One of the Many Reasons I'm Glad I'm Not a Teenage Boy

Apparently nothing is the same for a teenage boy. Even going to Walmart.

As usual, my whole family exchanged names this December for the annual Christmas Angel thing we do. For the most part it's just an opportunity to be extra nice to someone/everyone. The most important goal is to be extra nice to whoever you drew. The over-achiever's goal is to be so nice to everyone that they all think you have their name. On Christmas morning when we tell who we had, the person who fooled the most people into thinking he/she was their angel gets to play Santa. C wins every year.

Anyhow, back to teenage boys and Walmart. This year, since all the kids are older and (most) have their own money, I decided we'd also purchase gifts for our special person. The logistics of taking four kids shopping with only one parent around to help while trying to maintain secrecy gets a little sticky, so I decided to take the kids on two separate trips. First I'd take my fourteen-year-old son and my sever-year-old daughter, then the two in the middle.

So last night L, M and I get to Walmart. I look at my mature teenage son and have no qualms at all about sending him off on his own. (Well, other than the fact that he has no watch or cell phone, and absolutely no sense of time. But at least I knew we'd meet up again eventually...) I told him to do his shopping, check out, and go to the benches at the front of the store. We'd either be there before him, or he could just sit there and wait for us.

Good plan, right? Did I mention that he's six feet tall and weighs 190 pounds? This is no helpless little adolescent here - I was not worried. (Which says a lot if you know me.)

I'd told him we'd plan on meeting back up in about forty minutes from when we separated, but my daughter and I got bogged down in electronics, and when I checked my phone for the time it was dead. But I wasn't worried. It wouldn't hurt him to wait for me. He'd be fine...

When I came out of the electronics section, I saw a wide-eyed L coming at me. Here's how our conversation went:

L: Mom! Where have you been!

Me: Shopping. Why?

L: I have been waiting and waiting for you!

Me: Why? Is something wrong?

L (Looking at me as if I am an errant child who has just asked a very stupid question as he lists off the following on his fingers): I have been sworn at, flipped off, threatened, and offered drugs. Get me out of here!

All of which happened while he was sitting on that bench, minding his own business and waiting for his mother.

Can I just say that nothing like this has ever happened to me anywhere? Let alone Walmart! I've sat on that bench and waited for people lots of times, and no one has ever done more than nod at me as they walked past. My poor little giant son. Sitting there with his crew cut hair and big dimpled smile, just minding his own business and bothering no one. I mean, maybe if he were decked out in chains with huge gauges in his ears (like the drug salesman's), or had missing teeth (like the girl who called him a naughty word and flipped him off - I guess she was rather threatening looking) I could understand, but L just has the look of a nice person!

Suffice it to say that when I took C and N (10 and 12, respectively) shopping tonight, we did not split up. The secret of the Christmas Angels was pretty much sacrificed, but better that than my children, right? So glad I am not a teenage boy!

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I Love Ya, Tomorrow

If you've come to see the results of the naming contest, go here. If not, don't go anywhere. Until you come to the comment form. Once there, leave a word or two describing my awesomeness, and then you are free to go. And please keep your hands and arms inside at all times. Thank you.

And now we return to normal programing.

Can I just say how excited I am about tomorrow? I may even take the advice I always give my children when they're waiting for something exciting to happen, and go to bed super early so morning can come even sooner. (And after my holiday hours, it's going to seem awfully early, believe me).

And what is it I'm so excited about? What wonderful, glorious thing happens tomorrow? (As if every mother out there doesn't already know EXACTLY what I'm referring to) TOMORROW THEY GO BACK TO SCHOOL!!!!

And I don't mean the neighbors.

I mean them. The ones currently wrestling all over my house (because that's what boys do), teasing their sister (because they do that too), and being bored and hungry the rest of the time.

