Shopping Part Deux

Mr. Fabulous needs pants! He can no longer wear his brothers hand me downs as AARP gets taller and skinner the more cereal he eats. Mr. Fabulous becomes more...curvy? The thing is, I had an ace in my pocket. Today is a half day at his school. He has been begging us to not attend as all they are doing is watching movies. (I totally want to try that with my students)

They are probably watching Star Wars as Well

The bargain was made and didn't include either the fiddle of gold or his soul. I told him that if we could go get a hair cut and pants shopping with no talking back or bad attitude, he wouldn't have to go to school today. I have never seen anyone so bold as to skate on that much thin ice. He was willing to try on 5 maybe 6 pairs of pants. I didn't press my luck. He let me come to the dressing room and see them. It was touch and go there for a bit but in the end it was an overall pleasant experience. I don't think he would disagree. He know has pants with legs to make it through the winter and gets to skateboard all day. 

Scoreboard time. 

Both boys have acquired clothing and haircuts recently and there has only been minor huffing and eye rolling

I have not been disowned

I win.

 

All the things

This have been pretty quiet in Lake Wobegon (so sad the Garrison isn't doing Prairie Home anymore).

I digress, things at the home have reached terminal velocity. This week is finals for both AARP and Mr. Fabulous. They seem to be taking things in stride. The High School only requires AARP to be there for his exams thus throwing pickup and drop off into a tail spin (hat tip to click and clack). AARP also was able to get a haircut but, not at the hipster record store barbershop due to availability. He was dismayed at having to shop for an 'outfit' at multiple stores. The hilarity of him claiming that everything he tried on first was perfect was life affirming. I can see myself doing the same thing, having the same angst, and being deathly afraid that I would check his pants size for him. Several stores and discussions of how best to accomplish 'dress to impress' later, we have a nice sweater, button down, tie, and slacks for him to woo in.

Guys, I look good. 

Mr. Fabulous has been acquiring required service hours for school at the public library. I have not seen him much this week except to wake him and give him meds for what we think was walking pneumonia.

This week is also the culmination of the Microbiology unit for Dr. Supermodel. She has never studied micro and is sufficiently overwhelmed and freaked out so as to look like a real med school student now. Apparently she has to learn all the things. To supplement this, she acquired some bouquet of microbes so at to better understand them. This lead to her insides being outsides at speed. She was bedridden and is on a chicken noodle soup and Gatorade diet now whilst studying in bed.

A brief demonstration put on by NASA wasn't good enough for her. She had to see for herself the effects of viral load on the gut. 

Rexy Poo the Second and El Boogie had their christmas program and are making lists at this point. We have put up a fraction of our typical decorations due to adjustments being made to the physical space that The Home utilizes for its housing and activities. The Home is the people and not the space.

That's right people, get excited. Big Cat has finally pulled it off. After years of promising the family that I would get a remodel started on the house it has happened. Great timing as well I might add. approximately 1/3 of my home was torn down and jackhammered up this week. Thats right, studying, projectile vomiting, and recovering all happen in the presence of jackhammers. The dog is not amused.

Totally had it together till the last minute.

Christmas was spared as they will not cut a giant hole in our living room until New Years Day. There is a mountain of dirt, a pile of debris from a destroyed garage and, a Bradford Pear that got what it had coming. We are all very excited for several reasons:
1. AARP and Mr. Fabulous will live on opposite corners of the house soon. They are happy.
2. I get to watch construction happen as I was taught to do by Rexy Poo the First. I was tasked with driving my grandfather around his town to 'check on' various construction projects.
3. P-Daddy and Mimi get to enjoy the process vicariously through us and will visit more often so as to 'check on' progress.
4. Life was getting boring and this will spice it up a bit.

 I was resting on the couch a couple nights ago after the little ones had played in their room until passing out, the big two were pretending to be asleep while playing on their phones in their room, and Dr. Supermodel had banished me due to volatility associated with her intimate knowledge of microbiology, I watched a movie base on some Young Adult Dystopian-Future Novel. I realized that the protagonist had it pretty easy. I am not sure that is what I was supposed to get from the movie?

Think how quiet that would be.

What I was reminded of is that things get crazy and we certainly roll with it and make it work (thanks to a shared calendar and a minivan) but, more importantly, we are blessed beyond measure in our family and I don't say it enough.

