how my people, OK, just Tank, drive me crazy

I shared Mini's issues, Tank now takes center stage:  YOU LOVE 'EM ANYWAY . . .

 Mom's pen:  

I know you visit my blog for
the exceptional photography.

Pens, where do they go? Lately coming across a pen has been paramount to coming across a room in perfect order in my home.

I found a pen - probably in my purse (you know things are bad when you have to dig in your purse in hopes of finding a pen rather than the drawer where pens live in the kitchen). I liked this pen. A lot. So, I labeled it. MOM'S PEN. 

Then last week, I realized that I hadn't seen my pen for days. Tank came into the kitchen and randomly announced:  OH, I'VE BEEN USING YOUR PEN. THE ONE YOU WROTE YOUR NAME ON. 

He told me that me labeling my pen was funny. Note to self:  order more pens from Amazon. edited to add:  I DID order more pens, but I do smile when the pen that is still labeled 'MOM'S PEN' appears in circulation.

M & M thievery:  

Because I wanted to drive myself bat-shit crazy, I potty trained Wilhelm. The boy who cannot respond to a question, but simply repeats every.word.someone.else.says. When he pooped in the potty and I tried to celebrate, I pointed and said:  WILHELM, WHAT DID YOU DO? To which he responded, while staring at his, well, you know waste:  WHAT DID YOU DO? (me: pounding head into wall)

I bought a bag of M & M's. My go-to treat for potty training. I'd been picking an M & M out of the trail mix bag from Costco, but finally remembered to buy a separate bag. A supply. A stash. 

The bag was in my hiding place and mysteriously open the morning after I bought it. I had yet to reward Wilhelm for his 'successes', so WHO OPENED IT? My offspring know that a random bag of M & M's is not meant for public consumption. It is FOR something. If I wanted them to be devoured I'd put them out in little decorative bowls. 

My inquiring mind wanted to know, so I left a note on the counter next to the open bag. 'Who's the idiot who opened my M & M's?' The next morning in very small print, Tank had written his name. As if any of us didn't know who the culprit was. 

Tank is very sarcastic and often says things in a voice full of fake sincerity, which can be confusing (also known as insincerity, but that seems insufficient here). He found my note on the counter hilarious, or so he claimed. 

Tank:  You're SO funny. (he doesn't really think I'm funny, so I was not buying it - I stood waiting for the punch line). I took a picture of the note you wrote and sent it to my friends. Now they think you're hilarious too. 

I looked at him with my head tilted to one side - not sure if I should believe him, my nose and forehead wrinkled. 

Mini, stepping it to translate in a smarmy teacher voice (no joke):  So, Tank is really complimenting you on being funny here. I know it doesn't sound like it, but he's being genuine. (Now Tank looked confused, so Mini continued) Tank, you aren't serious often enough and the inflection you speak with is the same inflection that you use when you're being sarcastic, so Mommy isn't sure that you actually THINK she's being funny.

Tank:  But I just TOLD her that I thought she was funny. (shrugs and walks away)

Mini:  This is a good start, we'll continue to work on Tank's sincerity. But, Mommy - you're funny. He thinks so, it's just coming off sarcastic. For real. 

WHAT'S FOR DINNER/CAN I EAT THAT?:

During the pandemic, when the kids were all learning from home and I had a handful of toddlers and babies woven into our crazy days, my only peace was in the shower. Or, not.

One day I was in the shower. Knock, knock, knock.

Me:  I'm in the shower.

Tank (in a muffled voice): Can I eat the leftover blah blah blah for lunch?

Me:  NO! LEAVE ME ALONE.

After that incident, also known  as the day I almost lost my mind, I made a new rule. NO ONE WAS TO ASK ME WHAT WAS FOR DINNER AND NO ONE WAS TO TOUCH MY PRECIOUS LEFTOVERS. 

ESSAYS AND COSTUME NEEDS: 

Tank competed in something called Mr. 'South' High School the end of March. (More to follow) It coincided with him being on the homecoming court (moved from the fall to the spring). It also happened to be in the middle of when he needed to complete applications for several scholarships that he was applying for. 

I became his personal secretary. My tasks included:  ordering a very unique outfit on FB marketplace, buying shoes to be worn during the talent portion, proofreading and rewording essays for scholarships, helping him identify music for his entrance while donning the very unique outfit, arranging lessons with Curly for his 'talent' segment, weighing in on the wording of his intro for the Mr. Contest-had to be funny and not wordy - me, wordy?, reminding him of scholarships dates, and helping him choose three words that describe him for the Homecoming court (none of which could be normal words like humorous, he was looking for words like buoyant and mathematically-challenged).

March was exhausting despite not having the usual Irish dancing shows to race off to. We survived and had some very entertaining exchanges along the way, like when I made him read parts of his essays out loud. "How is that a sentence?" 

Last week we attended the awards ceremony. Tank won 5 scholarships. One was for $5,000 for a student with financial need who demonstrates grit, perseverance, and a will to succeed. He raked in $8,650 total. 

My dad favors smart kids (eye roll). I'm no dummy, but it was tough growing up sandwiched between my folks' two most brilliant children (and my folks aren't afraid to share who they count as brilliant). Tank won more money than his very academic brother a few years ago. He's going places, preferably without my pen, my M & M's, and my leftovers.