Sister Act Steals Mom's Heart

Sister Act Steals Mom’s Heart

I love the circus, and I even volunteered to be in a skit with a clown once. I didn’t know what I was getting into—kind of like motherhood. My three kids built a three-ring theater of chaos, creating a whirlwind of mayhem and magic. I’m Bozo with funny make-up and clothes, trying to force all of them and their gear into a tiny clown car, and sometimes trying to force them into my version of what the circus should look like. Both endeavors are usually unsuccessful.

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Managing my teenagers is like herding the big cats into the main arena when they know the smell of the raw meat is not coming from anywhere near there. They know that if they remain distracted, they can make a mockery of the poor lion tamer and avoid doing any tricks in the center ring—or the laundry room.  

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Actually, distraction is an art form they’ve perfected. Late one night I yelled upstairs and asked my exhausted, giddy girls for their soccer uniforms so I could wash them. They were lying on the floor upstairs, and from below, I could only see their bare feet kicking the bannister and hear their giggling. 

flickriver.com   shutterbug2188

Me (from below):  Go get your uniforms!  I need to wash them!

C:  Mooooommm, we’ll just wear them dirty.  I was almost asleep.

B:  Yeah, I was getting under the covers.

Me:  I want you to get your uniforms.

C:  I want a golden toilet seat. 

Me:  (laughing)  What jersey number are you? 

C to B:  Don’t make eye contact with her, you’ll turn into a (incomprehensible mumble).  Do you know what number I am?

B to C:  Why are you asking me?

C to B:  ‘Cause it’s your turn to keep me.

Me (hearing their conversation):  I'm gonna keep pestering you!

C:  Mooooom, you’re such a NAG!!

B:  Yeah,  go nag DAD!

This is the sweet stuff of my life. My kids sprinkle Gobstoppers and Gummy Bears into my single-scoop, vanilla world, and give me a delicious zest for life—and sometimes brain-freeze. They are the essence of bedlam and bliss, all wrapped up in sugar and sass and stinky cleats. 

fotocommunity.com  by Rix Weber

 I never had siblings so their relationship captivates me. Laughter and late-night whispering weave their teenage hearts together, forming a sacred sister-bond of private affairs and pinky swears. I marvel at the rhythm of their dance, an interplay in which they are as opposite as oil and water and as intimate as peanut butter and jelly.  

I love getting to watch them every day in their center-ring silliness. I don’t even mind being the clown. However, I’m pretty sure Bozo never nags.

11 Excuses Teenagers Use To Get Out of Doing Chores

"Don't Make Me Come Back There" Tuesday

11 Excuses Teenagers Use To Get Out of Doing Chores

11.  I have to get something to eat!  (Moan!)  You don’t expect me to work when I’m starving, do you?  (Surveying pantry) Why do we always have the gross low-fat Oreos?  Are you trying to tell me I’m fat?  Can you go get some real ones?!   

10.  (After eating) I have to go to the bathroom. (Take a school book.  When parental unit says, “Get out of the bathroom!” I say, “I’m not done, and besides, I’m doing my homework.”)

9.   When you asked me Friday if I had homework, I forgot I have three papers due Monday.  One’s about “work ethic,” or something stupid.  I’ve really gotta get started on them after I get something to eat.  Do we have any real Oreos?

joelsartore.com

8.   Uuuuuugghhhh!  Mom, I didn’t know there was a time limit!!  You’ve got to trust me to do it after I download these songs!  I have to make a CD to play over the speaker while we warm up for our soccer game.  So I have to text everybody to see what songs they like.  

     Parental unit says, “You mean you’ve gotta text the players?”  

     “Uuuuugggghhh! No mom!  You never listen!  I’ve got to text everyone because everyone’s coming to the game and I want them to like it too.” 

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7.   (An hour later) I had trouble with iTunes.  I’m probably going to have to download my whole library of songs again, plus some more.  I'm going to need your credit card number, m'kay?

6.   Have you seen the workout our basketball coach gave us to do in our spare time?  I don’t have ANY other spare time because I’m meeting Ashley at 4:00 to get ready for the football game.  It’s NOT my fault!

