My Son

"My Son, My Son"
By My Grandma

Oh barefoot boy with cheeks of tan

How soon can you become a man?

I'm sick to death of snakes and toads,

and dirty feet from dusty roads

Untied shoes and muddy jeans,

Whose pockets bulge with jelly beans,

And messy rooms and tattered shirts

Of binding up your cuts and hurts

Oh barefoot boy with cheeks of tan

I'll miss you so when you're a man.

Another Mommy Moment Monday from Frugal Mom Knows Best.

Where's the party???

(Whispering) Now kids, this is a big people party. That means no climbing on tables, don't stick your finger in ANY of the food, and above all, no potty words...got it?

Oh, hello!! I heard there was a party from pretty much all the blogs that I stalk follow. I thought that I would invite myself come and check it out. I am late, as usual. But it sounded like a ton of fun, whether you were on time or the last to show up, so why not!!

Are these all MY children, you ask. Yes, all 5 of them. Yes, 5 kids in 9 years is a little crazy and yes my hands are full! Better full then empty, I always say. They keep me on my toes (trying to avoid all the things that are spilled, crushed and stuck on my dining room floor), awake at all hours of the night (whether it is teething, projectile vomit, wet bed, night terrors...etc) and rolling on the floor laughing. I definatly will never run out of things to blog about.

Why am I moving my hands when I talk, you ask?  No, I am not a freak of nature....ummm well maybe I am. I do have two bladders.. Oh, wait...totally inappropriate information there...so sorry. My sweet husband over here is deaf and so I am interpreting for his benefit. Yes, he can drive. No, he doesn't read brail. And you can bet I have got some great stories to tell about our 11 1/2 year journey together.

It looks like I am gonna have to run. Baby is smelling up the place and it doesn't look pretty. My daughter has somehow managed to get bean dip in her hair and the other three are seeing how far they can spit the watermelon seeds. Yup, time to go. But come on over and visit. I am sure to make you laugh, or if nothing else, you will know when it is time to send those "nice young men in their clean white coats" to take me away...hahahaha!!

Nice to meet ya!

The things we do for LOVE

It all started last year...at the age of 9. My son comes home, crying.

"What is the matter?" I asked, very concerned.

"She is moving. She is moving to Scotland and I will never see her again. And I didn't even have her sign my Autograph book" he sobbed.

There was no consoling him...at least for 30 minutes anyway. A few hours later, she was out of his mind and he was on to other more important things...you know, like riding his scooter, playing the Wii, etc.

It turns out, to his relief, that she didn't move. And when he walked into his literacy class, there she sat, in all her beauty. Every day he sits by and partners with this little girl.

Then about 3 months ago he asks me, "Mom, how old do you have to be to kiss someone?"

"Ummmm. You need to love the person before you kiss them," I replied, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity.

"But I do love her. I loved her from the moment I first saw her." he stated.

"Well, then...not until you can drive."

Yesterday he walks in the door, all dreamy eyed. Hmmmm...do I want to know???

"How was your day at school, son?" I asked.

"Well, today at recess Riley and I climbed to the top of the jungle gym and she told me she loved me. And I told her I loved her."

"Really?" I flinched.

"Then this other guy got jealous and he pushed me off the jungle gym. I fell down. Then he twisted my ankle."

"Ouch!" I blurted out.

He continued, "Then Riley jumped down and punched the kid in the face and he ran away crying."


"Then what happened?" I asked, fascinated by this woman girl.

"I told her 'Thanks.' And she said, 'No problem.' Then she had to go to the principal's office."

Huh... That totally ended differently than I had imagined. I guess my son knows how to pick 'em, if you like the aggressive, physically violent type...which apparently he does.

The things we do for love.

You're afraid of WHAT???

Every Thursday Mama's Losing It has a Writer's Workshop. It is fun and gets me thinking. This week I chose the prompt about Fear. 

(Write about something that frightens you that other people might find ridiculous.)

I came up with 5 things that I fear that other people may think are weird or ridiculous.

#1 Tin can lids with jagged edges.

These things scare me EVERY TIME I see them. I am the tin can lid police. They are so dangerous! I always make sure that the lid is inside the can before I, or anyone else throws them away. You never know when you are going to be packing in the trash and SLASH, there goes your finger. Or what if my toddler digs in the trash gets hold of one of those things.

No. NO! NO!!! 

