Thursday, October 26, 2006

To Pee or Not to Pee, Or Rather Where?

I never knew a Cub Scout Campout could be like an episode of Press Your Luck. This weekend I learned how similar the two indeed are.

We went to our Boy Scout district's annual Cuboree campout. We had a lovely campsite named Sherwood Forest. The site itself was gorgeous and as magical as any imagined Sherwood Forest could be. From the long tree lined walk into the campsite to the tall trees that held the fog like a misty veil and shielded us from the sun, tthe morning mist veiled the trees in a magical way - tbefitting any young squire.

THe Sherwood Forest had two small blemishes that kept it from being a completely magical place. A hot dry summer and wet fall allowed for a proliferation of posion ivy. The hot summer also limited camping trips in our area and the latrine at our remote site needed a massive clean up. A snake had taken up resience in one of the latrines. This fact, my sons delighted in informing me of every ten or twenty minutes - lest I forget.

During the day, this was not an issue. I just hiked myself up to the good bthroom where the toilets flushed and there was hot running water. At night however, this was another story. Saturday night, a cold front blew in earlier than expected. The wind blew and howled and the temprature dropped. I found myself in a quandry.

I had to pee. The cold weather made that need worse. Did I chance a tree and risk posion ivy in the nether regions? Or, did I risk a snake bite on the butt? I debated with myslef for twenty minutes. The need became unbearable and I knew I had to decide - poison ivy or the snake. The snake was only in one stall. The poison ivy may not be on my selected tree. The wind picked up in intensity and I picked the latrine.

I figured I wouldn't have to SIT on the seat, hovering was good. The latrine was protected from the wind by a wall. I did wake my husband and make him go with me - to stand guard and for protection from the viper in the next stall. every Sherwood Forest needs a knight in shining armour right?

In the end, it all came out okay. I made it back to our tent with an empty bladder and snake bite free.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

The Note

My oldest son, Charles is 11.

He's smart and he knows it.

There is little that can prepare you for the day you realize your child has an interest in the opposite sex, or let me reiterate, the opposite sex has an interest in your child.

Charles has a nasty habit of leaving things in his pockets. As the doer of the family wash, I've learned to alway check Charles'pockets. He usually leaves things in his pocket like paper, pens, rocks and paper clips. These things do not wash well.

While doing the wash, I came across a note in Charles' pocket. The note was scribbled in pink ink. Pink is not a color charles is fond of. The note was from a girl. Her name is Joi.Joi signs her name with hearts over the i's. She waned to eat lunch with him and she made him mad.

I asked Charles about the note, feeling him out to see if he liked this girl in the way that sixth graders like each other.

He didn't know her. She sat in his desk in the class before him. She likes him . She's mad though because he is friends with haley.

He told me, in all seriousness,

"Mom it's hard to be this good looking"

I didn't laugh.

Out loud.

In front of him.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

On Top of Mount Wasmore (All Covered in Socks)

Today is Wednesday. Wednesday, in my house means one thing. Laundry day. I am the house laundress. Today the laundry is It.

I sort it.

I wash it.

I dry it.

I nag until some one else folds it and puts it away.

Laundry is like the Circle of Life, never ending and always in motion. One dirty item is replaced by a clean item is replaced by a dirty one. Dirty clothes that smell of boy sweat and grass are replaced with clothes that smell of Tide and Downy expressions lilac and rose. Only none of the animals in my house bow down when I raise up a once stained soiled object that is now clean and sweet smelling like they did Simba.

Lilac and Rose Downy had to be invented by a mother. A mother of boys who, in even the most lleisurely of tasks can come home reeking.

Tonight, the children will fold the clothes I washed. There will be socks - many pairs of socks, Socks that went into the washer a happy complete pair will come out of the dryer divorced, or at the very least, on a trial separation from it's mate. The estranged mate may or may not ever show up.

Yes. these are the days of my life.

All the Cool Moms Are Doing It

I've been reading blogs for a few years. I enjoy reading about other people, especially those blogs of other moms. It's a relief to read that I am not the only mom who had a toddler eat paper or who detests sitting in the heat at youth sporting events - wistfully thinking that a cold alcoholic beverage would not only quell the heat a little, but make the stay a little less painful.

People tell me I'm funny. Sometimes, I think I am funny. I know my kids are funny. So we're going to give this blog thing a try. And away we go!