I took the day off on Friday to recoup from the Annual Meeting at work and just the long weeks I have had when Steven was gone. My day went like this. 7:30am - woke up, made Lou breakfast and had a hot cup of coffee. 8:00am - brought Lou to school. 8:30am - sat on the couch, drank more coffee, watched the Today show. 9:00am - watched the Ellen show. 10:00am - watched the Price is Right. 11:00am - watched my soap. I took breaks only to use the bathroom and refill my coffee cup. Then I got up and needed to do something productive with my day - after about a pot of coffee, I REALLY needed to do something.
I was reminded of a story that was told in Lou's Hebrew School on Wednesday about a baker that made Challah. It was a long story, but the Challah part stuck in my brain.
I looked around the kitchen. Yeast, check. Flour, check. Sugar, check. Eggs, check. Oil, check. I had it all - amazing in my house! So, I brought out the recipe for making Challah.
As I poured the yeast, I noticed a familiar smell. As I mixed the ingredients together and put my hands in to give the mixture a good mix, I remembered the sticky mess and how I would get it off my hands. When I folded it out onto the board and began kneading it, I could feel all the ingredients come together to form an elastic mass, no longer messy, but soft, pliable and manageable. I coated my dough in oil and carefully placed it in a bowl on the stove. I turned the oven on warm to create that warm environment for the ingredients to work their magic. After nurturing my dough for 2 hours, beating it down and watching it emerge for another 2 hours it was perfect. I divided my dough, braided it, covered it in egg whites and baked it. I was so proud of my project. Secretly, I prayed it would turn out great - not too hard, not too soft.
When I was younger, I would make bread with my grandmother. It's not that we had a great relationship, but I do remember checking the bread under the dish towel and see it rising higher and higher. I remember the smell coming from the radiator - where she would put the rising dough. I remember the loads of butter on the bread hot out of the oven.
This particular Friday brought back so many memories. Memories of my childhood, memories of my family, memories of my past and present. Making bread from scratch is sort of like life. You add all the ingredients to create a successful life, expecting something magical. Sometimes you end up with a sticky mess, trying to figure out what the heck to do next. Sometimes you end up with a masterpiece. Regardless of how it turns out, you nurture, you knead and you pray for the best.
My husband and child gobbled up the bread. I shared some of the bread with a very dear friend. I got rave reviews from my slightly (ok, very) fussy child. It was all worth it. It was worth the time, the work, the mess and the waiting. Just like life. It is worth the time, the work, the mess and the waiting. Someday, a masterpiece will emerge. I just know it!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Can You See Me Now?
My poor home. It has been severely neglected the past month (or more!) with cleaning. With husband gone, me sick, Louis sick, activities almost every day, who has time for cleaning? I struggle getting the dishes in the dishwasher and laundry in the washer, let alone dust and vacuum! Well, the day finally came on Monday - I managed to clean my downstairs bathroom! I love Clorox CleanUp. I love the smell. No, I am not inhaling chemicals now, but it smells...clean! I figured, after a day or two with the nice clean downstairs bathroom that I might tackle the upstairs bathroom. Yes, I am a rebel!
So, Wednesday night, armed with Clorox CleanUp, Comet, a rag and a sponge, up I go. Louis was in the bath, so I decided it would be a great time to clean without many interruptions. I cleaned my sink, countertop, cabinets (outsides), doors, floor mouldings, and the toilet. I didn't get to do the tub yet, since child was in the tub. I didn't think he would appreciate being Cloroxed or Cometed!
Said child gets out of the tub, flosses his teeth, rinses his teeth and spits water all over my clean countertop. I could have blown a gasket by this point. I yelled, "Louis! Did you not see that the bathroom is clean? That I just spent 20 minutes cleaning?!!!" His response, "No. It isn't that clean, I can't see my reflection in the counter." UGHHHHH! I announced, "Fine! Next time a bathroom needs to be cleaned, you can do it and see if you see your reflection in the counter!"
