my resolve is weakening

Years ago, I had a labrador retriever named King Oberon.  He had a severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder; he simply could not stop playing fetch.  If he could see a tennis ball but was unable to reach it, he would pace hysterically.  He would pause with the ball in view and jump repeatedly trying to capture the ball for himself.  He barked, whined, yelped, and twitched nervously until someone came along and threw the ball for him to chase down.

Our black lab, King Oberon.  March 1994 - January 2005

Our black lab, King Oberon (March 1994 – January 2005) with my two oldest. They used to be so cute, now they are just messy and demanding.

My fourteen-year-old son is exactly the same way when it comes to snowboarding.  He sees snow and begins to pace, twitch, and whine until you release him to the slopes.

Unfortunately, you know by my last blog post, Cole broke his arm snowboarding a few days ago.  He spent most of yesterday attempting to convince me to allow him to snowboard despite the cast on his left arm.  Following are a list of his pleas, which I will translate for you:

“Mom, can I please go shred the gnar-pow?”

TRANSLATION:  Mom, can I please go snowboarding; it snowed recently and the powder is gnarly (in this case, gnarly is a good thing)

“Mom, I promise I won’t go BC, and I won’t hit anything jenky.”

TRANSLATION:  I promise I won’t go into the back country, and I won’t go down anything too treacherous.

“I’ll totally zag the wells and skirt the bomb holes.”

TRANSLATION:  I will avoid tree wells and deep holes.  (a tree well is the area directly beneath a pine tree where the branches protect the ground from snow thus creating a giant well or hole.  A bomb hole is an area of ungroomed terrain where the snow has settled or caved-in thus creating a pit.)

“Please, Mom, I won’t even lob the rollers.”

TRANSLATION:  I won’t launch myself off jumps.

My son is exactly like my labrador, and I must admit his constant whining is weakening my resolve.  By next weekend, I may cave completely, and if I let my son snowboard with a cast on his arm, I will either be the most neglectful mom in the world, or the most awesome mom in history.

However, if I let him go, I plan to remind him that if he breaks his other arm, no one in this family will help him use the bathroom.

Cole's cast.  It took me three tries to get this photo.  My obscene son kept raising his middle finger just as snapped the picture

Cole’s cast. It took me three tries to get this photo. My obscene son kept raising his middle finger just as I snapped the picture


are you going to blog about this?

I can see that getting posts completed during the holiday season is going to be tricky.  Fortunately, my son cooperated today by doing something blog worthy.

My children are slobs and my husband is the opposite.  He is so tidy in fact, he color-codes his socks.  If you ask him why he color-codes his socks, he will tell you that if the power goes out, he likes to know he can successfully choose blue socks or black socks in the dark based on their position in the drawer.  He is sincerely shocked to discover others do not share this concern.

When my children leave their gear around the house, Tim loses his mind.  Often, he will hide items or simply throw them out the nearest window.  Recently, my son left his sneakers on the living room floor and Tim pitched them out onto the lawn where they sat for a week.  Finally, I could take it no more.  “Cole, Buddy,” I said.  “When are you going to deal with the shoes out on the lawn.”

“Wait, what?”

Source of the pooh

“Your shoes?  They have been on the lawn for a week.”

At this point, Cole dashes out to the back yard and retrieves his soaking-wet sneakers.  Several steps into the house he realizes that, while on the lawn, he stepped in dog pooh.

I surveyed the disgusting tracks around my kitchen island, shrugged, and handed Cole a roll of paper towels and some disinfectant.

On his hands and knees, he began scrubbing the mess.  “You’re not going to blog about this, are you?”

“Of course not,” I replied.  “Why would I blog about poop on my floor?”

Obviously, I lied.  I am totally blogging about poop on my floor.