at me saying "Noah, we need to hang out 28 minutes a day, it's going to be great."  It was certainly surprising, and he sounded so alert, so I shook him a little bit to tell him what he was saying... boy was that a bad idea.  Somehow, he slid out of his sleeping bag and ended up standing over me in my bed swinging away (the punches were not super hard), and suddenly just as swiftly as he was on my bed, he was back in his sleeping bag.  To this day, I have no idea how he did it, and he has no recollection of this happening.

A lack of privacy, also meant a very open personal life.  I remember when I was in sixth grade, getting ready to go to my first ever dance, I put on an outfit that I thought would serve its purpose.  When I got out of the bathroom, Joe and Josh preceded to change everything I was wearing and start to give me a pep talk about dances (and how to dance).  I WAS IN SIXTH GRADE!  The dances in jr high always went from 7-9 and I was ready to go at 6:45, so I could be there on time.  Joe agreed to drive me, so I was cool with that.  Unfortunately, he insisted that it is much cooler to show up late to these things, because no one shows up on time to a school dance, and drove me around for an hour bumping rap music to me pumped up.  When I finally did show up at the dance, the outside doors were locked and I had to knock on the door for one of the teachers to let me in.  I was so embarrassed, and more nervous than I was an hour prior.

Junior High Noah (I know, more attractive than grown up Noah)

I could continue forever, but I fear that I have given readers enough material for today.  If you like these stories, there are hundreds more, so stay tuned!!