My pastors are on a much-needed vacation, but I think I ought to email them and explain an embarrassing situation, in case it is brought to their attention. Unbeknownst to me, I spent the entire church service with a scantily-clad man at my feet.

A dear friend brought some hand-me-down clothes from her son, and when she brought the bag in, I didn’t rifle through it; I just thanked her and set it on the floor. I was on the aisle, so I just set it next to the pew in front of me.

They are really nice clothes: like-new shirts from Abercrombie & Fitch, Aeropostale, Hollister and American Eagle and a pair of Nike sneakers —  things I couldn’t afford (nor bear to pay for, even if I could afford) for my sons to wear. The boys aren’t very brand-conscious yet (thank God), so I explained to them that this was the motherlode of hand-me-downs, and they will be writing thank you notes this week.

Rewind back to church … I thanked the other mom profusely and went on about the worship service, as usual. It wasn’t until we were leaving … actually, we were already at the car when I finally noticed the bag. Um, yeah — it was an A&F bag with a hot bod plastered across the front. If you’ve seen any A&F storefront posters, you know what I mean: glossy, ripped abs, thumb tucked into unzipped jeans that were tugged down so far, you could almost see …

Oi vey.

Leave it to a church elder to offend visitors, LOL In all seriousness, I do hope that no one was offended! *blush*

I was cleaning the kitchen earlier when No. 1 walked in, patted my shoulder and said, “You look lovely, as ever.” And … he wasn’t even buttering me up for anything! He’s going to make a great husband for a special gal one of these days! 😉

I love love love the “MOB Society” … it stands for Moms of Boys. It keeps me grounded and reminds me that I’m not alone in being utterly outnumbered by Y chromosomes. 🙂  They are hosting a blog hop this week, so I encourage everyone to drop by and check out the various blogs!

When did you get to be so big, son?
You are as long as the bathtub!
Soaking in the bubbly suds,
You still ask me to help
wash and rinse your hair.
Happy to help:
You’re still my
baby.
Love!

The littlest monkey boy, age 6-1/2 (because half-years are important, you know!), started reading his first chapter book tonight: “The Knight at Dawn,” from Mary Pope Osborne’s “Magic Tree House” series. I guess it’s time to box up the “baby” books to give away to the church nursery!

I’m proud of him but still a wee bit melancholy. It is a joy watching each of the boys reach various milestones in their development, but there’s something different about the last one reaching the same milestones. It’s a moment in time that will never be repeated.

Regarding my last post, I have a couple of more questions:

1. What if you enjoy being on the pep squad and have no aspirations of being a varsity cheerleader? After all, the JV teams need someone rooting for them, too. It might be like, say, going to Regional State College instead of Ginormous Land-Grant U. Is there anything wrong with that? I can’t see the problem, if there is.
2. Maybe the problem isn’t the participants at all; perhaps it’s the coaches. No matter how much you love being in colorguard, if your coach is trying to turn the group into a frou-frou drill team, you have little choice but to stick it out in misery, somehow adapt your goals in contrast to your scruples or quit the squad.

Bear with the following analogy, which is a throwback to high school, but it helped me to wrap my head around some things that are frustrating me. I can’t discuss it openly, so we’ll beat around the bush with some tongue-in-cheek humor.

I should note that I participated in pep squad and colorguard, so this hypothetical example is personal to me on several levels. I should also note that I had a few friends who were cheerleaders and others who were on drill team. Not all of the girls were pretentious snobs, though I will go out on a limb and say that most (but not my friends) were.

The pep squad is like a remedial class for cheerleading. They do a fine job at keeping team spirit alive, but they’re always at the Junior Varsity games. They don’t get a shot at the big time.

The cheerleaders are popular, of course. Everyone knows their names, their uniforms and their chants. They are easily recognizable and get a lot of coverage in the yearbook.

Among the groups we’re discussing, the colorguard is unique. They march, dance, wear uniforms (though varied from week to week) and demonstrate specialty skills in flag twirling and even wooden rifles or sabers. They practice long hours and are a closely knit group. They aren’t as popular as the cheerleaders, and they often get mistaken for band members.

