Parents Gone Wild

We've had an oddity around Ye Olde House of Snark this week.  Both of the Y's are gone.  Temporarily gone, mind you.  Take heart, precious friends, we know where they are and what they are doing and we know when they will be home.  When folks around us have learned that we would be "childless" for four days, some gave us pitying looks...sorrowful expressions.  Some questioned if we would know what to do with ourselves.  Some even supposed we would go into a short stint of mourning.   Hmmm...
NOT!
What some of these misguided and dare I say, DELUDED but well meaning folks don't understand is that we are ALWAYS with the Younglings.  We are not so blessed as to have any of the GrandFolks nearby.  Mr. Snark's Motherfigger (remember Ernest T. Bass..."Miss Crump, yer mah motherfigger!")is four hours away...and geographically, she's closest.  We've really NEVER had the benefit of GrandFolks in our backyard.  When we lived in SMALLtown, GA, Daddy and MomJean were only about ninety minutes from us, but they boyos were still very young.  So when I say this is a rarity...an oddity...I am not joking.

Y1 is off on his "13th Summer".  This is a tradition from Mr. Snark's side of the family.  A rite of passage that is a great deal less expensive than a Bar Mitzvah!  It started out as being time spent with the GrandFolks...learning old family stories and such.  It's a chance for the youngster to learn about him/herself...about the family...about life without parents (even for just a week).  So, Y1 is in Michigan being thoroughly corrupted by my side of the family...the Yankee side.  In all of the instructions that I gave him before sending him on his way, I put significant importance on maintaining the habit of answering the adults around him with "sir" or "ma'am."  Most children "up yonder" aren't taught that.  It's not a cultural norm like it is WayDownSouth.  If the folks he comes across can't determine that he's a Son of the South when he opens his mouth, they'll know for certain when he says, "Yes, ma'am!'

Helping him pack his suitcase was a comical...number of days gone plus two is always my formula for packing underclothes.  For the average, garden variety thirteen year old boy the formula is something like days gone divided by two, minus two!  Seriously!  He balked when I suggested a hoodie and pair of jeans.  He's never experienced a summer cold snap.  Growing up in a lakeside town, we never put all of our winter clothes into deep storage.  We always held out a few sweatshirts for the days when the wind would shift and blow down from the north.  Granted, the weather shows it being as hot up there as it is down here, but he'll be glad to have taken then and not need them than to need them and not have them.  Packing for boys has to be easier than girls...I'm just positive!  No jewelry, no hair accessories, no hair styling implements (truly, none...he forgot to pack his comb), no make up, three pair of shoes (flip flops, runners and Sperry's) and that's probably more shoes than most boys would pack.  Once we got the days to underclothes ratio in hand, we were good.

This wasn't his first flight, so he wasn't nervous AT ALL!!  He went through security like he'd done it a million times before.  We sat at the gate and when they called for preboarding, he decided he was ready to go.  I walked with him to the desk and they scanned his boarding pass and he walked away with one of the desk agents.  No hug, no kiss and if I hadn't said, "Uh, bye, kiddo", I'm not sure he would have even turned around.  But turn around he did and smiled at me with that killer smile that God blessed him with (look out girls...it's a powerful weapon...his daddy has it, too)and walked away.  I stayed and watched his plane take off and couldn't help but be very proud of him.

At about the same time, Mr. Snark was delivering Y2 up to the church.  He and a crew of lovable hooligans headed off to children's camp with our children's minister, her husband and a couple of teen aged counselors.  They will be back tomorrow afternoon.  Hopefully, not sunburned or dehydrated...or completely undone with body odor from not bathing for the length of camp!  Mr. Snark said that the lad was laughing so riotously, that he could hardly wave goodbye!  This is his first major outing with us.  Coming off our mission trip to Mississippi (I spell that word and I hear Granny saying "M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-humpback-humpback-I), he was none too thrilled about the idea of camp.  His tune changed keys when he realized it wasn't "working all day in the hot sun and sleeping in Quonset huts that need a good dose of Napalm" camp.  Packing his bag was just as comical as packing his brother's.  Again...the underwear thing...what is that???? 

So, what are the parental units to do?  Have no fear...keep your sack cloth and ashes for another time!  We've been running around with scissors in our hands!  Slamming the doors, flickering the lights, standing with the fridge door open, leaving the faucets running, using the last of the TP and not replacing the roll and taking forty minute showers!!  I'm kidding.  We've enjoyed the brief time of remembering what it was like BEFORE the boyos came along.  We've had a brief taste of what it will be like when they've both flown the coop.  We've reveled in knowing that we MUST have done something right.  Not that we've actually done anything.  We brought these boys into this world with the complete realization that they aren't ours...they are precious gifts from God, on loan to us for a very short period of time.  We've tried to be good stewards of these gifts and of this time.  We've tried to teach them at each step of the way, with each stage of life and more than anything, tried to live by example.  Parents of the year?  HARDLY!!!!  Surely you jest!  Nothing good we have done with these children...nothing good that they do or go on to do has anything to do with us...or them.  It's all God.  We are very proud and pleased, however, that at thirteen and nine (almost ten), they are willing to take these chances and spread their wings. 

What to do....oh, I know!

Well, not really....but you never know...we're home alone!

Comments

  1. Yes, it is HOT here. The big BW parade is tonight, and as much as I love to watch it (and remember being in it!), there is no way I'm sitting with 5 sweaty kids in 100 degree heat to watch a bunch of politicians and dance troops with barely anything on...ugh. No doubt, your oldest feels right at home in this weather!

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