Category Archives: Raising Boys

Did I mention today the boys are H-O-M-E F-R-O-M S-C-H-O-O-L?

My youngest son, Ethan, NEVER.STOPS.TALKING.
He talks C-O-N-S-T-A-N-T-L-Y.
About everything, about nothing, about something, about this thing, about that thing…
about W-R-E-S-T-L-I-N-G.
Did you know Kurt Angle is the king of the Ankle Lock? The SUPREME Ankle Lock? Well, I DO! Because Ethan told me. And he’s told me at LEAST 40 times! And so had Andrew! Because, they both love wrestling.
I thought telling them it was fake would shut them up.
Um… I was wrong.
That just made Ethan talk even more than he already does, trying to convince himself me that it’s TOTALLY real!
“Oh yeah, right, it’s fake, that’s why it says L-I-V-E right? (because LIVE = NOT FAKE)”
“Oh, yeah, it’s fake, but they are really jumping off the ropes onto their opponents!”
“Oh, yeah, you think it’s fake, but they really hate each other in real life and you can’t make that up. EXPLAIN THAT, MOM!!”
“Oh, yeah, right mom, it’s fake, but they really throw each other around the ring, yeah, like you can really make that up!”
I love that kid and I know that one day I’ll be crying about how he never talks to me anymore because he’s too busy talking to his friends or going on dates, but right now I just kind of wish he’d SHUTTIE THE MOUTHIE.

Special Sauce…… POLICY HAHHA

McDonalds has a “Sauce Policy”.
A SAUCE POLICY.
I, for one, was totally unaware of the SAUCE POLICY. But thanks to the bitch with the headset on who forcefully pointed to the sauce policy posted right there on the drive thru window, I now know! Bitch was all “HAD THOU PAID ATTENTION, THOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THE SAUCE POLICY!”
A Policy! FOR SAUCE! A SAUCE POLICY!
The sauce policy goes a little something like this.
A 6 piece = 1 sauce
A 10 piece = 2 sauces
A 20 piece = 3 sauces
That’s right, bitches, you get THREE SAUCES for TWENTY McNuggets. Each additional sauce will cost your ass a dime. (Hey, I didn’t write the sauce policy, I’m just reporting the sauce policy)
Who decided they needed a POLICY? For SAUCE? Were the kids behind the counter all “OH FUCK! Someone just ordered a 10 piece and I have NO IDEA how many sauces to give them! If only we had a policy!” Or, like, did the managers get tired of people asking for extra sauce? Were they all “That bitch just asked for TWO MORE DRESSINGS, does she think SAUCE GROWS ON TREES? We need a policy. For the sauce!”
I, for one, think the fact that a sauce policy exists is hilarious. Once I realised there was a policy on sauce, I couldn’t stop with the SAUCE POLICY jokes (and thank God my boys have my sense of humor, because they jumped right in).
Me:” Can I have 3 ranch dressings with my SIX piece, please?”
Andrew: “Uh, ma’am, you just violated our SAUCE POLICY, unless you cough up an extra 20 cents, I’m going to have to escort you out.”
All of us: ” HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHA”
I don’t even have to say “You had to be there” because that is some funny shit right there.
SAUCE.
POLICY.

pervs

There was a reason I asked you to tell me what you thought when you looked at country mouse.
The reason? I wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one who thought country mouse had boobies. To see if anyone else thought it was weird that Ethan got a “star” for his efforts, rather than a good “talkin’ to”.
Alright, my fellow perverts, country mouse is NOT exposing her boobs. To quote Ethan…
countrymouse2.jpg
“You’re SICK, mom, those are OVERALLS!”
Get it? Because HE’S from the country?
Yeah.

pube

My boys are on a plane on their way to Texas.
I miss them so much already, and everytime I think of what Ethan said to me when he hugged me goodbye, I cry a little.
“Mom, I’ll try not to cry, but it’s going to be so hard to let you go.” (Did I not tell you? the boy is s-e-n-s-i-t-i-v-e)
Andrew, on the other hand, couldn’t get up that escalator fast enough. He’s so excited that he gets to visit with his uncle for four days!
God, I miss them already.
I’ll be spending the next few hours obsessively tracking their flights AND wondering who’s PUBIC HAIR was in my EGGS and how in the hell it got there.
And yes, I threw up a little.

