Christmas parties, sugar highs, and weirdly worded compliments?

Typically, I’m the one who has full conversations with the boys when they’re being pains about something by voicing both my part and their part.  If I ask them to clean up, then I answer myself all respectfully in hopes that they’ll pick up on it.  Mostly, they just laugh.  Today, though, B had his own little conversation after I started it for him.  It went something like this:

Me: B!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

B (acting as me): Why did you pee all over the seat in my bathroom and not wipe it up, B?

B: I was in a hurry mom.

B (acting as me): B, you know you’re not going to be allowed to use my bathroom unless it’s a super emergency if you don’t respect my space.

B: I know, but I was in a hurry.  I won’t do it again, Mom.

B (acting as me): Okay, B, I trust you.  Now go clean it up.

B: I was just going to.  I love you.

B (acting as me): I love you too, B, the very best of everyone in the world…way more than N.

And that’s how our day started off, folks.

I’ve been putting off taking care of my pididdle (aka one headlight out) for several days by simply not driving after dark or getting pulled over and explaining I had just bought the bulb.  Believe it or not, I’ve gotten a warning or two, but that’s about it.  This morning, I decided to actually put some effort into it and open the hood of my car.  So, I did, and after I found the little stand thingy to hold it open so it wouldn’t fall down on my head, I was completely perplexed, so I gave up.  Do NOT come to me with your automotive needs.  I’m useless.

Instead, I went back upstairs and took a nap in preparation for the Christmas parties I said I’d help out with this afternoon.  That was a much better idea, and a great use of my time.   True story.  After I got up (again) and was ready to go, I had to make a few trips downstairs with the gift baskets.  Those things are not exactly stable and totally unbalanced.  If I’d been smart, I would’ve put them in seatbelts.  As soon as I stopped at the first stop sign, I heard, “THUNK, THUNK, THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUUUUUUUNK.”  Great.

Fast forward to the parties:  The first graders were due back in the classroom for their party at 1:45, but the teachers decided to take them outside for 15 minutes to let them run off some of their energy…you know, before giving them cookies with 3” of icing and stuff like that.  While they were doing that, I reconstructed gift baskets in what felt like a tornado, and delivered N’s basket upstairs, where they were also prepping for their party.  Then I had to go back through the tornado, where my shirt ended up flipped up and twisted sideways and my hair was standing straight up, to reconstruct the other basket and haul it inside.  By that point, you could hear the thunder of a jillion munchkins ready to party, and I got back just in time.  I helped 20 first graders open their bottles of water and watched their faces turn from normal to smeared with red frosting from ear to ear.  They looked like little Heath Ledgers all Joker-ish.  It was fun, but I knew I was in for a hellish afternoon.  There’s a reason I don’t let B consume massive amounts of sugar.  I chose that exact moment to head upstairs to N’s party where I counted Bunco scores for tables while they had a super-speed round of Bunco.  It.  Was.  Hilarious.  They finished up pretty quickly, and I headed back downstairs to collect B and wait for N.

Check that.  I tried to collect B, but he was bouncing off of every wall and surface he could find.  Also, his class did a gift exchange, where they each brought 20 of something…so everyone ended up with 20 goodie bags of sorts.  Read: lots of candy and pencils…and a PEZ dispenser.  On the way out to the car, as we were crossing in the crosswalk, I asked B if he wanted to put all of his junk in my trunk.  This caused the crossing guard (aka Music teacher) to burst out laughing, and several others overheard and were cracking up.  B, never missing an opportunity to entertain, busted into a completely inappropriate dance in the middle of the crosswalk, while N and I kept walking, pretending he didn’t exist.  N mentioned that he was having a movie day tomorrow (they only have a ½ day) and asked if he could bring a Sprite with him…which meant a trip to Market Street was in order. 

We went and got more than just Sprite, and both of them were asking for everything under the sun.  Sometimes, I hate that they both know how to read.  So, as we were checking out, they’re both giggling and B is going NUTS, and I look at the guy behind the register (who is all of 18 and just finished his first semester of college) and it goes like this:

Me: I’m so sorry…Christmas party day.  They, or at least he, had entirely too much sugar.

Him: I remember Christmas parties in elementary school…wait, are these YOUR children?

Me: Yep!  They sure are.

Him: No way!  You don’t look old enough to be a parent.

Me: Oh, no…they’re mine, but thanks.

Him (gesturing to N): What is he, about 8?

Me: No, he’s 10, and the spaz over there is 7.

B (veins popping out of his neck): I just TUUUUUUUUUURNED 7!

Him: Wow, no way!  You’re holding up quite nicely.

Me: Um, thank you?

As we walk away, my shoulders start shaking with laughter, and the boys are trying to figure out why I’m laughing.  When we get out to the car, I’m rolling…  I’m holding up quite nicely?  What.  The.  Hell.  Who says that?  It was too funny to keep to myself, so I called my dad and he was equally amused.

When we got home, I started to walk upstairs, and said, “Uh, what’s that noise?  And where are my keys?!”  Apparently, I forgot to turn my car off.  And then, we had this one:

B: Mom, do we have to celebrate Christmas?
Me: Um, yeah?  Why?
B: Well, we could celebrate Hannukah instead.
Me: Yeah, but we're not Jewish.
B: Does that matter or something?
Me & N: Uh...yeah.
B: Oh.  Okay...are you sure?
Me: Go away.

And off he went.

Obviously, I’ve had more than my fair share of fun today…and it just kept coming.  B’s sugar high came to a very abrupt end, and the result was bottoming out like I’ve never seen.  We’re talking, sprawling in the middle of the area of the parking lot where they play, screaming like a cat that’s been run over 16 times.  That happened three different times.
 
I questioned whether he was mine several times this afternoon.  Then, in the semi-darkness, we went over to N’s dad’s house to play with baby E while N’s dad changed the headlight on my car.  Apparently, it was way more complicated than I was prepared for…and that’s why I appreciate having him around.  We (and by “we” I mean me) passed on going to grab dinner because B was still in rare form, and I drove home super-speedy-quick.  They ate a quick dinner, I literally pushed them into the shower, and they were in bed 45 minutes early.  Why?  Because I couldn’t take one more minute…

But, now?  I’m laughing at the hilarity of the day.  And I’m smelling the coffee that I already have in the coffee pot, anxiously awaiting me tomorrow morning.  Because tomorrow?  Tomorrow, they get out at 12:30, and I’m going to need all the help I can get to deal with the undoubted sugar rush that’s headed my way.

Oh, and I got a text from my mom saying the T-Rex shirt came to her house instead of mine.  Hooray!

 

Aubs

Apparently, I'm holding up nicely...Who knew?  It was actually my boys' suggestion to take a picture of what "holding up nicely" looks like, "Whatever that means, Mom."  Awesome.  They're so fun!