After saying this, I was thinking, what the hell did I just do? Not the yelling part, not the threatening part - the part where I offered my 7 year old to clean a bathroom.
As a girl, I remember cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, cleaning my room and washing dishes. I don't think I was much older than him. I think I did a decent job, as my mother never said anything. Come to think of it, I wonder if she just let me do it so it could get done. Are we coddling our kids too much these days? Do we have to wait until our children get in trouble to make them clean a bathroom? Do we just have anxiety making our kids do what we HAD to do way back then?
Louis asked me the other day if I got allowance when I was a kid. I explained to him that I didn't get allowance because there were certain chores that I was expected to do. (Steven and I agreed early on that our child should get an allowance if he does work around the house.) I explained to Louis that I go to work and get my work done and do a good job; therefore, they pay me. If I don't get my work done and don't do a good job, I won't get paid. We are also insistent on him saving some money for charity, for his college fund and for his spending money. This has worked well, so far.
Did I learn to keep a nice house from almost 35 years ago? Did anyone teach it to me? Is it just a "girl" thing where we were 'supposed to keep a nice house'? I don't remember that far back to pass onto my child. Did we have nothing else to do but clean - come on, you remember, only 4 channels on TV and you had to get up to turn the knob to put something else on! Were we just terrified that if we didn't do what our parents told us to do, we would get it - whatever "get it" was? We just never wanted to find out so we did what we were told!
We may never remember lessons of the past and why we did what we did, but I have a feeling in the near future, we are going to have a bathroom cleaning lesson on St. Croix Street. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go "buff my countertop"!
So, Wednesday night, armed with Clorox CleanUp, Comet, a rag and a sponge, up I go. Louis was in the bath, so I decided it would be a great time to clean without many interruptions. I cleaned my sink, countertop, cabinets (outsides), doors, floor mouldings, and the toilet. I didn't get to do the tub yet, since child was in the tub. I didn't think he would appreciate being Cloroxed or Cometed!
Said child gets out of the tub, flosses his teeth, rinses his teeth and spits water all over my clean countertop. I could have blown a gasket by this point. I yelled, "Louis! Did you not see that the bathroom is clean? That I just spent 20 minutes cleaning?!!!" His response, "No. It isn't that clean, I can't see my reflection in the counter." UGHHHHH! I announced, "Fine! Next time a bathroom needs to be cleaned, you can do it and see if you see your reflection in the counter!"
After saying this, I was thinking, what the hell did I just do? Not the yelling part, not the threatening part - the part where I offered my 7 year old to clean a bathroom.
As a girl, I remember cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, cleaning my room and washing dishes. I don't think I was much older than him. I think I did a decent job, as my mother never said anything. Come to think of it, I wonder if she just let me do it so it could get done. Are we coddling our kids too much these days? Do we have to wait until our children get in trouble to make them clean a bathroom? Do we just have anxiety making our kids do what we HAD to do way back then?
Louis asked me the other day if I got allowance when I was a kid. I explained to him that I didn't get allowance because there were certain chores that I was expected to do. (Steven and I agreed early on that our child should get an allowance if he does work around the house.) I explained to Louis that I go to work and get my work done and do a good job; therefore, they pay me. If I don't get my work done and don't do a good job, I won't get paid. We are also insistent on him saving some money for charity, for his college fund and for his spending money. This has worked well, so far.
Did I learn to keep a nice house from almost 35 years ago? Did anyone teach it to me? Is it just a "girl" thing where we were 'supposed to keep a nice house'? I don't remember that far back to pass onto my child. Did we have nothing else to do but clean - come on, you remember, only 4 channels on TV and you had to get up to turn the knob to put something else on! Were we just terrified that if we didn't do what our parents told us to do, we would get it - whatever "get it" was? We just never wanted to find out so we did what we were told!
