Jumbo Bozo Blow

So, in a  moment of weakness, against better judgement, because it was another ice cold, frigid day, I let the boyz get into another Christmas present that I had been holding back for a rainy day, or a snowy day, as the case may be.  It was a giant blow up toy -  Bozo The Clown. One of those old fashioned clown punching bags with the sand bag of weight in the bottom so you could hit it and it would bounce back up. His clown face taunting the hitter to "Just try and hit me again" and then he bounces back up again for another attempt, "Hit me with your best shot!" His bright red nose actually squeaks when you made a direct hit. Bonus!  It wasn't intentional. The boyz actually happened upon it while we were down in the craft room. And before I knew it they were racing upstairs and out to the garage to use Daddy-O's air compressor air pump in the garage to blow it up and within minutes the biggest smack down heavy weight championship had begun.  Jay Boyz: Zero, Bozo: at least 10.  Other fights broke out between the brothers about whose turn it was or whose gift it was.  After stern refereeing and sending opposing brothers to their corners, the newness wore off and they moved on to other distractions, thankfully.  It wasn't until later that evening when Daddy-O and I were trying to leave for a grown up party, all dressed up and ready to go, giving last minute instructions to our favorite babysitter when we heard the Jumbo Bozo Blow from the basement.  The littlest, Fletcher, came upstairs explaining that it was Kiefer who had the last laugh. (Or something like that…) We rushed downstairs to witness the damage we had heard from above.  Kiefer was saying something in his high pitched "I didn't do it, blame someone else so they don't get me in trouble voice" that can only be understood by dogs and we quickly surmised that he must have picked up Bozo the clown from his head and swung him into the wall like a baseball bat - smashing a hole the size of a small child into the drywall of the basement.  We scolded, we laughed, we forgave and gave hugs, then we left. Remembering that thankfully, the gift givers had also given us a Lowes gift card along with the gifts for the boyz.  Perhaps they had a premonition?

"Hit me with your best shot!" (The Clown, not the wall, Kiefer!)

Direct hit! 

Kiefer delivered Bozo's final blow!

Parents of The Year

It's official. We're being named the Parents of The Year. That's right,  school even called to confirm it.  On Monday, the 5th of January, we were enjoying a relaxing morning at home, having just returned from our family ski vacation at 2 o'clock in the morning on Sunday, we let the boyz sleep in and were easing back into being home when the phone rang.  Daddy-O answered.  It was school calling. They asked where the boyz were. Daddy-O said, "They're here at home with us…." then asked, "Why?"  The secretary on the other end of the line explained that school started back that morning and they were missing from their classes and since they hadn't heard from us they wanted to call to make sure all was OK. Well, it was until now.

That's right. School was back in session and we had somehow missed the memo that they had changed the school calendar mid-October (due to some teacher's union change!) and the calendar we were referencing was wrong!

Well, things went from bad to worse as we had to tell the boyz that not only did they not get to hang out in their jammies and play with all their new toys but instead they had to hurry up and get ready for school.

It was like a horrible practical joke!  They all started crying!  Dirty looks were penetrating my soul! Even I was still in my jammies and I had to scramble to pack lunches and I was completely out of sync. I couldn't remember if they had any homework or if we needed to turn in library books, who wanted salami and cheese and who wanted peanut butter and jelly?  And the choir of cries only crescendoed.

My parting words as we left the house were "Well, this will be one you'll tell your children!"

Eventually we got things sorted out and we scrambled out the door and over to school.  I walked them in and the secretaries explained that there were two other families who did the same thing.  It only helped a little - at least there was fair competition in which family was to earn the title of Parent of the Year.

I'm not sure how we'll ever live that one down!!

Thanks, Great Kate!

