happiness, humor, motherhood

How Do You Know? You Don’t.

We were at T.Puzzle’s thirteen year wellness check.  He was sailing through, crushing milestones and checking all the boxes landing him in healthy ranges for almost everything (screen time average was the only number in question).

The nurse turned to me and said, “Any concerns?”

“No. Unless you have a magic formula for getting a thirteen year old boy to articulate his thoughts,” I said.

The nurse could empathize.  She experienced a similar phenomenon with her now seventeen year old son.  Every question she asked him was met with an, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

How is it possible that once boys reach the age of thirteen they don’t know anything?  Where does all their knowledge go?  How do they make it through the day not knowing anything?

As we waited in the exam room for the doctor to appear, I decided to investigate this communication/knowledge block.

“So, T.Puzzle.  Do you talk to your friends at school?” I said.

“Yes.”

“What do you talk about?” I said.

“Stuff.”

Wow. I could sense I was really getting somewhere.  I continued my sure-be-successful line of questioning:

“What else do you talk about?”

“Sometimes, we talk about things.”

Oh, the stuff and sometimes the things.  It all makes sense to me now.

“Why are you able to talk to them but not me?”

“Because they don’t ask me questions,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  Oh no!  It’s happening.

I don’t know.

I really, truly don’t.

 

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humor, motherhood, parenting

My Brush with Danger

As the lone female in our house I get that I am more detailed oriented when it comes to self-care and the minutiae of running a home.  It then lands on me to decide how important I think something is and to the degree I want to pursue it.

Take toothbrushes for example.  I took it upon myself to buy everyone electric brushes because I believe (or at least believe the marketing) that these will improve my boys’ oral hygiene (especially with T.Puzzle newly in braces).  This particular kind sends you replacement heads every three months.

Great.

So the three month mark arrives and it’s time to replace.  Absolutely no one other than myself cares about this.

No one.

Either I replace them all or all three of my guys will use the brush they have indefinitely.

While I did drag my feet on principle I couldn’t take it anymore and set about getting new bristles in place.

The grime I encountered on the boys’ brushes as I did so made my skin crawl.  I’m not sure what it was or how my boys had not yet contracted a flesh-eating bacteria from it, but the muck and guck in and around the toothbrush holder and on the toothbrushes themselves, made me queasy, queasy, queasy.

How they saw that and still used the brushes is a mystery or a remarkable act of courage.

I now have a choice.  I can give them instructions on the ins and outs of daily brush care, or I can let it go.

If I let it go, which is the direction I am leaning, I am praying that I can Amazon Prime myself a hazmat suit for when the next replacement bristles arrive.

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Lucky to be alive

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

family, humor, motherhood, parenting

A Humble Hero’s Journey

Your parents are right.”

Words more dreaded than this for a teenage boy simply do not exist.

This is where the story of our beleaguered hero begins.

He had a humble upbringing.  Raised by a beautiful, age-defying, always-dancing mother and an extremely handsome (you’re welcome, Mad Dog) and benevolent father, our hero rose unassumingly through life’s ranks and, as any good story would have it, found himself face-to-face with doom (aka high school).

Our Humble Hero was not afraid for he new his birthright.

Great men are born to great men.

He had done the math (sort of, just don’t check his eighth grade Algebra 1 transcript) and realized he had everything he needed to succeed.  He had wit, he had charm and he had incredible good looks (you’re welcome, Full Speed).

He had everything he needed except for one thing …

study skills.

Most academic heroes, grammar gods and algebraic warriors know that without such skills, failure looms large.  Their parents also know this.  These parents state the obvious and hope their progeny take heed.  Things like attending tutorials with teachers, studying in study hall (gasp!) and taking your time on tests all fall under the wisdom arc of great, parental knowledge.

Did our Humble Hero listen to these time-tested tenets of success?

Here is his story told in his own words:

Call to Adventure: The call to adventure occurs after parent night. Mad Dog learned that the Humble Hero’s L. A. teacher had tutorials. He came home and said “The Great Teacher has tutorials Tuesdays and Thursdays in the morning.

