Chicago: a lesson in culture and diet abandonment

A few more pictures from Chicago...did I say it's my favorite place to go? I did say that I adore it, right?
 I... do... adore... it. 

The Lincoln Park Zoo is always on the top of our "to-do" list when we go to Chicago. It's free, which is fantastic, (well, free to those of us that don't pay the ridiculous amount of taxes they have to pay up there) and for a family with this many kids, we seriously need some free activities. The boys love the lion house, the lions aren't separated from the humans by glass enclosures, but rather, iron (steel?) bars, so that when they roar, or even yawn, you can hear them. 

There is an outside area to the lion house, and THAT does have glass partitions thankfully, because here's what we saw that day:

Yeah, that's her face, right next to my kids' faces.  Yipes.

We also love to go to the beach. It's a beach unlike those here in Florida...nothing there wants to eat you, except for the occasional aggressive seagull (I think they might eat you, if given the opportunity). The water is FREEZING, but that's never stopped my kids from getting in it. It has stopped me every time, however...I'm not looking to have a heart attack there on the pristine shores of Lake Michigan.  Here's my little darlings, leaping wildly over the crashing waves:

 Okay, so I took a small amount of liberties with that description...

Now, don't think that this is, by any stretch of the imagination, the only things we do up there, there's a million things to do...but if I may, let's get right to the "food" portion of our virtual tour, shall we?

The food in Chicago is amazing. It is delicious, for the most part culturally authentic, and almost always inexpensive.  (Except for the deep dish pizza, it's pricey, I'm not sure why that is.)  I love to eat a hot dog with 11 items on top, or Indian food from a buffet on Belmont Avenue. There are so many places to choose from, well, lets just say I came back 5 pounds heavier. No lie...just ask my pants.

We ate at a high priced fancy hotel downtown one night, just me and my mom. My brother "J" runs the kitchen there, yep: Head Chef extraordinaire.  You cannot imagine the thrill of sitting down to a beautiful table, in a gorgeous hotel and saying to your chef-brother..."Hit me". 

He had two questions before we got started: 

1.  "Are you hungry?" (Cue very large grin on his face.)

2.  "Is there anything you won't eat?"

Our replies:  Yep and Nope!

Here's some of what we had...the photo quality is stinky, I know, I only had my cell phone.

This is fois grais two ways...and there are zero ways to describe it's awesome-ness.

This is lobster with forbidden rice and a curry sauce that would make you sell your best Brighton sandals in order to buy some more.

And this is sea scallop with pork belly and yes, those are slices of truffle you see. OMG. So good.

All of these wonderful things (and this isn't everything we ate, we felt a little foolish taking so many pictures..so kept it to a minimum) came with garnishes of the most wonderful vegetables: little tomatoes, baby eggplant and turnips, it was just beyond words it was so good.

Apparently (from what I heard) the waitstaff there were very impressed with our ability to eat everything from the numerous plates set in front of us.  We try to excel in everything, you know.

Soooo, go to Chicago. Take your kids and your wallet, see everything you have time to see..

 And don't forget your stretchy pants.

The importance of date night...

Last night hubby and I went out on a date. Finally. With 4 kiddos at home and everyone going in separate directions all the time, it's hard to find a spot on the schedule for "us".  We went out for some sushi, and then went to see a funny movie. It was so nice.  While we were sitting in the movie theater, waiting for the commercials to start (which stinks, by the way, what the heck??!!)...he looked at me and said "You are such a pretty girl."

Don't get me wrong...he is always very generous with the positives when it comes to me.  He never fails to tell me I look beautiful (even just before or *gasp* immediately after giving birth to a kid), but something about the way he said that was just so sweet and kind. I don't feel very "girly" lately I guess, kids and work tend to run me down...but hearing him say it like that made me feel 10 years younger, 10 pounds lighter, and reminded me of just how great a husband he is.

"Date night"...I highly recommend it.

Middle Boy and the car dilemma

Before I move on into insightful and witty discussions about the differences between big city Chicago living...and the somewhat hicksville (yet always classy) locale I live in...can I just say:

"OMG my 16 year-old is out driving himself all over the place!"

