Boys and Prom are Way Worse than Girls...

Got up before 6 am to catch a flight back to Louisville so we could be home for prom (or as Chris

says so I can be a part of the prom paparazzi).  We got home around 11 am--William was heading to the shower and Boss was nowhere to be seen.  After checking in with the girls (that should probably read after I convinced the girls to make a grocery list, go to the store and then come home and make the appetizer and desserts I had promised to bring to the sophomore prom dinner), I found him asleep in the basement.  To be fair, he's been really sick so getting as much sleep as he can is a good idea, but I had just discovered he had yet to pick up his tux (which he only ordered on Wednesday!!!).  I tried to wake him up...

I gave up and came upstairs; a few minutes later he emerged wondering loudly why I was so worked up.  "I've got several hours; it's all good." he told me as he began scavenging for food.  "There's no food in this house," he yelled from the kitchen.  William chimed in at this point, "Yeah there's no food."  "I've sent the girls to the store," I defensively responded, "And besides I stocked the house before I left on Thursday."  (Truth is I continually stock the house but when you have 3 teenage boys living under your roof plus their friends, well, one day I won't make a daily full grocery cart Kroger trip.)  He walked into the dining room eating--I was a little confused how he was eating when we had no food in the house; I chose not to ask.  Instead I reminded him he needed to go pick up the car (he's borrowing my mother-in-law's--no truck this year), pick up his tux, pick up the corsages (William can't drive--he needed to get his too) and shower. He just kept telling me it would be fine.

Just then the girls walked in loaded down with grocery bags.  "DO NOT TOUCH THESE GROCERIES!" Caroline yelled as Boss approached.  That might as well have been a double dog dare you, he descended upon them and began pulling groceries from the bag.  They were both screeching, he was tearing open the chocolate chips...it wasn't pretty.  Suddenly there was an even louder scream as SK took a closer look at Boss, "Look at your hair!  Have you even showered?"  I should have stayed out of it, but instead I piped in, "No he hasn't and he hasn't gone to get his tux yet."  "Are you kidding me?" SK kept yelling.  "GO NOW!!"  He continued digging through the grocery bags.

He stopped foraging for a moment, looked up and said, "Why don't you just go get it for me?"  I thought SK's head might start spinning around. "Are you an idiot?  You have to try it on."  "Why?" "TO SEE IF IT FITS!!!"  I tried to explain to him that even though he had tried one on when he ordered it he still needed to make sure what they ordered worked, but I was interrupted.  "JUST GO!!"  "I will," he answered still not moving.

"You are totally stressing me out," SK continued.  "I've got to do your hair; you've got to...." "Wait, what?" Caroline sputtered, "Do his hair?"  "Yes I'm going to straighten it and put it in a man bun." (I was wondering how the Girlfriend felt about that but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut...) "Mom," SK turned to me, "Do something about him?  He's got so much to do and he's not moving.  I know I'm going to make you a list on the chalkboard and you can check things off."  "Nope," he said, (I was thinking he was going to take control of his own prom preparations but alas...) "not the chalkboard.  I hate the sound of chalk writing."  "I"ll get a piece of paper" Caroline contributed grabbing a piece and sitting down at the dining room table. "What do we need on it?"  "Not with pencil," said Boss, "I hate the sound of pencil on paper."  The things you learn about your children...


"Okay Caroline," SK continued, "Start writing--car, tux, corsage, shower." Boss piped in, "Add get ice coffee to it."  "What order?" Caroline asked.  "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!  HE HAS TO DO IT ALL!!" SK continued to shout.  "Mama, you've got to do something about him.  I do everything for him--make his coffee, pick up after him--he can't do anything for himself.  Fix it; I mean fix him. When you were gone I ground the beans, filled the coffee maker with water Thursday night and all he had to do was turn it on Friday morning and he didn't even do that!  What is wrong with him?"  (I thought but wisely did not say, "sounds like nothing; he's got you doing everything for him.")  She continued, "You've got to stop doing stuff for him; he can't do anything for himself.  You make his coffee.  While you were gone he just sat in that chair all sick like and said, 'make me iced coffee please.' I told him no so he says, 'you probably don't even know how to make it well' trying to use reverse psychology.  I still said no and then he said,'oh go ahead and try' AND I DID.  This is all your fault."(Somehow I knew it would come back to being my fault) "He's a little prince; I do everything for him and you are the one who taught me how to spoil people." (She has a point; I've written about it before-- I Like to do Things for Them )  Boss stood up and nonchalantly walked out of the room.  I guess we all assumed he was starting on that list...

