Someone moved my cheese

This new situation has some twists and turns that are interesting to say the least. The new situation is the heavy kid population that has taken over our estate.

Example is this afternoon.

Kate takes the girls and I take the boys. Fair, it seems. The girls go off shopping and the boys go swimming in the backyard. Divide and conquer.

I've been a dad for a very long time, but this deal is new every morning. When I get the boys, that means I have 5 boys from age 5 to 12, all of them rivals...as it should be.

Kate takes the girls - fair again - that is an 11 year old, a 15 year old, and a 16 year old. Whole different dynamic.

"As it should be" with boys is different than "as it should be" with girls. The idea that "boys will be boys" was put forth by someone long ago who simply gave in to the reality.

I had a domain for years I was in total control of...the yard, the fringes of the outside...my domain with no interference from short people with no sense. Now - it's like trying to hold a handful of water - they dig up, take apart, break, climb, or otherwise move everything they encounter. Every living creature is subject to capture, large or small, crawling or flying. There are no borders between garden, lawn, and woods. All trees are climbing devices. All rocks are in the wrong place and must be moved, usually to where I mow. Sand does not belong in the sandbox. Whew.

And I wouldn't trade it for all the nice grass in China.

The 3AM Phone Call

It happened.

Actually, it was a midnight phonecall that demanded action at 3 AM.

It'll never make the news because its not big enough.

Neither Pres Obama or Sec State Clinton answered.

Kate did.

"There was a tragedy, someone has died. Despite the tragedy, they donated their organs for transplant, and a kidney is available that matches your daughter. We need her here between 5 and 6AM".

The call came from 2 hours away.

So they left at 3AM and are waiting for a noon time surgery.

What a miracle.

Thank God it was Kate who answered the call and not either the Pres or SecState.

Hey Mom, guess what!?

So no sooner had I finished the last post and I'm sitting in the livingroom with my wife. My 6 year old liddle darling comes out of the powder room and announces "Hey Mom - I just peed out of my butt!!

We looked at each other, holding onto the thread of seriousness that hung us precariously away from utter hysterical peals of laughter. My wife says "oh, you still have (insert the "d" word)?"

"Yes, but I'm not doing that anymore Mom."

I wonder if I stirred something up.

Hey Poppa, does this hurt?

The "boys will be boys" thing is interesting. Now that I am thrust into the role of father to 5 boys between ages 6 and 12 I have this ever raucous bunch of minor testosterone wielding beings who are something akin to a small herd of puppies. While at age 55, the more you "rough house" the tired-er you get, for this set the more they rough house the more energy they have...kind of like one of those little friction motored cars where you rub it on the floor to wind it up and -zoom...

A piece or reality hit the other day when my 19 year old left for boot camp. We took him to the airport, and the boys, whose interest in his future was limited to how many time he was actually going to get to shoot the gun, bemoaned on the ride home "who are we going to fight with now?"

Turns out its me.

I'm up to it. With some limits. In the spirit of "never let them see you sweat", I roll around and fling, push, twist, knock, and otherwise take it, always appearing to be invincible. At a time of my choosing, I find a reason to depart the area, find the aspirin, and hope the next round waits till I have recovered my fatherly invincibility.

My son returns in February.