Middle Boy turned 16 in May, and couldn't wait to get his driver's license. He watched his older brother get his, and get a car...and couldn't wait for his turn.  Now, I was thinking it would be easier, watching the next child drive away...because, you know, I'd gotten through it once.

Wrong. I'm back to having stomach clenching worry and watching the clock (bleary-eyed) until 11, when he has to be home. 

The one thing that really bugs me the most about this is:  we have no money to buy Middle Boy a used car.  When Oldest Boy was 17, we handed him the keys to a Mustang (yes, capitalized)...and not just any Mustang, it has red and black leather inside, that new "retro" body style,  and looks pretty (sorry O.B., I said "pretty").  It wasn't new, just new to him, and he worked really hard in school and sports (not getting home each day until 7pm, only to start studying) , and we wanted to do this for him. And we could.

Being in the residential construction industry...I guess you can imagine what my bank account looks like these days. It's been a tough couple of years.  Middle Boy wants a jeep so badly, but Mom and Dad just can't swing it right now. (And we aren't talking "expensive, tricked out jeep"...the one he saw and would love to have is 14 years old.) We've made a deal with Middle Boy: since Dad works from home, how about if Dad and Middle Boy share the ride in the garage?  He accepted the deal-i-o...go figure.

So if you happen to see this:

driving down the street...please keep an eye on it...and let me know if he changes lanes without signaling.

Goin' to Mom-mom's house...

I recently took Little Boy and Baby Boy to see my mom "Mom-mom" in Chicago.  Usually I take all four boys (this annual trip was created when hubby was in the military, and gone for a couple weeks each summer). This year I only took the youngest two because the older two had stuff going on here...and being self-employed, hubby doesn't get much vacation time (which stinks, but that can wait for another post).

I adore Chicago...love it, love it, love it.  The kiddos also love to go there, but wow, is it a culture shock for them...in many ways.

For example, you can imagine the time it takes for little boys to learn to not stomp on the floor. We live in a house where the only things living below us are the fire ants that owned this property 20 years ago. When we go to Chicago, the kids have to learn not to jump down from 4 stairs up the staircase, or RUN to the bathroom at the last minute after drinking 83.5 ounces of  juice.  I feel badly for the family below us, if you are reading this:    "Sorry, family in the first floor of Mom-mom's two flat, they drank alot of juice."

I'll be posting some pictures from the trip in the next couple of days...including the pictures from the dinner we had that my brother (the chef) made.  Put down that ice cream scoop tonight because just looking at those pictures is going to put a couple of pounds on you...you've been warned.

Baby Boy and my failure to grasp proper English usage...

I know that I've been gone alot lately, I'm trying to get some "work-related" things done, and frankly, I'm getting my butt kicked in the process...but I'm still here, and had to come and jot down this little tidbit...just to completely validate my feelings of inadequacy and ignorance.

I was talking to Baby Boy yesterday (the 5 year-old).  He was setting up a bunch of matchbox cars on sofa pillows piled on the floor, trying to create a rugged terrain for them (or further destroy my pillows, one of the two).

As he's moving stuff around, making those little car sounds that can only come from individuals owning a "y" chromosome, he says "Oh man, all my cars just fell off."

Mom: "I'm sorry Baby Boy, are the pillows too wobbly to drive on?"

Baby Boy: "Don't you mean they're too unstable, Mom?"  *eye roll*

Bottom line:  If you are only 5 years old and thinking your mother is a complete ignoramus...it's only downhill for both of you from here on out.

Life lessons usually stink...

A bummer of a post...well, maybe not a bummer, maybe thought-provoking and insightful...yeah, right.

Do you know how people say that phrase "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" ??  How accurate is that, anyway?  I mean, does it literally come down to those two choices when handed something particularly painful in your life?  Am I a stronger person because of this one thing or another, or actually weaker and more afraid of things?

And about this "killing"....what if damage has previously been done that actually kills off a part of me.  Does that count in the equation too?  How do you know if it's dead?  Is it something that can be resurrected at some point?  How exactly would you do that?

