What's normal?

Guess what.

I actually had a day. An entire day. With no drama.

My coffee pot worked and I got the lid screwed down the first time, there were no strange women peeping in my front door window, no Lucky Charms in the grinder, no fist fights, no extra children, no incidents of Jordan using inappropriate language around large groups of people, no requests for snakes or pets....no nothing?

I am almost scared to type this because I know that just as soon as I hit PUBLISH, something will happen.

My biggest drama today was that my acupuncturist decided to go all pin cushiony on me tonight. I was afraid to stand up at the end, because I thought I might start leaking like a collander. I sort of felt like Sponge Bob walking out of there, all full of holes.

Just me. Lunch. Work. My husband is home. Normal life? I guess?

Somehow the normalcy of the normal day seems very unnormal?

To be honest, I didn't miss the drama. It was nice.

Now that I am thinking about it, I'm not really sure where everyone even was at all day? Oops.

Maybe tomorrow something exciting will happen? I'm sure it will...this can't last long.

Today is the official one-month-before-school-starts mark I believe (I never know for sure, I always have to ask another parent, but I think I am close.)

I've made it two thirds of the way through the mayhem and madness of summer and a housefull of highschool and middle school boys (and an extra mom here and there in the morning.)

We're almost there.

But if there are any teachers out there wanting to get a jump start on the fall semester....you know where to find me. I've got three volunteers ready to go.

Well, they might need a bath first. Then they're ready.

Okay I'm hitting PUBLISH. Let's see what happens....stay tuned....or stand back.

(QOTB:What's your version of a nice, non-normal day?)

Read rest of entry

24 Hours

A snapshot of 3 scenarios in our little piece of heaven in the last 24 hours.

Yesterday evening, I made all 6 boys, including my own, check out of our hotel and re-locate elsewhere. Let another mom feed them for a day or so.

About 2 hours later, Jordan and his friend Daniel, magically re-appear, well before their intended return date.

And I can hear Jordan crying. Loudly.

You've gotta see Jordan to appreciate his sort of 'Grown Man/Baby Hueyness.' He looks much older than he is, but inside he's really just an 11 year old who wears his feelings on his sleeve sometimes. He was boo-hooing loudly, which basically means, 'mom, come see what is wrong.' I call him in my room where I was working and sure enough, he is just sobbing away.

What happened?

Charlie hit me, like right here, right on my cheek, with his fist.

(insert much more drama and tears. He's great at that.)

Jordan, why did Charlie hit you?

I don't know, he just did? (I know right away there is a bug chunk of the story missing here. Charlie would not just up and hit Jordan. Insert more sobbing, I mean he could win an Oscar.)

He just hit you out of the blue?


Well. I might have called him a PANSY first.
SCREEEEECH. (I'm using slamming brakes this time.)
Ahhh...the missing piece of the puzzle...I had to force myself not to laugh.

You called him a pansy?

Well, sort of.

I gotta give Charlie credit. Jordan is bigger than he is. I don't think Jordan'll be calling anyone a pansy anytime soon.

I explained to Jordan that if you are going to call another boy, and some girls, a pansy, you basically have 3 choices: duck, run, or be prepared to hit back.

****************************************************************
Flash forward 12 hours to this morning.

Tyler has a friend staying over.

Well, sort of. I kind of forgot he was here.

It's 7:30 am, I am getting ready for work, no kids downstairs sleeping for a change since I made them all leave.

I walk out of my bedroom (half dressed of course but, thankfully, covered enough), around the corner to go to the kitchen to get my beloved coffee pot, and I walk straight into the face of a 6 foot tall woman with tons of red hair, her face totally smushed up against my front door peering into my house through the smoky glass on my front door, eyes blinking right back at me.

Just imagine. Shannon. Pajamas. No coffee. Very tall woman whose face I cannot see, but I can see a lot of red hair, staring right back at me. No more need for coffee, I was wide awake, ready to lunge for the Brinks alarm panel.

