Tag Archives: parenting

and a social life found them again; and it was good.

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We moved to Oxford from Little Rock, 6 years ago. We were just entering our 30s and we had a pretty happening social life, even with two kids under 6–mainly because we lived around family and frankly, you couldn’t keep them away from the first grandbabies.

So, every Friday night, my Mom would pick up the boys and I would meet the girls for our weekly Girl’s Night Out. My girls were a group of teachers. (Hi ladies!) It was a nice mix–a couple of singles, the rest married–only a couple of Moms. We were a great group and no topic was off limits. (By the way, teachers KNOW how to party. They have all that pent up frustration with unruly kids and unreasonable parents…it’s a blast to be around. I miss them terribly.)

The guys would meet us out after 9 and we’d couple up and sometimes we’d stay in the group and sometimes we’d go off on our own.

We did this pretty much every week. We didn’t pull all nighters very often, but on occasion, we’d end the night at a local gay bar dancing our feet off.

We moved to Oxford and that just STOPPED. On a dime. Without warning.

I went through withdrawals. I am a social butterfly–always have been. And though I love my time alone on occasion, I thrive in a crowd of friends.

This town has been hard for us to find a fit because we didn’t go to school here and we’re not Rebel fans. (Go Hogs! Woo Pig Sooie!) We’re not real churchy–hey, that’s the benefit of being catholic, right? LOL and we’re not rolling in the dough. We’re at an odd age…not old, but not young enough to really fit in. Not that we care about fitting in, we care about finding a group of friends to hang with that we enjoy. And sometimes age makes a difference.

Recently, we’ve started finding ourselves among the social again. It’s been a breath of fresh air. I truly have missed the crowds and the camaraderie. It lifts me up…makes me feel better–if not a little tired. LOL

So, this week, I have plans Tuesday-Thursday with tentative plans on Friday. This is after my all night party in Memphis this past Saturday. I almost don’t know what to do with myself. LOL

It’s such a nice feeling to finally have a group that I’m comfortable enough with to go out and enjoy myself. It only took me six years of living here to find it. I just hope I’m not too old to truly enjoy it now! LOL

Ponderings on clean rooms…

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Do all kids think all adults are morons? Or just mine?

My kids have chores to do on a daily basis. They are staying home in the mornings and I expect them to work. Now, we’re not talking about slave labor here, just a few things they need to do everyday before they go to the pool.

Today’s list was a short one:

I.Clean rooms

a.This includes picking up the trash on your floor and depositing in a trash can.

b.Cull through your closets and dressers and put any and all clothes you cannot wear or do not wear into a trash bag. I will check to see if you threw away your NICE clothing you insist you cannot wear, so don’t bother throwing them away.

c.Put away all clothes you can still wear. This does not mean wadding them up and chucking them into your dresser. Nor does this mean putting them in your dirty clothes hamper. (I give my youngest son the stinky eye because he does this once a week, at least)

d.Clean out from underneath your bed. Do not replace items under bed with new items.

e.Do not just throw the crap in your closets and close the doors. I know that trick.

f.Do not throw the crap behind your dresser. I know that trick, too.

g.Do not collect and throw the crap into one of the hall closets or the spare bedroom. I know that trick, too.

h.The beds should be made. This does not mean the beds should be covered with all the crap from your floor that you can’t hide in the closets or behind your dressers.

II.Feed Animals

a.This means put the food in the bowl first thing in the morning—NOT just before Mom comes home to check on things

b.Feeding the animals also means making sure they have fresh water. The water is not fresh if it’s put into a mossy bowl. If the bowl is green, clean it. It takes five minutes.

Before I come home at lunch to check on them, I call twice to help “manage” them.

“How’re the chores coming?”

“We’re almost done.”

“By your standards, my standards, or your daddy’s standards?” (daddy’s standards are higher than mine.)

“Your standards, but dad will be happy.”

I get home and what do I find?

Trash on the floors

I can’t see under the bed for all the crap.

I can’t open the closet doors because they are so packed.

Clean clothes in the hamper.

A green water bowl (Full of “fresh” water, of course)

So, I left them with instructions that now their father (High Priest of cleanliness) would be home in one hour and a half to check. If the rooms weren’t cleaned to HIS standards, no pool for a week.

These are the days of our lives…

Update

They will never learn that we are not morons. I am convinced of this.

