Survived the night. No major issues and everyone has been fabulously well behaved. Its hard when there is an 80 something Mr. Wilson living next door that doesn't want to hear kids voices before 8:30 when they wake up at 6. We did it though. They were fed, beds made, bags packed and lined up and ready to go and have disappeared into the neighborhood.
Things I learned.
Karma is real. At some point in my years working at a Boy Scout Camp there was a 4th or July celebration and a trailer full of watermelon was produced. I may have instigated a food fight that sent several kids to the camp medic for minor injuries. Yesterday I look out the window and there are boys scattered at equal distances from one another all over the yard, street, neighbors yards. At the same time there are chunks of watermelon raining down with great vengeance on each of them. The baseball players were at great advantage and were whittling down there chunks to baseball size. It all went well. I will need to wash down the truck and driveway today as the truck as moved a few feet as the ants are trying to assess it and get into into their nest so they will be able to feed generations to come.
Middle School Boys are not Elementary aged boys. They stink worse and have no clue when they are in a room with a baby monitor. You want a good laugh/cry/never sleep again then listen to the conversations these kids have when they think you aren't listening.
Start putting them to bed at 4 next time. They took a while to wind down but I was asleep before 10:30.
The plan now is to give them ice cream and caffeine free cokes until their parents show up. Also, possibly hose them off. I know the parents would appreciate me knocking some of the stink off of them.
I write this to leave yet another last will and testament. Today is the much anticipated Brotherly Host Party (BHP 2K13). Boys are paying for and throwing themselves a party to host. They have invited 6-8 of their closest friends. I am not sure on the exact number as I don't think they are all here and if they are, they won't stand still for a head count. There were hand written and hand delivered invitations. I don't know who got them. I am feeling that sense of peace you feel when you know you are about to have a car wreck and you just relax and let it happen. I don't know a lot of the plans for the afternoon, evening, or morning as I was not allowed to help plan. I don't know much if I am honest.
Let's recap what I do know:
I know El Fox is with Biggie and 2Pop until tomorrow
I know that the Supermodel has been banished to study for a test and won't be back until tomorrow
I know that Pizza and Ice Cream are here. Correction, just ice cream. 2Pop will bring Pizza if I include him as a sponser for the BHP 2K13
I know CPR
I know the fastest route to the nearest hospital
I am prepared.
Even so I only have a trumpet so that will have to do.
The Supermodel told me prior to us being encaged that she wanted a daughter. I delivered about 15 months ago. I should be praised for doing what I am told. Stay Puft El Fox is a girl. We have known this for some time now. I did what was required of me. The problem is now she is showing it. I thought the Supermodel would be thrilled.
Her face is much cuter. Her feet.... about the same
First, she developed an affinity for shoes. Her morning goes something like this. Wake, Look for Shoes, Demand that we place them on her feet (you may be picturing Cinderella, think more like Shrek), run to high chair and scream in sign language the words more and please one after another. I had no idea you could scream in American Sign Language but El Fox does it quite elegantly. Great I thought, she and her mother can shop for hours looking at shoes.
El Fox in a few years
Next, she started finding anything that had a hoop large enough to slide over her arm, and carrying it around a la Sophia from the Golden Girls. It is adorable. She is girly. This is all good news, the supermodel loves bags! More shopping, more passing things down.
Her favorite designer for eyeglasses
El Fox found keys and knows to take them to the door and to tell everyone good bye (and that she is going for a breve and shoe shopping). She has also taken toys that are phone shaped and held them to her ear and just chatted away with her new best friend (whom we still haven't met). Somewhere around the fourth she got oversized star shaped sunglasses and loves them almost as much as her cousin, the blind girl of Alabama loves hers (don't ask but needless to say she isn't blind).
All was going fine. The supermodel was still excited. However, I must pause to say that the Supermodel has been harping on trains from day one. Mr. Fabulous and Wilson loved trains and so, everyone should love trains. I believe this is mostly so the Supermodel can play with them. But I digress... the straw...
Dishes are next.
Straw that broke the camel: Domestic Labor. The Fox has taken to, after eating, taking one of her baby wipes and wiping down the tray. So helpful. She then gets down and goes and wipes down the walls, cabinets and anything else at her level. Great I thought, "show her the baseboards!"
The Supermodel freaked.
Took away her cleaning rag and told her that she could be anything she wanted to be and handed her hot wheels cars to play with.
Few things. I have been wildly busy with three lab minions working on three different projects. Just when I think I am head, I realize I only have the tiger by the tail and there are three tigers. Speaking of minions, they have taken it in stride and have designed T-shirts based on the idea. Not the point for writing this. Work is work until it is a death march designed to test the will of the Gods.
Two days ago, minion number two and I had to go out and do field work at a local state park. It had to be in mid-afternoon due to the plants blooming schedule. This plant also only lives on rocky outcrops in quite direct sunlight. Assume it was 112 in the shade etc etc. I decide that the boys, dopey and bashful, should come with us and afterwards we will go for a bit of a jaunt through the forest. (Mistake 1 of ?) On the way out the door, I notice that JuneBug the dog/yard art has meandered into an open car door and in her very mild way, insisted on joining us. Why not? The more the merrier (said the Donner Party)
I miss 'back in the day'
I will spare you the details to some extent. So highlights
Basically this only less excited
At the trail head a Chilean woman asked us to go down the trail about a mile and see if we saw her teenage daughter and friend as they had left this woman and a 1 year old baby to go take a picture and hadn't come back in over an hour. See picture.
At some point there was a yellow jacket attack.
There were 1/4 mile posts counting down from 28. This gave a nice pace to the whining and incessant scheduling and rescheduling of rest stops. I will admit though that when Wilson began timing our pace between posts around mile 4, the pace piked up.
JuneBug. Oh JuneBug. Apparently we have been underestimating her advanced age. She must have thought we were trying to kill her. Her mood varied between almost amused and rolling on the ground in what appeared to be the throes of death. She may have been faking for sympathy but this was at mile 2.
Pause here and take a moment to read the classic onion article entitled "Dolphins not so intellegent on land." A quote from that article that came to mind was "the dolphins appeared to be looking directly into our eyes, as if pleading with us to help them perform better in these tests." A dolphin might have been more adept at this task. Sorry JB.
By the end I was pulling her, begging her, cajoling her, pleading.... you get the idea. My shoulder is still sore from her deciding to stop at random intervals.
My favorite mental image of the day was Mr. Fabulous, aka Senor toilet, aka bashful, sort of fell apart at the end. Spirits were broken by mile 5 or 6 but around the six and a half mile mark his body began to let him down. First it was his mouth. He stopped talking. At this point I decided he should start every morning with a six mile stroll. This was not the best though. The last mile was all down hill on loose rocks, scree is the technical term and word of the day. Mr. Fabulous lost control of his ankles. He fell over and over and over. (If he were not durable I would have been concerned. He has had three black eyes this summer. Falling down is nothing.)
The vision you should have is of a model on the runway who has had her shoes chosen for with no regard for her ability to make a 50 walk in them. Take that and combine it with the limp jointed marionette doll.....
