in other news...

sorry: i know i'm hogging the blog. ya'll should post something here. soon. please. (but in the meantime this is the last word from me for awhile.)

ahem. in other news...

this week i am a good mommy and I WILL pat myself on the back for not completely freaking out (in fact, for not freaking out even incompletely, except maybe a little little down deep inside my belly) when adult child/boy #2 asked me if i would be mad if he dropped out of school and became a mechanic. (because he is disinterested in ALL the majors in college.)

my audible reply: as long as you mean two years from now and not in the middle of this (already but barely paid-for) semester, no.

my silent reply: great. i only have two short years during which to pray my guts out he will discover some new passion while abroad and will come home and declare a major.

let us all pray.

pa rum pum pum pum

After almost 12 years of an education in which everything except for refraining from being the class clown has come way too easy to him, my senior told me this tonight:

"I want to work my tail off in private lessons with Dan and try out for the BYU marching band drumline."

This on the heels of four first places in five marching band competitions this season.

Over the past year I've seen him stick with something hard and often unfun, during a messy transition between a band teacher he loved and one who was hired because he was the complete opposite. Even when almost all of his friends dropped out. I've seen him step up as section leader and take charge over a bunch of silly and inexperienced 14-year-olds. I've seen him have to work at something and taste the satisfaction that can come from hard-earned success.

I've seen him start to grow up.

Music to my momma ears.

Bad, bad mommy!

My 17-year-old son has his first girlfriend. He made me swear to him I wouldn't blog about it, so that's all you get except for the fact that the worrier in me now works overtime.

So am I a bad mom for hoping things don't work out, even if it means he gets his heart broken?

Better him than me, right?

(Don't tell him I said that.)

I still got it...

I dropped Oldest off at driver's ed this morning.
He leaned over and gave me a sqeeze and said, "I love you, mom!"
And then...

He kissed me on my cheek!

He's very affectionate but hasn't been into kissing his mom for quite a while now.
And, if you knew how much we've been on each others nerves lately, you'd know why it meant so much to me.

I love that I'm still his Queen Mum.

Proud

I don't know if this has anything to do with my mothering-nor do I want the credit if it does, but....
I got a phone call today from a dad. He was RSVP-ing for his son, whom he said would be attending my son's big 16th birthday bash.
Frankly, I thought it was kinda weird. The dad called?
Tonight, when Oldest got home, I told him the kid was coming. He said, "Oh, cool!"
I asked him who he was and wasn't it kinda weird his dad called?
He said (and here's the proud part) "He's a kid on my football team. He's quite a large kid. Nobody talks to him. He doesn't have many friends. But, I think he's cool....so I wanted to invite him."
Just when he's about on my last nerve......he goes and melts my heart into a pool of mush.

because sometimes I worry I'm scaring my sistahs...

Stitches barely below younger brother's eye from toy rake thrown at him (age 4): $15

Remote control thrown across the room and against the wall (age 12): $25

Door to pestering little sister's room torn off its hinges (just last year): I dunno. He hasn't fixed it yet.


Watching maturing 18-year-old pray for his younger brother, learn to temper his anger. take his little sister out with his date and her little sister (and actually have a good time), clean the house-prepare dinner-and do the dishes without being asked, take his not naturally affectionate almost-man arms and wrap them around his mother with a big "I love you" attached: priceless.







in other news: said 18-year-old also just got accepted into BYU. I can't tell you how many days (including just last Saturday) I wondered if it was worth it. I can tell you now. It's worth it.

not to scare you...

...but to prepare you.

I've finally put into words the difference between raising teenage sons and raising teenage daughters. Don't worry. it seems not every teen feels the need to rage against the mother, and even with the worst (for me so far), they eventually grow out of it.

Once hormones set in it can be like this:

When your son gets mad he will pick up the emotional equivalent of a sofa and hurl it at you with all his might. No biggie. It's cumbersome and his aim is bad. You calmly step out of the way as he misses you completely. And he's over it.

When your daughter needs to vent her overwhelming emotions she dips a silver arrow in the most perfect poison prepared for you personally then pulls back her bow and shoots the arrow directly into your mother heart. She hits you dead center every time.

The trick will be to develop an immunity to every poison known to teengirlkind. Then you should be able to walk away from that one, too. I'm still working on it. I'll let you know.

(Is this a little too much information? If my frankness makes anyone uncomfortable let me know. I can keep it to myself.)