Post Mother’s Day Confession

I’ve REALLY been needing to blog lately.  The time has escaped me.  I felt guilty posting this yesterday, on Mother’s Day.  But today is another day – thank goodness.  Here’s the confession – I love my boys every day, but lately I don’t like them.  Hardly.at.all….  There I said it.  Judge me if you will, but you know you’ve been there.  Right now I’m praying for a full time job for scores of reasons, but among them is that I would have childcare during the day and perhaps, PERHAPS I might enjoy them a bit more during the time I had with them.

CONFESSION #1

Here’s how it breaks down.  The 7 year old is all smart mouth, toilet humor and fart noises – constantly.  I know, I know, that’s just males as a gender.  Seven year olds are prone to this behavior especially.  This I know.  But as Husband can attest I’ve never thought this was funny-EVER- and it just ticks me off, frankly that I can’t make him stop.  Don’t get me started about his father goading him on.  I guess in some (most) ways I was born older. 

That little one…. Oh my that little one…  I’m fairly certain he’s either plotting to kill me or to see that I end up at Moccasin Bend (the local mental hospital).  While awake he has two settings.  Those settings are whine and cry.  Save from the rare occurrences when he gives me a wolfish grin and then kisses me and says, “Mama.” It’s probably part of his master plan.   Speaking candidly, I prefer cry.  Whining is worse than nails on a chalkboard.  I can block out the crying.  But the whining...  Paging Moccasin Bend…..  And to top it all off, he hits me.  He hits his brother he hits the dogs.  Big brother runs in the other direction if he comes vaguely in his direction with a toy.  “Reed’s gonna clobber me!  Helllllpppp!!!!”  I feel the same way.  I feel the same way...

CONFESSION #2

I have a favorite child.  Yep.  I said it.  I sure as heck do.  But here’s the thing – it changes constantly.  Lately the favorite is who’s irritating me the least.  I’ll admit that is Mr. Fart Noises.  Why?  Elementary!  He’s in (Elementary) school until 2:45.  Ergo I have to endure the crudity for a short while in the morning and from about 3 o’clock on.  The whining is non-stop.  NON-STOP!  Even husband asked on Mother’s Day, “Does he do this all the time?  How do you deal with it?” 

What am I gonna do about it?  No idea.  Right now I intend to drink some wine and basque in the quiet that exists only when two boys are ostensibly sleeping and husband is out of town.  Night…

Thanks Yoda!

I love Star Wars – the first three movies.  Or Episodes IV, V and VI I guess…You know the ones with Mark Hammill, Carrie Fischer and Harrison Ford.  In case you don’t remember, Yoda is a Jedi Master or he’s reached the highest level of understanding the Force.  He’s a green and troll-like.  His cadence of speech is almost like an old, New York Jew.  He is full of wisdom, quips and anecdotes.  Honestly, I think he is full of AWESOME.  Despite being a fictional philosophy/religion, “The Force” has some great principles:  Sure it has its fanciful qualities like controlling the thoughts of others, using your mind to move large objects, detecting a “disturbance” in the Force (OK, I kinda think that one is real) and the dead communicating with the living.  But in terms of useful tenets the Force holds that evil exists and that people have to do all they can to resist and defeat it.  Those who follow the Force are self reliant, honest, confidant and have to disregard what others think.  They have to have large amounts of integrity.  In my book these are all great qualities to instill in children -especially boys. 

Bruce takes his first standardized test next week.  WTH!!!  Don’t even GET ME STARTED!  First graders taking a standardized test is ludicrous and ill-conceived in my opinion.  In class they have been taking many practice tests lately.  Bruce shared that the class gave him the dreaded “thumbs down” and did the “shame on you” sign to him.  Apparently there was a series of instructions that he failed to follow resulting in the class gestures.  We talked it over and I asked him, “Bruce are you going to listen and follow directions tomorrow?”  He answered, “I’ll try.”  And I replied with my favorite Yoda quote: “Do or do not.  There is no try!!!!”