I totally forgot her son was even staying with us. And I forgot our doorbell is broken. I need to pay one of the kids to act as some sort of front desk keeper or something.

I have no idea long she had been there.

I opened the door, she walks in and goes right upstairs to collect her very asleep teenager while I try to take deep breaths and slow down my heart rate.

Yep, I was able to bypass right over that coffee today. I don't think I even needed Visine.

************************************************************

Get home from work

Tyler comes in my bedroom, Chase follows behind him, hands over mouth, laughing.

That is not a good sign.

Tyler starts off with "Uhhhhh"

I'm thinking, okay, if Chase is laughing, whatever is about to follow the UH cannot be that bad.

I'm just looking.....yes????

Can I get a turtle?

A turtle? What? Like we don't have enough chaos around and you want a TURTLE and you're 16 with a drivers license and a job? Are you THAT bored?

Well, I wanted a pet...

No, sorry no turtles, they are boring, they die quickly, and they carry salmonella.

Okay well then if I cannot have a turtle, can I have a snake?

(Right then, I should have pulled out my Walgreens Home Drug Test and demanded a sample.)

I promise I'll take care of it!
(Those magic words they think will work this late in the parenting game? Really?)
(This statement brought on hysterical laughter from me.)

What, are you like suddenly 8 years old again?

Dogs...cats....hedgehogs (yes, we've had one of those) I can take care of, after they are no longer cool and fun to have.

I ain't taking care of no snake.
I said: 'pet the dog if you are lonely, tell Jordan what happens if you call someone a pansy, and put the word out that strangers at the front door at 7:30 am could result in the police arriving.

Oh, by the way, has anyone eaten any Cocoa Puffs today?'

(QOTB: 1.) Would you let your kid have a snake for a pet? (Some of you I already know the answer to this...) 2.)What do you tell your kids when their mouth gets bigger than their defense? I don't promote violence. But I also think if you're gonna smart off at this age...be prepared?)

Read rest of entry

Fairy Godmothers and Potato Salad

Our resident Fairy Godmother (Aunt Jennifer) has reached iconic status in our house, well, almost.

We are making the 4 hour return trip from Dallas to Houston.

The kids had a blast. Evidently Aunt Jennifer turned her Magic Kindgom of a house into a mini-7 Eleven for 4 days, unlimited food, movies, and rock climbing.

She even took them to Six Flags when it's currently 105 degrees lately in Dallas.

"And Mom, there were NO lines, we got to ride EVERYTHING like three times!"

Imagine that? I'm sure it's because the Six Flags workers were about to pass out from the heat, and not many people are paying money right now to walk around on black asphalt for 6 hours.

She's a stronger woman than me for sure, I could never have pulled that off.

As we made arrangements to meet today, I happened to ask her if they had taken a bath, meaning, 'did they take a bath this morning.'

So here's the difference in between mom and Fairy Godmother....I'm thinking, four hour trip with teenage boys, I hope they are clean. That's the mom in me. Clean kids. Normal expectations.

Aunt Jennifer's response?

"Bath? Today? I don't think they've taken a bath since they've been here now that ya mention it."

YEOWZA!

Her sense of smell must be as good as my sense of hearing because how you could possibly stay in a house with 2 teenage boys for four days with no bath is beyond me.

I suggested we bump our meeting time back half an hour to allow for baths. I wasn't sure I would make it home otherwise, unless we rolled the windows down the whole way home and seeing how it's 104 degrees outside, that would not work either.

We finally meet to relieve her of her charges, and all 3 of them (kids and said Fairy) were proud that the baths were done.

I'm assuming Jordan's bath was something that involved a sponge and no water on his feet.

Seriously, once he got in the car, we realized his feet smelled like 6 day old potato salad left on the front porch. Thank goodness there is no smellovision type thingy online.

I didn't realize how bad it was until Robert offered to drive (I should have known right then) we switched places, and suddenly I was both overcome and trapped for the next two hours with the worse possible stench you can imagine.

