Appreciation 1-0-1

I pride myself on being a unique mom. What this means may vary, according to who’s doing the mothering, of course. I’m a big believer in making the little memories…you know…the ones that da boys are required to retain in the back of their hearts from here to eternity...to pull out every now and again after I’ve crossed over to the great beyond and they miss me like nobody’s business.

Which, of course…will be all the time….I mean, come on.

Today marked the end of the first full week of school for da boys and they were exhausted.

I’d timed their arrival (their busses arriving within moments of each other) with my being halfway across our massive, sunny front yard…waiting with Metro on his leash. The plan was to wait till they stepped off the bus and spotted us. Then, Metro and I would run towards them…laughing and happily greeting them…the wind playfully ruffling through our hair…Metro’s little doggie-ears flopping adorably as he raced towards his beloved “bros”. Then, they'd happily share every single precious moment from their day.

At least, that’s how it played out in my head.

The reality was…a tad different. Da boys did get off the bus…that part was just how I’d pictured it. However instead of spotting Metro and I, they'd both walked sulkily…heads down…eyes watching their feet…ignoring everything around them, including each other. When I called out to them, I realized they both had their iPods on. I started running towards them, but was suddenly jerked hard by Metro, who had unexpectedly stopped to smell some deer poop…that yes, I had inadvertently stepped in. Or maybe it was rabbit poop? I can’t be sure. By the time I finished gagging and cursing and dragging my shoes on the grass to try and remove said poop, da boys had gone inside.

I removed the offending shoes and got Metro and I back in the house. I had to tell the story twice about how I’d wanted to have this lovely, spontaneous moment…as both boys had retreated to their separate rooms. I found Connor (12) laying face-up on his bed, backpack still around his shoulder. Taylor (17) was found on his bed face-down…legs sprawled…hair all tousled. I couldn’t be angry with them for missing this Hallmark moment…they just looked too…pathetic.

They’re both starving as well. Connor settles on something fast. Taylor wants chili. The leftover chili I’d made from scratch yesterday…and frozen last night, with the assumption that there was no freakin’ way he’d want chili 2 days in a row. I’d run out of Tupperware, so I’d chosen (in my infinite wisdom) to freeze the massive amount of leftover chili in a huge Ziploc freezer bag. Now, I’ve got this solid rock of chili…its misshapen Ziploc-shape has rendered it too high for even my largest covered casserole dish…and all I want to do is nuke a portion and be done. I finally had to cut the bag away from the food with the Jaws of Life scissors and placed the whole SLAB on a serving platter and threw the whole thing in the microwave. Every few minutes, I’d pull it out and hack away at it with a knife (a-la Psycho…cue music here). After an eternity of hacking, chipping and stirring, I finally had a huge casserole of hot chili once again.

I call Taylor on his cell to arrange the pickup. I get his voicemail:

Tay: “Hey. I’m busy. Leave a message…or not. You can text me…or not. Whatever.” BEEP!

Me: “Taylor? This is your mother. It’s….(pause)…4:15pm on Friday, the….(pauses)…18th of September and…(pause)...what am I, insane?!?”

I disconnect and march down the stairs and hammer on his door. He’d fallen asleep.

K: “After all I’ve done for you!…the hacking!…and the stirring!…and the nuking!….and….the...the stirring! Your chili is ready.”

T: “Okay. Whatever.”

Grrrrrrr.