On Friday night, Hubs and I had some enormous plans to haul our boy up to the high school and cheer the Small Town girls on to a basketball victory. We had talked about it all week, because we had some serious intentions of cheering a couple friends of ours on as they dribbled the ball down the court and flapped their arms in the traditional guarding pose, as we relentlessly told the boy, “No! You may not have any more sugary snacks from the concession stand!”
(On account of the boy and the concession stand at the high school are tight. He loves the Rolos and the bottled water. And the Pixie Stix. And the popcorn. And the nachos. And the pizza slices. And the Hershey’s bars. And the Laffy Taffy. In fact, it’s just easier for me to tell y’all what our boy DOESN’T LIKE at the concession stand: Sour Patch Kids. That’s the one item he’ll never spend his pennies on. Other than that, it’s all fair game. It’s all coveted. He wants to make endless trips to the concession stand to admire the display of sugary candies.)
And then, by the time everyone got home on Friday night, Hubs and I looked at one another and we both said, almost in unison, “Yeah. The basketball game isn’t going to happen. We’re staying home.”
On account of COLD and WORN OUT.
And that is precisely how we ended up with a take-and-bake pizza in our oven, while we crawled into our flannel pajamas and fired up the TV. We watched Diary of a Wimpy Kid with the boy, and we ate entirely too many calories in pizza, while we laughed over the antics of Greg Heffley and Rowley and Fregley, and contemplated what junior high will be like for our own boy.
In hearing Hubs and I discuss this, the boy piped up and said, “Well, I seriously won’t be asking Kellen if he wants to come over and PLAY when we’re in 6th grade! I’ll just ask him to come over and HANG OUT, because that’s what you say when you’re cool.”
On Saturday morning, we visited with Hubs’ parents, because the boy lured them over to look at a giant Lego castle in its finished glory, which they had given to him for Christmas. Our breakfast-less stomachs growled as they told us about some mega-thick, smoked bacon they’d made earlier this week, and we purposed in our hearts to try it.
And then we went to Starbucks, on principal.
Afterward, we dropped the boy off at the local roller rink for a party for his buddy, Blaine, and Hubs and I went home to GUT THE BOY’S CLOSET.
Our boy…he has some hoarding tendencies, and his closet was plum full of empty bags of snack crackers, and math assignments from last year, and Happy Meal toys, and sticks (OH, SWEET MERCY! Hubs and I unloaded about twenty-seven sticks in various shapes and sizes from his closet!), and rocks, and bits of string, and more Legos than we could even count. Although some counselors would consider the act of parents zipping into their kid’s closet and filling a couple of garbage bags to the brim while the kid was PLUM GONE AND UNABLE TO VERBALLY GIVE PERMISSION FOR ALL THE DISCARDING, Hubs and I considered it a major victory, because we knew the boy would say things like, “Hey! That foot-long piece of string is still good enough to tie things together with, and I want to keep it!”
Hubs and I took our two-hour Window of Opportunity seriously, and we worked like ants in expectation of a long, cold winter. We discarded things. We tidied up things. We organized things. We scoured things. There was much scrubbing and vacuuming and mopping that took place in the boy’s walk-in closet, and then lo!
I wanted to send a photo in to HGTV’s Rate My Space, because I was pretty sure we could win it with that ultra-spiffy closet, hands down!
Hubs and I, weakened with fatigue and with sweat on our foreheads, dashed back down to the roller rink to collect the boy. I took my camera, because I had high hopes of getting some action shots as the kids skated by, but alas! I was too late, and the skates had already been kicked off, so I got some cute shots of them just hanging out together.
This is the boy posing with Blaine, the birthday boy.
We weren’t done yet. While we were at the roller rink, the boy and Blaine did some serious negotiations, because the boy wanted to go home with them. Hubs and I released him, and we hit the supermarket for a quick trip, and then we were back at home, CLEANING THE BEDROOM.
Because if you thought that the boy’s closet was a nightmare, I should have shown you Before pictures of his bedroom! Hubs and I went through toys which the boy doesn’t play with any longer, and we cleaned drawers in his desk and drawers in his nightstand. We cleaned under his bed, and we cleaned out his bookcase. Eventually, the boy made it home, and we put the little pumpkin to work, too.
In the end, after what felt like a solid month of nonstop cleaning, the boy’s bedroom glowed, and he told me, “Wow, Mom. I never knew my room could look this good!”
Yes, Son, when you throw the garbage in the garbage, instead of collecting it like you do, and when you actually put books back in the bookcase, instead of shoving them under the bed and into the closet, a bedroom can actually look pretty good!
I think it goes without saying that all three of us slept like rocks on tranquilizer darts last night, and we totally burned off all the pizza calories from the night before with all the cleaning we participated in.
This morning, we went to church, and then we brought the boy’s friend, Gage, home with us.
Hubs summed it up best when he said at the lunch table, “I’d like to present you with my To Do list today. It’s empty. And no one is writing a thing on it! I am going to do nothing, and I am going to enjoy doing nothing! The boy’s bedroom did me in yesterday.”
We loaded these two punks up in our Suburban, and we took them to see Gulliver’s Travels at the local cinema.
My movie review is simply this: The show isn’t bad at all, but if you just spent eighty hours the day before gutting and scrubbing your ten-year-old’s bedroom, you may find that you’re hard-pressed to actually stay awake. The end.
And, to top our weekend off, guess who lost TWO TEETH IN FOUR MINUTES on Friday night?
That kid of ours scored a ten-dollar bill.
We have it on good authority from the Tooth Fairy herself that a ten was all she had, without flying by an ATM on her way to our house.
Happy Sunday night, y’all.