Adventures with Boys

"Hey Mom, what do you think is big enough to reach the roof?" The 12 year old asks

"What? Why?" I respond

"Because my football is in the gutter and need to get it" he responds

"You are not climbing on the roof" I say

"Why not?" he asks

"Really?" I respond

"You just don't know how good my balance is" he says as walks away disgruntled at being thwarted once again by his over protective mother.

Just another normal day raising my boys. I talk a lot about raising my boys when I have indeed managed to raise a girl to adulthood. The fact is she just never asked to climb on the roof I have been spoiled.

Cleaning up after boys is always a grand adventure. My middle son loves snakes and it is a constant battle in the house as to why Mom just won't let him get a live one of his very own. He does have quite a collection of replica snakes, some are quite real looking. There was the time I made his bed, shook out the comforter and froze in place when a replica fake snake fell onto my foot. It took a good five seconds for me to come to the realization that the snake was indeed fake.

Laundry time is another adventure. Today a 1950's silver pickup truck came out of the washing machine shiny clean after it got the deluxe wash in my front loader. The cleanest matchbox in town!

My boys have their own TV area. When I was a kid I was lucky to have a phone in my room at age 16, spoiled by some standards and I sure as heck did not have my own TV. The kid's TV area in my house has cinema type recliner seating, an all leather coffee table/trunk and a 52 inch HD TV hooked up to a Wii and cable. When we built this room we envisioned hours of family time taking place but the fact is, video games and SpongeBob Square Pants took over.

I cleaned that room today, as I do about every third day. Here is a list of finds that awaited me.

Candy Wrappers
An empty Gatorade bottle
A tiny skateboard truck
A tiny skateboard missing a truck
One googly eye
One very crusty sock (found behind the chairs)
Several fall leaves
A lollipop stick
One empty milk cup
One Wii remote under the chair
Lots of dirt from some body's shoe
Three pairs of tennis shoes (one particularly stinky)

When I hit the googly eye I just thought it all was very funny. I thought at that moment that there will come a time in my life when there will be no chance of every finding a random googly eye on my floor. Crusty socks will be but a memory and candy wrappers will always land in the garbage.

I remember when they were all babies and I was cautioned that I would miss the days of diapers and crying and tiny clothes and socks. I have to be honest, I don't miss diapers but I do miss tiny socks and first smiles, a coos and snuggles.

I suppose I will also miss dirty boy smell covered with Axe spray cologne. I will miss the excitement of seeing the bugs one of them just caught or the goal in a soccer game but by that time there will be new first and grand adventures to catch and see and experience. Until then I will continue to document their crazy behavior and all the googly eyes I find.

The Question of Marriage

It is all around at the moment. It may be my age, perhaps it is just the time when couples who have been just that, a couple for a while find that maybe coupleness isn't for them any longer.

It seems as if I know an extraordinary number of couples who are either in the middle of a split, verge of divorce or who have just gotten a divorce. Right of passage some might say, nothing is forever some other may muse. I have noticed a trend in the relationship breaks of which I know.

I have heard the story of men living their life as normal as ever when one day it seems like out of no where their wife announces she is done, finished, wants him out. The poor guy stands there in shock. He wonders what happened to his happy fairytale life he thought he was living. Maybe it was not perfect, but he was happy - he wonders what happened.

Giving this some thought I have come up with some theories. Maybe today's late 30's early 40's women are experiencing midlife crisis in record numbers and looking for excitement. Maybe now that women are fully entrenched in what was once considered the man's world of corporate America they feel that they too are entitled to the little thing called midlife crisis where they walk away from responsibilities and into the arms of a younger man and a fancy sports car. But these women don't seem to be reaching for younger men and fancy cars. They seem to be reaching for older men who offer more stability or remain solo.

Then it occurred to me that maybe these women were just tired of being left holding the bag. Tired of the lies of society, the lies of the men they married. I'm not saying these men lied on purpose, but seriously, what promises were made and what is the reality. These are answers which may never been found because each individual case is different.

I know so many women who work full time, raise kids, do homework, cook dinner, attend extra-curricular activities, and find no time for themselves. When this becomes too much to bear, and it eventually will in all but the most perfect of wives they will have only one place to turn the blame and it is going to be the husband.

