While jamming at the Tom Pease concert last week with Brandon and I, Lauren wanted to go up stage and join the other kids more.than.anything.else.
She screwed up all her courage. She walked down the the steps of theater and made it all the way down to the bottom step.
Then...
She ran all the way back up to Brandon and I and told us she couldn't do it.
So, I told her if she really wanted to be on the stage, to go back down the steps, get up on the stage, and join the other kids.
This would seem incredibly mean of me, unless you know that Lauren has been on that same stage almost ten previous times. So, I wasn't asking her to do something she was incapable of doing, I just wasn't coddling her.
So, Lauren ran back down the stairs and stopped at the bottom of the stage.
Brandon was watching everything and not saying a word.
He looked at me, looked at Lauren, looked at me, and said, "I've got this." and then took off after his sister.
He walked down the steps, said something to Lauren (I don't know what and I will never ask), but the the next thing I know...
Lauren is on stage, smiling, singing, and dancing.
Brandon is right next to me (and I have tears in my eyes) the embarrassed recipient of my hugs: "That was a wonderful thing you did for your sister!"
"Aw, Mom, I just did what needed to be done!"
Indeed, you did son. Indeed you did.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Can You Hear Jon Now?
As my oldest son goes into middle school there is one thing he wants more than world peace.
A cell phone.
A cell phone with unlimited texting and internet access.
A smart phone.
A phone smarter than his parents.
It seems like a reasonable request on his part.
Except Jon has unreasonable parents.
Parents who are making him pay for his own cell phone.
Parents who have talked to other parents and are not allowing a middle-schooler unlimited access to the world wide web.
Parents who are making him pay a portion of his allowance towards the cell bill every month on a phone that only rings and texts.
We get it. The way people communicate have changed drastically since Rich and I were kids.
(For example, the thing I wanted more the anything in the world when I was in middle school was a phone in my room, or barring that, call-waiting. For the record, neither one happened.)
What hasn't changed since Rich and I have been kids is that it really stinks when the stuff you pay for with your own money breaks or you lose it. Our kids know this first hand.
We're under no illusions in this house: It's a convenient luxury for Jon to have a cell phone.
However, it will be nice to text him when it comes time for him to clean his room. ;)
A cell phone.
A cell phone with unlimited texting and internet access.
A smart phone.
A phone smarter than his parents.
It seems like a reasonable request on his part.
Except Jon has unreasonable parents.
Parents who are making him pay for his own cell phone.
Parents who have talked to other parents and are not allowing a middle-schooler unlimited access to the world wide web.
Parents who are making him pay a portion of his allowance towards the cell bill every month on a phone that only rings and texts.
We get it. The way people communicate have changed drastically since Rich and I were kids.
(For example, the thing I wanted more the anything in the world when I was in middle school was a phone in my room, or barring that, call-waiting. For the record, neither one happened.)
What hasn't changed since Rich and I have been kids is that it really stinks when the stuff you pay for with your own money breaks or you lose it. Our kids know this first hand.
We're under no illusions in this house: It's a convenient luxury for Jon to have a cell phone.
However, it will be nice to text him when it comes time for him to clean his room. ;)
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Amie and The Leaf Blower
There is one item in my garage I covet among all others. It is my most favorite thing ever. I love it. Rich is ambivalent about it and thinks me owning it completely ridiculous.
It's my plug in, super-ultra-delux, Toro leaf blower.
I had wanted a leaf blower for a very long time but it was never made a priority to purchase it because *whisper*
Rich had never wanted one.
Once we moved to our cul-de-sac though, our neighbors on either side of us had FANTASTIC leaf blowers. Leaf blowers that made other leaf blowers refuse to start because they knew they couldn't keep up their end of leaf-blowing-ness next to these awesome machines.
So, one fall day, I looked at Rich and said, "My day has come. I'm buying a leaf blower. With or without you. At Fleet Farm. A good one."
Rich's response to my declaration: "You've finally lost your mind."
But, wisely he didn't argue as we packed the kids in the van.
At Fleet Farm, Rich didn't share my thrill or rapture of the wonderfully red Toro leaf blower. He came to dead stop in the middle of the aisle, kids hanging from the cart, and asked me, "What do you think you are doing putting an $XX.XX leaf blower in this cart?" After some "discussion," he proceeded to assure himself that I had indeed lost my mind, and explain to our kids in great detail what it meant to keep up with the Jones, or at least Don and Wayne (our neighbors).
