I've read some of the past posts on here amazed at the changes in my family life. The Oldest is no longer afraid of flying insects, Eraser Eater no longer eats erasers (but does eat napkins on occasion), and the Girl no longer finds things as well as she used to. Her room is the typical pre-teen tornado that all we girls had at her age.

I find that I have to wake up the two boys more than they have to wake me up anymore. Eraser Eater, who is now 13, sleeps far into the morning, often just before lunch on the weekends. The Oldest somehow wakes up when he smells breakfast in his dreams but blames it on the impending doom he feels on feeling he has slept the day away.

This transition is strange. Since I am on the young side for having kids my kids' age, I find that I am overlooked quite often by most. They forget that I have kids. Heck, they read so much I forget I have kids. I can take naps, I can make stuff, I can run to the store. I can even make the Oldest go to Costco with me and deal with all the heavy lifting. Mind, I still have to suffer through all the complaining. Well, it is funny, but if the young man has plenty of samples, he won't complain. So we do these things on Fridays. Fridays provide plenty of sampling.

But they argue. Arguing is the spice in my life. But not a good spice. More like chile powder dumped on my chocolate cake or chocolate frosting spread all over my roasted chicken. Duct tape only gets you so far. They rip it off and keep arguing. You can preach Jesus to them and put up posters about love, but they keep arguing. I ask the Oldest things like,
"Do you want people to like you?"

And he responds with, "I don't really think much about people."

And when they are almost sixteen you can do absolutely NOTHING that really hurts that much. Nothing. It's painful for a mom who seeks revenge. You know, when you are really frustrated in the moment and you want to get at them where it counts, where it hurts, so they learn their lesson and all you can come up with is: "That's it! Say goodbye to your gameboy!"

"It's a DS. But again, mom? Really? You took that away yesterday. You can't take it away again."

You see, when you have a handful of homeschooled, Christian nerds, there is not much to draw from in the discipline department. Since we barely watch TV, go outside, engage in social settings and we are entirely completely sheltered, what can I possibly take away? Now honey, hand me that robot you have been working on.

I have had to get creative. "You have that much energy to argue continually with your sister, you have that much energy to run on the treadmill for a few miles. Go get your shoes on and drink 32 ounces of water."

That's all I've got, people. And you know what the funny thing is? People ask, "Now does he do it?"

Yes, he does. Why? I don't know. The fear of the Lord? The fear of an extra writing assignment? Beats me.


Nothing of Substance

So I have nothing of any substance to say. It is funny how when you are happy you learn to be quiet. When misery strikes, you find you are making pains to find the humor in all the misfortune. Well, in anything, really. At least that's how I do things.

So happiness means I shut my mouth. And usually it means I stop writing. As I get older I find it harder to create complicated sentences. Well, it is hard to speak in English, actually. I can't keep my children's names straight, I can't tell them what cupboard the pasta can be found in. I can't think of the word 'cupboard.' It's very sad when you think about it. I usually just sort of point in the object-to-be found's general direction and moan some half word that I hope at least one of my kids understand. Usually the girl gets it OK. The boys are hopeless. It's actually very irritating. When I can't think of 'cupboard' and I am lingering on an unintelligible half-sentence by saying, "the..the...the...uh..uh.." they INSIST I remember what it is and tell them clearly. And there is a point when my own forgetfulness is so embarrassing that I decide in my mind that digging for the word 'cupboard' is quite useless, I'd like to stop now and so I tell the boys this. It is really of no use. What I end up having to do is what I wanted to avoid in the first place: get the stupid pasta out of the wooden rectangular hole in the wall where I keep food, myself.

So where have I been lately? I have been in various places actively trying to keep the mouth closed. I have a two-fold reason: I say stupid things and the stupid things I say don't come out intelligibly. But this way----THIS way, I can still say stupid things without opening my mouth once.