One Hundred Boys

Lillian   Mom.  If you had a hundred boys, would you freak out?

Grady   When I'm a grown up and  have one hundred boys, I'll freak out. 

Grady    And if I have one thousand?  My house will pop out!

 

 

 

Yes, boys do make me freak out.  But then, so does a girl. 

Thursday was a rough day for the girl...and the boys. 

Lillian refused to get out of the van.  Again.  When I dropped her off at school.

Grady got sent to the office.  For repeatedly discussing Mr. Potato Head's butt.

And Dempsey got written up for taking flying leaps from the top of the sliding board.

We rolled up to the 'kiss and go' line of Lil's school.  She 'kissed' me.  But didn't 'go'.  Again.  The assistant principal and guidance counselor were called in for back up.  They glanced at the lump of a kindergartner balled up on my minivan floor as my two, make me want to freak out, boys sat clueless.  Possibly discussing Mr. Potato Head's butt. And plots of leaping off of the sliding board at their shared school.  Then they probably moved onto writing their book, The Dummies Guide to Freaking Out Your Mother.

Lillian relented with the carrot of being featured on the video morning announcements. 

Turns out she missed her chance.  The announcements were over by the time she made it inside.  Because she kissed but didn't go.

She was promised the opportunity for the next morning.  Today.  This morning.  Which also happened to be 'Dress for Success Day'.  She was to be the 'Dress for Success' model.

Everyday in our house is 'Dress for Success Day'.  If you're dressed, it's a success.  But Lil's school had something else in mind.   They were supposed to dress as if they were showing up for a job interview.  Lil wanted to wear 'nice jeans'.   I told her it had to be a dress or a skirt.  She compromised.  How about a dress over 'nice jeans'?   That makes mommy want to do a keg stand.  Moving on.

We discuss reasons why she doesn't want to go to school.   She tells us about a mean kid.  For anonymity purposes, I'll refer to him as Ihopehepeeshisbedtonight.  Lil tells us that Ihopehepeeshisbedtonight called her friend 'stupid'.  We tell her to stick up for her friends.  "That's why we chase Ihopehepeeshisbedtonight on the playground mom."  She rocks.  I want to be her friend.

We talk about treating others how you would like to be treated.  Sean points out that mommy and daddy follow this rule and we have many friends.  "You don't have any friends daddy.  Uncle Ryan is your only friend."  Lil retorted.  Okay, so maybe daddy is a bad example.  But mommy has lots of friends!  Think about all those people she talks to everyday!  There's that Fed Ex guy.  Her friend that delivers the mail.  And that person who comes to check the meter!  And don't forget about mommy's special friend, Mr. Beer!  Never mind.  Mommy sucks too.

In the end, Lillian wore a dress to school.  Without the jeans.  Grady kissed Mr. Potato Head's butt and they made up.  And Dempsey promised to never, ever, go to school again.  Mommy and daddy still have no friends.  But there's always beer.



Now that's a butt I'd want to kiss.

That's Not My Breath! That's My Butt!

Kindergarten is hard.  For Lillian.  And even harder for me.  The teachers?  It's hard to believe that they come back.  Every.day. 

It's tough.  Every.morning. 

The 'kiss and go' lane is brilliant.  You pull up to the front of the school.  Remaining behind the wheel.  With your under four crew, still buckled into place.   You kiss your school aged kid.  And they go.  Into the school.  Except when they don't. 

One day recently, I pulled up to school.  Kissed Lillian.  And she refused to get out of the van.   I had no choice but to drive away.  There was a line of parents just waiting to shove their offspring out the door. 

Oh, don't mind us!  We just forgot our underpants!  Just running back home for a quick sec!  What?  Oh, no, no, no.  My kid isn't refusing to get out of the van.  Why on earth would you think that?  Maybe the fact that she's grasping onto the seat's headrest for dear life?  What is wrong with you people?  What is going on in this place?  Kindergartners can't get ice cream at lunch?  Well this place sucks!  I wouldn't want to go either!

The night before, Lil had asked me, "So, do we get to just play all day tomorrow? Or do we have to learn stuff?"  This is going to be a long year. 

The ride to school, leading up to this particular drop off,  was no indication of what was to come.  She had never actually refused to get out of the van before. 

It was the usual.  Lillian turned to Grady.  "Your breath stinks!  Did you brush your teeth?"  To which Grady calmly replied, "That's not my breath, that's my butt!"  Great.  Just great.

So I pull out of the 'kiss and go' lane, and into the parking lot.  What to do, what to do.  Lillian still has her fingers tightly wrapped around the metal rods holding up the head rest.  I look at Grady.  He's a mess.  Pajamas.  No shoes and socks.  Jacket-less.  And hair that looks like it was brushed with an egg beater.  I look at Dempsey.  He's dressed at least.  But there's something green hanging from his nose.  And a Frosted Flake is stuck to his eyebrow.  At least he still has eyebrows.  No one has shaved them off yet.  They'll save that for next week.  He also has no shoes and socks.  And is without a jacket.

I call the school.  "Um, hi.  I'm sitting in your parking lot and my kid is refusing to get out of the van."  I describe my vehicle.  In case they might miss the two, half naked boys covered in boogers and Frosted Flakes doing the Chinese Fire Drill.  And the girl being yanked from the van by her ankles.  School sucks.  We all hated it kid.  Get over it.  When this part is over, you get to be a grown up.  It sucks even more.  Then you die.  Blah.