The kids thought it was great that Rich was shell-shocked by the leaf blower AND that they had learned this concept of their Mom keeping up with the Jones, which was quite ridiculous to them....especially because we knew a family with the last name of Jones. They became quite outrageous with their examples of how we could and should try to keep up with the Jones and our neighbors.
When I came home and started up the motor of leaf blower, it was like the sound of angels singing. I was in love, love, love when pine needles and leaves were efficiently blown into a neat little pile for collection.
When my neighbor Wayne waved, smiled, and yelled, "Nice leaf blower!" I gave him a happy leaf blower club smile and merrily waved back.
It's my plug in, super-ultra-delux, Toro leaf blower.
I had wanted a leaf blower for a very long time but it was never made a priority to purchase it because *whisper*
Rich had never wanted one.
Once we moved to our cul-de-sac though, our neighbors on either side of us had FANTASTIC leaf blowers. Leaf blowers that made other leaf blowers refuse to start because they knew they couldn't keep up their end of leaf-blowing-ness next to these awesome machines.
So, one fall day, I looked at Rich and said, "My day has come. I'm buying a leaf blower. With or without you. At Fleet Farm. A good one."
Rich's response to my declaration: "You've finally lost your mind."
But, wisely he didn't argue as we packed the kids in the van.
At Fleet Farm, Rich didn't share my thrill or rapture of the wonderfully red Toro leaf blower. He came to dead stop in the middle of the aisle, kids hanging from the cart, and asked me, "What do you think you are doing putting an $XX.XX leaf blower in this cart?" After some "discussion," he proceeded to assure himself that I had indeed lost my mind, and explain to our kids in great detail what it meant to keep up with the Jones, or at least Don and Wayne (our neighbors).
The kids thought it was great that Rich was shell-shocked by the leaf blower AND that they had learned this concept of their Mom keeping up with the Jones, which was quite ridiculous to them....especially because we knew a family with the last name of Jones. They became quite outrageous with their examples of how we could and should try to keep up with the Jones and our neighbors.
When I came home and started up the motor of leaf blower, it was like the sound of angels singing. I was in love, love, love when pine needles and leaves were efficiently blown into a neat little pile for collection.
When my neighbor Wayne waved, smiled, and yelled, "Nice leaf blower!" I gave him a happy leaf blower club smile and merrily waved back.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Locked Out
Of all the phrases I've yelled at the kids as they've headed out the door on their way to school, never once have I yelled (or thought to yell):
"Hey, take your father's Masterlock out of your backpack!"
Since *I* lacked such foresight, Brandon used his father's Masterlock to padlock his locker at school and then lost the key on the playground.
It happened on the Friday before Memorial Day weekend.
When his teacher showed me Brandon's locker, I didn't even have words to deal with it...I just laughed. Mostly because I knew how emotionally attached to the Masterlock Rich had been over the years. Brandon was most upset that he didn't have access to his backpack for three days.
Three days later, Brandon was exasperated that he had to give up recess time to write a letter of apology to the janitor of the high school, who had to give up an hour of his day to drive down to the elementary school with a bolt cutters in order to free the locker.
(Rich and I thought it was fantastic that Brandon had to write the letter.)
Brandon is still unremorsefull over padlocking his locker...it kept people from going through his stuff or worse...putting love notes in there.
Rich is still a little bitter a perfectly good Masterlock that was older than Jonathon is gone.
I'm trying to convince myself this kind of stuff isn't going to happen next school year, but failing miserably.
"Hey, take your father's Masterlock out of your backpack!"
Since *I* lacked such foresight, Brandon used his father's Masterlock to padlock his locker at school and then lost the key on the playground.
It happened on the Friday before Memorial Day weekend.
When his teacher showed me Brandon's locker, I didn't even have words to deal with it...I just laughed. Mostly because I knew how emotionally attached to the Masterlock Rich had been over the years. Brandon was most upset that he didn't have access to his backpack for three days.
Three days later, Brandon was exasperated that he had to give up recess time to write a letter of apology to the janitor of the high school, who had to give up an hour of his day to drive down to the elementary school with a bolt cutters in order to free the locker.
(Rich and I thought it was fantastic that Brandon had to write the letter.)
