OK, I was going to drift off into a story about this past weekend. We went 'up North' to Pinetop, AZ to get out of the heat and it ended up raining most of the weekend. We went up with another family, we have 3 boys, they have 2. So this post was going to be all about the 5 lads, ages 5-13, all staying in one room together, having a blast, giggling, playing, watching movies, etc...and stinking up the place. By the end of our stay, we could hardly walk into the room between the smelly feet odor, the 'stink bombs' they were dropping all weekend, and less than attractive armpit odor. Combined required a gas mask to merely open the door.
But then I thought, eewwww, I've been known to chat about some pretty rank things and can carry on for lengths about them but I think the above paragraph is about all that is required for you to get the idea.
So let me get into the more pleasant of the weekend memories.
As I said, it rained, but it gave our 2 families (who are very close by the way) a chance to really get to 'be' with each other. I was able to enjoy a card game with my dear friend and her 13 year old son whom I know, but don't really know. Getting to sit with him and enjoy the game was great to see him in inter-action and talk with him, tease with him, and well...because the turd was beating me, threaten him.
Also, my friend spent some time with my youngest, 5, doing puzzles with him and a little activity book. And you know what I learned about her from that experience? She is a wonderful, patient teacher! And my son loved the attention from her!
We interacted with the other 3 also in card games, activities, etc but also to watch them getting to know each other. They have spent the last 2 1/2 years together since we moved to the neighborhood and became friends but being enclosed in a house due to the rain really made everyone step up their game to find something to do, to entertain ourselves and each other, and to become involved with each other on a different level. My friend's oldest (13) and my middle son (9) got into a riveting game of Monopoly that lasted several hours. The 13 year old spent much of the time teaching my 9 year old how to play, suggesting great moves like 'you should sell this or that property to me'(which we later discovered may have been the 9 year old's downfall, listening to his opponent-but who were we to intervene in such a cleverly disguised innocent game of Monopoly). Seriously, though, they played great together, one teaching, the other learning and obviously they loved it because the game went on for hours...and then they started another one!
I guess what I'm saying here is that it would be great if we could all take a step back for a moment and really see who we are with and what they are about. Enjoy every moment and celebrate each other.
Thus, not as gut-splitting and knee slapping as I'd promised but as for day one of week one of summer vacation today, there will be plenty to write about soon!
Until then...
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
My husband's 12 hour ordeal....hee hee hee
Our middle son was having his 9 year old sleepover party with 3 buddies. We'd taken the lads out for birthday dinner extravaganza (Rootbeer/pizza). We had our 3 plus the 3 birthday friends plus another friend for our older son (I see a pattern here - we are glutton for punishment in the boy department). They had pizza, rootbeer and pazookie-if you don't know what a pazookie is then you need to google it now and do yourself a favor and head to the nearest restaurant that serves them.
Really, stop reading and go do that now. They are awesome and this blog isn't going anywhere. You'll thank me (and then curse me when you step on the scale). :-)
Now for the rest of the story...
As you read on, you'll understand why I asked you to eat the pazookie first. For those of you with weak stomachs, now is a good time to phone a friend or ask the audience for help to decide if you should read further. I'm about to get gross...we are talking about boys here.
We get home and the lads run around outside, scampering, playing, jumping on the trampoline to their hearts desire (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer). And here it comes, not what you think! No, our 4 year old blasts in the house shouting that he has to go 'poo poo'. I scramble after him fearing an accident since he was in such a hurry. He's been known to 'forget' when he gets to busy in play (other kids around greatly increases his forgetfulness) and runs in the nick of time to the bathroom. He gets in there, jumps on the toilet and to my surprise, there is little surprise, a trace of what was to come in his underwear. While he's finishing his business (minus the newspaper) I holler out to my husband to please bring me some new underwear and pants. Yes, I was that nice, saying please and all. I didn't get a response so didn't think he'd heard. I holler again with the utmost of respect in my voice (I heard utmost respect in my voice, not sure what he heard). He finally comes in with underwear and pants and announces that he was busy picking up the poop trail that was left from the door to the bathroom (albeit 3 little poops, but a trail non the less). Oh, and his face...that could be on the priceless commercials.
We happily went about our way after our chuckles of the situation wore down (maybe more my chuckles)and watched some tv whilst the lads played some more (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer...jiggle, jiggle).