I'm having flashbacks of baby bottles of formula thrown under the car seat and lost, during the summer. Or the dog getting sick overnight and us not finding it until the next day.

You get the idea.

I need one of those barf bags like they have on air planes to breath into.

I might have to take him to get a pedicure when we get home. It's either that, or soak his feet in hospital strength lysol.

All's well...Godmothers are supposed to do exactly what she did: spoil your kids rotten and send them back and the kids had a blast.

But I think Aunt Jen needs to go see my ENT for a nasal exam.

We are nearly home and Chase has started to say that Jordan's breath smells.

His breath?

Pinching my nose while I talk: "Stick your head down by his feet and inhale. His breath will then smell just fine."

And we have one hour left until we are home....I hope I can make it.

Read rest of entry

Summer Fun?

If you read my previous blog from last weekend, you know I am once again at a Saturday swim meet.

This is our last full meet of the year.

There are 1600 people here.

I got lucky. Or smart. Instead of timing in the blazing sun, I've moved to the dark side and joined the parents who don't act as timers, and I'm sitting in the shade.

Sort of...

Shade or no shade, I think it's near 100 degrees.

My partner in crime parent Debbie just found out she is signed up to work concessions from 1 to 4. We stare at each other.

4 pm? Have we ever been here that late? I think so. This last meet is like childbirth. It's so bad every year, you block it out once it's over. And then 12 months later you find yourself knocked up again and wonder, why did I do this?

So, I'm sitting here and two girls who are about 10 open a cooler in front of me and yank out Jello shots. Like college style, old fashioned Jello shots. Red, yellow, green. Jello shots, little plastic containers and all.

I think I'm having a Pavlovian response of some kind.

Clearly there is no alcohol in them.

But there is some parent here who's idea of 'Summer Fun' is more in line with what I would consider fun.

I'm off to find the owner of the blue Igloo so we can work out a deal for next year.

Read rest of entry

Half Baked, Part II

Fortunately, I work in a job where I can pop in and out of the house during the summer on some days, depending on my client visits.

Today was one of those days. I was in the area and decided to pop in for lunch.


Now, since we have three teenagers and they are sometimes home alone, I have some rules.


Rule number 1: No one comes inside unless you talk to me first.


Actually, that is the only rule, other than brush your teeth by 10 am.


What usually happens is this:


Pick a kid, calling me on their cell: "Mom, can _________ come over?"


Me: "Yes, but only 1 person, no more."


Mystery kid: "Okay, no problem."


Nine times out of ten, I come around the corner in my car and the kid I've just been called about is already in the house. Clearly someone has already told them the whole "it's better to beg forgiveness" rule.


So today, we had two extra boys here, plus my three, so five boys here ranging in age from 11 to 18.


I walk in and the first thing I notice is the smell of something cooking. Not good, alarm bells start to go off in my head. Five boys here and something cooking cannot be a good thing unless it's a Red Baron pizza, which I knew this was not.


Keys still in hand, sunglasses on, door wide open, I said very loudly, "what's cooking?"


A chorus comes from kitchen: "BROWNIES."


I walk in the kitchen, and there they all are. Now, if I had not been trying to remain calm about the fact that they were cooking while I was gone, I would have thought to take a photo of this moment.



Picture this:


First, there is Chris, Tyler's friend who is about 6'7. I would offer to contract him out to clean the top of my fridge off monthly because he's so darn tall, except he's headed to Baylor soon.


Then, there is Charlie, who is Jordan's friend, and the spitting image of Dennis the Menace.


And in between are my three, ahem, angels, none of whom followed rule #2 about brushing teeth or hair by 10 am.


All five of them are hovered around the stove eating brownies with a fork, out of a glass dish, like they've just heard that in the next 30 seconds, every bit of food on the planet is going to evaporate.


As they started to part the Red Sea for me to get in and see what they were doing, I noticed those brownies looked, well, gross.

I said, "what are you eating again?"

"Brownies" someone said.

