About four months ago, I was messing around on my computer and up popped an email. It was from a discount website that offers "deals" for food and entertainment in our local area. The deal of the day was for paint ball. It included all the safety gear, guns and 500 rounds of ammo. Jackpot! Perfect Christmas gift for my four testosterone laden boys! I could not have been more excited to wrap those gift certificates up and stow them under the tree. On Christmas morning I waited until the initial mayhem had died down to pull out my super secret super exciting gift. All four of them tore into the packages and three of them jumped up and down with pure joy. The hubby was a little less excited. Seems he had been paint balling one other time and came home black and blue. Oops. Sorry about that Bud.
This weekend we actually had a whole three days with no sports. This is a pretty rare occurrence around here, and might not happen again until the year 2019 (that is NOT an exaggeration)! Bud got the boys all signed up for their paint ball excursion, and early Saturday morning they were fired up and ready to go. His underlying motive of giving up a sleep in Saturday was cooler temperatures make it more comfortable to layer clothing. ;) No way he was going into that battle with shorts and a t-shirt on. The little (in an effort to be "big" and not get told he was too young to go) hustled on back to his room to get ready. About 15 minutes later he comes back out looking like the little kid from A Christmas Story. He has on jeans, underwear (surprising as he often forgets this basic item of clothing), two short sleeved t-shirts, two long sleeved t-shirts a fleece and a hoodie. He's also walking a little funny, a little wide legged, if you know what I mean. "Hey buddy, what have you got going on under there? Did you add some extra layers on the bottom?" He just looks at me matter-of-factly, knocks twice on his crotch area and says, "Yep, I put on my sliding pants and my cup. Got to protect the family jewels mom." I'm not really sure what the appropriate response to this should be so I just decided to go with it. "You're right little, it's important to protect the family jewels, good thinking." He waddles off to the car happily, thinking he is armored up and ready to go!
About four peaceful quiet hours later, here they come. They have had a blast! Their clothes are all splotchy with paint and their skin is all splotchy with bruises! The big and middle look like someone has drawn red white and blue polka dots all over their skin and my poor hubby is exhausted. He did get to "shoot the little turkey's" a few times, so it wasn't a total loss. ;) In their many tales of battle they explain the rule of surrender. If you are out of ammo you can throw your hands up in the air and no one is allowed to shoot you. Guess who has zero paint splotches on his clothes, not even one? You aren't the youngest of three brothers without knowing a little about how to protect yourself. ;) The only spot on the little one was the BBQ sauce on his face from their stop by the Buffalo Wild Wings afterwards. The cup wasn't necessary after-all. ;)
The wine of the day is Raw Power Shiraz. It seemed appropriate after listening to all the stories from the battlefield for the last two days. I have been instructed, in the kindest possible way, to NEVER EVER buy gift certificates for a paint ball war again. Apparently, if I am so inclined to purchase those in the future, I might find a gift certificate for the local bait shop in my stocking and 4 fishing poles under the tree. Ummm, no thanks. Next year I'm getting them all gift certificates to the local golf course! ;)
Happy Easter Sunday!
The W(h)ine Hour..
Every household has one…the whine hour. It’s those bewitching hours between approximately 5 and 8pm in the evening when the kids go crazy and moms across the world lose their minds completely. It doesn’t matter if you have babies, toddlers, kids, tweens, or teens; those hours of dinner/homework/bath time/ bedtime can just about do a momma in. What is a girl to do? It’s simple and brilliant actually, just slip in a little wine of your own! Now, I’m not suggesting anyone down a bottle of whiskey everyday between the hours of 5 and 8, in fact if you do that you will have a few whine hours of your own the next morning. Basically, a little wine during the whine hours will keep you out of the padded cell at the local cookoo house where people will walk by and peek in your little window and say things like “aww, poor mom has lost her marbles” and “hmmm, now that’s a crazy one right there, sits in there all day and hits herself over the head with a Barbie and a hotwheel”. Don’t smirk, it can happen.
So, enjoy the tales of my whine hour, and how I survive each and everyone of one of them with a sense of humor and a good bottle of wine! After all, the whine hour comes around every single day, a girl has to be prepared!