We may never remember lessons of the past and why we did what we did, but I have a feeling in the near future, we are going to have a bathroom cleaning lesson on St. Croix Street. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go "buff my countertop"!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Yellow, Purple & Red
This is the first time in a LONG time I have had two seconds to breath and work on my blog. I really do enjoy blogging, but haven't had the energy to muster up the words.
I feel so disconnected from the people I enjoy spending time with. When Steven goes back to work, being a single parent sucks. But, I must say, having him home also sucks. There is so much drama and details. His presence just gets on my nerves. I think even Louis feels the stress. What I need is a part-time husband and a part-time partner. Does this make any sense? Do I sound confused? Maybe it's the gloom of the day talking. I need to lighten up my discussion!
The other day, Louis came home from school and announced that his class told him that he was half Jewish and half Christian. I told him that you can't be both, you have to be one or the other. Like Daddy is Jewish and Mommy is Christian. He said, well, a girl in my class is half Jewish and half Christian! Ah-ha! We have a "Jews for Jesus" church in the neighborhood. That would explain it. Talk about confusing. So can he really be half Jewish and half Christian, just like I want half a husband and half a partner?
I suppose the question really lies where you're comfortable. Do I enjoy being in a relationship where I know that person will always be there for me? Do I like having the same-old, same-old? -or- Do I want that spontaneity that comes along when you are footloose and fancy free? Do I want not having to worry about the other person? Do I want that "first date" feeling? Or, in in the Christian/Jewish thing, do you believe that Jesus was a disciple or is he the messiah? Do you believe in the Old Testament or the Old and New?
I suppose these questions are ones that people have been asking, on one level or another, for hundreds/thousands of years. If we figure it out, would we have all the answers? Would that make us truly happy? Do we need to find what is inside of us to make us happy and work from the inside - out?
I may never be able to answer these questions. I might feel, see, or experience a sign that will tell me what the answer is. For now, I will just keep pluggin' along, doing what I am doing. Being a mom (which I love - most days), being a friend (even though I don't seem to have time to do this well lately), being a daughter (that is a whole other blog!) and being a wife (which has been tested recently). My answer will come.
In regards to Louis' question...yes, I think in my heart, he IS both Jewish and Christian. He was created from two very different people, who love him very much. Who says you HAVE to be one or the other? Why can't you be both? Why can't you experience the good, the bad and the ugly of both religions? Why do we, as a culture, need to be black or white? Why can't we mix in a little yellow, purple and red? He is primarily learning Judaism right now. Later in life, he may want to learn Christianity - or Islam, or Buddhism, or Hindu. As his mom, his greatest fan, I will let him choose. He has that option to do what feels right to him. Let him choose what feels most comfortable. (So much for the "light" discussion!)
Did I just answer my own question? Or, should I throw in a little yellow, purple and red and see what happens!?
I feel so disconnected from the people I enjoy spending time with. When Steven goes back to work, being a single parent sucks. But, I must say, having him home also sucks. There is so much drama and details. His presence just gets on my nerves. I think even Louis feels the stress. What I need is a part-time husband and a part-time partner. Does this make any sense? Do I sound confused? Maybe it's the gloom of the day talking. I need to lighten up my discussion!
The other day, Louis came home from school and announced that his class told him that he was half Jewish and half Christian. I told him that you can't be both, you have to be one or the other. Like Daddy is Jewish and Mommy is Christian. He said, well, a girl in my class is half Jewish and half Christian! Ah-ha! We have a "Jews for Jesus" church in the neighborhood. That would explain it. Talk about confusing. So can he really be half Jewish and half Christian, just like I want half a husband and half a partner?
I suppose the question really lies where you're comfortable. Do I enjoy being in a relationship where I know that person will always be there for me? Do I like having the same-old, same-old? -or- Do I want that spontaneity that comes along when you are footloose and fancy free? Do I want not having to worry about the other person? Do I want that "first date" feeling? Or, in in the Christian/Jewish thing, do you believe that Jesus was a disciple or is he the messiah? Do you believe in the Old Testament or the Old and New?
