We just returned from a lovely family vacation.  More on that later.  While we were walking to the beach, Boy 2 told me,  "Boy 1 was chewing his bacon like a camel so I called him a pig. He said if he was a pig he wouldn't be eating bacon...It took a long time then I laughed." 

As he was telling the story, he looked like this:

I laughed too.

Don't Pet That Dog

It has been a strange few days.  My favorite  part was when PHD went to pick up the kids from school on Wednesday.  I don't like to go inside the school where principals and teachers tend to grab you to just mention "one small thing" that your child has been doing, probably because you are a terrible parent. PHD's approach is to go right on in and pretend he's back in elementary school minus the ever present threat of expulsion he was under when he actually was a student.  To each his own.  It takes all kinds. He's nutty.  Whatever.  On this day, 

That Should Trick the Robbers

Happy New Year Friends!  

As I like to begin my year filled with hope and optimism,  and spend the second week filled with disappointment and self-loathing, I like to make a long list of generally unachievable  resolutions.  I thought I would try a smaller, simpler list for 2015:

Home Reno Part I, or, Totally my Fault

This post is for my friend Lana who was complaining at brunch this morning that I hadn't posted anything since May 2.  May 2!  

So, Lana, this will get very confusing for all of us but let's pretend we are time traveling so it seems fun not irritating. 

My Neck Hurts Too, Unless Yours Doesn't

Last week I mentioned that my neck was sore.  Could be meningitis or could be that I slept weird.  Each equally likely, I'd say.  The words were barely out of my mouth when PHD says, "My neck is sore too."  He proceeded to go on and on about what the pain was like, where it was, what caused it, how miserable it was making him. I told him he was making that up so that he wouldn't have to listen to my my neck story.  This caused the neck complaining to increase exponentially until I ran away and hid in another room.

Today is your what?

I have a birthday once a year. November 5. Every other year PHD remembers it. The next year he makes up for forgetting the previous year. Then he forgets that he has forgotten it, ever, and

It's Like I Am New Here

Last Wednesday Boy 2 announced that they didn't have school on Thursday or Friday. Parent Teacher Interviews, you know.  I was taken by surprise but checked his organizer which confirmed his story:

Clinical Depression

Last weekend PHD's sister came to visit, all the way from Nova Scotia. She brought with her a whole host of fun stories that usually started like, "You remember Peter,

Family Vacation MacFuddle Style

While imagining a week of blissful family time camping in the beautiful wilderness,  I planned a week long family vacation to Jasper and Banff National Parks. Looking back at that level of fantasy (Blissful? Seriously?),

Another Beautiful Family Moment

I just lost *, in our own house.  Turns out he was in the shower, not truly lost. It was more that I wasn't really paying attention.  When he came out he asked why I left the shower cleaner in the tub.  I said I was going to wash the tub but then I became very busy reading parenting blogs. He said, "You don't need those." I almost teared up, I was so moved. Then, completely unprovoked, he farted at me. 

*Name has been censured to prevent embarrassment of farting party...Maybe I am a good parent.

I would have preferred flowers

Awkward...

This morning Boy 2 asked PHD to carry him upstairs.

PHD:  I am not carrying a 7 year old around.

Boy 2: I am NINE.

PHD:  Oh.

Then they stood there and looked at each other, as though they were unsure who won that round.

The answer, boys, is NO ONE.  No one wins...

Someone is losing his marbles...

One of my friends mentioned that her son liked to read books with lots of facts then recite them to his parents. She said they find it exhausting. At first I was confused then it slowly dawned on me: Some parents listen when their kids go on and on and on. And on. What if my ignoring the incessant chatter negatively affects their self-esteem?

