Clearly what comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound the same to my boys as it does to me. A few examples…

WHAT I SAY: Sorry boys, today isn’t going to be a day that we can go to the pool.

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): I won’t even consider going to the pool until you’ve followed me all around the house and asked me at least 10 more times.

WHAT I SAY: Please please please shut the door all the way when you come in and out of the house.

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): I know it’s a real inconvenience for you to have to turn around and pull the door shut each and every single time you go through it, so just leave it open. I certainly don’t mind letting in a couple wasps and eventually I’ll do it for you anyway.

WHAT I SAY: Boys, I’m on the phone.

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): When you see me with the phone stuck to my ear, it means that I’m completely out of touch with you and you’re probably not the very first thing on my mind so make sure you save all your important drama for moments like that.

WHAT I SAY: We’ll be leaving in 5 minutes to run a couple errands.

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): In 5 minutes, I’m going to put both of you in a box filled with poisonous snakes.

WHAT I SAY: OK, it’s time to power down on the video games and get busy cleaning up the mess you and your friends made upstairs in your room.

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): Nothing.

WHAT I SAY: BOYS!!!! I SAID IT IS TIME TO GO! TURN OFF THE FLIPPIN’ TV, GET YOUR DAMN SHOES ON AND MOVE TOWARD THE DIRECTION OF THE CAR!!!

WHAT THEY HEAR (based on their reaction): Boys, it’s time to go.

Either yelling should become the international language or translators should be offered to parents during the summer.

Apparently, Dave and I have provided a public service with our “oops!”  I’ve had at least three friends tell me that, upon telling their husbands of our surprise, their guys agreed to go in for the Big Procedure.

My friends are truly grateful.

If only I had learned from my friend who went through this exact scenario just two years ago.  When she told me the news, I said, “I want to throw you a shower!” Like us, it would be her third child and she scoffed at the idea, saying, “I’m not going to let you throw me a shower because we can’t figure out contraception.”

But, now that I’m into the thick of it — the remodeling, the doctor’s visits, the growing belly — I am so glad I didn’t learn my lesson from her.  I haven’t even met this little child yet, but I already know that this was supposed to happen. I still struggle with so many challenges that lie ahead, wondering “what will we do about…”, but I do believe that we will meet this new member of our family and think, “Oh yeah! It’s you! Of course!”

In the end, I wonder if any of us REALLY have the control we like to pretend we do!

Here’s a picture of my Week 14 belly!

Patience-What is that, again? 

Whenever I pray for patience my kids act worse, so I’ve quit praying. 

Life has been stressful lately and of course my spawn react to the negative energy and hurl it right back at me. 

Scene I  Steaming-hot car in a Mexican-styled fast food restaurant drive thru (take a guess which one).

Me: “Yes, I’d like to order 8 dozen everything so I don’t have to cook for a ye…”

Kids, both, at top of lungs:

“AAAAAHHHH, QUIT HITTING ME!!!”

“YOU BRAT”

“I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“THAT’S MINE!!!!!”

Drive-Thru Worker: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Sorry, as I was saying, I’d like to order…”

Kids, both, at top of lungs:

“MOMMMMAAAAA, SHE KEEPS HITTING ME!!!!!!!!!!”

“IWANTCHEESE&CHIPSIWANTCHEESE&CHIPSIWANTCHEESE&CHIPSIWANT…”

Scene II Steaming hot car behind loud car in drive-thru

Strangers: “Honey, the other evening you wanted to discuss having children?  Let’s not, and say we did”

(Loud car exits stage right, burning rubber towards home with no dinner)

Remember the story of Icarus?  He grew feathers, tried out the flying thing, kept going higher and higher, getting closer to the steaming hot sun, even though his dad said that wasn’t a good idea (imagine that, kids not listening to their parents?).  That story did not have a happy ending.

My son turned into a legal (not mental) adult last week.  To mark the occasion he decided, against my better wishes, to go sky-diving (you know, the not-listening-to-parents thing). 

Urp.

He took a 60-minute training course which involved a 10-minute legal disclaimer video and some waving-like-the-Queen practicing with his tandem partner.  I felt so much better after he was fully trained!  Then, his group hopped onto this teeny prop plane that looked like it wouldn’t make it off the ground.  I nervously filmed what I thought were his last goodbyes. 

They flew up to 14,000 feet which is a bit close to the sun for my comfort, and then jumped.  Less than 10 minutes later he was floating to the ground,   whooping with joy, very much in one piece.

Like Icarus he flew too close to the sun and stretched his new-found wings.  Unlike Icarus, it had a happy ending and he’s now looking forward to more death-defying stunts in his young adult-hood.  Meanwhile I will bite my tongue and try to keep my opinions to myself.

Maybe Icarus’ father should’ve thought of that!

Important facts about running a successful lemonade stand as taught to me by Logan and two of his friends:

1. There are no free refills. Each glass is 25 cents, no exceptions (when a cute one year old toddler spills hers accidentally, that sucks for her, but she’ll need another quarter if she needs another drink).

2. Running up and down the street screaming “LEMONADE FOR SALE! LEMONADE FOR SALE!!” and harassing neighbors that happen to be out in their yards is considered effective advertising (although to me, it smacks a bit of coercion).

3. If you want a cut of the family business earnings, you’re expected to earn it by hard work. No just showing up an hour later, circling the stand with your scooter, and running off with the money jar (sorry Ryan, have to agree with Logan on this one).

4. Speaking of the money jar, it must be counted each and every time someone puts a quarter in it. Then you shout out “WE’RE RICH WE’RE RICH WE’RE RICH!!” and dance around the yard (but watch out for really pissed off little brothers who have soaker guns and are hiding in nearby trees).

5. Random people from the neighborhood that show up to buy lemonade are called real live customers. When you have real live customers, especially if they are people your mom has never seen before, you have to go get your mom and then she lurks around in the bushes to make sure these real live customers didn’t arrive via scary kidnapper van (and none did, but it was a fear of mine).

and finally…

6. At the end of the day, count the money jar once again, and when you find that you have surpassed your goal of $10 by $1, declare the day a success and agree with your business partners that you definitely have enough for your clubhouse laptop and maybe even a little left over.

Probably that wasn’t the time for me to remind them that they owed ME a cut of it for use of all of the lemonade in our house, for use of most of the clear plastic glasses that I keep on hand for when I feel like entertaining, and for providing the working lunch on the lawn. I’ll let it slide this time since they gave me some good posting material.

Heck, if it hadn’t have rained, they could have been millionaires! You betcha I’d have taken a cut of that.