I suppose these questions are ones that people have been asking, on one level or another, for hundreds/thousands of years. If we figure it out, would we have all the answers? Would that make us truly happy? Do we need to find what is inside of us to make us happy and work from the inside - out?
I may never be able to answer these questions. I might feel, see, or experience a sign that will tell me what the answer is. For now, I will just keep pluggin' along, doing what I am doing. Being a mom (which I love - most days), being a friend (even though I don't seem to have time to do this well lately), being a daughter (that is a whole other blog!) and being a wife (which has been tested recently). My answer will come.
In regards to Louis' question...yes, I think in my heart, he IS both Jewish and Christian. He was created from two very different people, who love him very much. Who says you HAVE to be one or the other? Why can't you be both? Why can't you experience the good, the bad and the ugly of both religions? Why do we, as a culture, need to be black or white? Why can't we mix in a little yellow, purple and red? He is primarily learning Judaism right now. Later in life, he may want to learn Christianity - or Islam, or Buddhism, or Hindu. As his mom, his greatest fan, I will let him choose. He has that option to do what feels right to him. Let him choose what feels most comfortable. (So much for the "light" discussion!)
Did I just answer my own question? Or, should I throw in a little yellow, purple and red and see what happens!?
Monday, August 24, 2009
Smoking or Non-Smoking
With all the busyness associated with the Summer, I am almost thankful it is coming to an end. I think every weekend there has been some event, and this isn't going to change for a few more weeks! This last weekend was no exception. We all attended a friends outdoor wedding on Saturday. What a magnificent day - the weather was gorgeous and the thought of this person finding that someone special was a blessing. We are just tickeled with the two of them as Mr. & Mrs.
During the service, the pastor was speaking. We only got to take in about 65% of what was spoken, with a 7 year old and the bees and flies, our attention was diverted slightly. The pastor was speaking of when we leave this earth will we be sitting the "smoking or non-smoking section"? Louis picked up on this immediately and said, quite loudly, "Mom, you and dad are going to be in the smoking section, right?" I did a quick, but inconspicuous nod and he repeated himself, only louder this time, "MOM, YOU AND DAD ARE GOING TO BE IN THE SMOKING SECTION, RIGHT?" I quickly agreed with him and he said, "You both smoke, so you will be in the smoking section!" I didn't have the energy to explain to him the phrase of the pastor, nor did I think he would even understand.
I think it may be time to quit smoking...the last thing I want him to say to others is, "At the wedding, I told mom and dad that the pastor said they would end up in the smoking section!" UGH - the brain of a 7 year old!
During the service, the pastor was speaking. We only got to take in about 65% of what was spoken, with a 7 year old and the bees and flies, our attention was diverted slightly. The pastor was speaking of when we leave this earth will we be sitting the "smoking or non-smoking section"? Louis picked up on this immediately and said, quite loudly, "Mom, you and dad are going to be in the smoking section, right?" I did a quick, but inconspicuous nod and he repeated himself, only louder this time, "MOM, YOU AND DAD ARE GOING TO BE IN THE SMOKING SECTION, RIGHT?" I quickly agreed with him and he said, "You both smoke, so you will be in the smoking section!" I didn't have the energy to explain to him the phrase of the pastor, nor did I think he would even understand.
I think it may be time to quit smoking...the last thing I want him to say to others is, "At the wedding, I told mom and dad that the pastor said they would end up in the smoking section!" UGH - the brain of a 7 year old!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Balooka Lou
I spent about 4-5 hours on Friday evening cleaning out Lou's playroom. Ugh. With the "purging of the playroom", you always find broken toys, new toys you didn't think existed and toys rarely played with. Most of the first and last were given away to friends or are currently living life out in the Hudson Landfill (do we even have one?!). I got a super deal on new bins for his shelves and they are looking "spiffy" with the newly organized, new-found toys.