According to Mr. Clean, the rooms are still in the same state of chaos as they were this morning.

New deadline: 6pm

Added punishment if not complete on time: No pool for a week plus picking up trash at the park.

Like the sands through the hourglass…

and then he was sorry…

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My 8 year old had a really, really, really bad day at school a couple of weeks ago.

It was so bad, he came home and told me about it. He told me everything–except for the part where he was extremely rude to the assistant teacher. He absolutely refused to do anything she told him and apparently had a couple of ugly things to say to her in the process.

All this happened on a Friday. On Monday, I get a note filling in the missing pieces of the story. We do the “do you know what you did wrong?” talk and he tells me he’d just had a really bad day and took it out on Mrs. G.

I said, “Well, you should draw her a picture and tell her you’re sorry.”

So he did. I didn’t see the finished picture, but I saw him writing the note to Mrs. G. He told me that afternoon that Mrs. G. really liked his picture and that was that.

Until this morning when I ran into Mrs. G…

Mrs. G: Did you see the picture he drew me?

Me: No. Should I have?

Mrs. G: Laughing Oh Lord, yes.

Me: Worried now. Um. Why?

Mrs. G: Well, (snicker, snort) he drew me a picture of a donkey.

Me: gasp. this didn’t start off promising.

Mrs. G: At the donkey’s head, he wrote my name and drew an arrow. “This is you.”

Me: grimacing

Mrs. G: And at the rear end he wrote, “And this is what I’ve been.”

Well, that did it. I started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Me: Well, I guess he can recognize ass-like behavior afterall.

Mrs. G. went on to say that it was by far the best note of apology she’s ever received.

I should say so.

Terror

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I almost witnessed my oldest son’s death last night.

Let me just say, just in case you weren’t already aware of this fact, this is NOT something a mother should ever experience.

But, thank God I was there.

I was dropping Rader off at basketball practice. We parked across the street from the gym. The street was busy and it was getting dark. Normally there is a cross walk where from the parking lot to the gym, but the city had repaved the roads this summer and apparently painting the crosswalk is way on their priority list. It won’t be after today.

So, we’re waiting for a break in traffic. A car stops for us and signals us across. We start walking–except for Ian who tears off in a run. I see a car coming on the other side because I’m tall enough and CAN see over the car. He doesn’t see it. Finally my mouth catches up to my brain and I yell IAN! and for the first time ever, he stopped. And the car stopped. Six inches from hitting my child.

That scene has played over and over in my mind since then. We had another talk about how to cross the street, etc. I think I was in so much shock that the gravity of the moment never caught up to me.

I don’t recommend this form of stress to anyone.

The No Ninja rule

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Halloween’s a comin’ and we still haven’t decorated or bought costumes.

I have one rule this year: No Ninjas.

I’ve never had a costume rule before. But I have to enact the No Ninja rule this year. First of all, all our halloween pictures look the same. Rader has been a ninja 4 years in a row. Ian has been a ninja of sorts at least 4 times.

But, Halloween is only once a year, you say. If they want to be a ninjas, let them be ninjas.

Sigh. Yes. Halloween is only once a year. But these damn ninja costumes seem to last forever. And swords do too. So, I wake up to sword fighting and yelling every weekend. Then comes the “YOU ALMOST POKED MY EYE OUT YOU IDJIT” arguments. Then comes the “Mom, we were just playing, and it was an accident, and we didn’t mean to do it…well, I didn’t do it, Ian did…” “Did NOT!” “DiD too” “DID NOT, IDJIT” “Did TOO FART FACE!”

So. No Ninjas.

Here is the conversation with Rader the day I enacted the rule:

Me: Alright guys. No Ninjas this year. Pick something scary.
Rader: How ’bout a scary ninja.
Me: No Ninjas.
Rader: How about a dragon slayer with a sword and a black mask.
Me: sounds like a ninja
Rader: Well, how about a martial artist
Me: Ninja.
Rader: How about Jackie Chan’s body guard.
Me: Ninja.
Rader: How about…
Me: How about I pick out your costume.
Rader: How about a kid in black pajamas with Nun-chucks.
Me: Sounds a lot like a ninja.
Rader: What if I’m a ninja-in-training?
Me: Nope. That’s a ninja.

And it goes on and on and on.