High School is Hard

I was not prepared to go through high school a second time. The first time is mostly a foggy memory. This time I am going through as a parent. So far, our grades have been much better than middle school and we survived marching band season. That is pretty good. Then, there was the band trip to be in the Thanksgiving Day Parade in Philly (Not Macy's). The band took 9, thats right 9, charter busses to New York and Philadelphia for sightseeing, taking in a broadway show, a dinner cruise, and heaven knows what else. Nine buses times 55 or so seats equals too many for me to chaperone.

It went off without a hitch. Well, one small hitch. AARP has found a girl.

Earlier in the fall, we had to acquire a new hairstyle. It is somewhere between "stay golden pony boy" and Don Draper. In order to facilitate this, I had to put on my flannel and Warby Parker glasses and do my best aging hipster parent impersonation. I took him to get his hair cut by hipsters. How did I know they would be hipsters you ask? The barber chairs are in the front window of a record shop/live music venue. Yep. So, now we have lots of hair products at home and are asking for combs for christmas. I hope for keeping in his back pocket to pull out on an "as needed for style" basis.

So about this Science Exam

Perhaps the hair helped with the bus romance. Who knows. He has now been invited to her birthday party. This is a very upper-middle class, suburban party. How do I know you ask? The invitation asks for no presents but rather a donation for a local food pantry. The dress code: Dress to Impress. The location: A Botanical Garden. Her name: a double name. Mary-Something or other. My son has arrived. Well almost. We need another haircut and a dress that will impresses. He did not take the going in a dress suggestion well.

This means we get another trip to the record shop and another shot at trying on clothes. He already told me that he has socks and a belt so, we will only need the other stuff....by Saturday.

What he pictures but with more hair gel

p.s. she is in 10th grade

Mr. Fabulous Strikes Again

Often we play a game at dinner where we ask one another to answer questions. Normal questions would be things like "what was the best part of your day" or "if you could be any animal what would you be and why."

Last night Mr. Fabulous, the Supermodel, and I got dressed up and took him to a fancy dinner for his birthday and entrance into teenagerdom. It was sushi because he is Mr. Fabulous. Anyway, at some point in the evening I asked the group, "if you could be any Disney character who would it be?" 

Without hesitation, he blurts out: GASTON!

No one is surprised. He is braggadocios, loud, adored by everyone in his village. Women swoon and men sing songs about him. Mr. Fabulous broke out into song. We cracked up. I think he missed the misogynistic, manipulative, and maniacal portions of his character traits. Either way, Gaston it is. 

Pants Shopping

As a young man, the most fear inducing realization came when you saw that your pants were once again getting too small. This meant that you would have to go with your mother pants shopping. I must say from the outset that my mother was always very patient with me but I must grouse a bit.

I remember the robing and disrobing. The pain of trying to get jeans on and off and on and off. This may have been what led to the jeans moratorium I had for 5 or 6 years. Thats right, I didn't wear jeans. They made me feel like I should be riding a horse. So I worked around it and dressed preppier than I do now (and that is saying something). Also, growing quickly only exacerbates things. The worst part of trying on pants was that your opinion was only a portion of the decision making process.

After ever pair of pants is put on, you must walk out into public and have your mother examine the pants. There is a turn and a pull on the waist band to make sure there is room to grow. Finally there is the dreaded 'turn around and pull up your shirt so I can see how they fit.' Mortified. People can see you. You try to look anywhere but at people. There is lots of sighing and fit pitching. Fifteen pairs and an eternity of trying to be invisible later, you leaving taking whatever you can to avoid having to go to another store.

please don't make me try on anymore

I am a cool parent. I will make this better than any parent in the history of pants shopping. Paradigms will be shifted. The status quo will be ousted.

could be worse

AARP, eldest of the clan, and I set out to acquire bluejeans. The child has grown considerably since last winter and his pants no longer keep his ankles warm.

How he wakes up every morning. Arms and Legs everywhere

We came home from school, he used the restroom, he grabbed his brothers skateboard and we were off. I was out of gas so, first we stop for gas and snacks. Then the bank. Then the skateboard shop to buy wheels for his brother for his birthday. This has already taken longer than cool parent would make it. I redouble my efforts and let him buy stickers to plaster things in his room with and we take off.

Insert traffic and contentious phone call later and we finally get to The Sears and Roebuck Co. and go inside. AARP needs to potty again. I wait five minutes, ten minutes and then saw him riding up the escalator. The quizzical look I gave him signaled him to give the the one minute signal in return. The first 10 minutes were used building up courage to ask someone where it was.

