Quotes from the Backseat

If you’ve never driven around with a couple of boys in the backseat and just listened to the things they say, you are missing out on some funny stuff!

“Eww, Mom!  Trip ate some of my hair!”  (Giggling and a quick denial followed.)

“Here!  Eat my boogers!”  (One boy to the other.  I’m not sure which.  There are things you don’t really want to remember as a mother.)

“Did you poop in your pants?”  (There wasn’t even a fart that preceded the question.  This was just a procession of sillier and sillier questions.)

“Mom, I get a car in a couple of years and then I’ll be able to drive you around.”  (No he doesn’t!  He’s 9 years old!)

“I have thirty degree butt burns!”  (Brothers shouldn’t be able to access each others seat warmers.  Also, thirty degree burns?  I was aware of third degree burns…)

“Mom, he’s going to push the ejector button and throw me out of the car!”  (I wasn’t aware my car had ejector buttons, but maybe the boys did some after market upgrades on my car while I was sleeping one night.)


I Am The Butt Of All Their Jokes, Part Deux

The boys were ecstatic after a win for their little league baseball team a couple of weeks ago.  It was after 7:00 in the evening.  We headed to Target because we needed a few things before we called it an evening.  We drove up the access road of the highway to get to Target with the windows open when a certain little boy farted in the Tahoe and it stunk so bad that the rest of us were gagging.

It was that moment that set the tone for the rest of the evening.

We got to Target, parked, went inside, and got a shopping cart.  Trip drove the cart for the first part of the excursion.  We had made our first turn through the store and had made it to the cosmetics aisle when I felt a child sized foot kick my butt.

(I’ve got to preface the rest of this story with this.  We play hard.  We love fiercely.  We rarely hurt each others feelings.)

I whipped around and exclaimed, “Logan!”

He grinned and pointed at Ed.

“Daddy did it,” he said with a grin.

“Boy!  I know what a little boy foot feels like on my butt!  Quit that!”  I told him.  He grinned like he hadn’t heard me.

We continued around the store gathering our needed supplies whilst jumping out of each others way and continuing our banter.  Logan and Ed were on one side.  Trip was on my side, telling the other two to leave me alone and blocking impending blows.  There were not any other actual blows that landed, but there was  a lot of jumping out of the way and feigned blows throughout the trip around the store.

Now, I’m fine with all of the banter and rough housing while we’re shopping, but when I’m at the check out line, I am done with all of the rough housing.  Not finished.  Done.  My mother will probably spin in her chair when she reads this, but there’s a time to use finished and a time to use done.  For this instance, I was DONE!

So we all loaded the items we were buying on the check out belt and I told Logan and Ed several times to behave themselves.  They pretended like they were going to behave themselves.  I should have known it was a ruse.

It was finally our turn with the cashier.  She started checking our items and I took my place beside the register so I could watch the monitor as the items were checked.  You never know when an item will ring up with the wrong price and this is true at any store.  You might have to wait for 20 minutes while a someone else goes to check the advertised price and comes back to verify the price you’ve quoted the cashier, but do you really want to pay the wrong price?  I don’t.

It was during this careful watching of the register that I felt another boy-sized foot kick my butt.

I lost my cool.  I whipped around and grabbed Logan by the face.  I threatened life and limb and video game privileges and movement outside of his bedroom for the rest of his life.

He got a little worried and refused to look me in the eye.  That’s his go to move when he’s in trouble- refusing to look his accuser in the eye when he’s in trouble.

And then it happened.

Tap, tap, tap.

Ed was tapping me on the shoulder.

“She wants you to pay,” he said.  He meant the cashier.

I rolled my eyes at him and returned to the register.  I set  my purse on the counter and swiped my credit card across the credit machine.  When the signature line popped up, I heard my little boy, Logan, say to me, “Mommy, you know your parole officer said you couldn’t do that anymore.”

What?  What did he just say?  Did my baby really just say that to me???  In public, no less???

(I need to preface the rest of this story with the fact that I have no parole officer.  I have never been to prison.  I have never been to jail.  I have never been arrested or spent a single night in jail.  I did recently learn though that when you are arrested, you are given an orange jumpsuit to wear and your underwear and bra are taken from you.  That means that if you need to use the restroom, you have to strip down to nothingness and go in front of an audience.  Totally not my cup of tea, thank you very much!)

Before Logan, the demon child, even had that completely out of his mouth, his father started speaking.  “Honey, you know the CPS officer said you couldn’t do that in public anymore.”

Really?  Really???  It’s a conspiracy!!!  They’re all evil!  At least, two of them are.  Demons!!

I’m sure the look on my face was one of shock.  The cashier was giggling.  I’m pretty sure I was blushing from head to toe.  There was nothing for me to do but laugh.  Sometimes, there’s nothing to do but admit defeat.

They may have won this round, but I’m good for many more rounds.

It’s game on, boys!!

My Boys. They’re Demons.