Since I don't want kids with low-self esteem, of course, I thought I better pull up my socks. One morning I tried really hard to actually listen. I also felt really guilty about not being a good listener up to this point (only the last 12 years or so) so I thought I would take them to the lake for the day to make it up to them. Fair trade, I thought. I also thought I should try harder to listen while I drive.  This is what it sounds like:

Mom, do you have any jobs for me to do for money?  I need more bills in my wallet.  I don't want to mow the lawn or wash the car.

What do you think spiders do for entertainment?

It's hot out, I am hot.

How long until we get to the lake?  Can I have pop there? Are there fish in the lake?  Remember the last time we went and I got a leech on me?  Gross.

People with big eyes freak me out.  Sharks used to freak me out but then I learned how to roll in the kayak.  I did it a bunch of times and now sharks don't scare me. Monkeys still freak me out, though. 
Oooh, I dropped it.  That will probably melt down there.

Did you see that ad for neosporin?

Neosporin?

NO.  Mio Sport.

No, I haven't.

Oh.

I felt like screaming but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop. And then we almost got hit by a semi.  Seriously.  Gigantic truck tried to change lanes into my lane.  My little car came up to his hub cab. It kept getting closer and closer, squeezing me towards the sidewalk. I finally got past him before he completely crushed us.  The almost accident seemed to last for about 10 minutes. It was probably only about 10 seconds but maybe longer because I actually had to take a breath mid-scream.  That's right - I don't honk at the semi, I scream, take a deep breath and scream some more. Brilliant. But I was able to stop screaming once I got my car past the semi.  So that's good news.

The lesson today is this: Listening to every word that comes out of your kids' mouths is dangerous. (Well, my kids' mouths, I don't know about your kids.  Maybe your kids spout beautiful poetry 24-7) From now on I will just take them to the lake or buy them expensive things to build their self-esteem. Or just buy them a can of pop. 

The lake is much better than getting hit by a semi.

My brain was protecting me from that memory

I had completely forgotten about this. Shortly after we returned from Florida, and I had the first inkling that we might not be the class act I imagine us to be(Redneck), our  front doorknob gave out.  I guess it was old and tired of turning all the time so it quit doing that. Sometimes we couldn't get into the house and sometimes we couldn't get out.  It was a fun little adventure for about a week. Especially the time I was stuck on the front step in -35C weather. PHD finally took out the doorknob and decided it couldn't be fixed. 

Here is yet another example of how differently we handle situations. I thought we should go to Home Depot and get a new doorknob, you know, one that turned, and maybe even locked.  Here was PHD's solution:

When I suggested that a tea towel jammed into the hole in place of an installed doorknob was less than ideal, he looked at me like I was insane, "Are you worried a tiny robber will stick his hand in and unlock the deadbolt?"  I said, "No, I am worried that I need to explain to you why it is ridiculous to use a dish towel as a doorknob."  What I was really worried about was that in that moment, I couldn't think of a single valid reason why we couldn't just use the towel to plug the hole. PHD has broken my common sense.  So I went to bed and had dreams about eyes peeking in the hole, or things slithering in. 

He did put in a doorknob about two days later.  Since then, I have figured out why you can't use a dishtowel as a doorknob.  The missing doorknob is just the beginning.  Next maybe you think the front lawn is a good place to keep a spare toilet, you get a gun rack in your truck, or maybe you get a goat as a pet. It all starts to seem reasonable.

It's a slippery slope people.

11 Ways To Torture Your Brother

1. Threaten to post the password to his ipod on Facebook or YouTube.
2. Go with him to the bank to reset his pin. When he seems to be trying to hide his new pin say things like "there's a camera right there watching you put that number in" or "Nooo, I didn't see what you entered...except the last four digits."
3. Touch his stuff. Any of it. While he is looking right at you.
4. Tell him you touched his stuff. Even when you didn't.
5. Tell him you will only leave him alone while he is talking to that girl at the park if he will give you $20.
6. Wait until Mom is really mad at him for something that is probably your fault, then give her a big hug. Smile at your brother at the same time.
7. Go in his room. When he says get out, step out. Then step back in. Repeat until he tries to punch you. Tell Mom, "He just punched me! For NO reason!" When she isn't looking, step back into his room.
8. Change the channel whenever he is watching anything. Consistency is key to eliciting an unreasonable reaction that might get him in trouble with the parents. 
9. Crack your knuckles, shoulders, toes, whatever will activate that startle reflex.
10. Speaking of startle reflex, hide around corners and jump out at least once a day.
11. Don't forget to breathe. As loud as you can without hyperventilating. If you can figure out a way to breathe on him without him being able to reach you, even better.

