Teenage Pressurewashers

Because the economy has kept the kids from jobs, we decided they’d work for us. For free because we were providing room and board. Of course, this forced labor is akin to communist labor, which doesn’t work so well—i.e. Matt and Jacob don’t work as diligently if they aren’t being paid.

Cal assigned the boys the job of pressure washing the deck in preparation to sealing the wood. Luke did his portion. Then Jake did his part. When Matt was doing his, Cal went outside to inspect. Luke’s section was meticulously done. Cal glanced at Jake’s; it looked adequate. On to Matt’s section. It looked like important work had been done. After all, Matthew was drenched. Matt’s section wasn’t bad. Except, on one board. On that piece of wood, Matt had emblazoning his name in the wood. Yep, he pressurewashed “Matthew” in the deck in lovely looping cursive. Cal helped Matt “erase” his name from the deck.

After that, we let the deck dry. Just before we were ready to stain the deck, I went outside to water the tomato, basil, and jalapeno plants. Then, I discovered Matt wasn’t the only one who’d tattooed his name into the deck. One corner read “Jacob.”

Jacob ended up outside with a scrub brush and soap and water. My hope is that when we finally get around to staining the deck, there won’t be any “ghosting” where the names show up again.

Hmm, yet another example of why collectivism doesn’t work.

Ten Top Addendum

(See previous post, Top Ten.)
More GI Joes.





I don't know if these were supposed to be pleas for repair...







......or torture devices.

Top Ten

Top Ten Reasons You Know You’re a Mother of Boys (Sad but true)

1. When you notice that your dining room chandelier has a GI Joe dangling from it.

2. When you find that the boat they’re using to float their playmobile men is actually an athletic cup.

3. When you can’t identify what is actually in your son’s pocket.

4. When you step on legos during the middle of the night on your way to the bathroom.

5. When you realize that soda was invented so that boys could have burping contests.

6. When you can’t find the “extra” taco shells and discover your son ate 22 tacos in one sitting.

7. When you explain to your child that showering once a week isn’t going to cut it.

8. When you find the kitchen “help” having a fencing match with steak knives.

9. When they can quote ERAs, Ks, BBs, and RBIs of their favorite major league baseball players from memory, but can’t remember where the hamper is.

10. When you walk into the kitchen and say to figure standing in front of the open refrigerator door, “You’re eating butter!?”

Our Little Monkey Girl

One of the other “blessings” of very hot weather (notice I didn’t say ridiculously hot weather or infernally hot weather—see, I’m embracing the heat) is that my dog can’t stop shedding. She’s been shedding for months. Normally, a Lab sheds fur for a few weeks. But, Jezebel is going on two months plus. In fact, the boys’ new fun activity is pulling out hunks of fur while they watch reruns of Star Trek. This might be amusing to them, and the dog loves it, but, they forget what they’ve done by the end of the movie, and they bail leaving piles of black fur all over my bedroom floor. Of course, then there’s the time the piles of fur got wrapped up in Jez’s blanket along with clean laundry (it happened to be piled in a chair where some nameless male child wanted to sit), my pillow, etc. Needless to say, I had a conversation with the boys. They said, “Oops. Sorry.”

You’d think Jez would be completely naked by now. But she’s not, instead she’s still got a thick coat except on her tummy where pink skin is starting to show through. Ariel calls her “Monkey Girl” because her belly looks just like a monkey’s. The boys aren’t fond of Jez’s new nickname—you don’t call a big black Lab with a spiked collar, “Monkey Girl.” That’s like calling a Rottweiler “Tinkerbell.” It just doesn’t work unless you’re going for the irony factor.

Right now, Jez is out running with Calvin. She has to get in her morning run regarding of how hot it is. Afterwards, she comes home with her tongue hanging to the floor. I tease Cal that eventually either he or she will trip over it. Then, Jez flops down to the floor and closes her eyes—she’s done for the morning. Cal’s tried to run without her, thinking the heat and humidity is too much for her. But now, Jez won’t let him out of her sight. She won’t even eat her breakfast because she’s so anxious that he might go running without her. In fact, first thing in the morning, she whines at the bedroom door because she’s afraid Cal might sneak out the back door of our bedroom to go running without her.

Maybe it’s not the heat that making her lose her fur, maybe it’s anxiety making her go bald. Poor Little Monkey!

Mr. I

Ever since Calvin left, I’ve been getting phone calls. You know the kind, there’s a person on the line, but they don’t say anything, they just listen. Normally, I just hang up. But this morning, the Idiot (known in our house as Mr. I) woke me up very early. And, I am not happy.

I could be “freaked” and nervous. But I’ve been down this road before, in a much, much worse form and before there were anti-stalking laws. Now it’s an annoyance—my life is too busy for these shenanigans. So, this morning I talked to the kids about it because I want to keep track of how many of these calls we’re getting in a day. Before I spoke to the kids, I thought “Oh, I have to be careful; I don’t want to scare them.” Clearly, I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet. Teenage boys aren’t freaked out by a stalker. They think it’s uber-cool. They were giddy. After all, they have testosterone, they’re proficient in steel-based self-protection, and the have Jez—the bullet you can re-call.

Now the boys are planning for the next phone call. I’m sure I won’t be able to get to the phone today at all. Matt’s plan is to blow our bo’sun’s whistle into the phone. Jacob’s plan is to laugh and comment on how Jezebel delights to eat human flesh. And Luke’s plan is to curse the caller. Of course, Luke’s idea of cursing is to call someone “The Son of an Incontinent Camel.” Yes, he’s been reading too much Elizabeth Peters.

So, dear stalking phone caller, please don’t forget to call—my boys will be terribly disappointed if you don’t.