Last week we had tickets to go to the Rangers and Red Sox game.  It’s one of the games I absolutely insist upon every year.  Ed forgot when we had baseball tickets, so he ended up doing an all-day continuing education class less than a mile from the Ballpark at Arlington.  Because of that, I ended up with a long drive ahead of me with a couple of little munchkins in the backseat after working all day.

After driving for a full fifteen minutes, I was getting a little tired so I decided that I’d get the boys talking.  What better time and way to have a sweet evening with my little cherubs?  The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the clouds looked like cotton candy in the sky.  To get a sweet conversation started, I asked the boys to tell me what the clouds looked like to them, if they saw any shapes in the sky.

Boy #2 started with his description first.  “I see an elephant.”

Aww!!  My sweet boy!!  He saw an elephant in the clouds!

He wasn’t finished.

“And the elephant has his trunk pointed at a hawk’s butt and the hawk is farting so the elephant can sniff up the fart!”

They both erupted in laughter.  My sweet parenting moment was ruined!

I groaned and they took my groan as an invitation to continue.

“There’s an alien’s head in the sky!”

“There’s a letter T and a bear.  It stands for teddy bear!”

“There’s a dinosaur on your side, Mommy.  It’s just opening it’s mouth.  No, he’s eating the crown of a king!”

“Three horses being shot at the same time by a number 3!”

“I see a Megalodon eating a queen conch!”

What’s a mother of boys to do?  I laughed with them.  It’s not like I was shocked by their imaginations.

Later during the drive, I asked them what they wanted to eat at the game.  Boy #1 spoke up first,  “I’m going to eat garlic flies and a hot cat and a hambooger!”

“That’s a lot of food, boy!” I said.

“Well Mom, I’m a hungry boy!” he replied.  Then he shrieked in disgust, “Eww, Mom!  He ate some of my hair!”

I should’ve expected this.  It’s not like I’ve never met my boys before.

Our First Date

Yesterday, Ed and I celebrated the twelve-year anniversary of our first date.  I pointed out the significance of the date to Ed and he got a little misty eyed and said, “Yeah, I remember that night so clearly.  It was like I was being arrested that night.  Three months later, I got arraigned.  And then in late July, I was sentenced to a lifetime of incarceration.”  I looked at him and smiled and said, “You say such sweet things to me!”  So he raised his eyebrow and said, “You know, if I’d committed murder, I’d already be eligible for parole.” He’s such a sweetheart!

I met Ed because my mother knew he was a sucker he would be a good man for me.  Mom said to me that there was a cute young lawyer who was just out of law school and she knew he was single because he didn’t bring a girlfriend to work or church with his parents, so I needed to get dressed up in my new blue suit and come to church with her.  So I did.  I didn’t get to meet Ed that day, but he did see me from across the church.  After church, Mom dragged me over to Ed’s parents and introduced me as her daughter who was of legal age and who would soon be able to bring in a respectable income.  No, really, that’s almost what she said verbatim.   Several weeks later, Ed came by Mom’s office to ask if I would think he was too old to date.  Mom said absolutely not even though I’d never dated anyone nearly as old as he was.  Ed got my phone number, along with half a dozen other ways to get a hold of me because Mom wanted to make sure that we started dating.  He called me a couple of days later and we talked for about an hour on the phone.  We arranged to go out the very next night because all first dates should happen on Wednesdays.  Ed picked me up in his white Dodge Ram.  We talked non-stop for the hour drive down to Dallas.  We had a three-hour meal at a fabulous steak house which was shockingly empty and had the most fantastic meal I’d ever enjoyed and we talked the whole time.  There was never an awkward silence.  Or maybe I am incapable of keeping my mouth shut.  Either way, there was great conversation between us.  And, I managed to only drop three pieces of silverware!  We then headed over to a theater to see the worst first date movie in the history of movies.  The last thing you want to see on a first date is marital discord and faked murders.  It just doesn’t set the right mood for romance.  You also don’t want to fart in a theater where you and your date are the only ones in the theater, especially on a first date, but I think Ed made up that part of the first date.  Or I blocked it from my memory.  Either way, I think Ed engages in revisionist history.  So after the horrible first date movie (which was a decent movie, just not for first dates), we started the hour drive back home with me yakking his ear off the whole time.  Towards the end of the drive, about ten miles from our town, Ed had to pull almost all the way onto the shoulder of the highway and I barely noticed because I was still talking and maybe because I was still a little tipsy and he asked if I’d noticed the SUV weaving all over the highway so I shut my mouth finally and watched as the SUV swerved and weaved and we were glad that there was so little traffic because the driver surely would have hit anyone who got in her path.  The SUV went over a hill and within seconds, we saw headlights bouncing all over the night sky as the SUV rolled over and over.  Ed slowed his truck to a crawl as we approached the  wreck and we were both sure that we were about to see someone critically injured or dead.  Instead, the driver opened the door and got out.  She was limping and we went over to help her.  The glass had busted out of most of the windows, but she was largely unhurt.  We stayed until the ambulance came to take the young woman to the hospital and then proceeded back to my house.  Ed walked me up to the front stoop and gave me a gentlemanly hug and asked me if he could take me out on another date because he had enjoyed talking to me.  At least, that’s the way I remember it.