I'm not blaming men, I think it is the fault of women that they are so dependent. In our quest to become independent, we found out independence by making men dependent. If there was a happy medium happiness could possibly last for 70 years. I don't know what the secret to a lasting marriage is. I hope someday to be able to tell you as I traverse the water of matrimony myself, working now on my second decade in this union.

I have only been thinking about these issues lately because I know so many people going through the horror of divorce. I'm not personally and since I know one of my biggest fans is my husband I will say I'm not planning on it.

I just know one thing, don't think your wife is super woman, don't put too much on her and don't act like a baby when things don't go your way. Grow up, put on your big boy pants, notice her, appreciate her and do more than your part and then maybe, just maybe your marriage will last.

This blog is totally from a woman's perspective and there are always different perspectives on every issue and this is just one and it has nothing to do with me personally. I have seen a pattern around me and maybe I'm trying to figure it out so it does not happen to me.

I can say to husbands a few things. If you are tired, bet the bank your wife is twice as tired but she will still make sure the lights are off, the doors are locked and lunches are packed before she goes to bed. She is still waiting for the time the responsibilities of the house are optional. She is waiting for her carefree moments. You might not realize how much you depend on her to make things right and if you "feel" like it you might do what needs to be done. A family and a marriage is more than going to work each day - everyone does that and if you are not even doing that, you are lucky to be married at all!

Again I say, these are observations and that is all. Agree, don't agree. Maybe you have some ideas as to why so many women are abandoning ship after years of marriage. It is an interesting cultural study to me. Sorry I couldn't add sarcasm, I could have but it seemed harsh.

Nothin' Funny

I can usually call upon my sick sarcastic humor to pull me through nearly anything.

When I crashed my car this week I joked about it being a matchbox car. When I feel trapped by the current economic situation I joke about the state of politics. If my house is a mess I make sarcastic fun of the boys who create the disaster.

With my youngest of four into day four of some type of flu I have no sarcasm, no humor. My heart is aching for my little man. This is the one who is so very full of life, always on the move, a constant source of fun comments and adorable reactions.

For the past four days he has not had much to say. Even if he had the energy to exercise his wit and 7-year-old wisdom we would not hear him because he has no voice. A small little squeak is the sound we hear when he tried to talk. Couple this weak voice with very dark circles and big blue eyes and you have a recipe for worry on the part of a Mom.

I have never been one of those over-reactive parents. I understand for the most part how a virus works. I know the doctor will tell me to treat the symptoms, keep him hydrated and have him rest. There are no antibiotics to fight a virus so it is a waiting game.

Last night went well for him. He slept. I say I'm not over-reactive but I am cautious. I have had him sleeping with me and his Dad has been sleeping in his recliner. Last night I volunteered for the sofa to let his Dad get some reasonable sleep but keep an eye on my baby. They both slept. This was good.

The night before I was not so lucky. The fever would not go down, he was restless and miserable. He was sweating and when he did sleep he would wake terrified by something I am told are called Night Terrors. At times he would look at me as if he didn't even know who I was. I won't go into Night Terrors here but suffice it to say they are a terrifying experience for child and parent but for the most part harmless in the long run.

Today I will continue to comfort, treat symptoms and do all of the things a Mother does. The fact is people get sick, kids get sick and we recover but it does not make the journey any easier, no matter how many times you have done it.

It is what a Mom does

I was jolted from sleep by the words a Mother does not want to hear.

"Mom, I'm going to be....."

That sentence never concludes with words, just vomit. Once you have cleaned vomit up and soothed a sick child you are pretty much awake.

I sit, I watch, I listen. It is what a Mom does at 12:30 am when her sick and feverish child lays beside her. Anticipating each movement, each breath, analyzing each movement.

He is awake too. Two days of fever induced lethargy has left him rested. He is bored, but sick. The Tylenol has kicked in so the fever is diminishing, yet again. He feels better as the medicine masks the symptoms of his small body and army of an immune system attacking the virus that has invaded.

This is not the first time I have sat, watched and waited through the night. It most likely will not be the last. Sleep for a Mother with a sick child is not an option. It is easier now that he and his siblings are older. I do not suffer from constant sleep deprivation as I did when they were babies. I can easily sit and watch and wait the night away.

The stillness of the house is comforting in it's own way. It is not often it is quiet and still. It gives opportunity to reflect.