Lets Do This!

Sometime later, we are in the mens section trying on the smallest jeans we could find. No good. There was coming out and showing but I did let him pull on them himself. I didn't even inspect the rear of the jeans for fit. They were enormous and he was swimming in them. So, we are off to the boys section. It didn't help that next to the jeans were the footy Thomas the Tank Engine jammies. He didn't appreciate the suggestion that maybe we should try those on. I have now mortified him by asking him to try on pants in the little boys section. I am doing okay mostly and can save this.

Who wouldn't want to be the conductor?

This brings us to his particular and evolving sense of personal style. In four grade, we needed skinny jeans. Fifth no skinny jeans. Sixth nearly skinny. Seventh and eighth required non skinny, regular jeans. I merely try to keep up and not question. I may mention something about trying to wear your sisters pants every once and while. Ninth grade you ask? Skinny and not blue. the not blue threw me. We ended up with grey and black. I have never owned black jeans and don't know how I feel about it. They aren't white so, there is that. Also, no elastic which is surprising for someone with the pseudonym AARP.

please don't let this be your sense of style.

Points in the good dad column:
go on a Tuesday so store is deserted to reduce witnesses +10
No shirt pulling up +10
Allowing purchase of jeans that add to his sense of style +5

Points against:
Went with him at all -5
Inspected waist size and may have tugged on a pair or two -10
Vocal in complaints about price and talked about when I was a kid... -5

Tallying up the points, I came out ahead and there was no complaining on his part and we are still on speaking terms. Hopefully I have changed pants shopping forever. I doubt it. Mr. Fabulous is next and has enough junk in his trunk to require the shirt pull up. I may let his mother take him. No reason tarnishing my 1-0 record.

sickness

Sickness in The Home is not uncommon. I have never owned toddlers before and so this idea of sharing diseases back and forth is fairly new. I know that we are not helping the situation by letting them co-sleep but the hippies on the internets said that next to quinoa, co-sleeping is important for kids. I assume they meant letting them sleep together because what grown man would allow a child in their bed? Not because I am 1850s lumberjack man's man but rather I sleep the sleep of the dead. My conscious is so clear that I often fall asleep within moments and have sweet dreams as directed by my mother all those years ago. If there was a toddler in the bed, they would be crushed when I roll over.

Smoking a cigarette giving his son his first mustache, beret, and axe.
I bet he took his son to work.

This was a solid plan. Then, they got sick. At some point in the blur that is the last week and a half, I woke up with a baby dinosaur in the bed. That is to say he woke me up in the middle of the night. How you ask? Snuggling close and cooing? No. He decided that perpendicular is the preferred arrangement of two bodies sharing a bed. Fine I say. However, do not put your feet up and rest them on the cushy ottoman that is my belly. I am six feet, five inches tall and was not given my proper portion of the bed. I tried to get all marxist and share the bed evenly amongst the people but no, he is a totalitarian megalomaniac when it comes to sleeping arrangements. I demand the Lucy and Desi arrangement of 2 twin beds. Surely, that would keep me safe. I fear that he would impose his policy bedroom imperialism even across hemispheres. See the Monroe Doctrine and Roosevelt Corollary for the framework of his tyranny.

Look how smug he is sleeping alone

They are probably just asking for their spot in the bed back.

Anyway, they are sharing their disease with me and while I appreciate a good rash as much as the next guy, I am done with this. El Fox came to class last week and got to sit in on one of my lectures due to fever. She colored and wrote her name on the chalkboard. My students, most of whom are female and future nurses, tried as hard as they could to pay attention. Well I know how to stop that, bring the little guy. Yep, on Monday he wasn't allowed to go to school due to some ailment. The Supermodel had to go take a hammer and a chisel to a cadaver to remove parts of the vertebral column and gain access to the spinal cord. I had to lecture on histology and the integument. One of these is less scaring for a youth.

I am not going to pay attention in anatomy agent 99.
Wait is that a cute kid to watch instead?

He came to school where we had babysitters arranged. My thought was he get passed from sorority house to sorority house being doted on. He refused. From 8 until 11:30 he sat in my classroom. Three lectures. No one payed attention to me. During one lecture he thought the floor was made of fire and acid and required me to hold him the entire time. One benefit was that he was used as an example of development of tissue and the ability to turn infants orange with carotene rich veggies.