Learning to scamper up a pole away from him is probably not a bad idea

Sink or Swim

I told the boys I was thinking about putting them in week long swimming lessons while I was on holidays so they would have to go twice a day but it would only be a week long.  This started a two-boy chorus of whining, groaning and complaining.  

Boy 2:  I am not taking swimming lessons.  I hate them.

Me: You have to take them.  It is an important lifelong skill and I am not allowing you to quit until you are done all the badges.

Boy 1: Well that isn't really quitting then, if we are all done.  That's like saying "You can quit school when you are done university." That isn't quitting, that's finishing.

Me:  Good point.  Let me rephrase: You are both finishing swimming and school. 

Throughout this exchange Boy 2 is making a noise that sounds like a Formula One race, "Reeeeeeeeeee, Reeeeeeeee. " I think it is meant to convey frustration but it could also be designed to drive me completely bats.  Under this extraordinary sensory pressure I come up with this:

"If we are ever in a flood like in Calgary, you will be glad you can swim.  It could save your life.  Or, (I am warming up, now) if you are ever stranded in the ocean, you don't want to be the slowest swimmer or you will be the one eaten by sharks. The best swimmers, are the safest, right?"

Boy 2: No, the people in the boats are the safest.

Me:  You are correct, and boats cost money so you have to finish school and get a good job so you can buy a boat!

Wait, what?

To recap, I think I won the argument that we weren't having about finishing school AND distracted them from refusing to take swimming lessons.  On a parenting scale of 1 - 10,  I rate myself a solid 7 this round.  If they start having shark nightmares I might have to scale that back a bit.

Checking for Sharks, or at least, slower swimmers

So Far, I Won This One

Boy 1 just stepped off PHD's new elliptical machine after a good 30 second test drive and started this:

Boy 1:  That hurts. How do you run marathons? Are you insane?

Me:  Not insane, just awesome.

Boy 1: Awesomely Crazy.

Me: Just plain awesome.

Boy 1: -ly Insane.

Me:  AWESOME.

Boy 1: -ly insane.

Me (as he goes downstairs):  Just awesome.

Pretty sure I won this round. Unless he reads this.  Then it is probably not over.

Boy One or the Other

After showing one of the boys (can't say which one because he doesn't want me writing about him right now.  This is my workaround. My plan is foolproof.) bruises I got from playing soccer, he says, "See, that's why old people shouldn't play soccer."  I give him The Look which is clearly so disturbing to him that he shrugs and mutters, "Just sayin' ".

Kids are so good for the self-esteem.  

It occurred to me I should work on the manners thing a bit.  I explained  to the boys that you need to think about your words before they come out of your mouth.  Apply filters.  For example, it isn't nice to call people fat or bald or anything that pops into your head that might hurt their feelings, even if it is true. Curb the blurting, people.

However, this child is also creative. At dinner he said, "We should get Dad a treadmill."  PHD of course asks him why and the boy says, "Well you aren't skinny." About as tactful as a punch in the face. But, he didn't call him fat, so that's progress.

Then I had to drive PHD's truck on a gravel road and we fishtailed slightly when I pulled over to pass an oncoming vehicle. Boy ___ said, "Maybe driving the truck isn't for you." Fairly tactful, right?