And then the explanation from someone:

"But Tyler didn't want to wait until they were done. So we are eating them half baked."

Sure enough, the top of the brownies were done, the part underneath looked like a gloopy mess of chocolate pudding.

Just about that moment, Chase saw the look on my face and grabbed for paper towels.

Chase is funny like that.

That boy is either on fire, and all pistons are firing.

Or, he does something so completely random (to put it nicely) that you start to wonder if he has performend a self lobotomy. I can provide examples if asked.

Luckily, he was on fire today.

He saw my face, and saw the floor, grabbed the paper towels and started to pick up all the pieces of the brownies on the floor that were NOT making it into one of the five faces.

What is it with boys? They can learn to throw a football or baseball at age 3, and thanks to video games have the fine motor skills of a surgeon.

But when it comes to food in the mouth, or pee in a toilet, they miss more than they get in the designated area? I don't get it. It's clearly both genetic and selective, that aim thing. Sort of like hearing what women say.


In any case, they ate that entire tray of half baked brownies. I opened the fridge and said, "we have two packages of unopened cookie dough as well, if anyone needs to chase down the brownies?"


June 18th. Any teachers out there?





(PS: And no, I wasnt worried about these teenaged boys scarfing up half baked brownies. I'm a step ahead. :)

Read rest of entry

Half Baked, Part I

June 18th. Half Baked. That is where I am at tonight. Half baked, half done.

Actually, there is a dual reason I decided to use that title, keep reading, there is a part II.

My husband left for work this morning at 5:30 am, I think. Normally, when he leaves, he is lucky to see the back of my head. I am just aware enough to scooch over into his space and relish the fact that I don't have to share the bed (or remote) for the next four days, but other than that, I am usually wonderfully oblivious when he leaves.

Not today.

I could not go back to sleep, at 5:30 am. Which, for the record, is well before when my normal alarm clock buzzer goes off.

I just laid there.

All kinds of random things starting popping into my head that we need to somehow get done, but have been unable to get started, much less finished (I would be happy with half finished projects at this point. Yes, I said that. I am sure I will regret it later if he reads this.)

New siding for the house. Pay off credit card bills. CLEAN the house. Get the kids ready for their week at camp. Make dentist appointments for all three of them. Repair Tyler's car. Sports physicals. Enough already.

I picked up the phone and called him. I am sure he was thinking that the either house was burning down, or masked men had kicked in the front door and were tying us all up and I had managed to grab my cell phone in a split second before they stole all of of our video games and TV sets(because we have nothing else of value in this house if you ask anyone that lives here except me), in order for me to be calling him at 6 am.

Nope, just me. Stressed at 6 am. Not a good way to start the day. As I explained all the things running through my mind, he pointed out that we did get a few things accomplished over the last four days:

The exterminators came and sprayed. Check, done. Silence.

Okay the bug people came and sprayed. Which might not be necessary IF I HAD MY HOUSEKEEPER BACK!

Or if someone, anyone, would pick up!

What about the bills that need to be paid?

And the dentist?

And dinner? Let's talk about dinner. I heard Chase tell Tyler tonight, "like, dude, I cannot rememeber the last time I ate real food, other than Burger King."

I cannot decide what's worse: the fact a 13 year old boy pointed that out. Or the fact that he didn't even ask me what's for dinner!

The next thing he said was, "I'm going to the pool party tonight, they are serving spaghetti."

Forget the bills, I seriously worry that my children will grow up, find beautiful girls to marry, and the poor girl will start to plan the wedding, get to the menu, and my kids are going to request Big Macs or Quarter Pounders as the main course. Their dad will be thrilled; mission accomplished. I will deny any genetic relation to them at that point.

I'm trying, but I'm tired.

So far, no utility has been cut off.

Nothing has been repossessed (although if that kitchen sink does not get cleaned out tonight, they are going to learn a whole new meaning of the term 'repossessed.')

But, I'm fading for sure and it's only June 18th. When does school start again?

Read rest of entry