Laundry Day

In the basement this afternoon:

I'm doing laundry and Tim comes running down the stairs.

Tim: Mom!

Me: What?

Tim: Um...

Me: What do you want?

Tim: I forgot.

Me: Get me your dirty pants, please. Take the ones off that you're wearing and put the others down the chute from your room. I want to wash a load now.

Tim: OK. He grabs a pair of jogging pants and heads upstairs.

Ten minutes later

Me: Tim? Where are those pants?

No answer.

Me: Tim!!!!! Hollering up the stairs I need those pants!

Tim: Here they come!

A blue pair comes flying down the stairs and lands at the bottom.

OK, I have one pair. Still waiting on at least two more.

Me: Tim, I need the other pairs laying on the floor of your bedroom.

No answer.

Me: Tiiiiimmmm! Get me the pants off your bedroom floor!

Nothing.

Me: Damn it, Tim! Where are those pants?!

Ten more minutes have passed by this time.

Tim: I couldn't find them.

Me: I said, they are on the floor of your bedroom. You probably walked on top of them several times in the last two days!

Keep in mind that all of this conversation is taking place with me in the basement and Tim in the living room upstairs. My voice was growing hoarse and my throat sore.

Tim: Oh, OK.

Five minutes later, the pants make their way down the laundry chute.

Is it any wonder why some mothers turn to drinking?

Oooh, La, La

You gotta love the innocence of a child sometimes. When you least expect it, they come up with something that just makes you laugh, and without even realizing it, you needed it.

Let me just set the scene. Mike, the kids, and I were walking through Walmart, grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping, especially with the kids because they ask for everything they see, and just make the chore that much more difficult.

So, I'm stressed, my back hurts (still!), and I just want to get out of the store and go home. Timothy walks up beside me, and with a little smirky grin on his face, nudges me with his elbow, and says, "Oooh la la." His one eyebrow moves up and down, and he nods just a bit while saying.

I guess it wasn't so much what he said, because it really had nothing to do with anything. Well, except for the movie "Alvin and the Chipmunks", because apparently it's a line from the movie. Anyway, it was more of how he said it, and his actions. Right there in the middle of the produce department, I doubled over with laughter. Loud laughter that caused other customers to stop what they were doing and look at me.

Mike backed away a couple of steps with a bewildered look on his face. He didn't hear what Timothy had said. Maybe he thought I was having some sort of attack, I don't know.

I laughed like that for a few seconds, tears coming to my eyes. It felt really good, and I didn't care that others thought I had lost my marbles. When I finally stifled the last of my giggles, I looked at Timothy and just gave him a big hug.

He really had no idea what he had done, but for me, it was just what I needed to destress and finish my grocery shopping with a smile.

My Little Inventor

We had Taco Bell for supper tonight because, well, Mom's back is out and standing at a stove to cook is just too hard.

After we left the restaurant, and on our way home, Tim announces out of the blue that he's going to invent a bean machine.

Timothy: I'm going to invent a bean machine. I'm going to be rich!

Rebecca: A bean machine? What for?

Timothy: To fill the bean burritos! Duh! Every restaurant will have one.

Rebecca: You don't need a bean machine to fill bean burritos. They just scoop it on there.

Timothy: But, the bean machine will make it easier. I'll make a thousand-million dollars! I'm going to charge $400 for each bean machine.

Meanwhile, Mike and I are in the front seat listening to all this, trying not to laugh too loudly. The idea of a bean machine was purely genius in his mind, and I was amazed myself that he came up with it. As funny as it was, it did make just a bit of sense.

Not Just Anyone Can Be A Little League Coach

The boys' game started at 5:30. They were supposed to be at the field for a little pre-game practice at 5:00. Most of the boys were on time. We got Timothy there right at 5:00, but his friend Zack didn't arrive until about 5:15. The boys warmed up and took the field.