5.   I’ve got to meet Ashley, Ashley, and Heather to work on our vinegar and baking soda car for physics.  By the way, you need to take me to get some vinegar and baking soda and a plastic bottle to use for a car, some wheels, and zebra duct tape and a feather to decorate it.  Those are the parts I have to bring.

4.    I was coughing all night and I have a horrible headache. (Moan) I’m probably getting allergic because you made me pull weeds yesterday.  Do you see my eyes?  I’ve got to get some rest before Ashley picks me up.  Why don’t we have any Ranch Doritos and where’s the freaking remote?

3.   Why do I have to do it?  I did all of it by myself last week when Bella (sister) was at that soccer tournament.  That’s not my fault.  She's gonna have to cut the back yard.  Do you see my eyes?  You’re so mean. (Cough)

2.  I have to go to Mary-Alexander Margaret’s house to give back her earphones because she’s got the most important game of her life and she has to warm up listening to music. (Don’t tell parental unit the game is tomorrow)

And the #1 excuse - I have to shop online for a Homecoming dress because you won’t take me shopping for one because I have to do all these chores.

. . . Welcome to my life.

Sister Act Steals Mom's Heart

Sister Act Steals Mom’s Heart

I love the circus, and I even volunteered to be in a skit with a clown once. I didn’t know what I was getting into—kind of like motherhood. My three kids built a three-ring theater of chaos, creating a whirlwind of mayhem and magic. I’m Bozo with funny make-up and clothes, trying to force all of them and their gear into a tiny clown car, and sometimes trying to force them into my version of what the circus should look like. Both endeavors are usually unsuccessful.

Managing my teenagers is like herding the big cats into the main arena when they know the smell of the raw meat is not coming from anywhere near there. They know that if they remain distracted, they can make a mockery of the poor lion tamer and avoid doing any tricks in the center ring—or the laundry room.  

Actually, distraction is an art form they’ve perfected. Late one night I yelled upstairs and asked my exhausted, giddy girls for their soccer uniforms so I could wash them. They were lying on the floor upstairs, and from below, I could only see their bare feet kicking the bannister and hear their giggling. 

flickriver.com   shutterbug2188

Me:  Go get your uniforms! I need to wash them!

C:  Mooooommm, we’ll just wear them dirty.  I was almost asleep.

B:  Yeah, I was getting under the covers.

Me:  I want you to get your uniforms.

C:  I want a golden toilet seat. 

Me:  (laughing)  What jersey number are you? 

C to B:  Don’t make eye contact with her, you’ll turn into a (incomprehensible mumble).  Do you know what number I am?

B to C:  Why are you asking me?

C to B:  ‘Cause it’s your turn to keep me.

B to C:  Keep you doing what?

Me (hearing their conversation):  I am gonna keep pestering you!

C:  Mom, you’re such a NAG!!

B:  Yeah, NAG-a-ramus, NAG-a-pottamus

C:  NAGmeister, NAG me with a spoon

B:  NAG-a-delic

C:  SHAG-a-delic

Me:  Where did you hear that?

C:  The Austin Powers movie.

Me:  When did you see it?

C:  Dad let me. He’s fun.

Me:  Being fun is not my job.  Where are your uniforms?

C:  Mooooommm! Stop nagging. You nag ALL the time!

B:  Yeah, ALLLL. Dad doesn’t nag. He’s fun.

This is the sweet stuff of my life. My kids sprinkle Gobstoppers and Gummy Bears into my single-scoop, vanilla world, and give me a delicious zest for life—and sometimes brain-freeze. They are the essence of bedlam and bliss, a beautiful mess all wrapped up in sugar and sass and stinky cleats. 

fotocommunity.com  by Rix Weber

I never had siblings so their relationship captivates me. Laughter and late-night whispering weave their teenage hearts together, forming a sacred sister-bond of private affairs and pinky swears. I marvel at the rhythm of their dance, an interplay in which they are as opposite as oil and water and as intimate as peanut butter and jelly.  

I love getting to watch them every day in their center-ring silliness. I don’t even mind being the clown. However, I’m pretty sure Bozo never nags.