Every year, my mom's best friend, whom we call Aunt Kate, generously buys Christmas gifts for all my kids. The kids call her Great Kate - and she is - in so many ways! I think of her near daily as I'm pursuing to raise boyz - or at least safely escort them to adulthood --as she successfully raised two of her own.  She had two boys and my mom had two girls. Growing up we would often get together to go swimming in their pool or have them down to the lake for weekend adventures. Life with her two boys were always adventures! Especially when Jamie tried to convince Tommy to ride his tricycle off the roof! Or when Tommy and I went swimming in the bathtub together!  It wasn't until later that I understood why we always stopped by Aunt Kate's to show her our prom dresses or when we were older she joined us for fittings for our wedding dresses. But when I was a little girl, I always remember she always generously gave us the most wonderful girl gifts for Christmases through the years - monogrammed jewelry boxes that made music when you lifted the lids, pretty silver necklaces, jewelry from her exotic travels and the most memorable -  beautiful bride dolls that looked liked us - each very thoughtful and special treasures that I still have today!

But having raised boys, Great Kate "gets it" and she applies her thoughtful art of gift giving to the task each Christmas.  Somehow she's always able to pick just the thing that each of our boyz is into that year - last year she gave Kiefer a floating soccer disc that had rubber bumpers on it and lights up when you kick it and it bounces into the baseboards and slides around the kitchen floor - he still plays with it near daily! And she gave Carter a geology rock kit full of geodes, a hammer, eye goggles, a microscope and tweezers where he could hammer the stones open and investigate their crystal centers.  There've been lego kits, light up race cars, science experiments - you name it.  Each a boy's dream come true!

And this year raised the bar even higher with an electricity conduction kit that lights up for Kiefer, a lego kit with gears and an idea book for Griffin, a puzzle with winde up cars that ride the puzzle tracks for Fletcher.  But the piece de resistance -- a Nerf cross bow and arrow set for Carter!

This was like the little boy in "The Christmas Story" opening his Red Rider BB gun as Carter opened the box with his mouth wide open as Mom doesn't allow Nerf guns in the house. But since it was from Great Kate, it was the exception.

For the remainder of Christmas day Nerf arrows were zinging past my head - the breeze blowing my hair up and near misses left and right.  There were near misses of lamps and arrows landing in the fireplace. We all laughed and tolerated the torment hoping the newness would wear off soon.  The day after Christmas their aim got better and I was being struck with the arrows while my back was turned. Again, we'd laugh it off. After all, it's Christmas.

Soon, Fletcher became interested in the cross bow.  Actually, more like obsessed.  You see, his favorite thing in the whole wide world is his toy sword and sheath that hangs on his belt. He got it for his birthday last June and he still sleeps with it most nights and wears it on his waist belt most days.  He's obsessed with weaponry.  He makes me fight him in the kitchen as he'll dig out my turkey baster and my dough hook from my cooking utensil drawer and will place them in my hands saying "You're Captain Hook, Mommy, and I'm Peter Pan."  Then I'll join in and start speaking in my best pirate voice, "Arrrgggghhh! Have Ye Seen My nemesis Peter Pan?" And we'll continue to sword fight in the kitchen - sometimes ending in the demise of Captain Hook.  Yes, I'd say obsessed is putting it lightly. Then I made the mistake of introducing him to the world of Narnia and now he rotates through being Peter Pan or King Peter the Great from Narnia, and sometimes I get to be the White Witch and other times I get to be Lucy.  (I much prefer Lucy.)

So a few days after Christmas, I wasn't entirely surprised to hear a large crashing sound in our front hallway.  I came running from the kitchen and before I got all the way there I heard a faint "I'm sorry, Mommy…." from the top of the staircase.  My next observation was that our large brass chandelier that hangs in our entry way was swinging back and forth with great gusto and the loud crashing sound was the obvious demise of the wooden divided light window pane that had fallen from our second story entry window after being hit by a Nerf cross bow arrow and had crashed to the ground.

I'm not sure what gave him the idea to practice target shooting from the top of the stairs - it must be a boy thing. He'd already apologized and he obviously had not meant to cause such damage and I'm grateful to report that I actually didn't over react this time.  I just calmly walked to the top of the stairs and gently removed the cross bow from the four year old's hands, then I picked up the stray arrows that were strewn about the front entry way and I walked them outside to the garage where I disposed of them properly.  Sorry, Great Kate.  He liked it a little too much.

Daddy-O went to work with his wood glue and clamps and had the window pane pieced back together and back in the window the next day.

Now I have to figure out how exactly to word all this in a proper thank you note for Great Kate. But she had boys… she'll understand.  In fact, I bet she'll laugh her hearty laugh.  After all, she "gets it."