I understand that everyone has stuff in their life that isn't on their top 10 "Things that would be so great to deal with right now" list.  I get it. And most people walk around with some part of themselves that's fragile, or damaged...and we just cope, right?

I know that in everything that occurs in my life there is a lesson I should be learning. I mean, I do really believe that...but sometimes I just have to ask "Why Lord, do I need to learn THIS, now?"

The coolest chick from my high school days...

I got to see an old friend of mine from high school yesterday.  Old as in "from before"...not old as in "decrepit". Just to be clear.  It had been many years since we'd last visited each other, 15 to be exact. She was my best friend in school, and the coolest chick around.

Sitting with her on my back porch, talking about what we used to do, people we went to school with, what's been happening since our graduation in 19*cough, cough*...was so much fun.

We laughed about her perfect hand with liquid eyeliner, and teenage knowledge of which brands you could wear for days at a time, remembered how we ate nothing but empty carbs and crap and still wore size 6's, spoke of her mother (who has passed away, and I'm so sorry), and my brother...who was a rugrat when we used to hang out, and developed a brain tumor at the age of 19 (and survived!). We basically covered 20-something years of separation in the couple of hours she was here, and I wished it could have been longer.

Next time it will definitely be a longer visit...and will include some sort of key lime pie-ice cream thingy, covered in chocolate...she swears it's amazing.

I love you, Deb. You are fab-u-lous.

Finally learning what a father should be...

Father's Day is a holiday I never really celebrated until I became a mother...go figure.  I was never close with the men in my life growing up...my birth father, or the man that became my father after he married my mom. I never really understood what a father was supposed to do or be.

I learned about fatherhood from the man that I married. He came from a large family, 7 siblings, not including "step-siblings" and was enamored with every niece and nephew that came into his life.  He loved the noise and chaos that came from every family get-together, and was always outside running with the little kids, instead of sitting inside with the "grown-ups".  I remember sitting on the couch with my sister-in-law and laughing every time hubby would run past the window with a slew of  kiddos chasing him through the yard.

We had our first baby when hubby turned 25, and then another three more within the next 10 years. Wow! That's alot of kids, right? But just two days ago he asked me... "Wouldn't it be nice to have just one more?"

This man has taught me what a dad really is. His sons love to hang out with him, go places with him, play video games and paintball with him.  Hubby has spoken with the boys often, using words like: "respect", "integrity", "responsibility", and "love". He kisses and hugs them, even as they get older...Oldest Boy sobbed when his dad hugged him at the graduation ceremony.  He has showed them what it means to love a wife, and has always been affectionate with me in front of them.

I am so grateful that my sons DO know what a father is supposed to do and be, and I am certain that they will grow into marvelous fathers as well...being taught by one of the best.

Fatigue and the quest for perfect parties!

I'm exhausted...I woke up exhausted...how is it 7am, and I'm already tired?!

Actually, I know the answer to that question, and if you guessed "Your pregnant?!" just go ahead and wash your mouth out with soap right now.  I'll wait...

I have been working on Middle Boy's 16th birthday party preparations for the last couple of days. Now that Oldest Boy's graduation is done, it's time to move on to the next "big thing" around here. You know, if you think about it, there are 6 of us in this house...even if you ONLY celebrate birthday's each year (and there is always more stuff going on than just birthdays), I'm still committed to doing something at least every other month.  It can be exhausting.

Milestone birthdays are huge for me...Hubby's 40th birthday included a cook-out/pool party with a dunk tank and a movie I made for him detailing our history together.  Oldest Boy's 16th party was luau themed, with surfboards and fishing nets and a cake in the shape of a beach house.  The same child had a costume party when he turned 18, with custom printed candy bars, and cobwebs hanging from every chandelier and picture frame.

When I say "party", I mean "party".

Middle Boy requested a casino theme for his party tomorrow night. We will have two separate tables running tomorrow, one huge poker table that my husband will run, and one blackjack table that I will run...with Oldest Boy filling in when potty breaks are required (or when I have to pay the pizza guy).

I have TONS of casino decor to hang in my house, everything red and black...balloons, streamers, etc.  I have automatic card shufflers for both tables, 1,000 poker chips (no lie!) and dealer costumes for the three adults to wear...I'll definitely post a picture.  Buying a full sheet cake with just the writing on it, and then decorating it with casino things I've purchased...it's going to be amazing.