As the game started, Zack ran over to his parents. "I have to sit out. Coach took me out of the game because I was late."

This was the events yesterday evening at the beginning of Timothy's baseball game. Zack was really upset. His parents were upset, and frankly, I was pissed. I have never liked the boys' coach. I think he's way too hard on the boys. Some of them have never even played the game before, and he spends 99% of practice yelling at the boys and telling them how bad they are.

When the season first started, Zack's parents told the coach that he may be a few minutes late to games because they both work until 5pm. He knew from the beginning that this was the case.

This is not the kind of coaching one should use to teach young boys the game of baseball. You punish high school kids who are late to practice this way. After all, they usually have control over how and when they get to practice. You don't make an eight year old boy sit the bench because his parents have to work. He has no control over when he gets to the games, and I think this guy is a complete jerk.

Timothy has come home from practice or a game on more than one occasion sad or upset that the coach yelled at him (or the team in general), and told them how bad they played. I think he's really discouraging the boys from playing. No one likes to be told they're bad, and it makes them not want to play anymore.

Zack did end up playing in the game because another boy got hurt. Zack's mom called it karma. I called it sticking it to the coach. I feel bad the boy got hurt, but darn it. It really bothered the coach to have to stick Zack in when he thought he was punishing him. And to make it even better, Zack played a heck of a game.

Day Twenty-One of Summer Vacation

Much less stressful. Much, much quieter.

It's just me and Timothy today. Rebecca is at Grandma's. Tristan and Mike are at work, and all is right in the world. Well, my world anyway.

Tim is playing video games on the other computer and watching TV. I'm on my computer. The dogs are being good (for a change. No one is eating the cats at the moment.)

I can actually hear myself think today (not always a good thing, but today it's a welcome change), and I haven't said, "Knock it off!" once yet today.

I had forgotten how nice quiet is. I haven't heard it since school let out for the summer twenty-one days ago. Seems like so long ago.

Day Twenty of Summer Vacation

I don't know that I'm going to make it through the entire summer. Seriously, I just don't think I can do it.

Rebecca and Timothy are at each other constantly. Arguing, picking, and just generally irritating the hell out of each other. "Stop!" "Don't touch me!" "Quit it!" It's starting to wear on the one nerve I have left.

If I've said, "Knock it off!" once, I've said it a thousand and one times. I think I'm invisible. At least to the children, anyway. Nothing I say registers. Hell, I don't think they even know I'm in the room, yelling at them. They just continue with their meanness toward one another.

Tristan and Mike are the lucky ones. They get to leave every day. They get to go to work and have adult conversations, do work that counts for something, and have a life. I want to go to work. I want to have funny stories to tell my husband at the end of the day.

On the brighter side, tomorrow should be better.....I think. Rebecca left this afternoon for a few days at grandma's house. Tim couldn't go because of baseball practice, but at least there will be no one here for him to fight with. I suppose tomorrow he will be pestering me because he's bored.

Lovely.....

Day Fourteen of Summer Vaction

Rebecca and Timothy cleaned the kitchen....without being told.

Rebecca cleaned the bathroom.....on her own.

Timothy vacuumed the living room.....without complaint.

They put their clean laundry away.....neatly and where it belongs the first time.

The two of them played well together today with minimal fighting.





I wondering what kind of miracle had to happen for them to behave this way, and how I can re-create it?

Riddle Me This

In the car today:

Timothy: Tristan, what do you call a cat that crosses the road to eat a dinosaur?

Tristan: I don't know. What?

Timothy: You tell me.

Tristan: Tell you what? I don't know.

Timothy: You're supposed to tell me. What do you call a cat.....

Tristan: How am I supposed to know what you call a cat that crosses the road to eat a dinosaur? You asked me.

Timothy: Oh forget it. (crossing his arms and scowling) You don't get it.

Tristan: (Laughing) I don't get what?

Me: Tristan, just drop it. He's mad enough.

Later on.

