Thursday, December 30, 2010

You Never Know When You Might Need . . .

I was cleaning out my youngest son's backpack last night when I reached in and pulled out a hose nozzle.

I have pulled strange things from his backpack before but nothing quite this strange.

He immediately informed me that there is a hose right near his locker and he is simply being prepared in case he needs to use the hose for anything.


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Trimming the Tree, Boy Style

Decorating the tree with boys is not for the faint of heart. I captured a bit of this year's tree trimming on video because I really felt it would capture the feel better than photographs could. I dedicate this video to my mother, who will be horrified. Yes Mom, this is different from raising three girls.

Click on the bottom far right corner on the video to watch directly on YouTube, the quality is better that way.

I am happy to report that, with some additional engineering support from my husband, the tree is still standing.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Bad Ass

My youngest son has recorded a CD recently, and he is now selling them to raise money for charity. He is part of Children's Voices for Charity, a group of local children who have practiced like crazy and recorded a CD with holiday music from around the world.

After the group's last performance at the local tree lighting, we were invited to a party at a home nearby. The grandfather of one of the singers generously offered to host our group of children and parents in his fabulous home. Initially I was stunned that he had actually invited children into what was decidedly not a child-friendly decorating scheme, with antiques, china and silver and first edition books filling every surface, both vertical and horizontal. First, he plied the adults with dangerous Manhattans and the children with bowls of M&Ms right at waist level. After valiantly trying to escape from, or at least doctor up, the sinister Manhattans in our hands (I am certain they will find several half-full cups wedged in the bookcase), we mingled and had an all around good time. In his affable and friendly manner, with a festive apron tied in a bow at his back, our host served big trays of homemade mac and cheese, and juicy sliders. The children ran around, delirious on candy and salami (maybe that was just my son). After dinner he showed my older son his college yearbook (Georgetown) of which he was the editor. Then he pointed out who the class president was, a guy named Bill Clinton.

As the evening came to an end, we sought out our host to say thank you. He leaned down to my youngest, and asked him what grade he was in. My son replied, "Fifth grade!" like it is the best grade in the entire world. "Ah yes," our host replied. "The age when you believe you know everything!" My son regarded him with a level gaze, paused, and said, "You mean like a smart ass?" A surprised and pleased expression spread across our host's face. "Yes, that's what I mean." To which my son replied, "Well, it's better to be a smart ass than a dumb ass!" With a glance to make sure the host was finding this humorous (he was), I grabbed my Brooks Brothers suit-wearing ten year old, said thanks, and made a hasty exit.

I don't know, maybe I should be mad at my son for being a smart ass, or for swearing. But it was funny. And he knew it. I just couldn't be mad. Perhaps the Manhattan clouded my judgement.

Please buy a CD (min $10 donation, all goes to charity)! In addition to being a smart ass, he can sing pretty well. Leave a comment below and I will contact you.

By the way, what the heck is in a Manhattan anyway?

Saturday, December 4, 2010

The Un-Vanning, A Little Known Yet Important Rite of Passage

While my boys are still giving me plenty to write about, I've been kinda busy.

But I have big news.

I would like to announce that we have reached an important milestone in our family.

I no longer drive a minivan.

It is perhaps even more momentous than the day our third child was potty-trained and my husband took the Diaper Genie outside and hacked it up with an ax.

There are a few things about having young children that I don't miss at all.

I am in the sweet spot. Behind me is the minivan, ahead of me is a teenage driver in the house. I think I'll stay here for a while. Two years, in fact.