TomGirl

***
Having a son who is in touch with his emotions is both a curse and a blessing.
It’s all fun and games when he’s making me look beautiful, but not so fun when he refuses to go anywhere that is “more than 4 miles away from our house” because he’ll “miss his one and only mother TOO bad.” (his words, people, his words)
It’s precious when he cries on rainy days because he feels sorry for the homeless people or when he cries during sad movies, or at the end of sad songs. Not so precious when I tell him to STOP TELLING ON HIS BROTHER ALREADY and he responds with “Oh, so I’m not supposed to care if my brother mistreats me?” To which I respond with “Well, you have to grow some thicker skin.” To which he responds with “Mom, I’m SENSITIVE, I can’t help it, I was BORN this way!!”
I love that he’s sensitive, I just wish he wasn’t SO sensitive. I love that he’s not ashamed to cry about things that hurt him or make him sad. I love that he thinks girls are the greatest thing in the world and that it’s his job to be “The Protector of Girls”, I love that he’ll play with the girls and not care if Andrew makes fun of him because, well, he can’t help it if he’s a “tomgirl”. I love that he is who he is and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. I’m so proud of him for that.
That said, it’s hard not to get upset when he’s telling on his brother for the 80th time because his brother “hurt his feelings”. I mean, come on, since when do boys HAVE FEELINGS? (Kidding! Sort of. No, really! Kidding!)
I don’t want to paint the wrong picture of my son here, because he’s NOT a crybaby, he’s one of the funniest, toughest, most outspoken little boys I’ve ever known. He’s just very in touch with his feelings and extremely in tune with his emotions. I just don’t quite know how to handle one’s “sensitive side” when the one in question was just talking about poop, farts,bungholes and really hot girls five minutes earlier.

Beat THIS.

Ethan had some exciting news for me this morning.
“Mom, I’ve decided I’m going to make you happy and be in the talent show this year!”
He’s right. That makes me very happy. I’ve tried every year to talk my boys into participating in the talent show. And every year, I get a big, fat “NO WAY, MOM!”
I was ALWAYS in talent shows because I was the biggest ham you’ll ever meet. Hard to believe, I KNOW! I thought my kids would take after me and continue the tradition of their mom and voluntarily make fools of themselves in the name of “entertainment.”
But no such luck.
Until now.
“So, what are you going to do in the talent show, sweetie?”
I figured he’d say dance, because, let me tell you, Ethan can DANCE. Ok, he dances like a male stripper gone bad, but it’s HILARIOUS.
“I’m going to beatbox“.
Being the supportive mother that I am, I responded with a big ol’ “That’s AWESOME, Ethan!”
“Wanna hear it?”
“BRING IT, Ethan!”
And BRING IT he did. (edited version, because the original version is about THIRTY SEVEN minutes, and I’m only exaggerating a little!)
Can you even begin to imagine the PRIDE I am going to feel while I’m sitting there and my son is “bringing IT” to the entire school? And hell yeah, I’m going to get up and “shake it fast” to show my support. Check this… I just might lose control and break out into The Worm halfway through.
Because I’ll be that proud.

my heart!

Last night, Ethan found a note Andrew had left for me on the kitchen table. It said “I love you mom, and Gabby and Dad.”
He burst into tears, “Andrew doesn’t love ME. He didn’t write my name. He doesn’t love his OWN BROTHER.”
The look on Andrew’s face when he realised he forgot to write Ethan’s name broke my heart. He does love Ethan, very much, and I know it was an accident that he didn’t write it, but no matter what Andrew said, Ethan wouldn’t listen.
“Oh, yeah, sure you love me, you don’t even write my name with the rest of the family!”
Andrew left the room, his eyes full of tears because he knew he had hurt Ethan deeply, and that hurt him.
I tried to comfort Ethan, but he sobbed uncontrollably. I held him as he buried his sweet face in my chest and said “Mom, I don’t understand, he’s my only brother and I love him more than anything, I think about him ALL DAY in school.”
I lost it. I started to cry for both of them. I cried because I knew Ethan was truly devestated and felt betrayed by his brother, and I cried because I knew Andrew was devestated that he caused his brother that much hurt. And I cried because my children love each other deeply and the beauty of that touched me to the core of my being.
It also made me realise how things that I think may not matter, matter to THEM. Things that may seem unimportant to me, little things, may be a huge deal. It made me realise I need to be more considerate of what I say and what I do, because I never want to make my children hurt the way I saw Ethan hurt last night, ever.
I thank God everyday for those boys. They teach me new things everyday. They make me a better human being. But mostly, they make me happy, even when they’re breaking my heart.