boys say the funniest things...

"Where's my good morning hug?"

His response: "I don't hug girls anymore."

I almost cried, but I'm not the sentimental type. Ha.

it's nice to have boys...

because they come up with answers like this:

Doing geography this morning, Number Two had to label the four layers of the earth. He wrote 'mantle' and then immediately put "Mickey" in front of it. "Sorry Mom, I couldn't help myself" was his explanation.

passing of the genes

Apparently sarcasm is genetic. One of my boys attended a birthday party and when the dad pulled blinds down, the entire unit fell. My darling son looks at him and says, "Well, if you wouldn't buy cheap blinds, they wouldn't break."

Thankfully these are friends of ours who cherish laughter more than possessions.

boys say the funniest things...

Number Four got a belated birthday gift last night from his aunt. When he gave her a hug goodbye, he whispered in her ear, "It's not REALLY my birthday!"

boys say the funniest things...

Number Four got a late birthday gift last night. It was a Nerf dart tag gun with extra ammunition. He opened it up and I heard him yelling upstairs, "I'm rich with darts!"

car conversations

"Mom, when I get bigger and you die, then I'll be the boss and I won't have to pick up anyfing!"

prohibition

I may have to start a ban around here.

Maybe I should explain. I'm mortified by my kids. They can learn a song lyric by heart after hearing it one time. Which ordinarily wouldn't be so bad, but they don't have great taste in music and end up choosing lyrics that, well, mortify me. Why they can't memorize Bible verses or which slots the silverware go into is beyond me. Instead, they're savants at picking up words about alcohol or women that are sung to a catchy tune.

It all started when my husband switched radio stations while working on the addition. Out when the local Christian station and on came current country music. (To be fair, I had to agree with his reason - we both got sick of hearing the SAME song 14 times a day. Only I switched to Air1 for the Christian rock and he went to stereotypical redneck anthems.)

I should probably be grateful that I have children with great memories. But I'm not. It's a bit embarrassing/ridiculous/surreal to hear a six-year-old sing this:

"Rain makes corn; corn makes whisky; whisky makes my baby frisky."

I mean really. My husband has a hard time figuring out what makes me frisky, so I'm pretty sure that a kindergartener doesn't have a clue. There have to be better phrases that come through free airwaves into our house to bounce around in my boys' brains.

My four-year-old was into the "Pants on the Ground" thing for awhile, complete with a wiggly butt dance. Before that, he would belt out, "little bit of chicken fried; cold beer on a Friday night; pair of jeans that fit just right..." Yeah. And worse, after he'd sing, the stupid song would be stuck in my head for hours.

The older two aren't any better, although they'd graduated to Steve Miller Band classics like "The Joker" or the Eagles' "Hotel California" thanks to Band Hero. But even they have got caught up in the country music craziness - especially after Mom got a Taylor Swift CD for Valentine's Day. The older of the two likes to belt out "You Belong to Me," yet can't understand why girls steal his hat and won't give it back. The second crooner has latched on to Lady Antebellum (who I adore), but still something's not quite right when you hear an eight-year-old singing, "It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now..."

See what I mean?

Perhaps I'll enact a law that breaks some sort of Personal Freedoms when it limits what boys who pick up on country music lyrics way too quickly can hear. I'd call it the "No K102 4 U" statute. It would scramble inappropriate content so all they'd hear was static when the offending song was played. Maybe it'll have to mean inventing a special tool for the stereo that I can turn off and on at will. That way I can screen songs for them, but listen to whatever I want.

After all, not only is it appropriate for me to sing "God is great, beer is good, people are crazy," it's mostly true.

boys say the funniest things...

I asked Number Four: ‎"Are you reading the phonebook?"

"No, I'm seeing if my name is in it."

boys say the funniest things...

Little boy who is mad at mom for making him eat all his omelet: "Know what, Mom?"

"No, what?"

"When I grow up, I'm going to live somewhere ELSE!"

Don't think he quite knew what to say when I told him, "Good, I hope you do!"

evaluation

Hubby had the day off today and decided to help me out by doing schoolwork with Boy #2 and Boy #3, bribing them with ice cream sundaes if they got everything done for today and more. This would be approximately four hours of actual school work time, if they actually sat down and did it without crying and whining and daydreaming. I chuckled to myself because I knew the bribe, while clever, probably wouldn't work.

After half a day of trying to install maple flooring (in between bouts of "I don't know what to do" and "This is too hard" and "I need you to help me" and "I don't know what nine times seven is") he plopped himself on the ground, looked at me and said, "I seriously think you need a psych evaluation!"

Now, I'm thrilled that he understands why I'm sometimes still in pajamas when he gets home from work and why I sometimes call him several times a day to insist the boys are getting on the bus the next day and why I am making no progress on my tile work. But I'm not as thrilled by the insinuation that I might be crazy.