Thanks Yoda for the wisdom.

On the way to school this morning he amended his story.  He said that the class didn’t give him thumbs down or the “shame on you.”  Mrs. Welch just instructed him to listen.  Yeah, we’re gonna work more on that honesty quality too. 

Check this our for more of Yoda's wisdom.

Why bother???

I know I'm not Cupcake War material.
But I'm trying....

In an effort to revive my campaign for Mother of the Year for the Greater Tri-State Area, I decided to make birthday cupcakes for Bruce’s class.  I phoned it in for his Valentine party earlier in the week by sending store bought cookies. 

I get the makings for cupcakes with butter cream frosting and excitedly tell Bruce that we get to make cupcakes for his class.  He pauses, looks at me as if I’m dim and says, “Why we just buy ‘em.  It’s easier!” I answer him, “Well, just because!”

At home he feigns interest for about 3 minutes then he puts himself on the opposite side of the baby gate and pretends to be in jail.  He learned the hard way that you don’t get to lick the spoon if you don’t help make the cupcakes. 

Again, vying for Mom of the Year, I make and color the icing and break out the pastry bag and icing tips.  I do this once a year MAYBE.  I’m not exactly Cupcake War material, but I’M TRYING!  I ask Husband what he thinks of my attempt to give our son the memories of home baked goods for Bruce’s birthday and he responds, “They’re OK I guess…”

Why do I even bother….

Snips and Snail and Puppy Dog Tails – Little Boys

Somewhere along the way, me, this biggest girly girl-high maintenance-border line diva, became and expert on little boys.  Go figure.  Today, both of them were acting especially “boyish.”  I began to think about family, friends and others who just got a boy, are about to have a boy or have a 50-50 shot at a boy. 

BOY - gets wrapped in cords,
doesn't care how to free himself

Here’s a list – in no particular order, not in any way comprehensive of what I know about boys…

·         New shoes make a boy run “real, real real” fast!  Upon the purchase of new shoes, expect a demonstration of just how fast the new shoes allow the boy to run.

·         A cape, and on occasion wings, with 100% certainty allow a boy to fly.  Be prepared to catch or break a fall from some odd places.

·         No matter how hard you try, or what soap you use, you CANNOT wash off “little boy smell.”  It’s an odor that is a muddle of rust, dirt, sweat and faint tones of soap.  Thank God for it, too. (Thanks, Kerri Case for reminding me)

·         You know a little boy has had a good day playing outside when, at the end of the day, he hurts himself and cries.  His face is so dirty that tears leave stripes through the dirt on his face. 

BOY - Will catch snakes!

·         He’ll catch bugs, and (heaven help) a snake.  He’ll want to you be proud.  He’ll want you to touch it. 

·         Why walk somewhere when you can run! (Preferably in his new shoes)

·         Somehow, little boys are born knowing how to make noises that are spot on to trucks, cars, missiles, torpedoes and motorcycles.

·         Little boys are also born with a fascination about guns.  Without specific knowledge of what a gun looks like or how one works, he will make a gun out of his hand, legos, trucks, blocks, stuffed animals – anything.

BOY - Will show you his muscles and
make you draw on fake tattoos

·         He might not be able to do math or read proficiently (sample math problem:  Count on 5 from 3) but he can tell you’re the names and model years of tractors, cars and airplanes.

·         You won’t be able to convince him to potty train – that is until he learns he can go outside.

·         Socks might as well be disposable.

·         Little boys love their mamas! 

