We drove to Creighton to see Tank for family weekend mid September. The days before we left were FULL. Let me tell you.
It was picture day at school. I laid out the boys' one decent collared shirt. It was a day that Alice, our worker, stopped by to check on the boys. She needed to see their room. I had already spent an hour at therapy with one of them. Alice's visit was stretching on longer than expected. I had THINGS TO DO, so I decided to pull out clothes for the next day during her visit. Later she'd grill me while I made dinner.
She assured me things were going wonderfully. I looked at her with my head tilted to one side: YOU REALLY THINK SO? Interesting, because I felt like we were barely surviving. Were we handling their issues properly? She felt so. Hmm. OK.
Larry said he wasn't wearing no collared shirt to school. Alice helped him understand that it was how picture day went. All the kids would be dressed up. She also asked: Have you seen the Shenanigan wall o' fame in the family room? All the kids are dressed up in their photos.
He seemed to get on board with it. The next morning when I went downstairs to workout, Larry was awake crazy-ass early. So was Harry. Larry didn't have on the collared shirt.
Larry: Not my fault someone else took it.
Me: You think Reg borrowed your shirt? Because I don't think it would fit him.
Harry admitted that Larry came back in the room, turned on the lights, and woke him up because he was digging in his drawers to get clothes out.
This boiled my blood. I purposely leave their clothes in the hall, so Larry won't re-enter the room. Harry NEEDS more sleep than Lar, but he rarely gets it. He hears Larry wake up and he worries as usual that he might be missing something.
Before they left for school, I went upstairs and found Larry's shirt in the bottom of the dirty clothes basket. Still folded. He put it there.
He freaked when I brought it downstairs. Thankfully, Coach was home that morning. The boys love taking the bus to school. They see their friends. I decided to use it as leverage. You give me trouble, then you don't get on the bus. If I have to drive you and you inconvenience me, watch out.
|Love it when they accidentally |
post without faces.
This is Curly with Larry during a 'no-shirt'
moment we were all on board with while
wearing one of two bathing suits
that I bought him. He loved them both.
Larry was told no shirt, no bus.
Eventually, he put it on and made it to the bus on time. Later, I got a call from the school. Larry got in a fight at school on the playground and would have to do an in school suspension the next day. Swell.
Apparently a known pain-in-the-ass kid called him names. Larry pushed him. That's considered violent behavior. On the way to Creighton a few days later, I emailed the school to let them know that Larry pushing a bully should not be weighted as heavily as a kid calling him names. He started it, damn it.
That night I cut the boys' hair. I wanted to cut it before picture day, but I was nervous that I would scalp them again. Their haircuts turned out super cute and I kicked myself for not doing it before the pics.
Larry has a hard time remembering kids' names. We borrowed a yearbook from last year and while I cut Harry's hair, Mini went through the yearbook with Lar. The school wouldn't tell us who this ass wipe was, but I had other means. Not like I was going to surround his house, although that thought did cross my mind, but I wanted to run some intel and see what this kid was about. I asked Larry if he happened to mention to this twerp that he had 5 older brothers.
Larry: No, but I should tell him that Reg is jacked.
Spoken like a true Shenanigan. Larry made a positive ID of the hooligans and his cronies. I filed away the info.
Later, Alice would ask me if I though perhaps Larry didn't want to wear the shirt because having his pic taken and appearing on the wall 'o fame meant joining the family and that might be ultimately what he wants but also a big step for him.
Read my lips: LET'S NOT OVERTHINK THIS.
The kid cares about wearing top notch, dry-fit workout clothes. The end. Fortunately for him, I buy him a ton of it on sale, I'm good like that.
Sometimes I cannot handle the read-between-the-lines nonsense.
The next morning it was Harry's turn to be a pain in the neck. He failed to eat his grapes the day before at lunch. I found them in his backpack and was like - WELL, FRUIT AT BREAKFAST IT IS. I'm not getting in a car to road trip with a backed up kid. He wasn't having it. I said, don't eat all of them but eat some of them. I was on the workout bike. He was melting down. Shaking the bike while I was riding it. Kicking it. Throwing things at me. Coach was at work.
Me: That's it. No bus for you. (channeling my inner: NO SOUP FOR YOU guy from Seinfeld).
Harry: Oh, yes I'm taking the bus. You can't stop me.
In hindsight, I wished I'd just let him get on the bus. He wasn't ready to go with his computer or lunch packed or anything. I could've driven to the school afterwards and told the school that he needed to come home until he agreed to behave properly.
The boys always walk out the back slider door. He tried it, but I stood in front of it. He bolted for the garage door. I had my hand up at the top of the garage door in a flash. He tried to pull it open while squeezing out of it at the same time. The door bounced off of my stopping-the-door's-motion hand and then bumped him on the side of the head. The door is right up against the wall of the mudroom. So his head had no where to go. He started screaming that I slammed the door on his head.
I assured him that I was not trying to slam his head in a door. That would look VERY different. Still. It was draining. I was shaking.
Anyone else ENJOY riding in the school bus as a kid? I always wished we lived close enough to walk. (how about that for a transition from a very unsettling moment in time to light and fluffy childhood memories?)