Tristan: Mom, what do you call a big cat that doesn't cost anything?

Me: I don't know. What?

Tristan: A free-lion.

Me: A what?

Tristan: Get it? A feline?

Me: Did you just make that up?

Tristan: Yep (smiling)

Pretty clever, huh?

Undefeated

Just got back from Timothy's fourth baseball game of the season. They are undefeated so far, and really pumped. I can't believe the difference in the boys from last year to this year! Last year, only one or two of them could actually hit the ball, and don't get me started on their catching skills!

This year, every single boy on the team is hitting the ball. And not just hitting, but as Timothy would say, they are jacking the ball into the outfield!

It's really fun to watch the boys this year. You can just see that everything they've learned thus far has 'clicked' and they know what to do. No more stumbling around, the whole team chasing the ball into the outfield, leaving the bases unguarded. Everyone knows his position, and plays it well.

I'm so proud!

The Sleepover: An Update

It's going better than I expected. The girls have been pretty well behaved, although I haven't been upstairs to see the mess they've created in Rebecca's room.

The girls even included Timothy in on their fun. Last night, they all played a game of Monopoly, staying up until 3am, and this morning they used the scores of makeup Rebecca's friend brought to paint Timothy's face up like a clown. I think he was less than thrilled with the results because he washed it all off before I could see it and take a picture. He knows me too well!

I'll have to admit, no matter how much fun it's been for everyone, I'll be glad when Mike gets home from work and takes her home. The noise level around here has been a bit above tolerable, and I'm looking forward to some much needed quiet. The dogs will be happy, too. They've been on edge the whole day, barking and growling at the least little thing.

My Children

I just realized that I haven't talked about my kids as much as I had wanted to. After all, I am a mother of three wonderful children. Getting to know them a little bit, gives some insight as to who I am.

First of all there's Tristan, your somewhat typical teenager. He's 15 and a Sophomore in high school. He wrestles and plays football for the high school, and carries a 3.99 GPA. Other than being obsessed with his girlfriend, he's a great kid. He makes me laugh.....a lot!

Next is Rebecca. She's my informer. If I want to know anything about either of the other two children (and even if I don't), she will tell me. For this reason, the two boys are less than thrilled that she's their sister. She's 10 and in fourth grade. She aspires to be a teacher someday, and with her grades and likability, I have no doubt that she'll make a wonderful teacher!

Then there's Timothy. He's my youngest at age 8. He has a mind of his own, and a stubborn streak a mile long! He has been the most trying of my three children right from the beginning. Tim is in second grade and already knows that school is not one of his favorite things. He's all boy and would rather spend his time outside hunting for bugs and playing baseball. His sense of humor is so different than Tristan's but he never ceases to make me laugh with his silly antics and innocence.

I'm really proud of all my children. Each brings to my life something different, something that I could never imagine being without.

And the Award Goes To.....

Me! For the worst mother of the year.

I've never been one to document the accomplishments of my children. I've never kept a baby book for any of my kids. I started one with my first son, but lost interest after a couple of months. I just never remembered to write anything in it.

Now, along comes the third child Timothy, with a project for school. A timeline that is supposed to display everything in his life from birth until now. We're supposed to place everything on this timeline that's happened to him, or that he's done, including pictures.

Trying to remember which child did what when is almost impossible! For me anyway. I have a terrible memory. I can't even remember what I did yesterday most of the time, much less what my eight-year-old son did when he was one.

We managed to get the timeline done. We put in generic things like when he said his first word, and when he was diagnosed with asthma or got his tonsils out. We don't lead a very exciting life, so I'm afraid his timeline isn't very detailed.

I remember when my daughter had to do her timeline a couple of years ago. The teacher displayed them in the hall outside their classroom. Some of those kids' timelines were just crazy! The things some of these families do, and the places they go! I was just amazed!

