let it begin

First we had this:

Then a little of this:

We enjoyed this:

And now we're starting this:

And this:

More to come.

it's five o'clock somewhere

Shall I say "Part One?"

Welcome to my periodic series recognizing the end of a long day - or possibly even several trying days in a row - with a rant and a glass of wine (well deserved, in my opinion).

Our household has been passing around yucky-fever-cough-snot-congestion-can't-sleep-staying-home-from-school-whiny-fussy-watery-eyed-only-want-mommy-illness for the past week.

Our little Squirt definitely had it the worst with fevers nearing 104 degrees and lots of crying for a boy who normally does a lot of smiling.

A trip (with four kids in tow) to the pediatrician won him the prize diagnosis of an ear infection and a trip through the drive-thru... pharmacy.

During our prayer time this morning, Sauce prayed that Daddy would be sure to use lots of hand sanitizer on his trip - I'd say we're all sick of being sick if we're going to the Lord about hand sanitizer.

Our neighborhood is having some sort of water issue (picture brown tinged water coming out of the faucet) and we can't use our water to drink or cook with.  Another errand was needed to the fire station where a nice firefighter loaded up my trunk with gallons of tax payer funded free drinking water.  Two days of this and it still isn't resolved.

Call me a spoiled American, but if I have running water in my house, I would like to actually, ahem, use it.

There are some more little punks at school giving my eldest a hard time and I'm growing weary of guiding him to rise above their crap antics.  I'm about ready to tell him to unleash his recently acquired cuss words karate training on them to silence them - no matter the consequences from the principal.

My beloved is on the east coast receiving some specialized training for his job, but I sure could have used him here today to kick some butt when my two middle muddles, Sauce and Rufus, couldn't get along for the life of them (for no particular reason at all, I might add).

In an attempt to "aid" their reconciliation, they spent quite a bit of time holding hands.  Then they graduated to sitting cheek-to-cheek when they still couldn't find love for each other.  Sauce was still having a hard time cooling down his hot temper, so I'm sorry to say that he was shoved out on the front porch (high temperature of 29 degrees today) and his fed up mother someone promptly locked the doors behind him.

He heard the muffled instructions to, "Calm the heck down!" through the door.  After about five minutes of teeth chattering, he came in to reluctantly make peace with his younger brother.

I thought I was feeling better, but tonight I can't take a breath without an over exaggerated coughing fit.

But since my beloved won't return until late tomorrow night, I'm heading upstairs to curl up with my body pillow that fills his vacant spot - and a healthy shot of Nyquil.

the knucklehead chronicles - part one

I call my friend Erin a "girl mom."  Her oldest child is a girl and I think it doomed her to have unrealistic boy standards.  Her husband Dave is a man who says what he means and means what he says.

One day after hearing Erin's pure exasperation about the antics of their boys, Dave enlightened her with the truth about boys.  It went something like this:

"Boys are knuckleheads.  They are knuckleheads when they are born and they don't stop being knuckleheads until the age of 25, and even that is variable."

I completely and totally agree.  If there is one thing you can depend on from boys, it is that they are knuckleheads.

EXHIBIT A:

"What is that?" you say.  The Hunter has a friend who's dad works for $kullcandy and generously gave pendant necklaces to the entire class.

Rather than wearing the above referenced necklace around his neck, my little knucklehead chose to stick his pinky through the eye socket.

Enter swelling.

The ice was no use.  Butter, cooking oil, no luck.  My man had to bring out the big guns.

To my knowledge, Erin hasn't had to bring out bolt cutters with her little knuckleheads just yet.

not for the timid

What I wanted to say:

"Lady, your punk second grader punched my sweet little kindergartener on the bus today.  I took care of business and got in his face and told him to keep his filthy hands to himself.  If he so much as breathes on my son again I will personally show him what it feels like to be punched by someone bigger than him!!!"

What I really said:

"Hi Jane.  This is Laurie from down the street.  How are you?  I just wanted to take a second of your time to let you know that James punched my six year old Rufus in the back while on the bus ride today.  Oh, yes he is fine, no lasting injuries.  I spoke to James at the bus stop and told him that what he did is not okay and he needs to keep his hands to himself and treat others like he wants to be treated... so I was hoping that you could reinforce that at home."

I'm really learning that it takes guts to make people, both children and their parents, accountable for their behavior.  It would have been easier to comfort Rufus and talk to only him about how wrong the boy on the bus was.  It would have been much more simple for me to give him a hug and tell Rufus that he should simply learn from others how NOT to behave.

I hate conflict.  I try to run from it.  It gives me a 20 pound weight in my stomach, shaky appendages, and occasionally shingles.  But I (thanks to my husband's support and encouragement) am not going to let life happen to my boys.

I don't mean that I'm going to protect them from all harm.  I'm not going to drive Rufus to school every day because he got punched on the bus.

But, I can't teach them that they are accountable for their behavior and not hold others accountable for theirs.  It wasn't comfortable for me to call this little boy's mom and tell her what her son did.  But I think the phone call accomplished two things:

1.  My kids know I'm on their side and I will do the tough stuff for them.  If they need me, I'm there.

2.  They know that accountability is consistent.  They are accountable for their behavior because their parents will follow through.

Lastly, this book made a lasting impression on me that it all needs to be done in love.  Rather than avoiding this boy and labeling him as a troublemaker, I made a point of telling him and his mom that we really want to develop a friendship with him and have him over to play.

There are reasons in his life why he did what he did, and the truth is that he needs kids to see the good in him.  He needs adults to shower him with love and attention and invest in him.

And even though I really wanted to throttle him I plan to do just that.