Don’t wait to make your son a great man – make him a great boy!                -Unknown

To Go On Record…

The Boundary Waters Canoe Area

Truthfully, I hope he has the time of his 6 year old life.  I hope he catches a fish as big as he is.  I hope he screams when he hooks it.  I hope it nearly pulls him out of the boat and his dad grabs him by the collar to keep him from going in.  I hope he cleans it and eats it.  I hope his dad gets a picture of a dirty faced, snaggle toothed smiling boy holding a monster of a fish.  I hope he sees birds and moose and other animals he’s never seen before.  I hope he appreciates nature and thanks the One who created it.  I hope he stays up late drinking hot chocolate by a campfire.  I hope he gets to hear stories from his granddad about when he was a boy.  I hope he gets so hot and dirty he jumps in the lake fully clothed.  I hope he falls asleep in the tent each night tired and contented.  I hope he comes home freckled faced and sun tanned with weeks and weeks worth of stories to share.

BUT I’m going on record believing this is NOT the best idea!

The boys with ther giant bag before they left this morning.

What am I talking about?  Here’s the back story.  Husband took Bruce fishing in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Northern Minnesota.  They fly from Atlanta to St. Paul today where they will then drive to Ely, MN.  Here’s where it gets interesting.  Husband and son are going with his dad, mom, sister and another couple we don’t know.  Why am I not going?  I’ll get there momentarily. 

Now for some reason I find this scenario odd and strangely off putting.  Why?  Not sure.  A family getting a house on the beach for a week is not odd.  A family going to say Tuscany for 3 weeks isn’t all together odd.  Families go on cruises together all the time.  But this THIS is peculiar. 

Husband’s dad (John) has been camping here since the 1960’s.  Husband’s family took their vacations here for many a summer.  His parents first took him when he was 3. 

See!  Manual labor. 
For me, this does NOT a vacation make!

A little bit about this place.  This is not your modern day camping.  This is hard core, primitive canoeing and camping.  We’re talking if you don’t catch fish you don’t eat.  We’re talking no camp ground, camp site, camp store, or electric hook ups.  Generators and motors are forbidden.  And yes – there are NO TOILETS!  You paddle in as far as you can.  Then you get out and make a portage to the next little lake.  In other words, you put a canoe and a pack on your back and make several trips with your belongings to the next put in place.  Sound like fun?  Yeah, me either.  And they are staying for a week! 

I had envisioned husband taking Bruce.  But I thought it would be with another dad or two and their children.  Not quite like this.  Here’s where I have to raise my eyebrow a tad.  Although I know they are not malicious, I question the motives of those attending this little excursion.  Four septuagenarians and a 41 year old woman of only average strength are going to need some help.  I fear husband has signed on for a week’s worth of indentured servitude and yeoman’s work.  Which is fine.  He’s a grown man.  If he wants to burn his vacation time on what might be called a fool’s errand, far be it for me to intervene.  But this time, he’s got my son with him.  Actually this irritates me too that he’s taking valuable vacation days gallivanting with his parents and sister, while I’m (HIS WIFE) stuck in the GTSA (Greater Tri-State Area).

Think they're related???
Husband, his Uncle Ralph and Dad John circa 2004. 

Bruce has never ever done anything remotely like this.  Who has?  And military service doesn’t count.  For Bruce to be kept safe, entertained, safe, warm, safe, dry, etc., it’s going to take someone dedicated solely to that end.  In other words, Husband (who has put his fishing and exploring ambitions on hold for this trip) needs to deal with the child and not be the lone worker bee for the camp. 

Now, to the reason’s I’m not attending.  Firstly, that pesky baby!  Secondly, I don’t participate in any activity containing the word “primitive.”  The aforementioned primitive camping, primitive Baptist, primitive cooking, primitive art, primitive transportation, none are my cup of tea – EVER!!!!  Sure I probably could have taken the baby to Arkansas so I could go on this journey through one of the outer circles of hell.  I’d have a horrible time and everyone else would too.  They’d probably take a secret vote to just leave me behind and pick me up on the way out if I managed to live. 

So despite feelings of frustration, nervousness and of just plain being left out – I wish my big boys well on their expedition.  The little bit and I will hold down the fort here. 

I left husband with these words however, “Bring my first born back safe to me!  Husbands can be replaced, sons can’t!”  I think he got my meaning.