RIP Willy Wonka also well done on the balance diet for your oompa loom pas

Both younglings are currently dosed up on tylenol and at school and feeling much better.
Mr. Fabulous however is dying. The good news is that it isn't based on some microbe. Instead, we forced it on him. Braces hurt. Changing wires hurts. And adding brackets hurts. He woke up today with his jaw swollen and begging to not go to school. He later revised it to, "Just let me go to math and then I will come home." Nerd. So he gets ibuprofen and yogurt and goes to school.

Wilson is not sick but he is in an air force uniform today. Quite dashing. Good thing he isn't really wanting a girlfriend right now. He would require a stick to keep them away, but not in an abusive sort of way.

AARP continuing the family tradition.

EDIT: Just got the call that Mr. Fabulous aka Jaws has to get picked up from school. Pain is too much and keeping him from being able to work.

I did my math!

EDIT EDIT: Things just got weird. Got AARP from the high school and brought him home to be with Jaws. Getting ready to head back to work and the dog begins to scream the "I am being murdered someone come save me" scream. She had somehow wedged her bottom teeth and jaw in the bars of her kennel. She totally freaks as is expected. What is not expected is her anal glands to eject their contents all over the blankets and kennel. Don't know what those are? I did the google image search. again you don't want to do that.The smell is overwhelming the images were unnecessary. Cue operation Air Out The House 

SaveSave

I find myself sitting in the pediatricians office with deep unanswered questions. The policy that daycare's have concerning a symptom free 24 hour period prior to returning to school   makes medical sense. Practically speaking, it is a hard pill to swallow. El Fox and I are sitting in a very small room with very few distractions. She has had what we are calling a persistent fever although walking in the door here seems to have reduced it. The children in the rooms around us need holy men based on the wailing. So, the guilt associated with taking up this poor doctor's time when she should be prepping for an afternoon exorcism is overwhelming. The walls seem to be getting closer. Oh wait, there is the doctor.

By the power of Grayskull you can't make me stay in here with her any longer! 

Well she was in a great mood. I was as well until the educated guess was made that I and my children once again have contracted a toddler disease. The same one as last time: hand, foot, mouth, paw, hoof disease. Eleanor is with me for the second day. Yesterday she came to class and helped my students not learn. She started by writing her full name on the chalkboard. She proudly told the pest control guy today that she had done this and that all the students looked at her but not her daddy. So, day two.

I try to be patient when they are sick. Also need to re-watch this movie.

I woke up about two Benadryls later than I needed to this morning. See, I act as the bearer of bad news every morning and if I am not up, we are not up. Family is behind, breakfast is chaos, but everyone was dressed, ready to go, and out the door no more than 15 minutes late. We, however, did not get the pancakes that were promised due to tardiness. I lost points.

Sorry not Sorry! I am counting on the two year old  to learn to work an alarm clock before any of the others.

I take numbers three and four. Drop off the baby dino in his room. As I leave, I look back and he is face down on the floor, arms above his head. If my life had been on mute, I could have convinced myself that he was pretending to fly. The wailing I heard as I turned, ran, and muted my phone (so they couldn't call and ask me to keep him as well today) convinced me otherwise.

El Fox and I had a lovely day and accomplished quite a bit prior to the pediatrician. I worked a full day, away from the office, but a full day and it involved my daughter. By the end of the afternoon I was quite spent and needing some time away from errands, exorcisms and my erratic dog.

Supermodel comes home, says something about getting an A on an exam. She is incredible but don't tell her i said that. She then grabs up El Fox to go and retrieve the Dino and number 1 son. I take this time to throw on my truck-y clothes. El Fox says I smell truck-y after working on the truck and the supermodel won't let me wash these clothes in our washer so, I have one set of clothes that i will continue to wear while i work on the truck. When the truck is done, I will throw them away.

why didn't i think of this!? Sans the shoes. I only work barefooted.

I digress, I throw on truck-y clothes and grab every implement of metal cutting, grinding, and maiming that I can find to attack a transmission crossmember with. It won. I have dealt it some fatal blows but my family returned before I won.

families home, hey girl, how you darwin?

Back inside, shower, clean clothes, carry truck-y clothes out and throw them in the truck till next time and sit down for dinner. This is what I wanted to tell you about in the first place.