I even overheard same boy telling PHD, after a blurt (PHD's doing the blurting, not the children), "Daaaddd,  Mom says you need to think about things before you say them." Learn one, do one, teach one, in action right there. Not quite a good as shutting up completely, but he is only __ (I better not identify him by his age.  Did I mention I am brilliant?) I have some time before a daughter-in-law arrives on the scene to appreciate the good work I have done for her. 

Huh. I just realized that my need to please has gotten so out-of-control that I am now structuring my parenting around a possible future person that I may or may not meet in 20 or so years. That poor, currently non-existent girl has a tough road ahead of her. But then, so do I.  We already have something in common.  

I have had worse nicknames...

I ran into the boys' basketball coach at gymnastics. She wondered if the boys were playing basketball this year and I enthusiastically chirped, "Yes I will see you at registration on Tuesday." She patiently explained that registration was actually yesterday, but if I could make it to the general meeting across town before it was over in 20 minutes, I would be okay. 

We raced over to the meeting and arrived with about 5 minutes to spare. Of course Boy 2 refuses to get out of the car. Against my better judgement I agree to let him stay in the car to play on my phone. I race in, fill out forms and wait impatiently while the coaches discuss the intricacies of which team my boys should be on. What felt like hours but was probably 10 minutes later, I burst out of the building to realize the sun had set. I feel a full-out panic attack rising, thinking, "oh God, he will be freaking out, he's all alone in the car, oh God, he's in the dark, what if he tries to get out of the car, oh God, he will get run over..." As this loop plays in my head I start to pick up speed, cross the road, and break into a full out sprint down the street in an effort to get to my poor abandoned baby. As I sprint I start clicking the unlock button on my keys. Click, doesn't seem to be working, I can't see the lights flashing, click again, oh God, he is probably losing it, click, he's probably terrified, click, why can't I see the lights? What is going on? It was like one of those nightmares where you run and run and can't get anywhere. Then I realized I was at the end of the block. I stop running, turn slowly around and think, "Frack, where is my car?" Click. Oh there, half a block back, about where I started clicking unlock frantically. I run back to the car to find my poor abandoned baby hysterically LAUGHING. He says, "You went by like a BULLET, Mom." 

A bullet. A panicked, slightly mentally challenged bullet. Awesome.

That's one way to go...

PHD lost his cell phone one morning.  His solution went like this:

1. Run up and down stairs looking for phone in places he's never been, yelling random curse words while throwing sofa cushions around.  

2. Borrow Boy 1's phone for the day.

3. Go to cell phone store to price out new phone and recycle Boy 1's phone.  (????)

4.  Come home and shout at wife when she wonders why he would have recycled Boy 1's phone, and if paying $650 for a new phone is a good solution.

Total time spent: 10.5 hours

Planned spending: $650 + gas to cell phone store  = about $6,000.  I may be exaggerating slightly but I am not including the cost to replace the recycled phone so it's probably close.

My solution:

1. Tell Boy 2 if he can find the phone I will pay him $20.  

2. Find phone on arm of sofa beside the spot PHD likes to stand to talk on phone.

3.  Pay $10 to Boy 2 because he looked really hard, too.

Total time spent:  5 minutes

Total spent:  $10

I won! Then I think about what I have actually won and I feel sad.  But not for long because I won! Plus I just saved us $6,000 with my awesomeness so I am off to the mall. Nope, sorry, exaggerating again, it is only $5,990, or something like that. I'm not very mathy.

I am about 27% sure I am hard of hearing

I don't want influence your opinion but after reading Sunday's post over again, I believe Episodes 2 and 3 support the theory that I am hard of hearing. Episode 1 is just a bad day...So, how do I solve my hearing issues? I do find that if I use my sunglasses to push my hair back behind my ears I hear much better, kind of a DIY hearing aid. Which, now that I think about it, sounds a lot like a manual eyelid lifter, which sounds a lot like mental issues. 

So I the point is, I am still trapped in my circle of uncertainty, I think.