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Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Do I what?

"Do you smoke marijuana?" 

One little random question from Boy 1 caused a volcanic reaction in my brain.  In the course of 2 seconds my brain produced a series of brilliant gems, "Why do I seem stoned?/Well, everyone experiments in University-KIDDING-not me. I didn't have any fun in University at all, not that pot is fun/Does he know marijuana is called pot?/ I am probably supposed to teach him something here. What would MADD tell me to say - no MADD is against drinking and driving, not pot. They would be called MAP or MAM.  Not as catchy/FOCUS - BUY SOME TIME!!!" All the while big brown eyes staring me down, waiting patiently for an answer.

What I said was, "Do you smoke marijuana?" Clever, right? Repeat the question back to get another second and figure out what a good mother might say. I follow up with, "NO!" 

Big unblinking brown eyes, still staring at me, "You don't smoke it?"  I think, "Jeez, kid, are you going to be a cop when you grow up?  Should I call a laywer?" when I look at the TV and realize there is a news story on addictions and the video is of cigarette butts on the ground.  He wanted to know if the butts on the ground were marijuana, not if his mother had a drug problem.  Wow, I took the long way around on that one.

So I said, "Yes, pot is smoked. But it is even more unhealthy than cigarettes."  The End. Good thing I bought myself all that time to come up with that brilliant answer.

Are you ever amazed that I am allowed to be in charge of two children?  I am.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Birthday Part 2 and He Ran Away with the Chicken

Remember that post when I said I would explain the point of the Birthday Part 1 post in another post? I have kind of lost interest. I will tell you one lesson learned: don't gleefully call your dear friends big fat liars when you think you have uncovered their plans for a surprise party because when you find out there is no surprise party you will feel like an asshat. Even if there is actually a surprise party being planned and it turned out they were big fat liars.  Yes, my lessons are complex. And confusing. But true. I also learned that I have a bunch of really terrific friends.  They are a bit weird but that's why we all get along so well.


As a matter of fact, one of those friends is currently at the movies with both of my boys giving me a few hours of peace.  Perfect time to tell you about Boy 2 running away from home.  


A month or so before Christmas, we were having a lot of fights at our house.  Boy 1 vs. Boy 2, me vs. Boy 2, Boy 2 vs. PHD...sometimes we'd take turns teaming up.  It was not pretty.  It was also too early to start saying, "Santa can see you, stop it!"  Not that it would work anyway. 

One day the boys got into a terrible fight in the backseat of the car on the way home from the grocery store.  By the time we pulled up in front of the house I had threatened to ground them both for life, take away every toy they owned and a bunch of other stuff we all knew I wouldn't follow through on.  So, Boy 2, says, "I'm running away from home."  I say, "Fine but bring in the groceries first".  Boy 1 comes in shortly and says, "He ran away with the chicken."  Not something you hear every day.  

This is where a difficult parenting decision had to be made.  I would like to leave him until he gets cold and hungry and comes home.  Except he took a precooked chicken with him and I have nothing else for supper for the rest of us. How long can an eight year old survive on a precooked chicken, anyway?  I decided I needed a precooked chicken for supper more than I needed to teach him a lesson at this moment.  

 I went back outside and found him  about 10 steps away from the house, hunched over a chicken leg like some kind of rabid wolf.  I was a bit scared.  Would it be like when I try to take a bone away from the dog?  Would I get bit?    As I crept closer, he caught my scent and looked up, panic in his eyes.  I want to think he was afraid of me but I think he was afraid I would take the chicken leg.  It is his favorite part of the chicken.  When I got within reach, he grabbed the chicken and bolted into the back alley.  I had to chase him all the way around the block back to the house.  I couldn't catch him even though he was gnawing on a chicken leg the whole time.  That's not right. He beat me to the house and I let him think he had won.  

About 20 minutes later they started fighting. Being the mature adult I told them, "If you don't stop I am going to leave this house!" I didn't have to tell them the chicken would be coming with me, that was implied.  They of course ignored me and continued beating on each other.  I pretended to slam the door then crept up to my room and laid on the floor beside my bed.  A few minutes later I hear Boy 1, "Mom?"  (fight fight fight), a little louder now, "MOM??".  Boy 2 is still trying to engage his brother in war but Boy 1 has started running up and down the halls and the stairs looking for me.  Up, down, "Mom?" up, down, "Mom?"  Boy 2 is still trying to engage him in battle until Boy 1 says, "I don't care about that right now, I CAN'T FIND MOM."  and then, danger, "We need to call somebody!"  Crap.  I was so comfortable on the carpet beside my bed and I had to get up and make myself known.

They were so angry at me. Boy 2 says in his most heartbroken voice, "We thought you ran away!"  I said, "Now you know how I felt when you ran away.  It is scary isn't it?"  What I was thinking was, "Ha, I won, I won!"  Didn't I??  Probably no one is winning here.  

We are definitely even, though.