Last time I was in trouble with the police, I nearly got arrested for playing sardines in Sloan Hall. That particular group of Young Adults was classic bad company--the group that also decided on a different Friday night to explore the steam tunnels under the campus police station.
Having raised a whole new pack of bad company, I found myself in trouble with the police again last Monday afternoon. Well, if your kids suggested popping old milk jugs and Seven-up bottles with dry ice and water, would you think that was a bad idea? I did have them all wear eye protection (snorkel masks, old sun glasses, hockey eye shields, swim goggles) and gloves, and I was more or less supervising the activity from the kitchen. True, I though it would sound like a pop gun, and the first blast sounded more like a land mine, but really! How many fun ideas are there left for your average over-supervised, wii-zombie type all American boy? We have no "system," and so we're constantly on the lookout for good clean fun. Like dry ice bombs.
Ben's mom arrived to pick him up and the two of us were chatting in the kitchen. She had just finished saying, "No, I'm glad you let them blow up the milk cartons. I'm delighted to think of him playing out in the yard instead of sitting in front of a screen," when the police officer rang the door bell.
Now, I do realize that I had failed in my due diligence, as later info from the web confirmed. For example, I did not realize that the 2 liter pop bottle they exploded went off with 200 psi of blast force. And I didn't realize that dry ice bombs are explicitly illegal in four states, and quasi illegal in 46 others. I felt that his point about incurring large legal fees while trying to spring my kids from jail or juvy was well made if inaccurate in our particular situation. BUT as far as the dry ice bombs blowing the kids' hands off...well, even after extensive research, I think that nice officer was just perpetuating an urban myth. In fact, I feel so strongly about this that I'm going to let all of YOU vote on it! That's right, my first ever poll!
Ben's mom was very nice about the visit from the law, although she looked just a little tense as she hustled him out the door. *Sigh.* You'd think just one of the members of the MTC would have some common sense. You'd think that would be me.
Other shorts:
Zach ref'ed two games in a roaring blizzard on Saturday morning, then took the bus to the corner of Northwest and Bakerview and slogged home through six inches of wet snow wearing...you got it! His ref shorts and his ref socks pulled as far up his thighs as they could go. Where was I? At Cub Scout Day Camp registration and Adjudications, frantically calling to try to get him a ride, but never able to connect with him even after I did. Tom was in balmy Nashville. We got a letter from the ref coordinator that might as well have been addressed to "Zach Mumford" and which explicitly outlined ALL the cold weather gear you can wear to a Youth League game under your uniform--including under armour, a black hat, black gloves, black track pants, and even a winter coat under your long sleeved ref shirt! Poor kid. He still seems to like the job.
Alex had a great adjudication! And pleaded with me to take him to play his soccer game in the snow. Too bad it got canceled.
Porter kept scratching open a sore on his nose so he had to wear a lampshade this week. It made him even more spastic than usual, and you could hear him, night and day, charging through the house sending chairs, toys, and small children flying as he whapped them full-on with the lamp shade. He was completely unembarrassed at having to wear the contraption and continued to charge through the door to welcome visitors, knocking them off their feet and imprinting a circle on their chests (with a tongue mark in the middle).
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Spring Back
I feel spring. Not the way I used to feel it--coaxing sunshine, green shoots, soft air--but the way it feels with four active boys and two active church callings--jammed calendar, impossible schedules, exhausting, oppressive. I fear the end of affordable oil, but wouldn't life be easier if orchestra teachers COULDN'T plan back to back concerts across town from each other? If schools couldn't afford to bus your kid to the school 30 minutes away and had to let him bike to the one five minutes down the road? If we literally couldn't make it to the huge list of activities planned by church, school, lacrosse, soccer, piano, voice, cello? Yes, I chose some of this for myself and my kids, but still, I can't help but sometimes wish for a sort of transportation breakdown that leaves me stranded at home.
The Mumford boys got a shout out in Sacrament Meeting today from the Bishop. He was telling a classic story of what the Mumfords know as FTPA (failure to plan ahead, or ready fire aim syndrome), and he looked down at our bench and said, "I can just see the Mumford boys doing this." True, but slightly funny from a man whose own son broke his wrist longboarding, and (since he could still ride) broke his collar bone doing the same thing the very next week.