As I care for him in his illness with the love and kindness of my heart, he will in turn grow to give and show love to others. It is the cycle we hope to fulfill. Each has his or her own part and sacrifice to make in the process. Mine is to stand Motherly guard as a nurse and a comfort. His Father, although sleeps, does so restlessly in less than ideal comfort. It was his Father who was displaced from his own bed to allow my sitting and watching and waiting. I could easily have pulled up a chair in the child's room but I did not. At least I have the comfort of my own bed should I find sleep tonight.

It is so indescribable, the love a Mother feels for her child. When they are hurt you mend, when they are sick you tend. Sometimes all you can do is lay your head down and pray for help and strength. It is at times like this that I think of Mothers who have children who are seriously ill. Not just a school yard virus but an illness so powerful as to leave you powerless. The hours of sitting and watching and waiting must be overwhelming at times.

How terrifying it is to make the decisions of when to reach out for help and when the sail on alone. Do I bring him to the doctor, do I wait it out, will this progress to a point where it becomes an emergency because the wrong decision was made. These things all float through my mind as I sit, and I wait and I watch.

Each cough makes me jump, each breath is noted. I reach to him - is he hot? Does he feel cold? Is he comfortable.

My watching and waiting may be coming to an end for this evening. His fever seems to have fully subsided and he has fallen back into slumber. I will close my eyes and try to sleep and at some point I will. It is with hopefulness I pray I wake to my energy filled chatterbox tomorrow, but if I do not, I will sit, I will watch and I will wait. It is what a Mom does.

Halloween or Whores on Parade

When I was a kid I LOOOOVED Halloween. The idea of dressing up and walking around the neighborhood collecting sweet treats with my friends was nearly as good as Christmas. I longed for the afternoon my Mom would take me down to the Yellow Front department store and I would cruise the Halloween section looking for my costumes. In my day your costume came in a square cardboard box with a cellophane top. Inside that precious box was a plastic apron and a mask. The mask covered your whole face and had two slits for your eyes, two holes near your nose and a slit at your mouth. Many a tongue was cut on that mouth slit because little kids couldn't resist sticking their tongue through the opening made for breathing.

One year I was Barbie with my pink plastic apron that tied in the back and my mask with Barbie's face printed on the front. My favorite costume - I wore it for two years was Frankenstein. Again, I had a green plastic apron tied in the back and a mask with the obligatory holes in it for limited sight and breathing.

When I got a bit older we made the costumes. There was the year I was a mummy, wrapped in gauze from head to toe and of course the ghost made of a white sheet. I think I may have been a vampire once as well.

Let us fast forward 20+ years. Now Halloween costumes range from the grotesque to the strange and less is apparently more.

Any other time during the year you would have to visit the local "adult" store to get the kind of costumes you can find during the month of October in every neighborhood department store. High heels, stockings, short shirts and barely there tops are passed off as "Minnie Mouse", "Sexy Pirate" or "Wench."

Witches are not even sacred on this most sacred of witch days. "The Sexy Witch" is now the vogue. I'm sorry but Witches in my day were not sexy. A witch came in two varieties, the green kind with a big nose, a mole with a hair and a cackle or the good witch, like Glenda from the Wizard of Oz with her flowing gown and her sweet red cheeks and cherry lips. Now we have "Sexy Witch" with all her major parts hanging out and high heels.

Even little girl costumes are out of line. Each year I am amazed at how many Mothers allow their 10 to 12-year old girls dress in lingerie and walk around the neighborhood asking for candy - really, is that what it appears they are really after?

Boys are not immune either. The bloodier and more gory the better. My boys want fake blood running down their face and knives and sickles in their hands. Each boy wants to out due the other with gruesome and scary.

Remember when it was just funny to put on your Mom's robe, paint your face with cold cream and put roller in your hair and go trick or treating as "a crazy housewife?"

I must have been busy doing something else when Halloween become Whore-o-ween but I'm not sure I understand where this is going. I do know there are going to be some very confused little boys who grow up wondering why Minnie Mouse had all her business hanging out on Halloween or why those nurses Breasts seem to be jumping out of her top.

Dressing up is fun, being sexy is fun but dressing up in lingerie should not be for public viewing unless you are in a profession which also allows for public access.

If you are searching for a costume for your party this year ladies, come on over. I will give you two bandaids, a G-string, an apple and a red bow for your hair and you can go as Snow White.

Dude Cried Whiplash.