In the meantime, I've been mopping floors, cleaning glass, washing blankets and pillows (many of these kids will sleep here tomorrow night), and stocking up on AA batteries for the Xbox 360 controllers. I have even pressure washed the pool deck and cleaned out the fridge...you never know who will dig in your fridge at 2am after you've gone to bed.

This party is going to be really great! I just hope I don't collapse in my fancy new dealer suit...

Trying to look at the positives...tired of the negatives.

I have a ton of stuff that I need to get done around here in the next couple of days...Middle Boy is having his 16th birthday party here on Wednesday night. It's "Casino Night", and we have a poker table and a blackjack table ready to go...along with 50 million decorations, including dealer costumes for Dad and I (and Oldest Boy) to wear. Should be fun, he's excited, and I'm excited for him...

Frustrated though that in spite of that, I'm feeling so down this morning. And I hate to post about things that are sad...I try to be encouraging and uplifting...but maybe I require the uplifting today, I don't know.

A close family member and I haven't spoken in almost two years...August will be two years. The last time I saw him was at my grandmother's funeral...he has ignored me since then.  I have called and written, and nothing. My kids have sent cards to him...still nothing. When I sent him an invitation to Oldest Boy's graduation, I put a note in there saying "Oldest Boy is really hoping that he will hear from you, you are greatly missed around here."

Did Oldest Boy hear from him? Nope.   Is my kid hurt by that? Yep.   Does that tick me off? You betcha.

We used to be really close, when Oldest Boy & Middle Boy were in elementary school, we used to see him often, and get cards, etc. from him. The kids adored him.

I am the queen of "Focus on those that love you."...."You have a million people who care about you."....."This is something wrong with (fill in name of hurtful person), it has nothing to do with you."   So why is this bothering me so freaking much?

I really do try to teach my sons that they can only control their own reactions, not the actions of others. I think it's a self-preservation technique really...I mean, you could go crazy wondering why someone doesn't love you, or care...but what good does that do?  I'm always telling them to be the best person they can, and let the hurtful stuff roll off them.... Why is it so hard to practice what I preach? 

I'm going to spend my day working on stuff for the party...focusing on this Middle Boy that I love so much...looking at the positives...hoping it helps.

"To shave or not to shave" or "Why must you drive your Momma crazy?"

On a side note:

As I'm writing my last post about Oldest Boy's graduation ceremony, I get a phone call from Middle Boy.  Today was his last day of school, and he's hanging out with some of the guys on his crew team, at one of the boy's houses.  Here's how the call went:

Me:  "Hey Middle Boy, what's up?"
MB:  "Is it okay if I shave my head?"
Me:  "Um...what?"
MB:  "We were all going to shave our heads.  Well, actually, so & so is going to shave an arrow on the top of his head, but I'm thinking I'll probably just shave mine the same length everywhere."
Me:  "What about your big birthday party next week? I was planning on taking pictures?!"
MB:  "Well, let me see how so & so's hair looks, and then I'll decide what I want to do."

Now, I live in what I would call a "Hair Household". We all take our hair pretty seriously around here, there's enough bottles of product to fill our swimming pool out back.  For a child of mine to say he's going to shave his head...well, it's a pretty shocking proposition, it's just not something we do. Ever.... We. Never. Do. It.
  *sigh*

Please Lord, don't let them shave a birthday cake onto Middle Boy's head...

Graduation ceremony, and a momma trying not to cry.

It's been a whirlwind since I've last been able to post.  Oldest Boy graduated from high school last Saturday. It was a great ceremony, at the sports arena by us, 600 or so kids in the group.

Grandma (Mom-mom) came and so did Auntie, along with a couple of my girlfriends...(Oldest Boy has several "moms" that keep him in line - lucky kid), we had a pretty good-sized group.  When we sat down we were looking through the program, and saw about six valedictorians.  You could hear everyone in the seats...glancing at the program...all saying "Six?! Are you freaking kidding?! Omg, how long are we going to be sitting here??!"  I envisioned a screaming bladder (mine), and two small children climbing the walls (also mine).  I guess they were told to make it snappy with the speeches, because each one only lasted about two minutes.  Perfect, if you ask me.