One of the bins is now used for those green, plastic, probably lead encased, army guys. What boy didn't have these growing up? I think, even as girly, girl as I was I may have had a few. These days, you can find them as cheap as 40 for $1 (Thank you Target $1.00 aisle!). Louis' toys are so organized now, he finds himself playing with things he didn't in the past. Thus the army guys.
Now that the army guys are seeing the day of light again, I find myself under attack many times during the day. They are lined up on tables and floors just waiting for the right moment to make their next move hostage or take their next hostage.
Louis asked me, during one of these attacks if I thought a Balooka would work well in the fighting. Once I figured out what he was talking about (Bazooka) I agreed that a balooka would work well. I didn't correct him. I think Balooka sounds just fine. He is growing up so quickly and mastering the English language so well, that once in a while a faux pas like Balooka really makes sense.
It feels good to know that my little boy, the one that just yesterday, it seems, was dancing around to The Wiggle's, isn't grown up yet. He isn't old enough to understand the ways of the world and the intricacies that come along with growing up. He isn't a bratty teenager or an in-between tween. He is still my little boy - playing with his army guys and their balooka's!
One of the bins is now used for those green, plastic, probably lead encased, army guys. What boy didn't have these growing up? I think, even as girly, girl as I was I may have had a few. These days, you can find them as cheap as 40 for $1 (Thank you Target $1.00 aisle!). Louis' toys are so organized now, he finds himself playing with things he didn't in the past. Thus the army guys.
Now that the army guys are seeing the day of light again, I find myself under attack many times during the day. They are lined up on tables and floors just waiting for the right moment to make their next move hostage or take their next hostage.
Louis asked me, during one of these attacks if I thought a Balooka would work well in the fighting. Once I figured out what he was talking about (Bazooka) I agreed that a balooka would work well. I didn't correct him. I think Balooka sounds just fine. He is growing up so quickly and mastering the English language so well, that once in a while a faux pas like Balooka really makes sense.
It feels good to know that my little boy, the one that just yesterday, it seems, was dancing around to The Wiggle's, isn't grown up yet. He isn't old enough to understand the ways of the world and the intricacies that come along with growing up. He isn't a bratty teenager or an in-between tween. He is still my little boy - playing with his army guys and their balooka's!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Silence in the Present
They have discovered a common interest that doesn't include yelling at each other, having one-up the other, doesn't cost money and they actually laugh while they are doing it - Silent Movies! Unbelievable! Steven and Louis can sit and watch these things for hours on end. Louis watching with bated breath and Steven reading the subtitles. It is the most unbelievable thing I have seen these two do together.
Way back, when Louis was a baby, he acted like he has lived on this earth before. I know, I know, that sounds crazy. But, I was not the only one that thought this. My mother-in-law would always mention that also. He was such a "deep" baby. His thoughts seemed deep. He would look at the world like he was remembering a long lost friend. About a year ago, he started speaking of the "war" and how his friends and family were killed. He even created a song about it. I have it written down at home - I will blog about it later.
So, to watch him view these silent movies is just awesome. He has a connection to the past. As any mother would admit, their child is remarkable, but this child, my child, is truly a gift. A gift from the past? Maybe. A gift for the future? Possibly. But in the present world, he is my gift and I will be forever grateful of him in my life.
Way back, when Louis was a baby, he acted like he has lived on this earth before. I know, I know, that sounds crazy. But, I was not the only one that thought this. My mother-in-law would always mention that also. He was such a "deep" baby. His thoughts seemed deep. He would look at the world like he was remembering a long lost friend. About a year ago, he started speaking of the "war" and how his friends and family were killed. He even created a song about it. I have it written down at home - I will blog about it later.
So, to watch him view these silent movies is just awesome. He has a connection to the past. As any mother would admit, their child is remarkable, but this child, my child, is truly a gift. A gift from the past? Maybe. A gift for the future? Possibly. But in the present world, he is my gift and I will be forever grateful of him in my life.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Windy City ~ ~ ~
Well, we are packed up and ready to go - off to Chicago for the Feiges Family Reunion.
