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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Adventures of Toad-Boy and Grasshopper Part 1

I'm going to visit more male-child moments. I can afford to do this because unlike Kim and a few others who will remain nameless, I don't have any boys smearing dirt on my walls and inhaling refrigerator contents.

Nor do I have a teenage male who feels it's his life call to drive me to the psych ward (in all uses of the word.)

That said. Come enjoy a slightly sanitized walk down memory lane.

Boyish pursuits at my house included, but did not limit themselves to, wrestling matches between Jordan whom I'll call Toad-Boy and his buddy whom I'll refer to as Grasshopper. (No, not as in the infamous Kung Fu reference, but as in appearance.)

Let's just say the boy's appendages were twice as long as necessary for his body and his body was really slow in catching up with them.

I rarely spend $35 on a vase.

I dare say I've done it just one time.

In case you haven't figured it out, this particular incident involves said $35 vase.

I'd been gone for a spell, probably dropping big bucks at the grocery store to feed Toad-Boy and Grasshopper.

When I returned I noticed 4 things. Eyeballs. Guilty dog-type eyeballs.

You know what that looks like -- flitting eye contact, a whole lot of white showing and a slightly off-center tilt to the area where "the incident" occurred.

"What's up?" I asked with a sigh. I knew. But I was hoping for a different answer.

Rapid-fire small talk erupted from the boys. Random hints were dropped. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Is it broken?"

Oh well. One less thing to dust and a lesson learned. After all, $35 can buy a whole bag of groceries to feed those growing boys.


Anonymous said...

Poole used to get the biggest kick out of Jordan and his friend and all of their outdoor adventuring. After any visit where the two of those would be around foraging and experimenting he would talk for hours afterwards about them.

I hope someday I can look back foundly on boy memories...like yesterday for example. I returned to work after lunch to have a messge on my work voicemail. I retrieved the message. It was just a partial one. Sounds of many boys in the background with one particular squeaky 12 year old high pitched voice hollering to his friends something about getting to much (major explitive) f**$%&^&# exercise and then the line went dead.


And this just one week after I was extolling the virtues of my big boys and how, in spite my potty mouth, they never, ever went down that road. How I had even heard them correct the older neighbor boys from saying such harsh words.

Double sigh.

Yes can't wait for a book full of boy memories in the future that can bring a warm smile to my face. It will be interesting to see how I will miss the smell of urine soaked bathroom tiles. Major appliance repair and replacement bills. Sock balls. ADHD. Teacher calls.

I need to go take some meds now.


Kelly Klepfer said...

Really, I promise, YOU will have moments of missing them. Crazy. I know.

I laugh with you while you trudge through the child mines. And I'll laugh for you when you can't.

Thanks for sharing your moments.

Birdie said...

they really broke a vase??? You had the typical boys broke my vase thing? Wow. I guess you're officially a mom when that happens!

Birdie said...

hey, I'll be doing Friday Flash Fiction 55 at my blog this week.You'll have to swing by & check me out!!