Zach ref'ed his first games Saturday. This required a ridiculous amount of behind the scenes work by me. But still it was mostly satisfying to watch him stride out onto the pitch in his ref uniform. It would have been TOTALLY satisfying, except that the uni featured shorts with a 2.5 inch inseam and a V necked, short sleeved shirt, and the outside temp was about 37 degrees F.
The website dictated that "Black long sleeved shirts under the official jersey are NOT acceptable." So I wouldn't let him wear his Under Armour. He was absolutely the ONLY ref there without it. Nobody on the sidelines seemed to notice him, which I found astonishing since he looked like a skinny vanilla popsicle. We stuck around for a few minutes to cheer him on in his first assignment, but after making him miss a couple of calls, we discovered that it wasn't so helpful to stand there yelling, "Blow your whistle louder!" and "Nice call, Ref!" and "Way to chase that play down!" So we took off.
Two and a half hours later, I went to pick him up. It would have been only two hours later, except that he was a bit confused about the length of the halves and gave his teams extra long games. I blew the equivalent of his first day's earnings on a hot chocolate (venti) and ran to the field for the last few minutes of the game. His nose was red and weeping slightly, and his body looked a little cramped. Luckily his second game was girls U9, which was less challenging ("Mom, I love ref'ing girls. Every time something comes up, they ALL LOOK AT ME to see what they're supposed to do!") After he blew the final whistle, I ran onto the field, hot chocolate extended. He wouldn't take it. After a few seconds of me trying to thrust it into his hand and him not taking it, he said, "Sorry Mom. I can't move my hand."
Still, I think he's going to enjoy it. And I think he's going to wear his Under Armour next week.
Mumford shorts (but not as short as the ref shorts :D):
Pulled from Tim's pocket just prior to leaving for sacrament meeting last week: a nose flute.
NCAA highlights: watching basketball with Zach. We're both pro-PAC-10. Tom thinks rooting for Stanford and UCLA is disloyal. Zach and I think it's fun. What's not to like about Kevin Love and the Lopez twins, as long as you're not trying to beat them?
NCAA lowlights: the commercials. I'm constantly craving pizza and I've realized that *I* am Sven.
Nigel walked up to me tonight and said, "Want to take the woman test? Hold out your arm." I obediently held out my arm. He hit it hard with a thin strip of cardboard. "Ow!" I yelled. He looked at me with satisfaction and pronounced conclusively, "Woman!"
The Mumford boys got a shout out in Sacrament Meeting today from the Bishop. He was telling a classic story of what the Mumfords know as FTPA (failure to plan ahead, or ready fire aim syndrome), and he looked down at our bench and said, "I can just see the Mumford boys doing this." True, but slightly funny from a man whose own son broke his wrist longboarding, and (since he could still ride) broke his collar bone doing the same thing the very next week.
Zach ref'ed his first games Saturday. This required a ridiculous amount of behind the scenes work by me. But still it was mostly satisfying to watch him stride out onto the pitch in his ref uniform. It would have been TOTALLY satisfying, except that the uni featured shorts with a 2.5 inch inseam and a V necked, short sleeved shirt, and the outside temp was about 37 degrees F.
The website dictated that "Black long sleeved shirts under the official jersey are NOT acceptable." So I wouldn't let him wear his Under Armour. He was absolutely the ONLY ref there without it. Nobody on the sidelines seemed to notice him, which I found astonishing since he looked like a skinny vanilla popsicle. We stuck around for a few minutes to cheer him on in his first assignment, but after making him miss a couple of calls, we discovered that it wasn't so helpful to stand there yelling, "Blow your whistle louder!" and "Nice call, Ref!" and "Way to chase that play down!" So we took off.
Two and a half hours later, I went to pick him up. It would have been only two hours later, except that he was a bit confused about the length of the halves and gave his teams extra long games. I blew the equivalent of his first day's earnings on a hot chocolate (venti) and ran to the field for the last few minutes of the game. His nose was red and weeping slightly, and his body looked a little cramped. Luckily his second game was girls U9, which was less challenging ("Mom, I love ref'ing girls. Every time something comes up, they ALL LOOK AT ME to see what they're supposed to do!") After he blew the final whistle, I ran onto the field, hot chocolate extended. He wouldn't take it. After a few seconds of me trying to thrust it into his hand and him not taking it, he said, "Sorry Mom. I can't move my hand."
