Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Monday, June 16, 2008

When Good Ideas Go Bad

My boys and I have developed the really bad habit of staying up extremely late now that school is out. Husband goes to bed early, so we are left mostly to our own devices.

Part of me thinks I am a crappy mother for not maintaining a consistent schedule, and part of me thinks that staying up late is half the fun of summer and I should just let them enjoy it. They have plenty of years ahead of them in which they will be slaves to the electronic drill sergeant that stands watch at every adult bedside.

Lately, they have outlasted even me and I have to retire to my bed to read or write while they do whatever it is they do in the dank dark recesses of Pubescent One's room.

But often, they come sheepishly to my bedside; sometimes singly, sometimes together, asking if they can get in, just for a while.

It used to be that nighttime was my time. I relished the quiet after everyone was asleep. It was the only time of day I felt truly relaxed and free of my obligations. It was the only time I felt that I had permission to be off-duty, in every sense of the word.

But during the summer, I parent from sunup (well not really...I don't really do sunup) to whenever they fall into an exhausted tangle amid the bedsheets. It's wearing me out.

So my first impulse is usually to refuse. But I don't. I let them wheedle and cajole me into allowing them to squeeze into my bed, where we lay side by side like sardines in a can.

Sometimes they bicker and when that happens, they are sent packing without preamble. My bed is a no bickering zone.

But sometimes we talk and tell jokes. Sometimes I read while they just enjoy the comfort of me and I enjoy the still neediness of them. Sometimes, they tell me stories that they've made up in their head. Sometiems I tell them what's in mine.

In these moments, I think, they are able to see me as someone other than their Mom. I am still there in the sense that they need me to be...solid and strong, and in their eyes, invinceable, impervious, immortal. But without the pressure of our daily worries, my Mother mask slips a little, and they see the woman behind it.

Last night, though I was exhausted from a day spent hauling equipment, coolers, camp chairs and various other paraphanalia about 4,000 miles from our van to the field, I let them pile in.

They asked me to show them the clip of "Can't Touch This". Have you seen the Hallmark commerical with the very typical white suburban Dad who receives a musical card and then dreams of cavorting in harem pants, sporting stripes in his sparse hair and bustin a pretty impressive move? It cracks Husband up every time, so of course, we had to get him that card for Father's Day.

They wanted to see the origanl version, so I got my laptop and we watched it together. As I have said before, YouTube is a rabbit hole that once ventured down, is difficult to extract one's self from, and last night was no exception.

We watched one funny clip after another. Each time I suggested it was time to actually get some sleep, they protested with pleas for just one more.

They showed me this clip:

And this one:

SIGH. Boys and farts. It just never gets old.

I found this one much funnier:

They failed to see the humor.

So I showed them this:

And this:

After that, we had to watch every. Single. Stuart clip. We laughed until our sides ached. And then at last they were ready to succumb to the most evil of childhood villains....and slept.

Heartwarming, isn't it? I know. But today?

They are driving me batshit crazy with Stewart references.

As I poured some Cheerios for Dimuntive One, he adopted a falsetto and warbled "Let me do it!"

His brother howled with laughter, which of course, escalated things. And from there, it was just a lost cause.

When I tried to look in the collar of Pubescent One's shirt to assess his sunburn, he crouched comically, arms akimbo and whined "NOOOOOoooooooo." Diminutive One nearly peed himself laughing.

Every four minutes or so, one of them hollers "Look what I can do!" and then twitches spasmodically for a moment or two.

It was funny for a while. Both of them are born mimics and I laughed once or twice despite myself, which was a COLOSSAL tactical error on my part. I should have feigned indifference, because it might have fizzled out by now had I posessed the foresight that a mother of thirteen years should when it comes to this kind of stuff.

I finally sent them upstairs to play video games because I just couldn't take one more leg fart.

So, the moral of the story is...

Shit, I don't know. Maybe think twice about all but handing your kids the laces to a nice white jacket that ties in the back?


  • At 2:02 PM, Blogger flutter said…

    I mean, realistically, you could fart on one of them and then all bets would be off....

  • At 2:48 PM, Blogger kristianekat said…

    We always say that our child is the real Stuart - he's now 5 and out of a lot of those behaviors, but for a while there... I realize it's testing your patience, so just start acting like Stuart's mom - that will get them.

  • At 3:22 PM, Blogger Middle Girl said…

    Each day they teach us a new lesson.

  • At 5:28 PM, Blogger Amy Y said…

    We like to look for pranks on YouTube. The Japanese ones are the funniest ~ they have such a sick sense of humor over there! We laugh 'til we pee :)

    Sounds like you have a fun summer ahead of you, Mama. :)

  • At 6:37 PM, Blogger Sarah said…

    your boys and my boys would get along.

  • At 7:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    You know, some of my fondest memories are of summer, when I could stay up and read until my eyes wouldn't stay open anymore (usually around 3:00 a.m.). That is, unless my mom knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go grocery shopping -- and yes, there are quite a few other people that we ran into who were grocery shopping in the middle of the night.

  • At 9:05 PM, Blogger Woman in a Window said…

    i LOVE that your big boys still get in bed with you, still laugh so hard with you, and yet, still drive you crazy. As always, wonderfully told.

  • At 9:39 PM, Blogger Tania said…

    It still sounds like you've got good thing going.

  • At 11:22 PM, Blogger Crazed Nitwit said…

    I can see where the Stuart refs could be annoying. I think the fact they love being with you, even at bedtime, is so very special and maybe you could enhoy that longer. My teens won't even hug me anymore and it hurts my Mama's heart. My 17yo think he's found THE girl of forever(Oh boy is he heading off a cliff or what?) and my 19yo is so very independent. I miss the days when I was reading them the first 2 Harry Potter books in our bed with voices(my acting career was short but sweet) and giggles and tickles.

    aka JaniceNW

  • At 11:40 PM, Blogger Sharon Matherson said…

    Great post. Wish I could be a fly on the wall at your house. And I wish my mom was half as cool as you are when I was growing up. Oh well, love her anyway.

  • At 8:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I thought their internet access was revoked indefinitely... Lol.

    At least you had a great time! :-)

  • At 6:51 PM, Blogger Kiy said…

    You know what's awesome? The great relationship you have with your boys. Kudos, seriously. You are doing something right. Can I come over and learn? :)

  • At 10:49 AM, Blogger sltbee69 said…

    I loved this post! Perfect example of being a mom.

  • At 1:09 PM, Blogger NatzG said…

    Oh god! You had me in fits of hysteria! Thanks for the laugh :-)

  • At 8:20 PM, Blogger Ruth Dynamite said…

    LOVE Stuart. Can't get enough of Stuart.


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