And of course, they say, "Only applaud during such and such times"....and you KNOW I still yelled, albeit briefly, when they said my kid's name.  So much for setting a good example for the kiddies.

Hard to believe he's done...I can so clearly remember the day that he started kindergarten, and how I cried then, too.  It's been a tough couple of days for me, very bittersweet.

I love you, kiddo...more than I can ever say.

A post to make YOU feel better about your stinky morning...

You're welcome.

If you think you are having a bad morning...here, allow me to help you feel better about it, by telling you about mine.

My morning started with sunshine and birdsong.  Just kidding, it started in the pitch-black of 3:30 a.m., with me waking up in bed, worrying over money, school scheduling, insurance issues, birthday party to-do lists, and hunger pains (because I ate egg whites for dinner again last night).

After spending a couple of hours paying some bills, and trying to find casino decorations online (birthday party), I started to get everyone up for work and school.  As I'm running around the house like an asylum escapee, I hear a loud, weird sound in the kitchen. I walked in there briefly and didn't see anything but the cat, so I just figured it was him getting into something on the countertop, which he does when I'm not looking.

The next time I came through the kitchen, I actually turned the light on and looked towards my pantry...a bottle of butterscotch liqueur had fallen from the top shelf, hitting the tile floor and exploding into THREE different rooms....kitchen, dining room and laundry room.  This bottle shattered into amazingly minuscule pieces, and when mixed with sticky butterscotch libation, stuck to walls, baseboards, doors, you name it. 

Oh, and did I mention that it took out a bottle of olive oil I had on the floor of the pantry? Yeah, liqueur AND olive oil, poured out in my pantry, soaking into everything else I had stored there.

Have you ever had to clean up something that was so mind-boggling you didn't know where to start? (Remind me to tell you about the time Little Boy smeared Desitin all over the dark blue carpet.)  This was one of those jobs. Lots of hot water, 1 1/2 rolls of paper towels...I'm sighing as I type this.

And then there's this:

No kids, that's not a jewel encrusted pink apron for Mommy, that's my glass shard infested apron...one of three like that, that were hanging on the wall across from my pantry.

Middle Boy and his monstrous shoulders...

Middle Boy turned 16 yesterday. He went with some friends to Disney World, came home to some grilled steak and cupcakes.

He was my biggest baby, *cue nightmarish delivery story*  9 pounds, 11 ounces...and a couple of weeks early.  He was my only child that had a "shoulder delivery" as well as a "head delivery"...my mother-in-law, standing at the foot of the bed during the delivery said:   "You had a toddler!"

I had gone into the doctor's office for my checkup, and my blood pressure was through the roof (a common occurrence for me) and I was showing signs of preeclampsia. The doctor informed me that I wouldn't be going home at all that day, that a hospital bed had been saved for me, and to get my butt into it.  I called hubby at work and said "You need to go home, pack my things, and meet me at the hospital."  Of course, he thought I was kidding, poor guy.  (I hadn't packed anything yet, wasn't anticipating having the baby early...oops.)

The doctor started the induction, and again, a phone call to hubby's office:  "Really honey, you need to come now, he broke my water." 

In hubby's defense, my first delivery started on a Friday morning with an induction, with the child finally being born on Sunday morning...so naturally, he's thinking (we both did) "I've got time.".

Turns out, he did have time. Time to go home and pack stuff...time to eat a couple of meals...time to wonder just how he was going to afford paying the college tuition for these kids....

And then, there Middle Boy was. He only required a small convention of doctors and cheerleaders, some help from a suction-thingy...and threats made to a mom (by a loving sister-in-law) who was so exhausted from delivering his huge head, she wanted to quit before his shoulders made it out.


This child is a blessing to me in every way. He is an athlete of the highest integrity, he works very hard in school and he's always wanting me to make him a sandwich.

I adore him.

A train wreck of a bathroom...

