So THIS little fellow…
… decided that it would be fun to throw another wild party in his bedroom at 2:00 this morning. The music was just one degree better than that crazy Elvis Presley and all his questionable dance moves, as Thing 2 sang his ABCs and Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star over and over.
(For the record? Our toddler’s performance of Twinkle, Twinkle is spectacular, but he WILL. NOT. sing it for me when I have the video camera trained on him. I think it’s stage fright. Except it’s Thing 2, who loves and adores a good performance, so that can’t be it. But… I’ll just tell you that this is exactly how he sings it: “Ginkle, ginkle stahhh… wunner ahhh… up ‘buff high… die mennnnn sky…” I’m sure he’ll be on a music award show one day soon, because all the cuteness of that song kills me.)
I’m all for a good musical education and all, but 2 AM performances are dead to me.
By 3:00 this morning, I invited myself to Thing 2′s party, because CHAPERONE. And because WHO WON’T STAY ON HIS TODDLER BED AND GO BACK TO SLEEP ALL READY? And then because WHO IS MAKING HIS MAMA BAT-CRAP CRAZY RIGHT NOW?
(Can I say crap on here?)
(I just did.)
Every single time Thing 2 even so much as pushed a darling little toe off of his bed this morning, I snapped my fingers and hollered, “Military school!” So he pretty much kept the shenanigans localized, right there on his Pottery Barn Kids quilt.
(Yes. He has a quilt from Pottery Barn, but don’t go thinking we’re very rich and all, because I bought that sucker on eBay for VERY LITTLE DOLLARS. And the family who owned it before we did took great care of it, because it arrived on our doorstep in mint condition.)
(I don’t know why I assumed y’all would be interested in knowing the background of Thing 2′s bedding, but there you have it.)
By 5:30 this morning, the party was over. Thing 2 was finally back to sleep, and I was in need of some mouthwash to drink to freshen up my breath and a good under-the-eyes cream, which would help eradicate the fact that the bags there were sagging clear to my chin.
It took me precisely four minutes to go back to my own bed and fall asleep. I had visions of Thing 2 sleeping until 8:00 this morning, because he was going to have to sleep off his hard night. Imagine my horror when he woke me back up FOR. THE. DAY. at 6:30 this morning.
Which is why I ended up calling Mam and Pa at 8:30 this morning to ask, “Please! Please… will you take Thing 2 for the morning so that I can have a nap?” The toddler’s grandparents were here twenty minutes later. They scooped Thing 2 up and hauled him off to church, where I hope he got a Word from the Holy Spirit about changing his sinful, up-all-night ways. I crawled back into bed and slept the sleep that involves drool on your pillow and dreams that are infused with technicolor rainbows and make no sense at all.
(I don’t want any of you to worry about Hubs. Hubs got an uninterrupted twelve hours of sleep last night, because he went to bed slightly before 8:00 last night, and he got up at 8:00 this morning. Hubs is doing fine, y’all. Just fine. He’s a survivor in these hard times. But… he DID go to the grocery store for me this morning, so that makes him even dearer to my heart, because he braved the wilds of Walmart on a weekend, so that I could sleep.)
(Thank you, Hubs.)
(Of course, he and the boy also went out to brunch at a little hotspot in town, that involved real silverware and plates, without taking me with them. They simply said, “But you were sleeping.” This is a strike against them.)
Anyway, that’s over 600 words to simply tell you, “If things are a bit short and scrambled tonight here at Jedi Mama, Inc…. If things just don’t make sense and are filled with more grammatical errors than usual… Please put the blame where it belongs… right on the top of Thing 2′s curly head.
(His mama STILL loves him.)
(Still loves him A WHOLE BIG GOB.)
So… our weekend…
Friday was an early-release day for the kids from school, so there was a tiny window of downtime at our house. This is how it was spent:
The quiet afternoon didn’t last long, because the boy was hosting a Game Fest at our house, and boys began stumbling through the snowdrifts and into our home at 5 pm. They brought their sleeping bags and their laptops; they brought power cords and toothbrushes that I’m not sure any of them actually used.
Things kind of looked like this on Friday night:
That was with the first wave of boys.
I fed them all cheaper-than-dirt pizza, which Hubs and I deemed inedible. This should surprise you, because Hubs’ gut is made out of iron, and other than a mushroom, he’ll pretty much eat anything. He often buys his lunch at THE GAS STATION, people! Hubs LIKES those giant Polish dogs that have been spinning in the warming case for six days straight, and yet the VERY FEW PENNIES PIZZA gagged him on Friday evening.
