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.

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.

OK, so my two older boys like to play this computer game called Civilization II. It’s way over my head and something that I generally stay out of and let my husband deal with and answer any questions about. Basically, from what I’ve gathered,one develops civilizations on the computer, starting from the most primitive of times. Both boys have created several countries and cities and in passing, I’ve picked up from them that as often happens in real life civilizations, over population has become a problem for some of the cyberlands with which they deal. Logan’s solution to this? Let’s just say I’m more than a little suspicious regarding the type of future we might face should Logan and/or Ryan ever hold the office of President of the United States.

An overheard recent conversation between them:

Logan: This city has too many people in it. I’m going to send a nuclear bomb to it to fix that problem.

Ryan: You might have to send two or three.

Logan: I know, but I’m just going to start with one and then I’ll send more if the population doesn’t go down enough.

Ryan: WAIT! I want to watch. I like to see the mushroom cloud explode.

Logan: Hurry up, I just sent it.
Both boys are silent as they observe the computer simulate a nuclear attack on several million innocent, unsuspecting, overpopulating citizens. A loud explosion sound can be heard from the computer’s speakers.

Both Boys: COOL!

Sheesh! What would Amy Carter say?

Today is an anniversary of sorts that I’m claiming all to myself.

On July 3rd, 2000, my first baby, Logan, was due to be born.

So I woke up on July 3rd, 2000, ready to have a baby.

I’d been ready to have that baby since, well, since probably the day I found out I was going to have him.  I’m an impatient person by nature and on top of that, I pretty much absolutely hated pregnancy. I was sick for almost the entire 40 weeks, I was huuuuuge, like can’t even wear my shoes huge, and I just generally prefer my children outside of my body, where I can see them and yell at them if I need to.

But even without my natural impatience for waiting 9 months to meet my firstborn, on July 3rd, 2000, I was ready to have a baby, because dammit, that was my due date, so in my inexperienced mind, that’s when he’d show up at my door. Right? Isn’t that the way it works?

I’m not that clueless. Everyone said that first babies are often late. Everyone said a due date is just a ballpark figure, a theory based on known facts. So unless a medical issue suggested otherwise, everyone said for first babies, best to let Mother Nature decide when the time was right.

Ha! Tell that to Mothership Hillary, who by July 3rd was carrying 47 unfamiliar pounds on my 5 foot body, who by July 3rd was wearing my mother’s shoes, since her feet are bigger and mine were so swollen that I couldn’t even wear my own flip flops, who’d had my last baby shower two weeks before, who was anxious and impatient and excited and awake early on the morning of July 3rd, 2000, eager to give Logan a real live high five. Ready to be a mom.

Well, July 3rd,2000 came and went and on July 4th, I was still serving in my vessel status, still playing alien host, still not yet officially anyone other than Hillary. And I was ticked. Man, was I ticked.

It was supposed to happen on July 3rd, 2000! Of course I knew the odds were stacked favorably that it wouldn’t. But it didn’t matter! Where was Logan? Where was my son? Why wasn’t he here yet? Why can’t I see him? Why do I have to face ANOTHER pregnant day? The timer has gone off here! He’s cooked, he’s done and so am I…let’s move on to the next stage now, I’m ready.

Logan didn’t ring the doorbell on July 4th or even the next day. In fact, his birthday is July 8th, which means that I waited 5 extra days, (almost 6, wow did it take a long time to coax that boy out of my body!), to greet him, to say hello, to look at the face I’d been wondering about for so long. And the rest is history. Five days from now, July 8th, 2009, my firstborn will turn 9.

Two things come to my mind right now as I think about this day, July 3rd, 2000, nine years later.

One is this … I want those 5 days back!! I didn’t appreciate those 5 extra days then. Didn’t realize how much things were going to change 5 days from then. Didn’t realize how those were the last days I’d ever get to leave it up to only myself to keep my boy safe. I didn’t have to worry about what was making him cry, what does this rash mean, how the hell do I fold up his stroller, when should he give up his bottle, why isn’t he talking as much as my friend’s one year old, how will he handle a whole day of preschool away from me, will he break his neck now that he can ride a bike, will he be well liked when he goes to Kindergarten, how can I help him when his feelings are hurt, how do I harness his intelligence and ensure that he uses it wisely, what the hell is laser tag and where am I going to put the hamsters that he wants for his birthday…yes, 9 years later, I realize how all I had to do for 5 more days from then was just do for myself. He’d be fine as long as I was.