Brandon is still unremorsefull over padlocking his locker...it kept people from going through his stuff or worse...putting love notes in there.
Rich is still a little bitter a perfectly good Masterlock that was older than Jonathon is gone.
I'm trying to convince myself this kind of stuff isn't going to happen next school year, but failing miserably.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Nut Cups and Man Thongs
When boys play sports, two things become obvious:
First, they need to score more points than their opponents, and as their parent you have now committed many hours of your life helping their team achieve that goal. You will be driving them to practice and games as well as other various and other assundered associated tasks that go along with team sports.
Second, not only do boys need to defend against their opponents, they need to defend their, shall we say, family jewels. In short, they need jock straps and cups.
If you're a mom, what is not so obvious is that boys don't care where they leave jock straps and cups. To them, it's another piece of sporting equipment to be dropped where ever the last pile of dirty clothes were left.
So, if I happen to find a cup next to my makeup and scream, "Get that thing out of here!" my boys laugh. (They think I'm over-reacting.)
If I walk into their bathroom (under duress) and find a cup in the middle of the floor and demand that it finds a new home, the owner saunters in like he has all the time in the world to put it away.
I'm not going to name all the places I've found non-drinking cups, but I will tell you, the boys have learned to put them away.
Recently, Rich was out of town and I had to help with the purchase of a cup and jock-strap.
I discovered these things come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I swear there were aero-dynamic and titanium options, but none in stock that were the color blue in the size we needed.
Eventually, we did settle on an acceptable color choice, made our purchase, and headed to practice.
My son was SO EXCITED to get into his new equipment, he started changing in the minivan...while I was still driving it.
Soooo....
We were at a red light....I was telling my son to get into his seat and buckle back up, my son was holding up his jock strap up asking me which direction it went on, telling me he would only be one.more.minute, and I happened to check the rear view mirror where I see the guy behind me laughing....but he's trying really hard not too...
because I realized...
He was on the receiving end of a little boys bare butt, probably saw the jock strap, and figured out what was going on.
When I pointed out to my son that he mooned the guy behind us, my son was confident that it never happened. I didn't argue with him. I'm relieved that the authorities didn't follow me to the field.
You would think that would be the end of it...However,
Later that night, yet again I had to tell this son to put away his cup. As an added bonus, his brother yelled,
"And don't carry around your man thong around the house either! That's disgusting!"
First, they need to score more points than their opponents, and as their parent you have now committed many hours of your life helping their team achieve that goal. You will be driving them to practice and games as well as other various and other assundered associated tasks that go along with team sports.
Second, not only do boys need to defend against their opponents, they need to defend their, shall we say, family jewels. In short, they need jock straps and cups.
If you're a mom, what is not so obvious is that boys don't care where they leave jock straps and cups. To them, it's another piece of sporting equipment to be dropped where ever the last pile of dirty clothes were left.
So, if I happen to find a cup next to my makeup and scream, "Get that thing out of here!" my boys laugh. (They think I'm over-reacting.)
If I walk into their bathroom (under duress) and find a cup in the middle of the floor and demand that it finds a new home, the owner saunters in like he has all the time in the world to put it away.
I'm not going to name all the places I've found non-drinking cups, but I will tell you, the boys have learned to put them away.
Recently, Rich was out of town and I had to help with the purchase of a cup and jock-strap.
I discovered these things come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I swear there were aero-dynamic and titanium options, but none in stock that were the color blue in the size we needed.
Eventually, we did settle on an acceptable color choice, made our purchase, and headed to practice.
My son was SO EXCITED to get into his new equipment, he started changing in the minivan...while I was still driving it.
Soooo....
We were at a red light....I was telling my son to get into his seat and buckle back up, my son was holding up his jock strap up asking me which direction it went on, telling me he would only be one.more.minute, and I happened to check the rear view mirror where I see the guy behind me laughing....but he's trying really hard not too...
because I realized...
He was on the receiving end of a little boys bare butt, probably saw the jock strap, and figured out what was going on.
When I pointed out to my son that he mooned the guy behind us, my son was confident that it never happened. I didn't argue with him. I'm relieved that the authorities didn't follow me to the field.
You would think that would be the end of it...However,
Later that night, yet again I had to tell this son to put away his cup. As an added bonus, his brother yelled,
"And don't carry around your man thong around the house either! That's disgusting!"
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