Wonder what the evaluation would reveal. But really, I'm probably better off not knowing.

idiot #1 and #2

Every once in awhile, I run across a parent (or set of parents) who leave me speechless with their stupidity and lack of parenting skills (or maybe both). Even worse, I had been warned by hubby, so I shouldn't have been so shocked. And yet... I'm still shaking my head.

Last night at my son's wrestling match, a teammate of his was wrestling and as soon as things weren't going his way, he started bawling. Hubby told me about the tears, but I wasn't quite prepared for how much this boy acted like a baby.

I also got a close-up view of the lack of intelligence sitting three people down from me. It was a bit scary. After losing, the boy tromps over to his mother and father, sobbing for reasons unknown. Okay, I guess I can understand crying because you lost your match, but not bawling at this decibel nor what happened next. He started screaming at one parent or the other (I couldn't really make out what he was saying through all the whining and tears.) Then, when the parents either couldn't understand him or didn't give him what he wanted, he KICKED HIS MOTHER!!!

The father sitting next to me (not the father of this child) told me it would be suicide if one of his kids did that to him. I couldn't agree more. I was stunned. First, that this happened and second that the parents DID NOTHING ABOUT IT. They didn't even look surprised.

My kid would have been hauled out of the gymnasium, had a severe "talking to" and then would have been marched to his coaches to explain why he would be leaving and wouldn't be allowed to wrestle his second match. Then at home would be some real consequences that I'd dream up - like cleaning toilets and handwritten apologies and hmmm, I'm sure I could come up with something fun. I seriously doubt a child would try something liking kicking a parent after all of that.

But there was none of that last night. The mother looked slightly embarrassed but did little else.

This boy's second match was even worse. I had a little bet going with the guy next to me about how long it would take the kid to start crying. He guessed 30 seconds and he was almost dead-on. Halfway through the first period, this boy got put on his back by a far superior wrestler and started squealing like a stuck pig. This isn't an exaggeration. Tears on the wrestling mat, while silly, are common in youth wrestlers. Screeches are not and especially when they reverberate across the gym so that there was no mistaking the source.

I know we all take the easy way out once in awhile. But, it boggles my brain when people cannot figure out that if they consistently do that with children, they are only inviting more problems and more fights and more meltdowns later on. Giving in now to bad behavior like this does nothing but delay the issue and permit it to grow into a bigger, much more difficult issue in the future. Do I deal with this now when it's a small battle or do I allow it to become an all-out war when my child is 9 or 11 or 16?

So, here's to you - idiots #1 and #2 - for reaffirming my decision to discipline my children as consistently as I can, so as to not raise brats. Thank you for providing me with a perfect opportunity to praise my son for not acting like a baby after he lost his second match. And most of all, thank you for showing me that my children, even though I get frustrated with them, are pretty darn good kids. Compared to yours, my son is a gem.

one month later

It's a bit surreal this many days after a loss. I'm far enough away to feel better physically, to not be angry and to talk about it all without going berserk. But I'm close enough still to feel sad and numb and even a bit like my emotions could still get the best of me when I least want them to.

So, my goal for the next month is to avoid pregnant women, babies, all the thoughts that crop up in my head late a night and songs by Sinead O'Connor.

Do-able? Hardly.

Well, I can avoid sad, angry songs and I can either read myself to sleep or take Tylenol PM. Beyond that - little is in my control.

One month later is a tough place to be in for another reason. Because I sound fine and look fine and feel fine, I think most people just think I am fine. And for the most part, I am. But, all it would take would be one little thing like the whiff of a newborn or seeing a women about as pregnant as I should have been and I'd probably be a puddle of tears. I'm not sure that most people would anticipate or expect that from me.

I know there isn't a time limit or a set schedule for grief, and yet we tend to put that on people. We unconsciously think, "Oh, it's been awhile now; she should be doing much better." And then we're surprised at how fresh the pain can still be - both when it happens to ourselves and to others. We're uncomfortable with mourning - and especially mourning beyond a certain undetermined time period in our minds.

And believe me, the mourner is just as uncomfortable. We tell ourselves that we shouldn't still be emotional. That we shouldn't still be so sad. That we should be over this by now. We tell ourselves all of this and yet we're still a mess and sad and not over anything. We just don't feel the pain quite as acutely - it's more of a dull ache than a stabbing heartbreak.

Now is the messy part of recovery. Now is when we battle ourselves with stupid expectations and time tables. Now is when we most need hugs and small reminders of God's love and care for us. Now is when we are most susceptible to bitterness. Now is when we are most likely to stuff our emotions and become numb to both pain and joy.

We're fine, but we're not. And it's only been a month.