I'd been enduring a sinus headache (enduring, suffering, anguishing-poor me) all afternoon/evening. Around 9:15 I headed to bed after we'd given the lads their 45 minute warning. PJ's were on, tv sleep timer set, all snug on the air mattress, we were in control! I'd been in bed around 25 minutes when my husband sneaks in to announce that one of the young friends had an upset stomach...here it comes, yup, he puked. :-)
Thankfully when he'd announced his tummy intentions, my hubby had the presence of mind to wisk him down the hall to the bathroom (yeah, same one) where he released the joys of the evening...twice. Time to take our little friend home.
Phew! But not quite over. The next morning, I went to the gym just as the kids were stirring upstairs. I'd planned on picking up some donuts on the way home (umm...vomit not good enough indicator that sugar could be reduced?) but hubby, great as he is, said he was making eggs/bacon. Off to the gym to rid myself of some toxicity that could soon be replaced by bacon!
I came home to a most wonderfully cleaned kitchen and breakfast area (cleaning after cooking is not my husband's forte). As I commented on how great everything looked and was so excited to walk into a delightfully clean kitchen, he announced that the kitchen wasn't the only thing that was spotless. He'd also had to clean up puke from our dog in our oldest son's bedroom! Yes, his duty was far from done as the internal organs of 2 boys and a dog unleashed their violent attack on his presence.
A 12 hour poop and puke patrol!
Perhaps a new title is in store, Father PnP.
The joys of husbands/fathers getting slammed with what naturally is turned to us moms gave me hours of yuks and cheer!
But I'm sure my day is coming...and probably sooner than I think.
Really, stop reading and go do that now. They are awesome and this blog isn't going anywhere. You'll thank me (and then curse me when you step on the scale). :-)
Now for the rest of the story...
As you read on, you'll understand why I asked you to eat the pazookie first. For those of you with weak stomachs, now is a good time to phone a friend or ask the audience for help to decide if you should read further. I'm about to get gross...we are talking about boys here.
We get home and the lads run around outside, scampering, playing, jumping on the trampoline to their hearts desire (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer). And here it comes, not what you think! No, our 4 year old blasts in the house shouting that he has to go 'poo poo'. I scramble after him fearing an accident since he was in such a hurry. He's been known to 'forget' when he gets to busy in play (other kids around greatly increases his forgetfulness) and runs in the nick of time to the bathroom. He gets in there, jumps on the toilet and to my surprise, there is little surprise, a trace of what was to come in his underwear. While he's finishing his business (minus the newspaper) I holler out to my husband to please bring me some new underwear and pants. Yes, I was that nice, saying please and all. I didn't get a response so didn't think he'd heard. I holler again with the utmost of respect in my voice (I heard utmost respect in my voice, not sure what he heard). He finally comes in with underwear and pants and announces that he was busy picking up the poop trail that was left from the door to the bathroom (albeit 3 little poops, but a trail non the less). Oh, and his face...that could be on the priceless commercials.
We happily went about our way after our chuckles of the situation wore down (maybe more my chuckles)and watched some tv whilst the lads played some more (pizza, pazookie, rootbeer...jiggle, jiggle).
I'd been enduring a sinus headache (enduring, suffering, anguishing-poor me) all afternoon/evening. Around 9:15 I headed to bed after we'd given the lads their 45 minute warning. PJ's were on, tv sleep timer set, all snug on the air mattress, we were in control! I'd been in bed around 25 minutes when my husband sneaks in to announce that one of the young friends had an upset stomach...here it comes, yup, he puked. :-)
Thankfully when he'd announced his tummy intentions, my hubby had the presence of mind to wisk him down the hall to the bathroom (yeah, same one) where he released the joys of the evening...twice. Time to take our little friend home.
Phew! But not quite over. The next morning, I went to the gym just as the kids were stirring upstairs. I'd planned on picking up some donuts on the way home (umm...vomit not good enough indicator that sugar could be reduced?) but hubby, great as he is, said he was making eggs/bacon. Off to the gym to rid myself of some toxicity that could soon be replaced by bacon!
I came home to a most wonderfully cleaned kitchen and breakfast area (cleaning after cooking is not my husband's forte). As I commented on how great everything looked and was so excited to walk into a delightfully clean kitchen, he announced that the kitchen wasn't the only thing that was spotless. He'd also had to clean up puke from our dog in our oldest son's bedroom! Yes, his duty was far from done as the internal organs of 2 boys and a dog unleashed their violent attack on his presence.
A 12 hour poop and puke patrol!
