Mothering Mayhem: Life with the Wild Boys

Hola Wild Boy followers, and a VERY happy weekend from La Casa de Testosterone! We here in la casa have taken today as a very much needed day of rest.  This week was a particularly brutal one involving the cop on day shift patrol, open house for the wild boys, boy scouts, a baseball practice and two baseball games, and a partridge in a pear tree. No, no partridge. If there was a partridge it would only survive off the fruit of the pear tree itself because I cannot possibly keep up with remembering to feed any more dependents here (and partly because birds scare the crap out of me...ask me sometime about getting attacked by a killer parrot that continuously yelled F*** YOU while pecking my ankle as I tried to pick a lock to get a felon that was hiding from my team...But I digress...) Anyhow, day of rest. It's not super easy to come by, by any stretch, because as tired as the cop and I may be the wild boys have the energy and destructive force of Tasmanian devils.  It takes ...

Hola friends, and welcome to another harrowing tale of surviving mothering the Wild Boys. This week finds us all SO READY for summer vacation.  I'm not sure how the teachers at the elementary school are surviving, because my kids mentally signed out about ten days ago.  It wasn't even warm enough for shorts, but when they realized there was less than a month left they went cerebrally surfer.  They've been forcing the issue, wearing flip flops and shorts without anything else despite the sixty degree temperature.  It's that kind of sacrifice and dedication that gives them wicked tan lines while I sit in a dark corner glowing in all my albino glory.  They are forced to wear real shoes and shirts to school which only magnifies their resentment, and means my car looks like small hobos may live in it because they manage to pop out as it's still moving in the driveway half naked to play outside leaving everything that made them respectable (you know, like shoes and sh...

Good morning and happy Mother's Day from la Casa de Testosterone! So, I'm solo parenting today as the cop is covering a patrol shift. Upon last check he was sitting in the emergency room waiting for mental health to come and assess someone who currently makes me look like the picture of sanity. I'm pretty sure this is a blessing, because lately the cop has looked at me like I'm only 20 cats short of living up to my full crazy potential, and yesterday I got offered some kittens... Also, during my conversation with him his somewhat disturbed client did tell me happy Mother's Day. So I got that going for me, which is nice. It's pretty early here, but we're off to a roaring good start to the day. I slept in until almost eight, and when I woke up the wild boys explained that the blood stains on Gabe's sweatshirt were old, so aside from having that laundry to look forward to we're going to call it a win.  They then showered me with homemade gifts from ...

Hola Wild Boy followers! Here I am, signing in a week later. Look at me, nailing this responsibility thing! Yay me! OK, truth...the cop is working a graveyard this evening and I'm supposed to be cleaning, finishing laundry and packing for training away from my wild boys. Aaaaand I'm procrastinating a smidge. See, the cop keeps me slightly more focused when he's around. Usually it's with super casual little nudges like "what are you DOING?" as I wander through our home holding one baseball cleat, the dog's allergy pills and a bag of carrots.  But he's gone, so the laundry is halfway done, I've got a list of things left to do, and I'm taking a minute to sit. The wild boys, however, are indifferent to my need to get things done.  I feel like Sisyphus. You know, from Greek mythology? Yes...I AM that nerdy. But follow along here...Sisyphus was punished by having to push a boulder up a hill for eternity, and every time it got to the top it would ...

Hola faithful Wild Boy followers. So, I was on a hike yesterday and a friend said "You should totally write a blog." And I was like "I TOTALLY DO!"  And then I realized that I haven't done a weekly update in a little while (cough, about three and a half years, cough). Whoops! Listen, time flies when you have two children constantly on the verge of world domination/critical injuries. So, briefly, three years have gone by, and the Wild Boys are still wild and just more capable of serious destruction due to their increased height, dexterity and ability to read. There you go, we're caught up. No, but seriously, Gavin is ten and finishing fourth grade. Gabe is eight and finishing second, and all kinds of hilarity has ensued which I will use to entertain you in weeks to come. This serves simply as notice that I'm back, and fully intend to try to stick with it...we'll see. Today is a brief reintroduction since it's house cleaning and laundry day in la...

As promised to those who follow me on Facebook (or as the crew I partied with last night refer to it "the Facebook"), here is the highly anticipated "Jen parties with senior citizens" explanation blog. Life with the wild boys, it sometimes necessitates a break from children in order to maintain one's sanity.  Hence the institution of "date night."  This blog deals very minimally with the wild boys.  More about Mommy this time around.  So I apologize to those of you who need more Gav and Gabe antics.  There will be plenty to come. A little history.  For those of you who don't know me that well, I am a total music junkie.  It is ALWAYS playing around me, and my tastes are really all inclusive (with the exception of anything involving accordion...I just can't do it, I've tried.)  The cop is stunned constantly by how quickly I can switch from a Vivaldi mood to The Jackson 5 to Kesha.  And the wild boys have been totally brainwashed by me. I...

One of the most dreaded times in parenting is puberty.  The cop and I have survived it three times thus far, and my only real comfort in having two more kids was that I would have a really long time before I had to deal with it again. Wrong. Blame growth hormones in milk, whatever. My six year old is apparently a teenager.  Sure, he's only fifty pounds and no, he's not all freakishly pizza faced yet.  But sweet Jesus, his attitude is straight up 15 year old boy.  And so I thought I would share with you, loyal readers, some of our more eye twitching moments as of late.  These moments have all spawned from his increased vocabulary, and some phrases I really didn't expect to deal with for another decade. For example, "I don't even LIKE you Mom."  Sure, this should make me catch my breath.  Probably all of those mothers who are actual competitors for Mother of the Year out there would sit down and have a serious, heartfelt chat with him about ho...