I have had three auto accidents in my entire 24 years behind the wheel as a driver of an automobile. The first when I was 16 which was clearly my fault but knowing the police in a small town can turn any accident into No Fault. The second when I was 26 which was clearly NOT my fault but that was the day I met my husband ( a blog for another day ) and the third was last night.

Of the three accidents I have had, the one last night was the most inconvenient by far but minimal by most accident standards. I did make a mistake due to sheer exhaustion and rainy weather and I did pull into another car but it was not a huge accident.

My older but beautiful VW Passat took the brunt of the damage with her entire front being ripped off. She sat in the cold Virginia rain like a woman who had just lost her bikini top. All her major parts were visible but unscathed. The 2007 Eclipse had a dent in the front corner panel and being made entirely of fiberglass it is amazing my car looked like a matchbox car and his looked like someone kicked it.

The impact of this crash was so minimal I thought I had stopped and avoided the crash. Of course my VW is a well designed German machine (much like her driver) and she is supposed to fall apart in places while remaining strong and protective of her passengers (again, much like her driver).

Dude driving the other car was a driven by a 25 year old man on his way home from his job as the Assistant Manager at Taco Bell. We both got out of our vehicles and I was already on the phone calling for assistance and asked him, while on the phone with 911 - do you need any medical assistance? He said "No, I bumped my head but I'm fine." While we waited for the State Trooper a volunteer EMT came over and again asked if we needed medical assistance to which we both replied "No."

It was a cold hour in the rain while we waited for the Trooper to write it all up and I watch my Passat driven away and what equals a stretcher for cars. Dude got into his dented car and drove home.

Fast forward to this afternoon. My insurance agent informs me that the "real" owner of the car has already called and is looking for a rental car because his can't be driven. Dude who was driving also made a trip to the ER where he was told he has whiplash from a minimal impact crash. Yea right. Dude you do not have whiplash, you my dear have a bump on the side of your head. My own children have given me bigger goose eggs with their little infant heads on the bridge of my nose. At least that draws blood you big sissy!

Dude was very nice at the scene, even cracking jokes about how nice my car was and how he thought it would have held up better. He also asked where I worked and then informed me he was the Assistant Manager at Taco Bell and he thought maybe I had gotten a bad lunch and saw him and decided to ram him. I thought he was a pretty cool kid. I should have taken notice when he mentioned how nice my car was three times. Dude it is a 2002 Passat, it isn't a freaking BMW. It has kid junk in the back seat, she has several door dings but yes, for what she is she is nice. Damn, that Eclipse you were driving is newer and much cooler for God sake. I have a Mom car slightly cooler than a minivan.

This sort of thing makes me crazy. It is what is wrong with society as a whole. This Dude was not hurt. The accident was my fault - clearly - but that doesn't mean you get to cash in on my insurance or what you think you might be able to get out of me. This is why we pay so much for auto insurance. Hell, this is why we pay so much for health insurance. His unnecessary ER visit last night will be yet another insurance claim. Guess what, when Dude and his scamming friend do not get what they want out of the insurance company no doubt they will try to come after me. Some shady lawyer will take the case and although there is no merit at all, it will be a giant pain in my ass and a drain on the system as a whole.

Get a grip people. The basic law of economics is TINSTFL - There Is No Such Thing As a Free Lunch! If you do not earn it, you will pay for it later.

Jokes on you Dudes. You are 20 something males. You insurance is as high as it can get and it is the fault of your counterparts before you. I may have been in fault but in the infamous line from Fried Green Tomatoes:

"I'm older, and have more insurance."

Small Community Bullshit and Holier Than Thou Sinners

I am a fairly even tempered individual. I'm not one to over react and when I do I quickly retract and redirect, but don't, I repeat, don't mess with my kids.

As many of you know I have four children of my own and my niece lives with me. Five kids. Yes, it is a bunch of kids, frankly abnormal actually. Someone recently even had the courage to ask me why I had so many. What I wanted to say I will say in MY blog because frankly you don't' have to read it. What I wanted to tell that ignorant individual was this:

"I have so many children because I really really like sex and the odds are, no matter how much birth control you use you are going to get knocked up if you participate in an activity you like often enough and you come from fertile stock."

I should have said that just for the shock value, but a well educated, sorority groomed woman does not say such things after she has reached a certain age of maturity. Oops, I wrote it so I guess I haven't reach that level of maturity yet.

