Just another day(s) at the Pogue Cottage

bekah Parenting 4 Comments

Not sure if someone spiked the water at school but for the last week Bryan and I have collapsed on the couch staring into nothingness, as we wait for our heart rates to resume because our boys are testing every.last.fiber.of.our.beings. It vacillates from laughing to crying, to jaw-clenching, to eye-rolling (which Ty caught me doing) to quietly rocking in the corner while mumbling a prayer.

I may inquire about a local zoo.

Yes, we know it’s a phase. Yes, we adore them. Yes, we prefer children with passionate spirits who remind us to ask God for help because, clearly, we aren’t winning any parenting medals.

{Scene 1: The stage sets at the Pogue Cottage. The sun is is breaking through the windows, the sleep machine is gently offering beach waves when – BAM! Clank. Thud. Crash. Daaaaaaaaaaad! Moooooooooooooom!}

I awake from a dream involving Fiji and a decadent dessert platter. Both boys come stomping in. Distraught. Lightning appears from the hallway and a dark cloud settles over their stair-step heads.

I’m building a fort and he said he doesn’t like it.
Well, I don’t. You made it wrong. See?

Bryan and I look at each other. Well, good morning to us. 

At breakfast one kid wants eggs and the other wants waffles smothered in peanut butter. And don’t even think about putting water in our orange juice, they glare. How do they know our secrets. Who whispers our tricks while they dream?

Parents all over, would you agree showers can be paradise? It’s all we ask for – two minutes of uninterrupted alone time until the door flies open, and there stands a son holding my bra. Mom. Here. Put your boobies on, he hands me a white bra. And tomorrow, wear your black boobies.

We are almost out the door for preschool when the dance occurs. I have to poop. He runs. Off fly the shoes, followed by socks, underwear. Jeans slink down the knees, around the ankles, and sit on the floor like twin snakes. At what age do they halt disrobing? I peek in, Come on bud. We gotta go to school. He looks unimpressed. Mom, I need some space. If only he knew.

{Scene 2: Our whole family is in the car. Destination: To drop our boys off at some friends so we can enjoy an elegant dinner at The Summit House. Important detail: My hair looks fabulous and Bryan is dressed hot love. Another detail: It’s California cold outside.}

What is it about the car windows that invite curiosity? Suddenly, instant chills enter the car. Please put the window up, guys. Backseat snickers. We are trying to help them practice self-control instead of hitting the window lock ourselves. It’s obviously working. Up and down go the back windows. Guys! One son interrupts. It wasn’t me. Jesus did it. Bry grabs my hand. We chew our upper lips. Where did these children come from? Apparently the Lord is blamed for mindless responsibilities. Well, Jesus, will you please roll the window up? And the wind.went.still.

{Scene 3: Kindergarten pick up, snacks in tow}

Hi sweets, how was your day?
Good. What’s for snack?
I ruffle his hair.
Mom, we learned about King Arthur today. My mind transports to the sword in front of the Disneyland carousel. And he continues on about a bus and a dreams and a “talk” and the pieces come together. Martin Luther King Jr.?
He looked like he just won a trip to Disneyworld. We trek to the library where he insists on getting a book on MLKJ and Rosa Parks, and after dinner begs to watch the “I Have a Dream” speech in its entirety. Little brother brought Grossology home from the library trip.

{Scene 4: Post-shower routine / pre-bedtime shenanigans. I’m pouring champagne at this point}

A football game breaks out in the hallway. Never mind our hallway is 2 centimeters by 4 inches. Brothers are naked. Standard. K, boys, let’s get dressed. Brush your teeth. Bedtime. This goes on for what seems like 5 hours. I’m going a bit batty at this point. One son manages to brush his teeth while the other looks like he’s never heard of said ritual. Can you help me brush my teeth?  Since when do you need help brushing your teeth? Their dentist’s voice threatens in my ear. Older brother responds. He needs help, as in, oh, five minutes ago. Eye roll.

{Scene 5: Bedtime}

Dear Jesus, thank you for this big day, and our friends, and pokemon, and can Jordynn (his girl crush) please come over for a slumber party?
– I have a dream, older brother adds.
And thank you for Dad the Rad and Mom the Bomb. Amen.

Just another day(s) at the Pogue Cottage.

The zoo’s number remains on speed dial.

Comments 4

  1. I am crying with laughter over here! Thank you for writing so candidly about the bonkersville that parenting can be. It definitely helps me feel less alone. You guys are doing a great job with those sweet and wild little dudes!

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  2. I was crying at Jenna’s post and now I’m crying from laughter at this post… this.is.my.life… but throw in a teenager who thinks you are lame and uncool and don’t know anything, LIKE ANYTHING, at all about ANYTHING! Oh, the joys of parenthood. 🙂 I’m glad that I am not alone.

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