I really love you (whack!)

Here on the reservation, things are nearly back to normal.  Oh, the tree is still up and the warmth of Christmas still lingers in my thoughts, but real life encroaches once again.

Two of the boys are back in school.  College Kid, Mr. “Beffel,” is prepping to load up the Mount Rushmore of Laundry With Which He Arrived and haul it back to Manges on the Greens (mama’s title) while Mr. Schrock, the Finance Guy, is going hammer and tong over at the office.

Which leaves me thinking over the time we spent together as a family.

With the Schrock kids now being ages 21, 17, 12, and 4, it makes for some interesting dynamics.  What’s more, the fact that they’re all males creates even more – um, interesting dynamics.

For all the caterwauling I do here on the blog and in the column about the pounding and tussling and noise, I must confess that much of the time, I actually enjoy it.  That’s because much of the time, it really is all in good fun.  For reasons that I as a girl will never understand, the male species really does show affection by roughing each other up.  It’s incomprehensible, but it’s true.

With six of us in the BMV (Blue Mommy Van) for nine hours each way, there was plenty of opportunity for the demonstration of affection.  And with everyone home for a solid two weeks, there was just a lot of love that was freely shown with Mama getting a bang out of all most of the interaction.

It was sometime before Christmas that a funny little thing happened by the kitchen sink.  Boy Three had just filled a mug with water and was getting ready to make some cocoa.  While his back was turned, Boy Two, He Who Causes the Most Chaos Around Here, grabbed it.  Quick as a wink, he chucked it in the microwave, leaving his younger brother squawking in irritation, set it on the counter, and reached for the mix.  Spotting his chance, the victim snatched it back, dumped it out, and licked the rim.

We howled.  So seldom is it that B3 ever gets anything over on his big brothers that when he does, we celebrate.

So that’s my beauty spot for today…crazy kids that crack me up.  A hoppin’ household that’s never dull.  A coffee pot that never runs dry.  Oh, wait.  That’s a Beauty Thing for another day.

The author asks that you not inform the offspring that she secretly enjoys all the ruckus.  If you do, she’ll say you lied and shoot you the hairy eyeball.