Oldest Boy and some friends went to Busch Gardens yesterday.  They had planned this out during the week, figuring out who would drive, etc...celebrating the end of their senior year.

Now I know that Oldest Boy told me they would all be meeting up here at our house yesterday morning, and I kind of did a quick run around the house, picking up used sippy cups, making sure Baby Boy didn't ditch his dirty underwear in the foyer (don't laugh, he's done that!).  I figured it would be fine, they were just going to pull up, maybe chat me up at the front door, everyone check for sunscreen, and leave.

I ran to the store after I dropped off Little Boy at school...and returned home to find them all still here, sitting on the couch, playing video games. "Okay, still okay, I think all the bedroom doors are shut, no one sees the messes....they should be leaving any minute now..."

I was in the kitchen putting some things away when I noticed one of the girls had gone missing...my brain screams:
"Omg, is she using the boy's bathroom?!"  "Please tell me she isn't using the boy's bathroom!"

As soon as she came around the corner, I knew...she had just visited the cursed "boy's bathroom". *sigh*  I said "I'm so sorry you had to use that bathroom! I haven't been in to clean it yet!"  "It's okay", she said...and yet had that dazed look about her, like someone who witnessed a train wreck or just stumbled across a dead body.

I went into that bathroom as soon as they left, and seriously, I wanted to weep.  I have WALKED OUT of gas station restrooms that were cleaner than this!!! There were dirty handprints on all the white drawers, toothpaste hardened all over the sink and counter, one ratty towel dangling from the towel bar and...
OMG!!  did someone wipe their butt with the throw rug when they ran out of toilet paper????!!!!!

I feel like I should wear a sign around my neck everyday of my life...most of the time it would say "I'm really an organized and sane person, I swear."   But for a special occasion such as yesterday's, maybe it should say "I DO clean my house, please believe me!"

Used clothes and chicken nuggets

One of my best friends in the whole world gave me some great gifts the other day...her used clothes. 

Now, when I say to you "used clothes" do you imagine some shirts or skirts with some wear, maybe a seam that needs repairing, a discreet spot or two?  Yeah, usually that's what I envision too...

No, her used clothes are pristine, pressed perfectly, newer-looking than most of the items I've only worn once.  When she says "I have some clothes for you."...my heart rate literally increases...it's like going shopping on someone else's credit card.

[Being a mom in a home with all these kids, plus a husband who has to wear decent dress clothes to work each day, buying clothes for myself is pretty low on the priority list.  I work from home, and run kids back and forth, how great do my clothes have to be anyway? I own one pair of jeans at a time, for example, and I wear those suckers until I rip a hole in the butt or blow out a zipper...luckily that's never occurred anywhere but at home, or in my driveway (the last ones bit the dust when I was climbing in my suv-hopefully no neighbors witnessed it).]

So, best friend comes over on Saturday...arms full of clothes, and you should see what she brought. There were some cute summery dresses (already wore two of them), some blouses, some skirts. These clothes are amazingly beautiful, classy and perfect.  Obviously not owned by someone who has four sons, all of whom use their clothing (and their mother's) as places to wipe lips, noses, and greasy fingers.

I'm in clothes heaven right now, feeling like a supermodel...I guess I should enjoy it before Baby Boy gets his next meal of chicken nuggets...

Wonder Dad and the stuffed tiger...

On Saturday, Baby Boy told Dad and I that it was "Tiger's" birthday Sunday. (Tiger is this little stuffed animal he'd been playing with all day.)  When I was tucking Baby Boy into bed Saturday night, we talked about celebrating Tiger's birthday with some cupcakes or cookies or something (none of which I can eat...but that's relevant only to me).  He was so excited that I was going to go along with it and make him a treat for him and his Tiger.

(On a side note: my cookies are slice and bake from the refrigerator, and my cupcakes come from a box mix. There, I said it and I'm not ashamed...if I had to do it from scratch, these kids would only get treats once every 17 years.)

Sunday morning Dad runs to the store to get some donuts for the kiddos (again, more goodies that I can't eat...notice how I never get to eat anything fun?) and a newspaper.

Dad (now known as "Wonder Dad") surprised Baby Boy and Little Boy by buying them a tiny ice cream cake, so they could have an official birthday party for Tiger. 