It was so much fun having them home that first unexpected week when we had the snow days. It was really quite pleasant having them around as Christmas drew closer. Christmas day, I even managed to enjoy them between Nerf gun blasts and nose blowing. The next few days were a blur of messes, and toys, and cold-recovery, but they weren't so bad. As we've drawn closer to tomorrow, however, things have begun to go south.

They're wrestling more. They're teasing more. And they are now the boredest, hungriest kids in the entire universe. (And yes, I know 'boredest' isn't an actual word. Whatever.) I guess you could say that their bored little minds are ready for a little stretching.

And while I'm on the subject of it, can I take a moment to say "God bless elementary teachers"? Seriously. Any woman willing to sacrifice every ounce of energy (both physical AND mental) to teach children and decorate bulletin boards is a saint. Do any of you know what that job is like?

Well, let me tell you. As you know, I am a substitute teacher. I've subbed in elementary school. The children are both adorable AND adoring, but it is constant interaction the entire day. Like every second of every minute. (Well, there was that time I sent the second graders out to recess and took a nice long break until some adult knocked on the door and informed me that my door was locked, and the children had been standing outside for at least ten minutes. I was wondering when their recess was supposed to be over...)

I love subbing in high school. I enjoy subbing in middle school. I will (when absolutely necessary) sub in the sixth grade. Anything below that - forget it. Just looking at those bulletinboards gives me a craft-headache. I can't imagine having to decorate them (and the entire room) for every changing season, and every single holiday. When I get off work from a nice cushy day telling high schoolers to be quiet and do their work, I go to my kids' school to pick them up. Just watching the adults wrangle the children waiting for their parents gives me a headache.

And then I think, "Those amazing women have been doing this ALL DAY LONG. And every day for who knows how long."

And what's even more amazing? They like it. I think some of them even like the decorating/bulletin board thing.

So God bless the teachers, every one. Thank you for all you do. For teaching and mediating, disciplining and tolerating, liking and even loving my children. Mothers every where would be a little more insane without you - not to mention what you're doing for my children and their little minds. I know that I personally, would be lost without you.

And YAY!!! for tomorrow! I may even miss them in my quiet house. Well, maybe not. I'll love them the whole time they're gone, however, and be thrilled to see them when they get home. But the hours in between going and coming are mine. I may even nap. It'll be beautiful.

And may all your tomorrow's be as quiet and peaceful as mine.

The Joys of the Christmas Cold (that would be the sniff, sniff variety, rather than the Brrr I'm freezing type)

I detest being sick. It was bad enough when I was young and my mom would take care of me. Getting sick when you are the mom is so. much. worse. It all started late Christmas Eve when I started sneezing. Just innocent, harmless little sneezes. By the time I had everyones stockings taken care of (including my own, because The Husband was busy sawing logs on the couch - and I'd bought most of the stuff for myself anyway, so what difference did it make?) and the house ready for Christmas morning, my nose was running. I took some medicine and went to bed.

The next morning when I woke up (at 4:30, 5:00, 5:30, 6:00 etc. because my nine year old "just couldn't sleep") I was miserable. I've spent two days on the couch, and apparently should have spent a third there, because today's activities have me right back where I started.

At least there's no throwing up. And no sore throat. Although, come to think of it, those are the two types of illness that lead to instant weight loss, which is EXACTLY what I need after that stupid cookie exchange. Instead I have major congestion merging nicely with perpetual-running-of-the-nose. Yesterday my lucky husband walked in to find me sweeping the floor with a tissue hanging out of my nose. Nice. Vic's Vapor Rub is my constant companion, as well as that head-stuffed-with-cotton feeling, and a sort of out-of-body experience every time I get up to walk around.

And can I just suggest that getting sick and/or becoming extremely-low-functioning on Christmas Day is a real pain? Not because anything special was going on - our family gets together Christmas Eve - and not because people are waiting for fancy food - I never cook on Christmas Day. (Who needs more food after the Christmas Eve binge?) No, the real problem is the mess that is Christmas morning. I swear I have picked the whole place up twenty times over the last two days. Well, my children the lucky little slaves did anyway. Every time I bend over to pick anything up my sinuses congeal into a solid mass of impenetrable mucus. Believe me, I've done as little as possible.

