The Princes and the Pea (sized spider)

My son is such a boy sometimes.
Like yesterday when we were walking down a nature trail and he kept spitting.  I looked over at him and said, "What IS it with boys and spitting??"  And then my husband held one nostril shut and blew the other one out ON THE GROUND!  I was aghast.
"I miss Hillary.." I muttered.

But then there are times when I see a glimmer of hope that I've somehow civilized him after all.  Like last night, when he and his friends decided to have an impromptu camp-out.  It started as a visit to his friend's campsite a few miles away.  Neighbor Boy and his family took their RV out to celebrate the holiday weekend, so Parker and his Sidekick went out to sit around their campfire.  Thirty minutes before curfew I got a text begging me to let them stay longer.  They even got Neighbor Mom involved.  She told me that they had met some other kids and were having fun and didn't want to leave.  Not wanting them to drive home in the wee hours of the morning with the drunk drivers and deer I told them to just stay the night.
They jumped at the idea, but had to come home to get a few things.
They tromped in the door smelling like campfire and outdoors.  I dug the sleeping bags out of the basement storage room and Sidekick tucked them under his arm.  "Be sure to shake them out before you get in them," I said.  "There might be spiders."  He paled and gave a girl-like squeak.  "I don't think I want to hold these anymore," he said.  He held them at arms length by the elastic strap.
In the meantime, Prince Parker was gathering up essentials - clean underwear, his toothbrush, a phone charger, cologne...
The "kids" they had met must be of the pony-tail wearing, leg-shaving variety.  Thank goodness Neighbor Mom and Dad would be out there to keep an eye.
He started up the stairs and then stopped and said, "Do sleeping bags have pillows in them?"
Hubby and I looked at each other.
"No."
"Well, then, I'm grabbing my pillow!" he said.
When they were safely out of range, Hubby and I had a good laugh!
This morning, Neighbor Mom texted me this pic of the Burrito Boys...

They made it through the night, but they look as disheveled as the poor princess who slept on the pea.  Parker confessed to his dad that caterpillars kept falling on them all night out of the trees. They were probably attracted to all that cologne. Guess the boys didn't get much sleep! They may be rough and tough by day, but put them in sleeping bags in the woods for a night with caterpillars and a pea-sized spider and their Pampered Prince sides are revealed.  

I must admit, these Princes royally rule my heart.

Orchid Donor

I am a murderer.
A plant murderer, that is.
Green things shrivel in my presence.  Blossoms wither and fall. I have a black thumb, and I have come to accept it.
My mother and my daughter, however, stubbornly refuse to give up hope.  My mother comes every spring with her shovel and gloves and a truckload of mulch.  She pulls out the weeds that have overtaken my flower beds and "amends" the soil.  She assures me as she leaves the newly planted sprouts in my inept hands that "all" I have to do is water them a little every day and keep the weeds pulled out.  I can practically hear the seedlings screaming "Don't leave us..." but she does.
My daughter takes a different approach.  Maybe all I need is something small in a pot inside the house.  Where I will see it and remember to give it water.  So she brings me flowers with beautiful blooms.  Which last about 27 hours before they commit suicide.  Last year on Mother's Day she got me an orchid.  I pretty much ignored it, knowing that I shouldn't get too attached to the pretty white blooms.  Much to everyone's surprise, it was still blooming a few weeks later.  Apparently orchids require very little water.  It lasted almost a year before if finally dried up to spidery roots and gave up the ghost.  Hillary was so proud of me she got me ANOTHER one this year.  I vowed to make this one grow.  I read the directions.  "Easy as 1-2-3!" they proclaimed.  "1.  Water once a week with 3 ice cubes. 2.  Place in well-lit spot.  3.  Keep away from drafts."
I carefully placed 3 ice cubes on the mulch in the pot, placed it on my kitchen table and crossed my fingers.
The next day the root where the ice had been looked puny.
Maybe the ice can't be directly on the root.  Ok, I will just give it water then.  I put 3 ice cubes into a cup, waited until they melted, and then measured the water.  The next week I poured out exactly that much water onto the orchid.
And one by one the petals fell off.
And the long stem started to turn brown.
And now it looks like something from a Tim Burton movie.

I texted Hillary a picture with this caption 'the orchid is well and truly dead."

Ever the Optimist she replied, 'that's ok.  It had a good try."

She offered to get me another one but I said "No!"  If plants communicate there must be molecules floating away from my house that warn 'beware...those who enter here are not long for this world'.  There is no need to put me or the Plant Kingdom through any more.  

Since no one seems to sell plants that require no water, sunlight, or care-taking, I think I will just buy some artificial Christmas trees, cut the tops out of them, and put them in front of my house as shrubs.  I will focus on nurturing children, which I do seem to have a knack for, and leave it at that.

Off Track

It had been a long day.

Field Day in First Grade had left me tired, stinky, and flat-haired.  I stood in my kitchen, browning ground beef for supper, still in my ugly yellow School Shirt and shorts.  (The next school I teach for will have to have colors I look good in.  I mean, really...what white person do you know that really looks good in yellow??) I had just remarked to Hubby, "I'm so glad we don't have anywhere to go tonight."

Then Parker breezed through on his way to the garage.  

"Gotta go up to the school for my Track Banquet.  See ya later."

Track banquet..??? What!?

I froze him in his tracks with that Look I've perfected after 21 years of parenting. 

"You have a Track Banquet?"

"Yes"

"Why didn't you tell me?  Did you not WANT me and dad to come?"

He shrugged.  "I figured you knew."

Of course...I should've used my ability to read people's minds.  I should have checked the secret MomWire that posts all important activities.  How silly of me...

I took a breath and calmly asked, "What time does it start?"

"6:00"

It was 5:31.

He went out the door and I flew to my lair to turn straw into gold.

A few minutes later Hubby came to find me.  "You ready?"

snip..snip...

"You're cutting your hair?" he asked in disbelief.  "Now?"

"Of course, now!" I replied.  Because that's what I do when my hair doesn't work with me.  I torture it with sharp instruments until it gives in and poofs a little.
He rolled his eyes and wisely walked away.
A few sprays of body spray, a swipe of deodorant, and a change of clothes later, we were in the car headed to the school.
And then I got a text from Parker.
"It doesn't start until 6:30."
Awesome.  Just enough time to do NOTHING but too much time to go inside and sit and wait.
But that is why God gave me this child.  He knew I would be the kind of woman who would petrify into her rock-solid routine and opt out of the world at large if given the chance.  So He must have thought it would be funny to give me a son who would force me to face the unexpected and adjust at a moment's notice.  The kind of child who tells me as I head to bed that he put the socks he HAS to have tomorrow on the washer.  Or eats the entire pack of hotdogs I had planned to use for supper as his afternoon snack.  A kid who brings home friends unannounced, puts off homework until the last minute, and forgets to tell me about sports awards banquets.
It turned out fine, as it always does.  And I beamed with pride as I took pictures of him receiving awards for being All Conference, All District, qualifying for State, and being recognized for earning the most points for the boys team for the season.
I thank God for this boy who keeps his mama off track.