Still, I think he's going to enjoy it. And I think he's going to wear his Under Armour next week.
Mumford shorts (but not as short as the ref shorts :D):
Pulled from Tim's pocket just prior to leaving for sacrament meeting last week: a nose flute.
NCAA highlights: watching basketball with Zach. We're both pro-PAC-10. Tom thinks rooting for Stanford and UCLA is disloyal. Zach and I think it's fun. What's not to like about Kevin Love and the Lopez twins, as long as you're not trying to beat them?
NCAA lowlights: the commercials. I'm constantly craving pizza and I've realized that *I* am Sven.
Nigel walked up to me tonight and said, "Want to take the woman test? Hold out your arm." I obediently held out my arm. He hit it hard with a thin strip of cardboard. "Ow!" I yelled. He looked at me with satisfaction and pronounced conclusively, "Woman!"
Monday, March 03, 2008
And Other Misc.
I've been waiting for something to blog about. Nothing has come up. So, since everyone is posting videos of their darling kids, I thought I'd just post...essays... about my darling kids. These will not be in video form. We have no video camera. We bought one once but I got so scared that I'd bought the wrong thing and gotten a bad deal (which was probably true since I bought it, retail, at Circuit City at Christmas time) that I took it back.
Nigel's week goes like this: Monday, School Day, PAM DAY!!!!, School Day, Friday. He lives for the arrival of our housekeeper Pam. She brings him cheetos, gummy snacks, and real turkey eggs, lets him help scrub out the toilets and dust with the feather duster, and gives him a tin full of bath fizzies (which contain foam animal gel capsules) for Christmas. Did you follow that? Oh well. I also let him watch TV while Pam and I clean. It's his ONLY TV day. Pam Day is the best day of the week. He carefully monitors the days of the week so he knows how long left until the glorious day arrives. In fact, he carefully monitors and manages everything. He is the kind of kid who refuses to go to the potty until he has 1) informed me of the fact that he needs to go and received my acknowledgment. (This takes a little longer if he is going to take a little longer as I must faithfully promise to be on hand to wipe before he gets started.) 2) Has carefully turned on all the lights, 3) has checked that there is adequate soap on hand AND a towel within reach, and 4) has made sure that there is adequate toilet paper. He is also fascinated by anything having to do with anatomy--the NG issue on the circulatory system, the leap pad anatomy book, the book on diabetes at the doctor's office ("Mom, is this a pancreas?"). He still insists that he's going to be a fireman, but...OC Surgeon, anyone?
I asked Tim what he wanted to make for the annual Cub Scout Cake Decorating contest, and he immediately replied, "Watermelon Island." So we did. Yes, yes, I took a picture and I'll post it.
I was telling the boys tonight that I needed their help so we could get ourselves off for Pullman on Weds and he reminded me, "I think you'd better not count on me. I'd love to help but my Tuesdays are just packed." Which is true. He goes from school straight to Kids on the Run (they "ran" 2.5 miles last week and I had to scrape Tim up off the floor to take him...) straight to Cello lessons, home for a quick dinner, and then to Cubs. That's EVERYTHING he does, and it's all on Tuesday. Go figure.
Alex is suffering from a testosterone surge. No, actually, Alex isn't suffering. We're ALL suffering from the testosterone surge. Alex and Zach look like Big Horn Sheep much of the time. ("Stop bugging me!" *thwack* "YOU stop!" *thwack*)
And yet, there's also a lovely side of Alex. I'd tell you all about it, except I think he'd *thwack* me afterward. Let's just say...you ought to hear him sing. Our stake sent a primary choir to Interfaith this year and Alex sang a gorgeous solo. And yes, I did discover that it's impossible to hear the flaws in your own child's performance. Alex also did a project (under duress) for music history day. I enclose a sample of his work.