But still, all those stupid new toys have no homes yet, so my toy closet is a disaster waiting for me to rescue it. Unfortunately, the rescue is going to have to wait, because there's no way I'm tackling that project while I feel this rotten. Consequently, having to stare at all these toys for two days has made me re-think a few things.

a. What genius decided fully automatic Nerf guns were a good idea? (answer, Mr. Darling). Can I just say how sick I am of Nerf darts? Seeing them, stepping on them, looking for them, getting shot with a fully-automated-stream of them. Left to my own devices, these toys would never have entered my world.

b. Why do I always add army guys to the boys stockings? Aside from the fact that they apparently make great targets for the above mentioned Nerf guns, I hate them. They are constantly everywhere I look. In the Christmas tree, hanging from my kitchen cupboards, hiding in my fake plants - everywhere BUT the "army guy drawer".

c. What made me think that the cool, expandable, Dora house I picked up at a garage sale for Little Miss Two would remain unmolested by her brothers? Apparently, it is the house of a Colombian drug lord, and they have constant busts there. With fully automatic Nerf guns blasting away the army guys strategically placed in the little pink and yellow house. It's just so wrong. At least I made them stop shooting the family that goes with the house - that's something, right?

All in all, however, despite being sick it was a great Christmas. Hope yours was fantastic - and I certainly hope no one else feels as lousy as I do!

Doing What I Can To Provide Entertainment To Those Bored Enough To Blog During Their Vacay

I know most everyone is still Christmas-breaking from blogland, but just in case you want something entertaining to read, I thought I should help you out. Not that I'm the one who's going to use precious vacation-braincells to bring it to you - I'm simply going to point you in the direction of the best Christmas Short Story I've read, well, ever. It was conceived over in Machen Land, and you'll need to scroll down to Christmas Short Story Part I to start at the beginning.

P.S. This story is not for the humor-impaired.

Enjoy the rest of your vacation everyone!!!

In Which I Prove I'm Good For More Than Just Limericks...

Tis days before Christmas, and all through the house
the children run wild, acting very un-mouse.
Decorations are up, and Bing Crosby is singing
Of Snow, and of presents, and bells that are ringing.
Speaking of snow, what's the deal with the weather?
Fun for awhile, it's now become quite a bother
As twelve times a day they all want to go out,
So I bundle, and boot them, and haven't a doubt
That in no time at all they'll be there at the door
Because someone is cold, and the snow's now a bore.
But cheerfully I, their dear, patient mother,
Let them back in and give thanks for the dryer.
But despite all the hassle of snow on my floor,
If it means a White Christmas, then bring on some more!
And then there's the baking of too many treats,
Cookies, cakes, pies, and pastries and all other sweets
Are around every corner, where ever I turn,
I can't seem to resist them. Oh when will I learn!
But alas, and alack, I have nothing to fear,
That old resolution saves me every New Year.
Meanwhile I plan, and I shop till I drop
Buying presents for children, my Mom and my Pop.
Braving the roads, which are covered in ice,
So I can make sure that our Christmas is nice.
So far my list is all doing, and seeing,
But what's much more important is how we're all feeling.
And whether we're thinking of more than just stuff,
And counting our presents to ensure there's enough.
For everyone knows that the true Christmas season
Comes 'round every year because of a reason
Much bigger than presents (or even the treats)
That fill up our thoughts, (and our tummies with sweets).
It's all about giving, and sharing and love,
And remembering the one who came down from above
To ensure we could all make it back there someday,
And be with our families; He provided the way.
So put down that cookie, and tune out the noise
For a moment or two, and remember the Joys
That will last for forever, and all the real reasons
We all share together this greatest of seasons.

Merry Christmas!