If you’ve wondered why I don’t blog much about my older sons, it is for a very simple reason. These three boys who were once cradled in my arms, spit up on my shoulders, these boys, my children who now tower over me, they forbid me to blog about them.
When Peter found out that I had another hobby he said….”Mom! You haven’t even finished my high school scrapbook yet….what do you need with another hobby? You cannot blog about me! What if my friends see it?!” “If your friends see it, it will drive my blog stats up!” I said, smiling at the thought. “I’ve already agreed to not get a My Space account…give me blogging at least!” I said.
Peter called his brothers. There was some sort of sibling “Geneva Convention” that convened in my kitchen. The subject of debate was on the fair & ethical treatment (not blogging) about grown…nearly grown sons….you should have heard the whining. Do you want cheese to go with that?
“Mom! You cannot blog about the time we went camping and we had to ‘go bad’, so we went behind those trees!” I was laughing. “Guys!” Do you know how many little boys pee behind trees while they are camping? That’s really not going to be news. And it wasn’t just one time!”
Timothy said, “Mom, please don’t tell anyone about when the three of us were ring bearers at that wedding…..” I had to think for a minute. “Oh, you mean when the three of you were doing Kung Fu moves while you were standing on the altar during the ceremony?” Matthew shook his head, “No, remember the bride and groom liked that so much they had the photographer take our picture doing it again afterwards?” “I have that photo in one of the albums…..maybe I should just go through your old albums and get ideas for blogs….” “No!” they shouted in unison.
“Okay, then what was the incident at the wedding?” Tim said, “Mom, if you remember it wasn’t just one thing….I was picking my nose during the ceremony and those two were scratching themselves.” Peter quickly said, “I couldn’t help it, the tag was itchy!”
Matt reminded me of the ‘piece de resistance’….”Remember, we helped ourselves to cake before the bride and groom had even cut their slices?.” Oh yes, I remembered that. At least it was from the back of the cake and it didn’t show. The wedding couple had been more than gracious. When they were planning the wedding, I had asked them repeatedly if they were sure they wanted children in their wedding party or even at their wedding. They were sure. She was a kindergarten teacher, he taught special ed. “Yes, I remember the cake, the scratching, the nose picking and Kung Fu fighting those were truly Kodak moments for sure.” Too bad we didn’t have digital cameras then.
“I remember that you guys used to play ‘naked super hero.’ (Noticeable horrified looks.) You guys would throw your dirty clothes in the laundry room, put your super hero capes from old costumes or pajamas and then you would run around the house, naked, before getting into the bath tub.”
As the afternoon wore on, they remembered of more and more times of things that I could not blog about. I promised that I won’t tell anyone that Tim was infatuated with the vacuum cleaner, Matt would carry the hair dryer around the house and “plug it in” to the couch cushions and Peter had a small crock pot that he would “cook in.” Legos were his ingredients. Sam chimed in a few times, once with “that’s nothing…you didn’t tell that lady in the pharmacy that Mama had a rash! Besides, what’s the big deal? People come to her site to read her posts on that NPD thing anyway.”
I think sometimes we forget the stories of the cute or embarrassing things our children did, even with scrapbooks and journaling….honestly though, my first three sons were not nearly as “colorful” as Sam. I think Sam prides himself in giving me material to blog about. The older boys were so easy….and then came Sam. I have stories about Sam that could fill a blog.
Tim, Matt, Pete and I have come to an understanding….I will not tell the embarrassing stories about them and they will continue to sit in my kitchen, while raiding the refrigerator and having sibling pow wows.