Zach is fun. Well, they're all fun, but they're especially fun when they send you text messages that say "I love you," thank you for your help, do their online geometry without reminder day after day, babysit gratis at the drop of a hat, thoroughly clean the playroom when asked, and are the cutest teenage boy in the Ward, School, and possibly State. He's even started emptying the pockets of his jeans before putting them in the wash. Quick! Somebody pinch me! The only real argument I've heard from him lately would be a tiff with Dad over the exact basketball rankings. Is UCLA #2 or #3? Yes, we have the odd Bighorn moment (see above), but by and large... I'm not going to complete that sentence. Knock on the computer screen. In a few months you'll be leading me back to this post by the nose and insisting that all things pass. He's become quite the electric bassist and is loving playing the electric guitar. Members of an embryonic band have formed up in the basement for a jam session or two, but fortunately they have not yet managed to find a drummer.
Hey, Mom, glad you stuck with me this far! If something interesting comes along in my life (have not done any surgeries or stuck it to the man recently) I'll post again.
Nigel's week goes like this: Monday, School Day, PAM DAY!!!!, School Day, Friday. He lives for the arrival of our housekeeper Pam. She brings him cheetos, gummy snacks, and real turkey eggs, lets him help scrub out the toilets and dust with the feather duster, and gives him a tin full of bath fizzies (which contain foam animal gel capsules) for Christmas. Did you follow that? Oh well. I also let him watch TV while Pam and I clean. It's his ONLY TV day. Pam Day is the best day of the week. He carefully monitors the days of the week so he knows how long left until the glorious day arrives. In fact, he carefully monitors and manages everything. He is the kind of kid who refuses to go to the potty until he has 1) informed me of the fact that he needs to go and received my acknowledgment. (This takes a little longer if he is going to take a little longer as I must faithfully promise to be on hand to wipe before he gets started.) 2) Has carefully turned on all the lights, 3) has checked that there is adequate soap on hand AND a towel within reach, and 4) has made sure that there is adequate toilet paper. He is also fascinated by anything having to do with anatomy--the NG issue on the circulatory system, the leap pad anatomy book, the book on diabetes at the doctor's office ("Mom, is this a pancreas?"). He still insists that he's going to be a fireman, but...OC Surgeon, anyone?
I asked Tim what he wanted to make for the annual Cub Scout Cake Decorating contest, and he immediately replied, "Watermelon Island." So we did. Yes, yes, I took a picture and I'll post it.
I was telling the boys tonight that I needed their help so we could get ourselves off for Pullman on Weds and he reminded me, "I think you'd better not count on me. I'd love to help but my Tuesdays are just packed." Which is true. He goes from school straight to Kids on the Run (they "ran" 2.5 miles last week and I had to scrape Tim up off the floor to take him...) straight to Cello lessons, home for a quick dinner, and then to Cubs. That's EVERYTHING he does, and it's all on Tuesday. Go figure.
Alex is suffering from a testosterone surge. No, actually, Alex isn't suffering. We're ALL suffering from the testosterone surge. Alex and Zach look like Big Horn Sheep much of the time. ("Stop bugging me!" *thwack* "YOU stop!" *thwack*)And yet, there's also a lovely side of Alex. I'd tell you all about it, except I think he'd *thwack* me afterward. Let's just say...you ought to hear him sing. Our stake sent a primary choir to Interfaith this year and Alex sang a gorgeous solo. And yes, I did discover that it's impossible to hear the flaws in your own child's performance. Alex also did a project (under duress) for music history day. I enclose a sample of his work.
Zach is fun. Well, they're all fun, but they're especially fun when they send you text messages that say "I love you," thank you for your help, do their online geometry without reminder day after day, babysit gratis at the drop of a hat, thoroughly clean the playroom when asked, and are the cutest teenage boy in the Ward, School, and possibly State. He's even started emptying the pockets of his jeans before putting them in the wash. Quick! Somebody pinch me! The only real argument I've heard from him lately would be a tiff with Dad over the exact basketball rankings. Is UCLA #2 or #3? Yes, we have the odd Bighorn moment (see above), but by and large... I'm not going to complete that sentence. Knock on the computer screen. In a few months you'll be leading me back to this post by the nose and insisting that all things pass. He's become quite the electric bassist and is loving playing the electric guitar. Members of an embryonic band have formed up in the basement for a jam session or two, but fortunately they have not yet managed to find a drummer.Hey, Mom, glad you stuck with me this far! If something interesting comes along in my life (have not done any surgeries or stuck it to the man recently) I'll post again.
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