(All this time I was texting both the girlfriend's mother and the after prom party mother grateful technology has not advanced to the point where they could hear the chaos going on--I suspect if they could have Boss may no longer have a date tonight and I'd be hosting after prom....)

Fifteen minutes later he walked back in.  I really think SK was going to have an apoplectic attack. "GO!!" and then in a fit of desperation she added, "Here's the deal if you will go right this minute I'll pick up the corsages."  And he ran out the door...

It's now 3:00 pm; we have the car, a tux, and the flowers--hoping the shower is soon.  He's calling SK the prom natzi, but I think he'll be ready.

Next Time I'm Staying Home and Sending the Credit Card

The girls came in from a run loudly declaring they needed new sports bras and running shoes.  The running shoes I believed (I think SK was still wearing hers from middle school and Caroline was wearing mine.)  I semi-doubted the sports bras until they took off their jerseys and showed me the well, lack of support these had. So Saturday came and full of fear and trembling I said, "Let's go bra shopping."

To be fair Caroline has been asking me to go bra shopping for months.  But I HATE bra shopping and I was already imagining what bra shopping would be like with my outspoken, lack of filter, 14 year old. (Yes I'm a wimp; last time she needed new bras I sent her with SK and my credit card--IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT!!!)  Perhaps I should have repeated that decision....

We walked into Target (Target on a Saturday--first mistake).  I herded them past the bathing suits and to the sports bra section.  SK seemed to be okay on her own so I said, "Caroline let's go look at the regular bras.  You only need one sports bra.  You have some that will work."  As we rounded the corner I quietly (emphasis on quietly) said, "We need to find a couple and go try them on because different styles fit differently."  "TRY THEM ON?!?!?!  I'M NOT TRYING THEM ON--THAT'S LIKE SHARING BOOBS WITH SOMEONE."  What does that even mean?  I didn't dare ask--instead I tried to reason with her--"Mama, you have lost your mind if you think I'm going to put my naked boobs on a bra that someone else has put on their naked boobs."  (I did not point out that any bra we bought could very well have been tried on by someone else....)

I looked up--relief flooded over me--back up troops were heading towards me.  Desi to the rescue. I didn't even care that she began the conversation with , "I could hear y'all clear across the store." "Desi," I pleaded with my eyes and tried to sound authoritative with my voice, "Don't you have to try on bras before you buy them."  Desi, "I don't."  Are you kidding me?!?!?  Did she miss my pleading eyes?  "But, but but," I sputtered, "What if you get them home and they don't fit?"  "You just have to buy new ones." says the single woman with NO CHILDREN TO EDUCATE.  "We're not doing that," I said as I tried to regain my maternal control (that I think I lost years ago).  Meanwhile Caroline is smiling sweetly at Desi.

Apparently Desi noticed my distress because she said, "Well you should try them on but you could do it over your clothes."  (Those words would come back to haunt us.)  I turned to Caroline who was on my right while Desi remained on my left--positioning that would become important, and said, "I think you're probably a 38 C; why don't you try to find some."  Caroline, "Why do you think that?" "Well because I'm a B and..."  I was cut off by loud uncontrollable laughter--seriously it was like a surround sound of humiliation--Desi, "Are you kidding me?  You want to be a B."  Caroline trying to speak through her hysteria, "You're a wanna be B."  "Just go find some bras."  (now that's a good come back...)

Just as Caroline was returning with a couple of choices, SK reappeared.  After hugging Desi, she looked at Caroline--"Who are you?  You cannot get that color--that is totally trashy."  (I think what she said was a little bit different but even I have some limits and would rather not repeat it...)  "Come on," she said, "I'll help you."  Flooded with relief that she was taking over I let the language go...

