Monday, March 28, 2011

I Think the Boys Said Their Prayers Last Night

It's official!  I've had over 1000 hits (no, not "slaps" - visitors to my blog site) since I started posting these silly rants close to a month ago.

Many thanks to those of you who've returned from time to time to see what my mind is up to.  Welcome to my world.  And for those of you who read my blog on a daily basis, you have proven yourselves to be as certifiable as I am.  Congratulations.  It actually comforts me on some sort of base level that I'm not alone in my madness.  (I'd normally insert a smiley face here but I don't believe that this would be apropos for a professional blog writer such as myself.  You see, I've now earned $3.31 from my rambling and must refrain.)

As you know, wild and unforeseen things occur everyday with our boys.  If you're new to my blog, you'd think, isn't this normal with most kids?  Yes, but with my boys you must multiply it by 10 and then it becomes a little more interesting.  Without going into great detail (and because I'm impatient and haven't finished my coffee yet), I'll ask that you refer to my first blog, "The Optometrist Appointment", to get a better understanding of my children.  With this said, church as always, was a hoot last night.

Eric and I attend a very large Catholic Church and go to mass on Sunday evenings at 6:00pm.  Before we go, I must confess, I take a Valium.  This sounds awful, I know; however, if you had to sit next to Austynn for an hour and a half and saw his behavior first hand, you'd totally understand.  He'll hang on me.  He'll pet my hairy arms (he once pronounced rather loudly that he would save his money so I could have them waxed).  He'll kiss me repeatedly in sets of three's.  He'll discuss the mustache of the woman sitting beside us with the woman beside us without her shared enthusiam.  If there is an awkward smell, he'll own up to it loudly or he'll point out the culprit (family or not) even louder.  He'll pull my face towards him (while I'm deep in prayer) and give me butterfly kisses.  I sit next to him because I have a prescription and can keep my calm, prayerful, and peaceful presence.  Eric sits beside me, growling under his breath, shifting, and offers to take him outside, etc.  I just pat him on the hand and let him know it's all good.  The parishioners around me think I'm a Saint.  I ask God for forgiveness because they don't realize I'm totally drugged into a state of calm lucidity.

William is no angel either.  He sits on the either side of Eric refusing, like every other teenager there, to acknowledge his parent's expectations for respectful behavior.  At least he's sitting there quietly.  The drive home is where he shines.  Antagonizing Austynn and making those wonderful comments which will go down in the Potts' Family Memoirs.  In the ten minutes it takes to drive home from church, William always contributes some glorious moments.  Last night he made the following statements; "maybe I'm not that much smarter than dad", and "dad isn't that ugly", and the final straw and the one that silenced him permanently, "I might trade jowls with dad if he asked me to" (bad, bad comment as Eric is very sensitive about his chin and William knows not to go there).  Usually, he picks on me, which in my altered state of reality, I just ignore blissfully.  Poor Eric.  William saw a vulnerable target last night and went for it.  Unfortunately for Will, dad had had quite enough. 

There are those moments whereas even the most gentle of giants can scare the living crap out of you.  Remember that.  Don't push it.  No one wants to hear that bellow.  I think the cars at the red light in front of us probably would have agreed.  Quite frankly, it kind of turned me on.  The nice thing was, I didn't hear a peep from either of the boys for the rest of the evening.  I'm thinking maybe they said their prayers before they fell asleep last night.  Lovely.  If this is how they find the Lord, then so be it.




2 comments:

Leigh Ann said...

Hehehehehehehehehe...

Brenda said...

rofl!! Priceless moments.