I have mixed feelings about this weekend. I hate riding in the car that long. I hate not being able to sleep in my own bed. I hate not seeing the "Girls" (Ava & Lucy). I hate having to drive back home and be deluged with laundry. What I like about traveling is that I don't have to clean up (much) after my husband and son, eating out, doing different things, meeting new people. This weekend will be interesting, as we don't know most of the people at this shin-dig. But, what a great way to meet new members of the family!
Speaking of The Windy City, my dearest husband was breaking wind last night in Hudson. I have now coined Hudson, "The Windy City of the West" I know what you are thinking: toots, farts, stinkers or poofs. No, none of that. SNORING!
I finally got to bed around 12:30am (packing, cleaning (why do us women insist on cleaning the house before we leave for vacation??, etc.) and I laid down for a solomn night of slumber to hear loud zzzzzzzzzz's coming from a foot away from me. After much proding, poking, telling him to turn over, and wondering if I could really go to prison that long for strangeling my snoring husband, my only saving grace for a good night sleep was my comfy couch. So I reluctantly dragged my pillow downstairs, covered up with a blanket and finally, by around 1:15am, fell asleep.
When I mention to him that his snoring is terrible, it is always an excuse: I am not feeling well, my head is clogged, I am so tired I snore, yadda, yadda, yadda. I am at the point that if we have to live like Lucy and Ricky - in seperate beds, so be it. I am getting too old to not have a full night sleep. Something needs to be done unless I get a female judge with a snoring husband!
So, in a couple of hours, we will be on the road, off to a new place, to meet new people. Staying in a strange hotel, with strange people. My only prayer is that the hotel room has two double beds at least 6 feet apart!
I have mixed feelings about this weekend. I hate riding in the car that long. I hate not being able to sleep in my own bed. I hate not seeing the "Girls" (Ava & Lucy). I hate having to drive back home and be deluged with laundry. What I like about traveling is that I don't have to clean up (much) after my husband and son, eating out, doing different things, meeting new people. This weekend will be interesting, as we don't know most of the people at this shin-dig. But, what a great way to meet new members of the family!
Speaking of The Windy City, my dearest husband was breaking wind last night in Hudson. I have now coined Hudson, "The Windy City of the West" I know what you are thinking: toots, farts, stinkers or poofs. No, none of that. SNORING!
I finally got to bed around 12:30am (packing, cleaning (why do us women insist on cleaning the house before we leave for vacation??, etc.) and I laid down for a solomn night of slumber to hear loud zzzzzzzzzz's coming from a foot away from me. After much proding, poking, telling him to turn over, and wondering if I could really go to prison that long for strangeling my snoring husband, my only saving grace for a good night sleep was my comfy couch. So I reluctantly dragged my pillow downstairs, covered up with a blanket and finally, by around 1:15am, fell asleep.
When I mention to him that his snoring is terrible, it is always an excuse: I am not feeling well, my head is clogged, I am so tired I snore, yadda, yadda, yadda. I am at the point that if we have to live like Lucy and Ricky - in seperate beds, so be it. I am getting too old to not have a full night sleep. Something needs to be done unless I get a female judge with a snoring husband!
So, in a couple of hours, we will be on the road, off to a new place, to meet new people. Staying in a strange hotel, with strange people. My only prayer is that the hotel room has two double beds at least 6 feet apart!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Naked Cowboy
Louis came home from swimming as I was in the garden trying to plant some bulbs someone gave to me about a month ago. As I planted them, I prayed to each one that they would come up. They say that all a garden needs is sun, water and food. Well, my gardens need prayer and lots of it!
