Science Fair + Lazy Kid = A Not So Very Happy House!

Lucky us, we got to experience the science fair this year. Yee-haw, whoo-hoo, Hooray! Please, please, please note the sarcasm here. Science fair can kiss my butt. Oh I'm sure that if I had a child who even remotely cared and even slightly showed an inclination to help, I would be singing a different tune. But alas, I do not have said child. From day one of our funtastic science adventure I have had an overwhelming desire to throttle Bradley!

Me: "Hey Bradley, you need to pick a topic for your science project."
Bradley: "Yeah, yeah, when I'm done playing this level."

A week later....

Me: "Hey Bradley, shouldn't you be thinking about your science project?"
Bradley: "I will soon, don't worry."

After many unanswered reminders I resorted to good old-fashioned threats and a topic was finally chosen.

Two weeks before project is due...

Me: "Bradley, you need to start working on your science project."
Bradley: "I will mom, just let me finish this game."
Are you starting to see a pattern yet?

One week till due date...

Me: "Bradley, if you don't get your butt in gear, I'm throwing your games away and putting you up for adoption!"
Bradley: "Fine. Sheesh, why do you have to be so mean all the time!"

Give me credit, I managed to come to my senses and pull my hands back before they completely encircled around my darling sons neck.

Long story short, the project is done, and peace has been restored...at least for today! On a side note, I must say that the look that graced Bradley's face when I sweetly informed him that no assistance would be forthcoming on the next project was absolutely priceless. It was as if I had told him the dog had died. We'll see if I can remain strong. I'm not counting on it.

"I Love You Man!"

Bradley and Ben, like most siblings, fight non-stop. They fight when they wake up in the morning, they fight when they eat breakfast. They fight over who's brushing their teeth the right way and over who has to let the dogs outside. They fight over everything! They love to puncuate their differences in opinion with "You're stupid!" or "Shut up idiot!" If their feeling really saucy and think that I am out of earshot at the moment a nice, "You're a bitch!" is thrown in. I've worn out my arsenal of threats and punishments with no success... until now. I'm starting to see a little glimmer of hope, a light at the end of the nasty mouthed tunnel. Now whenever they call each other an ugly name, the offender is forced to hug the victim and say outloud, for all to hear, "I love you." Ah, isn't that sweet! Heaven forbid a proclomation of love should have to be made towards your brother. There have been a few times now, that I've watched as one of the boys gets ready to let an insult fly, and the thought of the dreaded "I love you" rears it's ugly head, and the crisis has been temporarily averted. Of course, there are other times when they just don't give a crap and a good, old-fashioned insult is launched. Hey, we're trying here. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will the Squires house of love and goodwill be either.

The Wisdom of Children

Last night the hubs came home from taking Ben to soccer practice and he and I proceeded to get into a loud, childish screaming match over what league Bradley should play in. Why? I have no freakin idea! Blame it on the huge case of PMS that's been hanging over my head for the last few days, or maybe the sheer exhaustion that hits by the end of the night. Whatever the trigger, our voices were raised in self-righteous anger and our words were quickly becoming more and more cutting. The boys, who for once were quietly reading in their beds, heard us and came out to investigate. Bradley stood in front of us and proceeded to chastise us.
"You know that you two sound just like me and Ben, right?"
OH MY GOSH!
We both stopped yelling, looked at Bradley, and looked at each other and I could see the truth of his words settling over us. He was right. We were acting like a couple of kids. We were supposed to be the mature rational voices of our family. I tucked the kids in, told Bradley "thank you" and went to my husband and apologized for loosing my cool. A few minutes later, we called Bradley back out to talk to him. His reluctance to come out changed to a smile as he saw us sitting side-by-side and I was happy that he could see that his dad and I can get into an argument but we work it out, and we still love each other.

Speaking of marriage, I have been saddened lately to see so many of my peers in troubled, unhappy unions. Everytime I turn around another couple is on the verge of divorce. Watching my friends go through these experiences makes me appreciate the relationship that I share with my husband that much more. For those of you out there, make sure that you show your partner that you appreciate all that you do for them and tell them often what they mean to you. Have fun together! Enjoy each other, love each other and never let go.

Hey, Hey, You Say It's Your Birthday

Today is my birthday. I am 32. Funny thing is, I don't feel like 32. On a good day, I don't look 32. I certainly don't act 32. On a rare day, I act oh, maybe 18, most days I would put me in the 13 to 14 year old range. To me, 32 is like that pair of jeans you find hanging on the 75% off rack. A little to big, don't fit quite right, the color is a little off, but hey, you have to have them because after all, they are 75% off! I have yet to find the age that fits me just right. Maybe we never do. Maybe that's a good thing. Hopefully when I'm 60, I'll still be acting like I have my whole life in front of me. What about this? What if we stopped defining ourselves by a number and instead by our accomplishments? Instead of saying, "I'm turning 32 this year." I could say, "I'm turning getting my bachelors degree finished this year." or "I'm going to be I lost that final ten pounds this year." I think that that is much better than a number.

Do You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth!

Ben, my darling, devilish eight year old, has a very bad potty mouth. He has had a very bad potty mouth for as long as I can remember. I do not, nor have I ever condoned his language deficiency. I have always tried to keep the bad words to a minimum (those damn bad drivers always test me though!), the hubs, not so much. My older son has had no problem hiding the swears from my delicate ears, Ben just doesn't seem to care. Ben would be perfectly at home on a pirate ship! His words are salty and he employs them liberally. It is obvious that he derives great pleasure from his cursing habit. His lips curve lovingly around each sound. The words drip from his mouth like honey. His face lights up with pleasure as he utters the offensive syllables. I must give him some credit as there have been some half-hearted attempts on his part to clean up his mouth. Instead of saying a word in its entirety, he will change a letter here or there so that the sound is the same, but he's not saying the actual word. For example, he believes that if he says "shi" instead of "shit" he's golden. So now he will say, with an absolutely angelic look on his face, "that is such bull shi!" It's enough to make a mom puckin crazy!