This is a man who has so many balls in the air, constantly juggling...he works 60 hours a week, and then he works most weekends here at home, too. I mean he doesn't have time to breathe...much less remember a quick conversation about a stuffed animal named Tiger. (I'm lucky I remember my own name most of the time). He went and looked for something that he could bring to his kids, just for fun, just because. It really touched my heart that he did this.

I hope these boys appreciate just how great their Wonder Dad is...

Little Boy, our social butterfly.

As I'm picking up my darling Little Boy (he's 8) from school on Tuesday, his teacher walks over to my car to tell me something. You know this can either be a really good thing: "Little Boy did such and such in class today and I'm so proud of him!"...(which we've gotten recently)...

or a "not-so" really good thing......like what she said to me on Tuesday...

"I had to send Little Boy out of the classroom today, he just would not stop talking."

Now, I've been in Little Boy's classroom many times, and man, there are so many kids in there, that frankly, I don't know how the teacher does it. (Kudos to all you teachers, you are amazing.) She's got all of these kids in different levels of reading and math skills (not to mention emotional stability), that it's a miracle how well they all come out at the end of the year.  I can appreciate that it makes her job that much harder when she's got one that can't keep his cute little lips shut.

My boys have always been pretty well-behaved in class. My mother would call the reason for that a "Proper Fear of Dad".  They knew that if they got in trouble in school, they would then get second dose of trouble when they got home.

For Little Boy, being sent out was devastating. To be sent to another class and sit in front of the staring eyes of other students...where everyone knows and whispers "Ooooh, he's in trouble!"   It's probably as bad as it could get for him. 

At home Little Boy has been restricted from any video games this week, plus swimming in the pool after school, and no access to my computer. You would think his little world came to an end.  Hopefully he will remember how bummed he is now the next time he wants to be Mr. Socialite in the classroom.

On a side note: My husband and I have only ourselves to blame for this...we can both provide undeniable proof of the genetics here by simply showing our own report cards...eerily similar...saying "She/He does a great job in class, and is very bright, however has a problem with talking too much in class."

Poor kid, he was set up to fail...

Perfume and dirty socks...

I have to know...do moms of teenage girls get asked to smell clothes?  I don't mean "Ooooh, this perfume is delightful Mom, smell it!"  I mean "This shirt has been in my bed for 3 days, does it stink too much to wear?"

I try to be a supportive mom you know, but really... When you say "Does this smell bad?", I'm already bracing for the worst, and wondering...."Was this in the job description when I was hired?"

Have any of you watched the Malcolm in the Middle episode where the mom imagines she has all daughters instead of sons? The boys are kicking and fighting in the back seat of the van, on their way to get some new underwear or something...and then the mom sees her imaginary daughters...all getting along, brushing each other's hair, delighting in the fact that they are going shopping at the mall. 

Do you moms of girls have rides in the car that are pleasant, cheerful and fresh-smelling, while I ride with armpit farts and dirty socks and rowing shirts stuffed under the seats?

Don't get me wrong, I adore my boys, but sometimes...I just wonder how the other half lives...

Middle boy and the pantry...

Yes, much different than the last title, I know.  (Those of you who know Middle Boy will actually get an extra laugh out of that...)

 At what point in my relationship with Middle Boy did I become the play toy? Now that he is bigger than I am, I am all sorts of funny when being lifted and moved around or tossed into the swimming pool.  You might say that it's all paybacks from when he was little, but I would beg to differ.  HIS FATHER is the one who should be getting payback from that nonsense...not The Momma. 

Today as I was putting groceries into the pantry, Middle Boy comes up behind me and says "Uh-oh, time to put Mom in the pantry!"  and literally puts me in and shuts the door...my face against the Chef Boyardee and canned peas.

This is not a walk-in pantry.

This is a regular pantry, 5 shelves or whatever, bi-fold door, with just enough room for Momma and her big butt to get shut in it.

I couldn't argue or fight back because I was laughing too much at the ridiculousness of it...Oldest Boy walks by and says "Is she really in there?"...like I can't hear him talking....