An Homage to Aunties
I am a firm believer in a village raising children. And I rely heavily on my sisters to be a a big part of the village. Lucky ladies, right?
Memorial Day weekend. For me this equated to four days out of the office in the company of my lovely little gentlemen. On Friday we tagged in Auntie Jess to go hang out with us at Funderland, followed by some necessary shopping. She is our Girl Friday, and a standing date for us. She gets included in all sorts of fun things like the zoo, the art studio we hang and produce at, haircuts, grocery shopping, doctor appointments...but focus on the fun things folks. And this Friday was no different. After Mommy treated Auntie to loads of junk food Gavin informed her she would only be doing "fast rides" with him. Lucky girl, I've never seen anyone conquer a kid roller coaster that many times so quickly on the heels of chili cheese fries. Rock on, Auntie.
And then, to avoid any extra traffic going to the slightly more upscale Target we usually hit when we are in that part of town, Mommy decided we would just go two miles to the freakshow Target. After all, my kids are hip. We do all sorts of alternative things. And as expected my children did fine with the head to toe tattoos, bright pink hair and piercings through body parts that were never meant to be violated in such a fashion. Didn't even raise an eyebrow. Because we're hip. But then came the little person.
Pushing my cart with Gabe I suddenly heard Gavin, riding in Auntie's cart, start very loudly exclaiming "LOOK AT HIM!!! HE'S SO LITTLE EVEN THOUGH HE'S A GROWN UP!!!" And did I mention Auntie is hard of hearing? Bless her heart, she was NOT catching it. And so I did what any responsible mother would do. I gave her a secret look that said "turn the damn cart already" and then pretended to be shocked at what HER kid was saying while walking quickly away from them. She caught on and followed, as Gavin protested "WAIT AUNTIE, DON'T TURN, HE'S RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE! GO BACK, I NEED A BETTER LOOK!"
After we left I tried to have a meaningful talk about how all people are equal with Gavin. He looked at me in disgust. "I KNOW Mom. Turn up my headphones please."
Good talk, son.
And then we decided on a whim on Sunday to go stay the night with Auntie Leslie and family so the boys could play with their cousin. No notice at all that the three of us were coming until I sent a text telling her we were leaving, and she still put us up. What a trooper. I mean sure, she had the three and a half hours it takes us to drive there, but that's not a lot of notice. And essentially it means that by the time we get there I will have an eye twitch from the ride which is filled with conversations that start with "are some monkeys girls?" and eventually leads to my children calling me a liar because if Barney was really a boy he'd have external genitalia.
And Auntie Leslie was ready to be tagged in and now take on three boys under the age of six and have a bottle of chilled wine waiting for me. That's my kind of village. And she, along with the other Aunties, can translate Gabe's slight speech impediment like a champ. So she knows when he's asking for a drink, when he can't find a stool to reach the sink in the bathroom, and when he stumbles across bumble bees he's pretty sure won't sting if he's really gentle. This time was a new highlight, however, when the children were convinced that some random neighbor cat was in fact one of Auntie's cats which had escaped the locked safety of indoors, from which they may not roam. As Leslie and I ran out front to see why the children were all flustered and screaming at us Gabe ran up to her and told her "Auntie Leslie, one of your titties is out!"
She didn't even laugh at him folks. But I laughed at her. Hysterically. Because she checked.
Thank you to the Aunties. You made our weekend.
Memorial Day weekend. For me this equated to four days out of the office in the company of my lovely little gentlemen. On Friday we tagged in Auntie Jess to go hang out with us at Funderland, followed by some necessary shopping. She is our Girl Friday, and a standing date for us. She gets included in all sorts of fun things like the zoo, the art studio we hang and produce at, haircuts, grocery shopping, doctor appointments...but focus on the fun things folks. And this Friday was no different. After Mommy treated Auntie to loads of junk food Gavin informed her she would only be doing "fast rides" with him. Lucky girl, I've never seen anyone conquer a kid roller coaster that many times so quickly on the heels of chili cheese fries. Rock on, Auntie.
And then, to avoid any extra traffic going to the slightly more upscale Target we usually hit when we are in that part of town, Mommy decided we would just go two miles to the freakshow Target. After all, my kids are hip. We do all sorts of alternative things. And as expected my children did fine with the head to toe tattoos, bright pink hair and piercings through body parts that were never meant to be violated in such a fashion. Didn't even raise an eyebrow. Because we're hip. But then came the little person.
Pushing my cart with Gabe I suddenly heard Gavin, riding in Auntie's cart, start very loudly exclaiming "LOOK AT HIM!!! HE'S SO LITTLE EVEN THOUGH HE'S A GROWN UP!!!" And did I mention Auntie is hard of hearing? Bless her heart, she was NOT catching it. And so I did what any responsible mother would do. I gave her a secret look that said "turn the damn cart already" and then pretended to be shocked at what HER kid was saying while walking quickly away from them. She caught on and followed, as Gavin protested "WAIT AUNTIE, DON'T TURN, HE'S RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE! GO BACK, I NEED A BETTER LOOK!"
After we left I tried to have a meaningful talk about how all people are equal with Gavin. He looked at me in disgust. "I KNOW Mom. Turn up my headphones please."
Good talk, son.
And then we decided on a whim on Sunday to go stay the night with Auntie Leslie and family so the boys could play with their cousin. No notice at all that the three of us were coming until I sent a text telling her we were leaving, and she still put us up. What a trooper. I mean sure, she had the three and a half hours it takes us to drive there, but that's not a lot of notice. And essentially it means that by the time we get there I will have an eye twitch from the ride which is filled with conversations that start with "are some monkeys girls?" and eventually leads to my children calling me a liar because if Barney was really a boy he'd have external genitalia.
And Auntie Leslie was ready to be tagged in and now take on three boys under the age of six and have a bottle of chilled wine waiting for me. That's my kind of village. And she, along with the other Aunties, can translate Gabe's slight speech impediment like a champ. So she knows when he's asking for a drink, when he can't find a stool to reach the sink in the bathroom, and when he stumbles across bumble bees he's pretty sure won't sting if he's really gentle. This time was a new highlight, however, when the children were convinced that some random neighbor cat was in fact one of Auntie's cats which had escaped the locked safety of indoors, from which they may not roam. As Leslie and I ran out front to see why the children were all flustered and screaming at us Gabe ran up to her and told her "Auntie Leslie, one of your titties is out!"
She didn't even laugh at him folks. But I laughed at her. Hysterically. Because she checked.
Thank you to the Aunties. You made our weekend.
Oh my god, THIS IS HYSTERICAL! I died.
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