A mom comes out.  One that helps in the drop off lane.  We see her every day.  She rocks.  And even laughed a couple of days earlier when Grady told her his stuffed dog's name is 'poop'.  Because what else would you name your stuffed dog?

She coerces Lillian inside.  With the promise of a pop the next day.  I'm so thankful for my kid's pop addiction.  It works.

I think Lillian worries about what she misses all day while she's gone.  When I'm home with the boys.  Alone.  This is exactly what she misses...

• Grady finding a screwdriver and unscrewing the light switch covers.  Because he wants to replace them.
• Grady and Dempsey stomping off with their blankies while Grady tells him, "Come on bud, we don't really like her."
• Grady taking pictures of me, with my phone, while I'm in the shower.

The shower.  And the shower curtain.  There I am.  Behind it.  Hi.

Me.  In the shower. Behind the curtain.  Wait.  The phone is ringing.  I think it's the Victoria's Secret Model Department.  Nope.  Just the neighbors.  A kid got out again. 

• Dempsey escaping into the back yard while I'm showering.   In the rain.  He escaped into the rain.  I wasn't showering in the rain.  Although that may be more efficient.  I run after him.  In my bath towel. After being alerted of the emergency.  By the kid who unlocked the sliding glass door for him. 
• 'Playtime' in the gym's racquetball court

What do you mean you can't get out?

And she's right.  I would miss all these things too.  If I weren't here for them.

But I'm the grown up.  I'm supposed to pretend this sucks.  Go to school kid.  Because before you know it, you'll be grown up. 

Some people feel lucky when they find money on the ground.  Me?  It's a sign of good things to come when I spot a Magic Hat beer cap. 

Money Making Schemes

I think all moms work hard.  Moms with partners, and single moms.  Moms who work outside the home, and those that work within it.  Moms that do both.  There are perks and perhaps I made a mistake moments, to all aspects of  mommy hood.  I stay home.  I have some random other money making schemes that I partake in (all semi legal of course), but I do them from the secrecy of my own home.  In front of the triple threat.  And my husband.  Some days days I secretly send out resumes.  Proficient at ass wiping. And ass kissing.


No matter your mommy status, getting kids out of the house sucks.  You say the same things over and over again, until the sentences don't even make sense anymore.  Brush your butt and wipe your teeth!  No, you can't wear dirty backpacks!  Eat your toothpaste!  Stop listening to me, your brother's the boss!  I've fallen and I can't get up!  Please just let me lie here.  Who said you're too young to walk yourself to school?  Buses are way overrated.  So are sidewalks.  Tell the teacher your father told you to do it.


The bus stop.  I am birth control for every parent that is unlucky enough to witness the debauchery of the triple threat at the bus stop.  The bus stops at the top of our neighborhood, it's a bit of a walk to get there.  It never arrives at the scheduled time.  It's like waiting for the Verizon guy to show up between noon and five.  Every day.  Fifteen minutes feels like an eternity. One of the very first days, Grady had a must release urine now emergency.  I found the nearest tree.  How's that for some early morning entertainment?  All my neighbors get to witness the fact that I don't cut my kids' grapes in half and I feed them popcorn for breakfast.  In the afternoons, the boys fall asleep ten minutes before we have to leave to meet back up with that monstrous, yellow beast.  I thought Lillian would recognize my total unselfishness and undying love for her.  So much so that I forgo her brothers' nap time.   Instead, she questions my wine intake.  "Mom, I saw three wines outside last night.  Were you thirsty?"  It's not my fault the neighbors are chucking their empty wine bottles over the fence.  I think they're mad about the pee emergency.  That damn tree was on it's death bed already.

They may not be wearing underwear...but the important stuff is there.

I know why kids need to go to school, they require successful teaching moments.   My teaching moments aren't turning out quite how the manual said they would.  Oh, you didn't get the manual?  Don't worry, it sucks.  I'm burning mine.   A few months ago we started Lillian with a chore chart.  She gets stickers for each chore she completes and a quarter for each sticker at the end of the week.  She's been saving for a CuddleUppet.  It's a blanket, with a puppet head attached.  There are various ugly animals to choose from.  The CuddleUppet arrived.  That day, I asked Lil to do a specific chore.  Her response?  "I don't want to do chores anymore now that I have my CuddleUppet." 

I told Grady he couldn't have chocolate before bed because it wasn't healthy for his body.  He called me a dork and stomped off to his room. 

At Mass last week, Grady was a hot mess.  We told him no trip to Wawa for freezies.  I said we could try again next Sunday.  His solution?  "Let's just not go to church again." 

I teach Grady not to stick his fingers in his butt to scratch a mosquito bite, instead he rubs his bitten hiney on the circle time carpet at school.  I tell him not to stick his finger in his crack while he's pooping.  Instead he grabs his penis.  Because according to him, there's no poop on that.  And he says he likes his little penis. We'll see how that all turns out in twenty years. 



At least she's cute. 

I'm sure I bribe my children too much. But without bribery, what sort of marketable skill do I really have to offer?  Apparently, a couple of old ladies on the trail have been checking out my butt.  One told me she thought I had a cute fanny.  Sean thought this was weird.  I thought it was the best compliment ever.  It's a marketable skill.  One that probably leads to a semi illegal money making scheme. 

Unsuccessful teaching moment #5,185.  Don't jump on the furniture, mom will be arrested if we show up in the emergency room again.