Shocking, right? I tend to go slightly overboard when I do things, anything really, in life. The motto "Go big or go home" definitely applies to me...only maybe "Go big" is more appropriate. I tend to take on more than reality says I should be able to handle because I'm so determined. THEN, I inevitably stress out about how I'm not going to get it all done, grumble about how I don't have any help (usually after I've refused countless offers), or a myriad of other things. It's "normal" in Aubrey's world.
Saturday, I started throwing around the idea of putting together little bags of goodies for the boys on the baseball team. I know I've said it a hundred times, but they really are some of the greatest boys. I'm so thankful that N ended up with such a nice, welcoming, entertaining group of boys. Every single one of them have really been so kind to N, who was totally apprehensive about being "the new kid" in baseball as well as in school. Anyway, goodie bags. My first thought? Big League Chew. What 9-10 year old boy doesn't love that stuff? I wanted to do a little more than that though, so I hit Party City. I went for a baseball theme, 'cause...well, duh! I can't wait to take pictures of the finished product, but since I adore 90% of the moms on the team, I kept it relatively low in sugar and limited noisy goodies to one. See? I can be nice and not diabolical sometimes.
I came home from picking up the stuff, and picked up the boys. As I started putting the stuff into piles (I debated waiting and surprising N too, but he wanted to "pick" his stuff), the squeals from both boys got louder and louder. When I revealed the Big League Chew, I got "Wow, Mom...you really ARE the best mom ever." Aaaaaaand, my job here is done. I haven't finished making the bags for them yet, but once I do, I'll add a picture. I'm a little proud of myself, but I did send one of the other moms an email today saying "Um, I think I might have overdone it a little..."
The boys and I spent a relatively quiet evening playing Super Nintendo (Porky Pig's Haunted Holiday, if you really want to know) and Wii (Mario Baseball). I have a hard fast rule about throwing things in the house. Every now and then, someone forgets, but I think they remember...they're just testing the waters. See? Nothing gets by this one... Sometime in the last week or so, they've decided it's okay to throw money at each other. Not dollar bills; they totally aren't strippers, but coins. Um, money hurts. A lot.
B has this huge silver coin that his dad gave him forever ago. I'd confiscated it shortly after he received it, and forgot about it. It sat in my car, in the little flippy-uppy thingy, for well over 2 years before B found it when he was being a nosy butt. Picture this, if you will: I've already tucked both boys in, kissed them goodnight, read them the riot act, and threatened "If I hear one more peep out of this room...." I collect the items I need for MY homework: laptop, kindle, phone, water, etc. and head to my room. As soon as I dump these items (excluding the water, that would be messy) on my bed, I hear the most traumatic scream I've heard in a long time. Literally, it sounded like a dying animal in a trap...not that I would know what that sounds like, but I have a great imagination.
I run back into their room, and discover that it's N screaming like he's dying. B starts crying because he's trying to defend himself and his actions before I even know what's going on. I'm trying to make heads or tails of the situation (wait for it...) so I flip on the light and see a huge knot on the side of N's head. Why? Because. In the EFFIN' DARK, B threw that huge silver coin at N's head and whacked the ever lovin' crap out of his head. I swear, sometimes I really think alcoholics have the right idea.
An icepack, Advil liqui-gel, and a meddling mom conversation later, he still has a huge knot on his head...but I'm letting him go to sleep. Why? Because he could tell me what 6x7 was, he could see how many fingers I was holding up IN THE DARK (3), and because I really don't think he has a concussion even though he still has a huge lump on his head. I can't find the stupid silver coin, but when I do...It's out of here. The last hour or so was one of those hours where I was chanting, "I love my kids. I love being a mom. I'm glad they're so creative" because, in reality I'm really thinking "WHY are they so much like me?" Those poor, poor children...
Aubs
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