Anyway, I hope his timeline is sufficient. It won't be as extravagant as some of the others, I'm sure. It did look nice. He did a good job writing the details and placing the pictures.

He was happy with it, and I guess that's all that matters.

High School Wrestling 8-0!

Got another duel meet to go to tonight. My oldest, Tristan, is a Sophomore this year, wrestling Varsity. He's got an undefeated record so far this season: 8-0! He's got a tough one tonight, though. He's going up against a boy he wrestled last year and got a back injury from. The kid is good, but Tristan has improved greatly since last year, and I think he can take him. He's really pumped about tonight's match, too. Says he's looking forward to "taking this guy down", as he puts it.

Wrestling for me is a love/hate sort of thing. I do so love the sport. I can hardly contain myself in the stands when Tristan is wrestling. The problem I have is they move so fast, I can't keep up! My eyesight is so poor, that I miss a lot of it. Something happens, the crowd cheers, I smack my husband and ask what happened, and it's all over before I have a chance to cheer too! Thank goodness they record the matches so I can come home and watch them over on TV. They do that so the boys can learn from their mistakes, but it benefits me too!

Oh, and those fluorescent lights! They are murder on my eyes! By the time the match is over, I've got such a headache!

It's all worth it, though. At least I'm there, being the supportive mother I should be. Sometimes, I think he's embarrassed by me, actually. He says he's not, but how could he not be? When I do happen to catch something he's done well with, I'm standing on my feet, cheering at the top of my lungs! During the match, I'm yelling as loud as the coaches, telling him what moves he needs to do. He says he can't hear me when he's in the midst of pinning someone, but everyone else can! I don't care. I'm just so damned proud of him!

My youngest, Timothy, has decided to give wrestling a try this year, too! So far he's only had practices, but after the holidays he'll start having matches too. What fun that's going to be! Those little kids out there on the mats wrestling around are so cute! It breaks my heart, though because it never fails. When one loses there's always tears! You can't help but feel sorry for them. They all want to win so badly!

So, we'll see if Tristan's undefeated streak ends tonight. I hope not. I have to ride home in the same car with him, and he's not a very good loser!

But It REALLY Hurts, Mom!

My son, Timothy, came home yesterday from school holding his arm next to his side, complaining that he hurt it playing football at recess. I asked him what happened to it, and he proceeded to tell me this long, drawn-out story of how the other boys were playing "tackle" football even though they weren't supposed to, and he got tackled, falling on his arm. While he's telling the story, his arm miraculously worked again, demonstrating exactly how it happened.

When the story was finished, he looked at me with sad, pain-stricken eyes and asked me if I could wrap it with a "cast". I said, "Cast? We'd have to go to the doctor for that. I don't think you need a cast." He said, "No Mom! That stretchy, brown thing that you wrap around your arm when it hurts!"

The Ace bandage. I told him I didn't think he'd need that either, but he insisted. "It REALLY hurts, Mom!" He emphasized really dramatically. So, I found the bandage and wrapped it for him. He spent the rest of the night holding his arm, and when he thought someone was paying attention, he'd gasp in pain or rub it and say "Ouch!" I let him sleep with it on.

It had come unwrapped a little during the night, and this morning when he got up, he wanted me to re-wrap it for him. I told him that it was probably okay to leave it unwrapped for school today. I could only imagine him at school trying to get ready for recess or carrying his lunch tray with only one hand. I knew it didn't hurt him anymore. I'd seen him using it the entire evening last night when he'd forget about it, or when he thought no one was looking.

But he insisted again. Rather than start a fight first thing in the morning (He's NOT a morning person to begin with!), I let him wear it to school. I even helped him get ready this morning. I helped him get dressed and get his shoes on. I think he liked the extra attention.

When we were all ready and waiting for the bus, I told him, "I think your arm will be fine by tomorrow. I don't think you'll need to wear that to school tomorrow." He nodded in agreement. "You're probably right, Mom. It's starting to feel better already."