because i am always late to the party

These past few weeks have sucked. Instead of reveling in all that is good with summer vacation, I have been galavanting across the countryside to various appointments, doctors visits and what not. Drake has skateboarding camp, Grady is playing soccer, hubby's sailboat racing season has begun, we're all out of milk and I need to be at my soccer game in ten minutes - across town!! Sigh... is this really what I signed up for when I let hubby shot one through the goal posts? I think the effects of the alcohol prevented me from fully understanding the consequences of my actions during those few minutes of time. Minutes!? Did I say minutes? Oh, I definitely meant hours honey... hours!

The worst is trying to get Grady out of the house. Well, I guess I should clarify - trying to get him out of the house not dressed as Darth Vader. I am all for self expression and whatnot but seriously - this shirt can walk on its own. He is now in the stage of refusing to let me wash it. I used to be able to convince him that Vader needed a tubby and he would fall for it - sucker. Now... yeah, not so much. Vader dislikes all things clean. He also has long sleeves and is all black. I swear my kid is going to melt away to nothings wearing that hot box all summer. Or is it a precursor to the Goth years to come? For the most part I shrugged my shoulders and let him wear that gawd forsaken thing but somedays... somedays I am so tired of it. I hate looking at it. I hate that every picture this summer has him wearing it. For the record, I did actually buy him summer clothes. I am also getting tired of the 'looks' from the neighborhood hens that say, "Oh there he is in that shirt again" with a weak smile. I sooo want to smack them.

So there it is, my suckit Monday tribute. Better late then never!




***ADDENDUM***


Visual proof from nap this afternoon of Vader obsession. Sigh....

brutally honest monday - boys and their toys

The scene - the boy's bathroom right before they both jump into the shower. Both boys are pealing off their dirty clothes after a long afternoon of playing outside. Drake is taunting Grady (shocking) by shaking his butt at him. Grady graciously returns the favor. Next thing I know Drake turns around and starts singing "Whoop, there it is! Whoop there it is!" while flashing Grady with his manhood. Yes, this is a brutal and honest look at my life. But my friends, it gets better. I know you find that hard to believe, but trust me on this one. I take my shower dictator role and begin shouting out directions to the boys in the shower, "Be sure to lather the SIDES of you head! Extra soap in the pits and parts!!" I do a little visual monitor check to see how all is going when the sight before me takes me breath away. There is my little three year old... lathering away - oblivious to the evil which is his older brother. It is at this moment that I catch the older, well I just can't think of how to put this nicely, peeing on his brother's back. "DRAKE!!!" "What??! He doesn't know I am doing it. He thinks it is the shower. giggle snort snort" What possesses their brain to do these sort of things? Where has all the estrogen gone in my life??

So there is a little brutally honest glimpse at my male dominated life. I would love to hear yours. You can also check out the originator of it all at the link below. I think we are distant relatives because her dinner table is just like mine growing up. Remember the time with the broccoli....?