Housekeeping: So a few of you might have noticed my blog posting on overdrive on Monday . . . so you got a sneak peek at a few upcoming posts. I moved things around when I posted my new all-time favorite post on Thursday. If you haven't read it, I implore you. I sound so bossy.
Anyway, in my juggling of the 'set-to-go' posts, a few things posted briefly this morning cause I didn't know what day it was.
On an unrelated note, things with Laddie have escalated because we asked him to talk to us in an "expectations" and "while living here" sort of way. Well, that went over like a lead balloon. Did not impact my posts dropping because I apparently screwed that up last week when we were still walking on egg shells, and those egg shells didn't crack until tonight (Monday). Dang, this post WAS so short. Sigh . . .
Back to our regularly scheduled post, which will be followed by another funny, family story on Wednesday:
You've heard of urban legends, but how about family legends? In our family it's a thing.
Sometimes when we get together the kids reminisce about stories from back in the day. There might be a small dispute about who was there and who said what, but there are enough siblings as witnesses that while a few bits might remain fuzzy the basic truth is hard to deny.
Ed finds it mind-blowing that I do not remember Lad shitting his pants while watching Jaws for the first time. I believe it happened, just don't remember it. Lad was in about 6th grade, best guess.
**Ed knows the exact grade they were in, but he wasn't sitting in the car I borrowed from my dad where I sat, parked outside of Irish dancing as I drafted this, to confirm. And that 'car borrowing' is a whole other post to look forward to.**
Another family legend that just surfaced recently, well - it 'SURFACED' literally back in the day, but the backstory was just shared with Coach and I. I have chosen not to believe that the ridiculous kid-prank details impacted the outcome of Reggie's First Communion, but I could be wrong.
Coach taught a class on May 18, 2013 in Colorado when Reg was in first grade (a year before Reg's 1st Communion). It was the first time I agreed to go out of town with him, or the first time the opportunity arose.
Coach failed to grasp the exhaustive measures I took to pawn our children off on people, but desperate times call for desperate measure and all that.
My mom was scheduled to help out that Friday morning by watching Curly. She would be home when the kids came in after school and swapped their backpacks for overnight bags. Then they each had a friend's mom picking them up for the weekend. Mom had the weekend off. Sunday night they would all get dropped back off at our house, and my mom would be there to welcome them and send them to school the next morning.
Months in advance the kids got rowdy and loud at diner. Shock. Coach looked across the table at me and called over the ruckus: "MAY 18TH BABY, MAY 18TH!"
The kids became hip to our jive, grasping that we couldn't wait to get out of dodge. They started pounding the table with their fists, while chanting the release date: MAY 18TH. Coach and I just shrugged and laughed, recognizing that we had lost complete control.
They had beat us at our own game.
Long story, but Reg started puking while at his best buddy's house. The mom contacted me, and I arranged for her to meet my mom at my house. My mom won the boobie prize - she got stuck at my house with a sick kid. So much for giving her minimal duty.
Fast forward to the next year: Reg made his 1st communion on a beautiful May day. He told me just as the party started at our house that he didn't feel great. I asked him if anyone fed him breakfast in the race to get stuff ready before mass. He shrugged. I made him eat.
|Oops, someone looks green, get it?|
|Oh yum, my choc chip coolies and sugar cookies in the shape of shamrocks, crosses and chalices (OK, so they were margarita cookie cutters, but the same idea, right? Don't tell my mil), but none for the guest of honor.|
He ate and then promptly started puking every 30 minutes for the rest of the day. The party continued, but he was quarantined (we were ahead of our time) in our master bedroom. It was SAD.
It wasn't until the next day that it dawned on me: Reg's 1st communion was on MAY 18TH. What in the world? The kid puked on two consecutive MAY 18THs. I remembered the date suddenly because of the kids' mid-dinner, hell-raising chant from the year before.
His puking was what literally surfaced, but recently Mini admitted that Tank dared Reg to lick the garage floor as we all piled in the car to go to church the morning of Reg's 1st communion.
She is convinced that licking the garage floor made him puke.
|Even on a good day like this (after the Plinko game that ricocheted off of Coach's head), garage floor is not edible.|
While I don't think our garage floor is lick-a-ble, I don't think that is what made the kid puke. I may be naive - and I like it that way, but it's what helps me sleep at night.
I suspect as they get older there will be more interesting truths shared.
Who has a family tale that has been recounted multiple times? And do you believe it, or choose not to?