Perhaps a new title is in store, Father PnP.
The joys of husbands/fathers getting slammed with what naturally is turned to us moms gave me hours of yuks and cheer!
But I'm sure my day is coming...and probably sooner than I think.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Umm...am I not cool?
Hello Dear Friends of the blog who are at the edge of your seats wondering what delightful word treats I have for you next.
This time it's about boys. And I have 3 of them, and a husband, a brother, 2 brothers in law, and a father in law. My mother in law and I are the only of the female brand in our family and we like to refer to ourselves as the Queen Mum and Lady D (which is another story that almost got me into trouble...later for that one).
Here we go; we live in a neighborhood thick with little boys (because having them rampant in our family wasn't enough apparently). So my oldest has a group of buddies over which is pretty typical and they are running around playing in the back yard. Usually when the kids have friends over and it's lunch time, I do a head count and make extra whatever we are having for whoever is nearby playing.
My son had recently discovered the absolute joy of calling friends and brothers, 'Dude'. (they grow up so fast!) So all the buddies are outside and I'm hearing, "Dude," this and "Dude" that. Now I have been calling the lads 'Gang'. As in, 'Hey Gang, is anybody hungry?" or "Be careful by the pool, Gang", or "Time to go home, Gang"; you get the picture.
On this particular day, understanding the need for the 'cool factor' of mom-hood, I went out and announced, "Hey, Dudes, everybody ready for some dinosaur chicken?"
Ummm, ok, picture 7 boys, 11 and under running around my yard playing baseball and suddenly stop like one of them had just discovered that they have to go home and play with a sister. A dead stop by all 7! Finally, a brave soul (and the oldest soul), Michael, pipes up and says, 'Uh, Mom's don't say Dude.'
Oh the shame of it! Imagine if you will the cool meter plunging to the depths of ridicule for my dear beloved sons at the disgrace of their mother making the deepest of vocabulary faux paus in front of the neighborhood friends. Yikes, make that Double Yikes.
So I quickly tried to recover by saying, "Michael, good to know. Thanks for straightening that out. I'd hate to be known as the mom who is waaayyyy uncool. Is there anything else that mom's don't say?" Michael said, "no, that's it." So we all go in and have lunch and they headed back outside to play. But then Michael pops back in. Uh-oh! He says, "Mrs. Hershey, thanks for lunch. And we really like it when you call us Gang".
Cool again!
This time it's about boys. And I have 3 of them, and a husband, a brother, 2 brothers in law, and a father in law. My mother in law and I are the only of the female brand in our family and we like to refer to ourselves as the Queen Mum and Lady D (which is another story that almost got me into trouble...later for that one).
Here we go; we live in a neighborhood thick with little boys (because having them rampant in our family wasn't enough apparently). So my oldest has a group of buddies over which is pretty typical and they are running around playing in the back yard. Usually when the kids have friends over and it's lunch time, I do a head count and make extra whatever we are having for whoever is nearby playing.
My son had recently discovered the absolute joy of calling friends and brothers, 'Dude'. (they grow up so fast!) So all the buddies are outside and I'm hearing, "Dude," this and "Dude" that. Now I have been calling the lads 'Gang'. As in, 'Hey Gang, is anybody hungry?" or "Be careful by the pool, Gang", or "Time to go home, Gang"; you get the picture.
On this particular day, understanding the need for the 'cool factor' of mom-hood, I went out and announced, "Hey, Dudes, everybody ready for some dinosaur chicken?"
Ummm, ok, picture 7 boys, 11 and under running around my yard playing baseball and suddenly stop like one of them had just discovered that they have to go home and play with a sister. A dead stop by all 7! Finally, a brave soul (and the oldest soul), Michael, pipes up and says, 'Uh, Mom's don't say Dude.'
Oh the shame of it! Imagine if you will the cool meter plunging to the depths of ridicule for my dear beloved sons at the disgrace of their mother making the deepest of vocabulary faux paus in front of the neighborhood friends. Yikes, make that Double Yikes.
So I quickly tried to recover by saying, "Michael, good to know. Thanks for straightening that out. I'd hate to be known as the mom who is waaayyyy uncool. Is there anything else that mom's don't say?" Michael said, "no, that's it." So we all go in and have lunch and they headed back outside to play. But then Michael pops back in. Uh-oh! He says, "Mrs. Hershey, thanks for lunch. And we really like it when you call us Gang".
Cool again!
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