Here is my drama of the day. I live in a small private community. It is nearly impossible to describe. We live on a beautiful mountain behind gated and guarded fences and my husband works along side many of our neighbors selling low end to high end timeshare vacations. It is a multi-use planned community full of week long residents on vacation and full time residents in big houses. On the surface it seems like a little piece of heaven, underneath it is it's own plot from Desperate Housewives minus the really good looking people.

My street, my personal Wisteria Lane is rife with rumor and bickering. I live at the end of a well manicured cul-du-sac, well manicured until you get to my manic house. On our block live several interesting people with one thing in common, they all seem to dislike my family, the breeders at the end of the road. Give us a break folks, I'm just a girl from Missouri who was lucky enough to get herself an education.

Today our neighbor two doors down who works with my husband decided to tell the other neighbors that his precious and perfect son was cursed with the "swine flu" caught by his association with "The Bradley Children", in particular Sassle Bradley. Sassle Bradley isn't sick, hasn't been sick and was the hero at his soccer game this week, but he must have some how infected this fair neighbor boy with the insidious Swine Flu (of course if you said H1N1 to this jackass he wouldn't know what you were talking about but trust me he will tell you how smart he is with his Penn State Education.)

As luck would have it my older son was home with a runny nose and general mild flu symptoms that I normally would not give a second thought but hearing the diagnosis from down the street, knowing that if my niece were to get ill she would end up hospitalized due to underlying medical conditions I made a doctors appointment to clear our name. I would like to announce that NO BRADLEY child is ill, Keenan has a mild virus and is cleared for school attendance tomorrow.

Panic swept through our little Peyton place like no bodies business. Anyone who's child had come into contact with mine was on my phone.

"So how is your son? is he okay?" they ask in their fake and caring voice.

Okay, I'll play I thought.

"Which son?"

"Sassle"

"Fine"

You fake bastards are caught in your own manipulative game to bring me down. Sassle isn't even sick. It was Keenan who had a runny nose and NO he doesn't have "Swine Flu." There is one kid on this block who is sick with H1N1 and he belongs to the family down the street who sucked me into their drama today. I like that kid, he has spirit and I am sad that he is sick and even if my son had gotten sick from hanging around him I wouldn't care, I would just try to figure out how to keep my niece well.

Oh but then I find out even more about this precious perfect neighborhood that is plagued by those Arkansas people at the end of the cul-du-sac. My crabby-ass neighbors to the left are up to their old tricks yelling at my kids for going near their yard. Yep, I have Mr. and Mrs. perfect next door, you know the ones, the ones who put a no trespassing sign up at kid level when they moved in five years ago so my babies wouldn't trespass. The kids couldn't read then so it was just funny. Anyway, Mrs. Perfect yelled at my oldest for crossing behind her yard. It isn't like she is a cranky old woman. She is about 30 with a child of her own but somehow mine just annoy her.

I can honestly say I wanted to stand in the middle of my cul-du-sac today and scream at the top of my lungs, "what the hell did I ever do to you people?"

Unfortunately I'm stuck in your perfect land because the value of my house had tanked and I can't sell it for the note that is owned - but neither can you so suck it up, The Bradley's are here to stay and if I could give one word to the wise - DON'T MESS WITH MY KIDS!

By the way I know it is hard to keep them straight but just for reference:

Keenan is the oldest boy and he plays guitar and is guilty of skateboarding down the street. He is really good on the skateboard and is rocking out his electric guitar and when he gets a little better I'm going to buy him a very loud amp.

Zeb is the middle boy and he is the sweet one. He will pick up your garbage, catch bugs for you and never has a cross word to say. He plays center on his football team and is an extraordinary student. If you ever yell at that boy I'm gonna have to put some Arkansas whip ass on you.

Sassle (proper Christian name; Nathaniel) is my baby. He is a gifted actor, soccer superstar and brilliant. Yell at him all you want, he has already figured out most people are stupid. Sassle will be your Senator someday so if I were you I would be nice, you are going to need him to help straighten out your messes.

Kelsey is the girl that hangs with them, she is my niece. Her Mom scares me and I have known her for 40 years so don't even think about yelling at that precious baby.

The oldest one, Mary, nope she isn't me although I have arguments with some of you about it. I can tell you this, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and she loves those kids and she doesn't know how to temper her statements yet so I wouldn't mess with her.

Yep, we are just the educated rednecks who done good and got them a big house in your neighborhood, suck it up - I'm sure Obama has a plan for that too.