They returned with a few choices.  "Caroline, I am not buying bras without you trying them on.  It's my money."  (Yep, I desperately pulled out the only card I have--the wallet)  "Fine," she said, "I'll try them on."  I momentarily looked down--my head snapped up when I heard Desi screech, "She's trying them on right here.  Caroline, that's what old ladies do."  (Or Caroline I thought--told you those words of Desi's would come back to haunt us)  We finally settled on two and I sent her to find a sports bra.  "I'll see you tonight," I said to Desi, "And make sure you have plenty to drink--I may need to start now."

I decided to let Caroline pick out her own sports bra; seriously, I needed a break. How bad could it be? SK and I started walking off to finish our list--as we were walking she says, "Aren't these the ugliest bras you've ever seen?"  "Why didn't you get different colors?" I naively asked her.  "They don't make this size in good colors--this is the size old ladies wear and they don't care what they look like--or nursing mothers who are just going to throw them out anyway, or me."  I had to stop pushing the cart I was laughing so uncontrollably.."tell me I'm lying--you know it's true."  (Did I mention NONE of us speak in hushed tones EVER!!)

We kept walking and ran into just about everyone in the world we knew (and who now probably know all of our bra sizes).  Really wish I had run into one precious young man earlier--his first words to me, "Mother Katherine you all are too loud."  Amen love, amen. His mother tried to tell him that wasn't nice to say. "But you are so right," I told him thinking "I really wish we'd run into you about 30 minutes ago..."

I'd like to say that ended my humiliating shopping trip to Target, but alas I'd be lying...next time I'm just sending the credit card.  And we still have shoes to buy....

I Love My Kids-We did something right--don't know how

Just in case anyone is wondering--I didn't just become neurotic.  In fact, if anyone wants to commiserate with Chris I've been neurotic since the very beginning--and he still married me!!!  Just a quick recap--when we got married a well known (internationally known) reproductive endocrinologist told us we couldn't have children.  (He still can't believe it, but my daddy shows him pictures...)  Well, in case you've missed it--we had four in 4 1/2 years--so I guess he was wrong--or God has a whole other plan...

Well, hearing that news makes you crazy--but we got pregnant with SK fairly easily and not trying--we were a little surprised (read TOTALLY SHOCKED) and then I miscarried (a story for another blog).  We then had Christopher and I knew I wasn't done. Chris, my wonderful amazing completely supportive (emotionally and financially) husband was not quite as certain. Well, I started lobbying--and here comes the crazy me...

I started telling him about how we had to have another child.  I'm going to admit right here this is painful and an awful argument especially since I have friends who have fallen into this category, but I used as a reason to have another child that if one child died I didn't want the other to be alone--I thought they should have multiple siblings for support.  He didn't necessarily buy it, but we have two more children (Caroline will explain she is one of the  99% birth control failure rates--yes she told ALL of Collegiate 8th grade).

It's been hard; it's been financially difficult-emotionally, physically and all the other things difficult but it's also been absolutely the most life giving wonderful experience of our lives.  (An Example)

So tonight some of my neurosis has come to a positive place--I said to Boss, "I can't wait to get SK home tomorrow but I know it might be hard for you; you've been the oldest for a year.  It will be different; we have to get ready for that. Y'all might fight more than usual."  Boss, "Mama, I just want her home.  I need her home."

And then later--after SK finished her final exam of her first year (and can I just say she's Dean's list for the whole freaking year--yes I'm shouting it silently from the rooftops because she wouldn't want me to tell anyone, but I am so incredibly proud and it wasn't easy--she worked for it--) Caroline sat in the kitchen with the phone on her knee speaker on with SK and they were talking about the next few weeks.  She told her how she might go to prom with someone who might not have a date.  Boss came in from playing basketball and told us all about playing and the people who were there.  William slipped through telling us about prom dinner plans.  It was as if nothing major had happened.  As if we haven't been separated. As if this was just another night at the Doyle's.  But it's not.  We have already started the separating--we have already had one year of one of us being apart from the others and the next three years will go far too fast for me.  But for now, well for now--tomorrow I leave to get SK, and SK is connected to the others--to the ones we know as Boss, Willie Wonka, and Carolina--to the multiple siblings--to the people who make us all complete. Connected to the people who love the most regardless of dean's list, athletic awards or anything else. None of that matters we are connected just because we are family-- Tomorrow we're all together--for better or worse--as a unit--completing one another--the O'Doyle's.

I know one day they will go their separate ways, but for now we are the O'Doyle's and we did something right.