The drill team is flashy and elite, and they know it. They are the toe-heel walkers … you know the ones … they bounce their ponytails as they walk and stand at parade-rest in the hallway.

Then, there are the solo baton twirlers. There are only a couple of them, and they are the feature of the halftime show. It’s rather pointless to aspire to become one, because they’ve been practicing twirling plastic rods since before you could walk.

It’s possible to move from the pep squad to cheerleader or from colorguard to drill team, but it is a difficult transition. It takes practice, effort, sweat and money. New routines to learn, new tryouts to attend, new uniforms to buy. Can it happen? Sure, it happens. But, the colorguard ought not to look down its nose at the pep squad while thinking that it is on par with the drill team. Do what you do well, and leave the critiques to the judges at Nationals.

I don’t know how it happened, and I pray that it’s short-lived. The boys are going through a very greedy phase. Every time I turn around, someone is asking for something, begging to go somewhere, wanting money for something, whining about something they don’t have … It’s maddening.

My boys have never gotten everything they wanted. Saying “thank you” — and even writing thank-you notes, when feasible — is ingrained in them. (Granted, I have to remind them occasionally, but they know what to do. I make them save their own money to buy gum at the grocery store. I don’t shower them with gifts and sweets. Soda is a special treat.

So, how did this happen?

The middle one turns eight tomorrow. I know that birthdays are a big deal, but if I gave him and did for him everything that he has pestered me to do, then there wouldn’t even be time enough in the day to get it all done! We’d start the morning off with breakfast in bed, then lunch at Newk’s and dinner at Red Lobster, not to mention gifts from each of his brothers and the skating party (with pizza & cupcakes) that we already have planned. We’d also go to Great Wolf Lodge and go swimming. I’m sure he’d like to throw in a trip to Disney World, to boot.

Seriously, it’s grating on my nerves. It’s not just him, by any means. Nos. 4 & 5 are constantly badgering me with questions like, “When will we go to Chick-Fil-A?” … “When will you give me my dollar?” (which was promptly responded to by explaining that he didn’t EARN said dollar) … “When can we go back to California?” …

Again this morning, I talked to them in the car and explained that when they pester me for things, it makes me not want to do it at all. I told them that I enjoyed taking them to Sonic for ice cream after dinner last night because it was a special treat that I thought of doing because I wanted to be nice. When they hound me for things or to go places, it takes away my fun from surprising them, and I don’t want to go. Besides, I told them, it’s just plain rude to beg for things.

I don’t know if I’m handling this right, but the begging has got to stop.

My boys have spent time away from home — or, more specifically, away from me — since they were wee tots. I remember traveling out of town for business a few times with a breastpump & ice chest as my carry-on items, and some of the boys’ earliest memories involve spending weekends with Nana and Granddad.

That isn’t to say that I try to “get rid of” them (although, I must admit that time to myself periodically is much appreciated, valued and necessary for my sanity). I just think it’s important that kids develop a sense of independence away from Mom. My oldest went to his first overnight camp the summer after second grade, if memory recalls correctly. Of course I missed him, but I didn’t fret about it too much or call the camp counselor every evening to tell my baby goodnight.

That’s why it surprises me at parent meetings for summer camp when I overhear folks talking about how it will be their child’s first time away from home. EVER? Yes, ever. These are fourth and fifth graders who have never, ever spent the night elsewhere. It boggles my mind.

It also makes me thankful that my kids have grandparents who willingly and ably invite them to stay for a night – or a few days – now and then. It makes me thankful that I started doing something early in their lives, inadvertently, to instill some independence in them so that they aren’t skittish about being away from me for a while. It makes me proud of the capable young men they are becoming. They are still silly monkeys, to be certain, but they’re growing up.

Something bit or stung me while I was pulling weeds from the bushes in the yard last week. It doesn’t itch as badly as it did the first few days, and the swelling has gone down, though it doesn’t seem to be completely back to normal. One friend suggested that it might have been a wolf spider, because of the two puncture marks.

That idea creeps me out (and so did the images that popped up when I Googled the critter!), but from what I understand, wolf spiders are bug-eaters, so they can’t be all bad … except if/when they nibble my fingers!!

*Note to self: Wear gardening gloves at all times!