You should go”.

Refusal of the Call: Our hero ignored the call thinking that he was too cool for more school. He assured Mad Dog that everything was under control.

Acceptance of the Call: One day, the hero got his grammar/vocab quiz back. He had missed 9 grammar questions for a score of 82. It was at this moment he knew he had messed up.

Crossing the Threshold: The hero arrived at The Great Teacher’s door and he entered the special world of her classroom.

The journey had begun.

Meeting the Mentor: All heroes need a guide that shows them the ways of life. The Great Teacher showed the hero how to become one with the grammar gods.

Trials and Tests: In class, the hero had to deal with worksheets about grammar. The days went by and eventually the hero finally figured out what a preposition does.

The Supreme Ordeal: All of the hero’s hard work had prepared him for this moment. A 50 question quiz with half of those being grammar. Mere mortals could not withstand the pressure of this quiz. But, our hero isn’t mortal. Brandishing his magic weapon, (a worn down mechanical pencil), he was able to complete the quiz with only minimal suffering.

The Reward: Much to his surprise, the hero had accomplished his goal. He had gotten an A on the grammar quiz.

Return with the Elixir: The hero was overjoyed. He couldn’t wait to tell his parents what he had accomplished.

Mad Dog’s response “I was right, wasn’t I?”

The hero could only muster, “Maybe”.

From this moment forward, strange occurrences became the Humble Hero’s new normal.  As he began to attend other tutorials along with continuing to be mentored by the Great Teacher, all his test scores and grades improved.

How could it be?  Do you mean to tell me the Humble Hero had the power to succeed THE WHOLE TIME.  Move over sister, your ruby slippers got nothing on this guy.

The moral of the story is simple.

Listen to your parents.

And, maybe listen the first time.

But, then again, where’s the adventure in that?

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A special shout-out to my fearless collaborator.  Thanks for staying true to you,
humor, kids, motherhood

Memories in the Making

I’m pretty sure July 3rd is ‘Take Your Kids To Work’ Day.  I asked Mad Dog about it, but he wasn’t buying it.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy my time with my boys, in fact it’s kind of awesome.  Being able to hang out with them with no agenda has been incredibly fun.  However, after they spend loads of unstructured time together, this leads to frustration and maybe occasional acting out.  Therefore, please, “Take Your Kids to Work” Mad Dog.

I insist.

In all seriousness, I am grateful how much I enjoy their company.  This is the reward of parenting.  All the blood, sweat and tears has paid off.  Not to say their won’t be challenges ahead, but at least for this moment, being a mom is a lot of fun.

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Moving forward I understand that they will not want to hang out with me forever.  Even though I am entertaining, am an excellent Jazzerciser (this is cutting edge cool, right?) and know a lot of really famous people:

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Ah, but we will always have the memories of this summer … I intend to make the most of them.

 

humor, motherhood

The Lady of the House

I have always loved Mad Dog’s athleticism.  When we were dating, I would take great pride watching him from the sidelines as he crashed his way to the end zone for his touch football team.

Lately, he has been playing more and more basketball with the boys in our backyard.  These games consist of trash talk, spin moves and flagrant(!) fouling.

Yesterday’s game was no exception.  It was 1 v 1, Mad Dog against T.Puzzle.  I sat on our back porch and watched the glory unfold.  Full Speed was next to me spouting off the official referee calls as Mad Dog muscled his way towards victory.   One shot shy of the win, he dropped back deep on the pavement and launched a beauty.  It banked off the backboard slamming home the win.

Something about the whole thing reminded me of those good ol’ days of dating.  I’m not gonna lie, my stomach did some flips.

Mad Dog’s still got game.

At dinner in our post-game analysis, Mad Dog recounted that winning shot.

“I did it for my woman,” he said.

Both T.Puzzle and Full Speed asked, “Yeah, but was she watching?”

As in was Miss Lady watching?  As in, Miss Lady is clearly THE lady Mad Dog was showing off for and I was just a random spectator.

No doubt I can’t compete ….

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Miss Lady sprawls herself across Mad Dog’s lap in devoted adoration.