Son #1 aka AARP aka Wilson AKA Space Zebra begins dinner by recounting the best part of his day. He had taken a history quiz in second period and in the remaining time in class, their teacher asked the students to each create a company and a product. He collected them and chose several at random. AARP's was chosen. He had created a beverage company based in Switzerland. The product was called Cereal Milk. The idea being that the milk after a bowl of your favorite cereal is THE BEST. I have heard him lament the lack of Cereal Milk in the world so, at this point i was not surprised. He then told us how his teacher continued by reading the ingredients. "I started off with normal stuff like milk and sugar and cinnamon but then, I ran out of ideas." I can see the teacher, who is a scotsman, reading off the list "...and cinnamon and deer foot and aspirin"

Yes deer foot and aspirin. Not hoof.

Apparently the Scotsman lost his composure and couldn't read anymore before the bell because he couldn't stop laughing. We are still laughing.

Well Hello There

So, It has been a few minutes since I updated this. Most of my readership knows the current goings on in The Home based on the Russian Supermodel and her social media empire. Our lives only get more complicated as the years stack up. All of these are good things with a few notable exceptions such as the plague that has fallen upon our home. A brief list of my current concerns:

The little dinosaur is quickly accepting his new role as toddler male and leaving destruction in his wake while screaming and being the baby.

Thing is, it is t-rex vs. baby vs dog

The fox is perfect in every way and is obviously my favorite. In the last couple days her hobbies have included walking up to adult strangers and striking up conversations and running 103 degree fevers. 

Mr. Fabulous has become the anchor man in his school newscast. Thats just what he needed to keep the awesome at bay. A stage and a megaphone. 

A parable to explain my point. At middle school these days, the cool thing to do is take a bottled beverage that is 3/4s empty and try to flip it and have it land standing up 8 kajillion times in a row. Mr. Fabulous has dedicated his energy and passion to achieving olympic greatness in this event. Last week, the principal approached the child and asked him to create a PSA on the ills of bottle flipping. I explain that if he makes the PSA and continues to flip bottles, it makes him a bit of a hypocrite. The response: "Only if I flip in school."

Oh me? I'm never wrong. 

The elder, wilson, is a member of the 400+ strong marching band and is in High School. I am not old enough or wise enough to have a high schooler. We were warned about this band thing 5 years ago by everyone. They will be in the band they said. Band was not cool when I grew up. I mean I had friends in band but it wasn't what it is at this school. When you see football players and cheerleaders change into band uniforms to play in the half-time show, you know you aren't in Kansas

Someone in our house played flute in band...
just saying

The Supermodel is now a baby doctor and needs to study more and do her homework. I am immensely proud of her and all she does. Side note, I am excited about retiring early and having a sugar momma as well. 

Few things here. This was the safest sugar momma picture I could find, don't google sugar momma,  and who knew they had their own dating websites?

As for The Home... It has come to physically no longer meet the needs of our family. You cannot house feral teenage boys in the same room and maintain peace. In other news, the rate at which the garage is collapsing is increasing. Solutions you ask? 

1. Take the small house and acquire a large puppy to make it feel even more cosy. Aunt Bea as she will be known, is not a small puppy anymore and has  bit of a time negotiating her relationship with the wee two. They either are screaming "Bad Beatrice!" or "Good Beatrice!" at any given time while pulling on her tail/ears. They want to run through the house and have her chase them but just up to the millisecond before she catches them

2. Take the cadillac of broken down trucks apart so as to rebuild the engine, transmission, and suspension in the front. I have all the bolts to put it back together, the trick is remembering where they all go. People from med school came to dinner this past week and one of the gentlemen was impressed by the project. He lamented that he wished he knew how to do things like this and was curious how I learned. I assume it will be a lot like med school. Learn to take apart the cadaver and eventually try to put a working human back together in surgery. I am thinking taking the truck apart will be the considerably easier step. It is my broken down truck and I love it but it is now in the way of number 3

What my truck roughly looks like. More rickshaw that truck really

3. Make plans to fix garage and finish basement to add bedrooms, bathrooms and, a less pubescent smelling place to watch movies down there as a family. This has been a 5 month process to get it all started. Don't let me confuse you here. It hasn't started yet. Being a grown up is the worst. Also, even if they wanted to start, they couldn't there is no way to attach wheels to the truck to move it right now...

4. The plague upon our home. I write to you from the quarantine. El Fox and I have fevers and Gastrointestinal Distress. Also, the dino was not allowed at school Friday due to a week of general malaise. He did not want to play on the playground, fine. But, when he didn't want snacks, they knew that something was wrong. If general malaise got me sent home from work, I would never be there. The trick is that I always want snacks. I guess that is why I continue to work the salt mines.