He ran into the house, naked, butt hanging out the backside of the towel. I asked Steven where his swimsuit was. Steven said he took it off in the car and said, "Dad, should I run naked into the house?" Now, let me give a little background here - Louis had left his swimsuit on for so long after swimming lessons one day, that he got a rash from the heat and the moisture. I told him that if he didn't take his swimsuit off after swimming, he would get "crotch rot". To him, this meant his penis would fall off! Ever since then, he has been removing his swimsuit promptly.
So, he had his pants and undies off, with just a shirt on prancing around the house. It was time for guitar practice. He decided he didn't need to put pants on. Hey, whatever works!
After watching Louis practice his guitar, watching his guitar stick to his legs, watching him have a fit, watching him hit his guitar, watching (and listening to) him complain, I decided it was time to be done. Done. Done. Done. Once mom has made up her mind about something, there is no turning back. I proceeded to rip the guitar and pick out of his hands and carry him upstairs. Man, he is getting heavy! I took his shirt off, started the bath water and led him to the tub. At which point, he was screaming, "NO, NO, NO!" I was sure CPS would come knocking at the door.
Then he had to poop. At which point he exclaimed, "I am never leaving this spot!" All I could think of was that he would have a "toilet rim" imprint on his butt! I chucked to myself then had to leave the bathroom before I burst out laughing!
Well, he got in the bath, cried, and cried. He said, "All I want is a brownie!" "All I want is a brownie!" (Steven had made brownies earlier in the day). I was downstairs, heard some yelling from Louis and Steven, heard the tub empty, heard pitter-patter of feet to Louis' bedroom - wait, wait, wait...Louis' bedroom door slam and Steven came back downstairs. A few minutes later, I heard Louis (obviously holding Buster), "Oh Buster, OH BUSTER!" Oh dear!
I eventually made it back up to his room, we talked, we apologized, Steven went up and apologized and Louis fell sound asleep.
I just need to know if the mother of the "Naked Cowboy" - http://nakedcowboy.com - in New York City went though all this before her boy became a "star"?
He ran into the house, naked, butt hanging out the backside of the towel. I asked Steven where his swimsuit was. Steven said he took it off in the car and said, "Dad, should I run naked into the house?" Now, let me give a little background here - Louis had left his swimsuit on for so long after swimming lessons one day, that he got a rash from the heat and the moisture. I told him that if he didn't take his swimsuit off after swimming, he would get "crotch rot". To him, this meant his penis would fall off! Ever since then, he has been removing his swimsuit promptly.
So, he had his pants and undies off, with just a shirt on prancing around the house. It was time for guitar practice. He decided he didn't need to put pants on. Hey, whatever works!
After watching Louis practice his guitar, watching his guitar stick to his legs, watching him have a fit, watching him hit his guitar, watching (and listening to) him complain, I decided it was time to be done. Done. Done. Done. Once mom has made up her mind about something, there is no turning back. I proceeded to rip the guitar and pick out of his hands and carry him upstairs. Man, he is getting heavy! I took his shirt off, started the bath water and led him to the tub. At which point, he was screaming, "NO, NO, NO!" I was sure CPS would come knocking at the door.
Then he had to poop. At which point he exclaimed, "I am never leaving this spot!" All I could think of was that he would have a "toilet rim" imprint on his butt! I chucked to myself then had to leave the bathroom before I burst out laughing!
Well, he got in the bath, cried, and cried. He said, "All I want is a brownie!" "All I want is a brownie!" (Steven had made brownies earlier in the day). I was downstairs, heard some yelling from Louis and Steven, heard the tub empty, heard pitter-patter of feet to Louis' bedroom - wait, wait, wait...Louis' bedroom door slam and Steven came back downstairs. A few minutes later, I heard Louis (obviously holding Buster), "Oh Buster, OH BUSTER!" Oh dear!
I eventually made it back up to his room, we talked, we apologized, Steven went up and apologized and Louis fell sound asleep.
I just need to know if the mother of the "Naked Cowboy" - http://nakedcowboy.com - in New York City went though all this before her boy became a "star"?
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