The boys saw no problem with the cheap pizza, and they devoured it. It’s what the thirteen-year-old crowd does.
These boys were all linked together in the same game, which they then played with a pack of girls on the other side of town. Hubs and I had THE VERY BEST TIME listening to them, because this is what their conversations sounded like:
“She blew up my tower!”
“She smashed my horse! MY HORSE! SHE KILLED MY HORSE!!!”
“I’m building a new wing on my castle. I’m putting a brick wall around the whole thing. I’m using catapults!”
“She smashed my catapult!”
And then there were some phone calls made that went like this:
“Do you know how long he worked on building that castle? You just smashed it! How could you do that? And HIS HORSE! You killed his horse!”
And then, when the phone was hung up, this: “Those girls are armed for war. We need more weapons, and we need a plan.”
And then the phone rang. What we heard on our end was, “YES! WE BLEW IT UP! YOU KILLED HIS HORSE! HIS HORSE!! AND WE’RE GOING TO ATTACK YOUR HOUSE AND VILLAGES NEXT!!!”
I’m not sure WHO won the battle on Friday night… whether the boys conquered the girls’ medieval city and became the victors, or whether the girls killed all the horses off and left the boys afoot.
I went to bed.
On Saturday morning, things didn’t look much different at our house. That may be because thirteen-year-old boys sleep in their clothes.
That gang of boys was back at it.
And poor Enzo. Enzo went home sick from school on Friday afternoon, because… well… HE WAS GRAVELY ILL WITH THE STOMACH FLU. There was much wailing and mourning and gnashing of the teeth, not to mention rendering of the sackcloth and the smearing of ashes, because one of their comrades was down with the flu.
I’m sure Enzo could have saved that horse from an untimely death.
On Saturday morning, Hubs and I heard, “What?! Horses CAN’T SWIM in this game? I just drowned my own horse!!!”
Obviously, none of these boys will own stock in Kentucky Derby winners.
At one point on Saturday morning, I asked the gang, “So… do y’all know who you look like?”
“John Lennon,” said Patrick, without even hesitating.
That was NOT the answer I was thinking of. No, what I was thinking is this: Our house looked like Leonard and Sheldon’s apartment on The Big Bang Theory. It looked like one of Leonard, Sheldon, Raj and Howard’s big game marathons.
I fed them all pancakes on Saturday morning, which they supplemented with leftover pizza, because the thirteen-year-old male cannot navigate the day with fewer than 40,000 calories.
(This is my big question: If you have multiple teenage boys at your house… like, if you’re the mama of three or four junior high and high school boys, because your children are very close in age… HOW ON EARTH DO YOU AFFORD TO BUY GROCERIES? And also, HOW ON EARTH DO YOU KEEP THEIR BELLIES FULL?)
(I have no idea. The boy has never been scrawnier, and he out-eats Hubs at every single meal.)
I love the bedheads in that snapshot… especially the one belonging to MY boy, there in the back. Just as I snapped this picture, Patrick hollered, “Wait! My hair! Does it look okay?”
I’m pretty sure he was mocking girls everywhere, because we will not pose for a photo if our hair is less than stellar.
And really, even though I’m pretty much anti-video-game, and I pretty much put the smack down on them at our house, this weekend was perfect for such a marathon of indoor activity. This was what was happening outside, all day Saturday and today:
And that pack of boys have been a treasure to our son. They have all known one another since preschool and earlier, and I love them all dearly.
(Even poor Enzo, who was at home with the flu and couldn’t come over.)
(Hubs and I are powerfully thankful that our boy has a great wolf pack to run around with.)
There were also dump truck rides for the Under-Thirty-Pounds set on Saturday, because Thing 2 talked Kellen and Patrick into pushing him eighty-seven miles across our hardwood floors.
(So see? There was SOME aerobic activity for the big boys this weekend!)
And that, folks, was our weekend. Today was spent in my pajamas. I took full advantage of Thing 2 going to church with Mam and Pa, and I TOOK A NAP. It was a nap of the Three-Hour Variety, and I recovered from attending the 2 AM party this morning.
Hubs used the snow blower on our driveway today… for the third time this weekend. Small Town, USA has had some snow this winter. Winter is pretty much dead to me.
(I’m trying hard not to be jealous of our friends, Keith and Carrie, who are in Mexico, laying on the beach, RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE.)
Y’all have a happy Sunday night. Our household will be going to bed about 6:30 this evening, to compensate for all the hours we’ve spent AWAKE over the weekend.