Independence Day/Camp Week/Empty Casa
Hola again from La Casa de Testosterone. Thought I'd stop by for a brief check in to kill some empty house time. The Wild Boys are with the cop at Cub Scout Camp. This is the last year all three of them will be gone together, because Gavin moves on up to Boy Scouts this upcoming year. Part of me is in shock that he's so old already, and part of me is just super glad because I am NOT a happy Momma with an empty house. However, I have caught up on Netflix episodes, eaten an obscene amount of ice cream from the carton, and stayed up as late as I wanted. It's beautiful to occasionally NOT have to be a good role model. Not that I'm ever a GREAT role model anyhow...
Anyhow, this past week was jam packed with a sick Momma, fireworks in town, fireworks clean up in town the next morning (see what civic minded little gems we are raising here peeps?), swimming, barbecuing, packing, and then their departure. And that was all between Monday and Wednesday. It's obscene how much crap we pack into our daily lives. Suffice it to say, the boys were tired when it was time to LEAVE for camp, so I can only imagine how much fun they'll be when they get back. I've saved myself some emergency ice cream hidden in an inconspicuous container behind frozen vegetables. I'm imagining it'll sustain me through their crankiness.
The fireworks were, as always, awesome. Nothing compares to small town living, and this is never more evident then when you and hundreds of other people you've known for years cram into a tiny space and subject one another to explosions, the risk of finger amputation, and the inevitable crush of people onto your blanket when they realize your seat is better. You'd think we'd have a little more space, since every one of the cop's coworkers inevitably stops by to say hi to the Wild Boys and ends up confiscating illegal fireworks or the vodka being pounded by teenagers somewhere in our immediate vicinity. Hasn't worked yet though. Next year I may pretend to have smallpox or something. Maybe leprosy. I could have passed for it this year after an unfortunate "I'm totally incapable of safely lighting sparklers" incident cost me a giant chunk of my thumb. It's good though - the Wild Boys respond way better to visual examples then they do to blind threats. Now they know. Now we all know. And according to GI Joe, that's half the battle. That'll complement my half thumb nicely.
We all lived, and that's what's important here as always. The Wild Boys, as always, unscathed after an entire afternoon of swimming, frolicking barefoot in a giant field of bees, climbing rocks and playground equipment in flip flops, and setting off countless "safe and sane" fireworks that their Grandpa supplies them with every year from the stand that he and his biker buddies run every year as a fundraiser. No I'm not kidding. It's a story for another day. When fireworks finally stared Gavin demanded Auntie be his pillow and wrap him in blankets, and Gabe curled up with me and chattered nonstop until he paused to inhale briefly and passed out cold. It's tradition, and I love it. It was a memory to make before they left me for the week. Although, when I miss them too much I reflect on the next morning when they were exhausted and cranky and fought until Gabe cried and Gavin "sweated out of his eyes" (you know, since he's way too old to cry anymore unless it involves Where the Red Fern Grows or discussions about the unfortunate assassination of Biggie Smalls - he's kinda random like that). Those memories help me appreciate basking in a quiet house for a few days.
And with that, I think I'm going to treat myself to a pedicure while I have nobody to drop off, pick up or drive to anything. Until next time, have an amazing week!
Anyhow, this past week was jam packed with a sick Momma, fireworks in town, fireworks clean up in town the next morning (see what civic minded little gems we are raising here peeps?), swimming, barbecuing, packing, and then their departure. And that was all between Monday and Wednesday. It's obscene how much crap we pack into our daily lives. Suffice it to say, the boys were tired when it was time to LEAVE for camp, so I can only imagine how much fun they'll be when they get back. I've saved myself some emergency ice cream hidden in an inconspicuous container behind frozen vegetables. I'm imagining it'll sustain me through their crankiness.
The fireworks were, as always, awesome. Nothing compares to small town living, and this is never more evident then when you and hundreds of other people you've known for years cram into a tiny space and subject one another to explosions, the risk of finger amputation, and the inevitable crush of people onto your blanket when they realize your seat is better. You'd think we'd have a little more space, since every one of the cop's coworkers inevitably stops by to say hi to the Wild Boys and ends up confiscating illegal fireworks or the vodka being pounded by teenagers somewhere in our immediate vicinity. Hasn't worked yet though. Next year I may pretend to have smallpox or something. Maybe leprosy. I could have passed for it this year after an unfortunate "I'm totally incapable of safely lighting sparklers" incident cost me a giant chunk of my thumb. It's good though - the Wild Boys respond way better to visual examples then they do to blind threats. Now they know. Now we all know. And according to GI Joe, that's half the battle. That'll complement my half thumb nicely.
We all lived, and that's what's important here as always. The Wild Boys, as always, unscathed after an entire afternoon of swimming, frolicking barefoot in a giant field of bees, climbing rocks and playground equipment in flip flops, and setting off countless "safe and sane" fireworks that their Grandpa supplies them with every year from the stand that he and his biker buddies run every year as a fundraiser. No I'm not kidding. It's a story for another day. When fireworks finally stared Gavin demanded Auntie be his pillow and wrap him in blankets, and Gabe curled up with me and chattered nonstop until he paused to inhale briefly and passed out cold. It's tradition, and I love it. It was a memory to make before they left me for the week. Although, when I miss them too much I reflect on the next morning when they were exhausted and cranky and fought until Gabe cried and Gavin "sweated out of his eyes" (you know, since he's way too old to cry anymore unless it involves Where the Red Fern Grows or discussions about the unfortunate assassination of Biggie Smalls - he's kinda random like that). Those memories help me appreciate basking in a quiet house for a few days.
And with that, I think I'm going to treat myself to a pedicure while I have nobody to drop off, pick up or drive to anything. Until next time, have an amazing week!
Comments
Post a Comment