We’ve been spending Friday nights in a hotel in the mountains, which greatly increases the probability of arriving on-time to the boys 8:30 AM ski lessons on Saturday morning:-). It’s been fun to break our normal routine and get away, if only for 24 hours. We go out to dinner, swim, and then settle the boys on the pull-out sofa for a little TV before lights out. There are always shenanigans after lights out, which prompts Darin or I to give them a firm warning. The shenanigans then turn into five minutes of whispers before the exhausted trio give in to their individual dreamlands.
These boys and their shenanigans bring me to my breaking
point nearly every day. I can only take
so much silliness, wrestling, and talk of butts. I’m not in their little club. I’m their mother. They love me dearly and often profess that
love, but I’m still an outsider. This
makes me a little sad, and increases my yearning for a daughter (because that
would fix everything—HA!). Strangely
enough, it also thrills me. I long for
my boys to be lifelong friends, and I’m old enough to realize that the
strongest friendships are ones with plenty of shenanigans creating the
foundation. So I’ll relish the night time whispers, try
to steel myself for all the butt jokes, and pray that my three Bolthouse boys
remain as thick as thieves.
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