The other thing that comes to mind is how much I remember ABOUT July 3rd, 2000. I don’t remember the other days between then and July 8th, 2000, but I remember that day vividly. I remember what my house smelled like on that day,what was on TV that morning, that I went to the store and barked at the checker “It’s today!”when she asked me when my due date was. I remember what I was wearing. I remember going into Logan’s room and sitting on the floor and wondering for a long time what he’d look like and what kind of baby he’d be. I opened up his drawers and flipped through all his clothes that were brand new, never been worn, all folded up and ready to be filled with his baby body. I remember all of that and I remember that I didn’t even think beyond that…didn’t even consider that one day he’d be a nine year old almost as tall as me, with feet as big as mine, wearing those God-awful red Crocs, with big plans for hamsters and laser tag for his birthday and tackle football in the fall. That someday he’d use words like annoying and shut up and that one day, I could ask him for help with directions on how to get home from somewhere.

On that day, and for the next five days, all I could imagine was a baby. He was going to be a boy. He was going to be named Logan.

5 days from then, July 8th, 2000, I began to really know what it meant to be a mom.

Happy (almost) 9th Birthday, Frog Legs.

I could probably be considered a vain person.

I typically don’t like to be seen in public without making an attempt at looking fierce, whether or not I actually accomplish that goal is a matter of opinion, yet at least I’ve tried. I’m often asked, “What are you so dressed up for?” when the reality is, I’ve been doing nothing all day, I just wanted to wear cute clothes instead of my yoga pants and sneakers. Even when I AM wearing yoga pants and sneakers, usually I’m also wearing makeup and have styled my hair, lest anyone think I just rolled out of bed. I’m not fanatic about my body, but I exercise and watch what I eat when I need to.

I just feel better when I put myself together. The downside of that is that to put myself together usually takes about an hour (two if it’s a workout day) which means that there’s an hour out of my life that could have been spent doing something more productive.

This summer, I’ve let myself go. To an extent, anyway. The exercise and diet still remain a priority, as there is a Ghost of Chubby Adolescent Past inside me that I don’t want to see again in the mirror. Ever. Other than that, I’m pretty much slacking off in the personal appearance department.

Yes, I shower. Most of the time, anyway. I won’t deny that there are a few times when that shower occurred at the endof the day but those are usually days when a shower would have been pointless to begin with. But my attire? Hmmm…hardly Project Runwayworthy. I seem to have two pairs of shorts that I alternate from day to day, or maybe a swim cover up or something like that. My husband and I ran an 8K at the end of May and the best thing to come out of that was a blue T Shirt that I will admit to once wearing to bed AND halfway through the next day. Makeup? Forget it. What’s the point if you’re going to end up at the swimming pool or beach or watching your sons’ summer activities in 95 degree heat? My hair? Well, let’s just say that I’m trying really hard to grow it long (for like the 100th time in my life) and I’ve discovered that the less I mess with it and the less I look at it in the mirror, the easier it is to ignore and just let it grow, already. This means a lot of baseball caps. I finally have enough of it that if I use a really wide headband, I can form some type of ponytail but it ain’t Paris Hilton’s stylish little nub, trust me. Sometimes I’ll even confess to just getting the hair wet and then letting it dry on it’s own. The woman that cuts my hair calls this the “Summer, beach-y look” and claims it’s tres chic right now but I’m pretty sure the results I get when I do this are not going to be featured in In Style magazine anytime soon.

I have to admit, this sloth existence that I’ve created for myself this summer has been pretty liberating. It’s one less thing that takes up time in my day.  Like I said, it frees up an hour to do something worthwhile, whether that’s housekeeping or getting my kids to their activities without rushing and screaming “Hurry up, we’re running late!!!” when it’s my fault we’re running late in the first place. I’ve also found that on days when I do make the effort, I avoid tasks that might wreck the fruits of that effort.

My husband has never said a negative word about the transformation that has taken over his formerly vain wife, yet who could deny him if he were to express concern over where that person has gone and will she ever return? I mean, this is a man who has mentioned many many times that while he believes it will be my flat iron that eventually kills me, he does dig the results that it gives.

Not to worry, Dearest, because as I call it liberating, it’s also temporary. There’s a pang of failure I feel at the end of the day when once again, I neglected to pull it together. And today, as I write this, I’m fully groomed, hair straightened and glossed, full makeup, jewelry even, and you know what, I feel good. I have a clarity that I don’t have on days when I haven’t made any personal appearance effort and whether this is right or wrong, I feel as though I have more of a purpose (however, I will NOT be going out to vacuum out the minivan like I’d planned. Then I’d have to start all over again and I can only do this once a day for sure!) I’m not saying I’d win any Hot Mom contest, but if I were forced to enter such a thing, I’d definitely do it today rather than yesterday, when I showed up to my sons’ baseball game with hair that had been intimate with a thunderstorm earlier in the day.

So while I’ve let myself go this summer, I have full plans to get myself back in the fall. That’s when my boys go back to school and I’ll have more time to devote to my old self. I look forward to reclaiming my vanity.

Until then, it can collect dust next to my lip gloss and uncomfortable but chic shoes.