Painting the Stinking Porch

Well, Dear Sir and I almost had each other's heads, but we got it done. I had the absolute pleasure of bagging the leaves I raked up on Friday today. The boys held the bag open while I filled it up. They complained the whole time. I have to put some good work ethic into these lads. My Oldest was convinced he was going to earn a hundred bucks for standing and holding a bag open while I kept telling him that he earned himself a tv show and a bag of popcorn. He seemed to think that he would then get half of a hundred with just that. At the tail end of the drag of leaves, I told them that if they held open two more bags for me I would throw in their very own Sprite. You would have thought I said a thousand dollars. They were willing with heartiness. I wished then I would have said five bags and I would have completed the whole drag, but you take what you can get. It is done enough, I say.

I am never a sight to behold when I am working like a dog. It was a little breezy so I was short with the boys and a little crazy with the rake. Friday I wore the skin off my thumb from raking so much. I always push it too far, that is my problem. The Oldest told me that he needed to stand back because my raking was "deadly." He was convinced that he "felt thinner" when he realized that he was carrying a bag that could contain 45 gallons of something back and forth. He lifted his shirt and patted his belly and said, "see"? I told him that he indeed looked thinner. I just wanted to get the job done and debates at those moments are never something I am up to. He just gained whatever calories he burned standing there when he put the Sprite to his lips.

To tell you the truth, I am so shocked he went outside, the boy. I tried to be nicer by the tail end of the job by not telling them in a very sharp way to "just hold the bag open" and "dip down a little more". I said a lot of things like, "lift it," "back up," "open up the mouth of the bag," "I don't think this is a lot of fun either!" "Come on! You are standing there holding a bag open," "go get a new bag," "help me out, here," "move up!" and stuff like that.

I am the worst mother, you don't have to tell me. I even poked Eraser Eater when he was so overcome with ennui that he stretched his finger through the bag and said, "look! I have a grey finger!" He recoiled and whined when I poked him but stood fast, holding the bag. Who knows what would have happened if he had failed at his task.

The Oldest said to me, "I don't ever want to see a brown leaf AGAIN!"

Oh please. And now I will have my little night cap and grill dinner.

Until we meet again...