It just is a bad idea.

#2 Ski Lifts

This is the main reason why I don't enjoy skiing. Part of it is the height thing, but most of it is the whole "I have on these heavy skis and there is really nothing holding me in." Then when the chair has to change wires...that FREAKS ME OUT!!

#3 Claws

This is why we will never have a cat, hamster, bird, rat,etc.

 I just hate the feeling of those things tickling my skin. Yuck!!

#4 Linked Sausage

The sausage patties are fine. I just don't think that people cook them right and so I am always paranoid that the middle isn't cooked. ESPECIALLY if the sausage is on the burnt side. I am sure that they are mostly fine and I have never gotten sick from sausage. But...I don't know...the risk is still there...

I'm just saying.

 

#5 My teeth falling out.

This is one of my re-occurring nightmares. I wake up in the morning and all my teeth are there. Then sometime during the day, they all start to feel loose and I start to freak out. Then one by one, they start to fall. It is a horrible, horrible dream.

Call me a freak, that's okay. My kids call me that all the time.  But we all have our fears....

What are yours??

You're Welcome

Everyone is NOT welcome in my bed...Sorry...not a good idea
BUT you are welcome to sleep on the hard floor if you like.

Everyone is NOT welcome in the bathroom while I am using it!
But you are welcome to sit outside the door and cry and scream and kick the door all you like.

Everyone is NOT welcome in the bath at the same time..BIG mess!
But you can be the first in the bath and get the hot water or you can complain and be the last one and get cold, dirty water.

Everyone is NOT welcome to join  in the pot banging that I got out to distract baby and now is giving me a headache.
But you are welcome to sit in the chair over there with duct tape over your mouth and listen to what quiet sounds like.

Everyone is NOT welcome to eat the gum and other goodies that are hidden in my bag.
But I can tell you where your sister's stash is.

Everyone is not welcome to throw things when they have to turn off the Star Wars Wii game.
But you are welcome to go outside and move those 20 bricks across the yard...and then move them back.

Everyone is NOT welcome to wear MY socks because they can't find their own socks.
BUT you are welcome to learn how to do your own laundry...now there is an idea!

Everyone is NOT welcome to complain about the green stuff we are having for dinner.
BUT you are all welcome clean up while I sit on my tush and watch a little Glenn Beck.

Everyone is NOT going to love you as much as I do
BUT they would be foolish not to...

You are Welcome here! Always welcome here!

Random Post- Its

Here are some of the random going-ons at our house today.

(Not sure how to get the little boxes around the post-its off. Anyone?)

When in Rome....

Does your husband have a ceramic head?

Well, mine does.

When he was in high school, he made this plaster head of himself...only it looks like the head of a Roman soldier. He thinks it is one of the coolest things ever. I think...not so much.

I had no idea he had such a thing until several years ago when  his mother, whom I love dearly, decided that the head of her son needed a new home...OURS!  Lovely! When he saw it, he was overjoyed at the reunion of his semi-twin head.

What am I supposed to do with it?

It's not like I want it on my piano or on my book shelf. Heck, I don't even want it in my bathroom.  I try and convince my husband that we should just take a picture and get rid of it. But he will hear none of that.

For the past 5 years, it has been in a box. Then with this last move we found it and I wasn't allowed to put it back. And so it sits in my closet...watching me each day. I thought to myself this morning, "It is Easter. What better day is there to accidentally break the head of a Roman soldier?" Just a thought.

My husband, you see, is a keeper, meaning, he doesn't throw things away. He has other things too. Things that he made in high school... a metal wind mill that is actually pretty cool but is an awkward size. He made some really cool pottery: mugs and plates, but he won't let us use them. He has scriptures that are written in different languages that he keeps...just in case, because you never know when you are going to run into someone who speaks Creole and may need some scriptures. The list goes on.

I would venture to say if I "took care of things" behind his back, he wouldn't miss them. I doubt he would even notice they were missing. Heck, he has a hard time finding the mustard that is in plain sight in the fridge, let alone momentos from high school that are hidden in a box in the black hole we call our garage.

But then I would feel guilty...guilty for lying, guilty for taking and destroying something that wasn't mine to destroy. Guilty for betraying his trust. I hate guilt.

And so I look at that ceramic Roman face of my husband every morning...and think to myself, "If I out live Hubster, you are gonna be the first thing to go! Chew on that!"